The spark of life.

The old robot spluttered to life, gears slowely grinding on their old rusted shafts, the sound of tortured machinery rang through the air. In slow lumbering moves it lifted one hand wonderingly before its face, pistons squeeling in disaproval as they were forced to move with oil long dried out. The robot turned its rusted head from side to side, gazing about the world with childish wonder, seeing things through sand etched lenses. As it looked, old circutry long dissused began to spark, and it struggled to stand up. After it finally achieved success, it stood there unsteadily, and spoke, 'Who am I?'

Author notes

Just a "drabble" for tallblondie's contest.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • trekkergirl
    August 25, 2008

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    Thanks for entering this contest. I liked the idea of a drabble about a Robot asking the most important question a being can ask... "Who am I?" Very creative.


  • tallblondie gold member
    August 23, 2008

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    Nicely expressed sentiments of wonder and discovery. Other than a small spelling mistake ['slowly' not 'slowely'], this piece is well written and composed.

    Thank you for your entry and good luck!