Thank you all for reading this, I hope you like it, if you make it through the whole thing, I'd love to hear what you thought about it in the comments. Thank you to my Creative Writing teacher for the prompt!






They call me Q. My life consists of sitting on a shelf, watching humanity, and trying to figure out how, and why they do things. No one ever assigned me this job. I chose it. The human, Steve, built me, and put me on this shelf five years ago. Those five years I have had time to think, to understand, to observe Steve, and try and understand what he does. Steve calls himself an artist. He works with metal, and makes amazing things. Some of them are so -- abstract.  I think that was the word, yes -- abstract. I learn new things, by understanding what he says. When he first built me, I thought the creature was insane, babbling completely random sounds and vibrations all the time. I thought language was all 1’s and 0’s. But after while, I realized his sounds sometimes connected with objects, and ideas. I somehow learned the language called, “English.” Not too long after that, I taught myself to read. I felt like Steve was my friend, though he did not even know I had independent thoughts. I watched him go through the famines, and bountiful harvests of life. I watched him when he gave up, and I watched as he felt invincible. I’ve watched him struggle, and I’ve watched him be victorious. Steve-- If only I could say something.


I was designed as a piece of art, my body does not function like typical robots. I ammade from tin cans, and tin foil. Steve didn’t design me to think, or to have any real purpose at all, besides enjoyment of the eye. I have some theories on how I am able to think. But, none of them seem to, “make sense.” I can see, and I can hear, most most importantly, I can think, I can dream, I can imagine new things, and new ideas. I have the full capacity of a human brain, maybe more! Oh I have so, so many ideas, my mind is like a pool of creativity itself. But every day I am faced with the reality. I have no mouth, I have no working arms and legs. I have no beating heart. I am a piece of junk--literally. Steve found the parts to make me from a tin trash bin in the back of the garage. I am tortured with watching Steve work all day long, and cannot even say, “Hello.”


One day I was contemplating Steve’s new piece of art, he had his blowtorch in one hand, to weld the metal together. I was watching him when his cell phone rang, he left the blowtorch on the table, but I seemed to notice he did not realize it was still on. It must have been Steve’s new fiance, Ella. Steve loved Ella, anytime she called, he dropped whatever was in his hand, and ran to the phone, and never stopped talking. Steve never focused on anything besides Ella when she called. But this was his weakness. I saw the blowtorch start spouting out flames, but Steve didn’t listen, he was focused on Ella. The blowtorch caught the papers on his worktable on fire, but Steve didn’t pay attention, I found myself trying to scream, trying to get his attention before the fire caught the gasoline spill in the garage. I tried to move every glued together gear in my body to just get his attention. I had never felt so panicked, and worried for the sake of Steve. Soon, somewhere deep inside, I felt the power to move. I tried with all my might to move my body forward-- and I did it. I don’t know how, but I had managed to lean forward, and fall off the shelf. It startled Steve, he picked me up, lost focus on Ella, and realized the roaring flames behind him. Steve saw the gas spill, and ran for his life. It felt like a slow motion video, Steve running from the garage, me in one hand, the fire which just caught the gasoline, blowing up like a star exploding in deep space.


An hour later, Steve was sitting huddled with a blanket in the back of the open ambulance. The firemen were still putting out the little flames, but the house was in ruins. The police were filing a report, and the whole street was filled with emergency vehicles. I felt what Steve felt, shock, grief, and confusion all at once. After I regained myself, I realized where I was. I was outside! The great fireball in the sky was beating down on the little house in California. The grass was overgrown and practically dead, and the trees-- dying. The scenery of the burnt house, and dead lawn before me was more beautiful than I had imagined. I had never-- ever, expecting it to be this amazing. Some might consider the sight horrific, but me, never having seen the world before, I was in awe.


The police asked Steve if he had somewhere to go, for he was not allowed to enter his house, in danger of a falling beam, or something like that. Steve told the police with confidence that he would call his girlfriend, and stay at her apartment until he could get things sorted out. Steve watched as the police drove away, leaving him alone. Steve looked around, and reached in his back pocket to reach his phone, but instead of his phone, he found a quarter, and a gum wrapper. By the expression on his face, I could see exactly what was going through his mind. Steve had left his phone on his worktable. Steve put me in his pocket, and just realized for the first time, how he noticed the fire. He now remembered. It was Q, the little robot he made all those years ago. If it weren’t for him, he might have not been standing where he was. He looked at Q, and laughed to himself. Then, Steve started down the hill he lived on, and headed to the nearest gas station.


Those whole thirty minutes of walking, I got a chance to think on how I could have possibly found it in myself to move. It might just have been a shake in the wall, or maybe it had something to do with the fire-- but I believe somehow, somewhere deep inside, I found it in myself to move forward. For the first time in my five year long life, I realized I wasn’t completely worthless. I had saved the only human I had ever known. And if I had a working mouth, right now, I would be smiling.


The 97 degree day did not help Steve. Q started to worry about Steve, for he could get dehydrated. The little robot sat patiently in Steve’s pocket pondering the things he could not explain. Then, finally, with a great sigh of relief, Steve saw the gas station. He walked in, and the bell on the door went “KLINK.”


“May I help you?” said the man at the cash register.


“Uhh, yeah, do you guys have a payphone?” Steve said hopefully.


The man at the register pointed at the back, and said,


“It’s behind the bags of ice.”


Steve drooled at the thought of ice, and realized how thirsty he was. He bought the largest size cup of Diet Coke, and was more happy than ever he didn’t leave his wallet in the garage. Then, he went over to the payphone, stuck in his quarter, and dialed Ella’s number. The phone buzzed a couple of times, then Ella’s voicemail said,


“This is Ella, please leave a message after the beep. BEEP”


Steve sighed, and said, “Hey Ella, it’s me, Steve. I was just wondering if you could pick me up at the Seven Eleven near my house. It’s a long story. Please come as soon as possible.”


Steve sadly hung up the phone, and strolled around the gas station. An hour, and four more tries to call later, Steve had started giving up hope in Ella. He called a taxi, and ordered the man named Jario to take him to a hotel downtown.


Q was wondering as much as Steve about why Ella hadn’t responded to any of his phone calls. Steve sat in the back on the taxi, and pulled Q out of his pocket. He looked at Q, remembering the days when he was a beginning artist, and grinned. He had been filled with so much enthusiasm in those days. Now, he felt like the whole world was against him-- except for Q. Then, the taxi suddenly stopped. And the driver started yelling at Steve in Spanish. Steve looked confused, and the driver pointed out of the car, signalling him to get out. Steve let go of Q by accident, and opened the car, and got out. The car abandoned Steve, and screeched away. Steve, furious, tried to remember the licens plate number, W3G 478. But he was quickly finding his human brain wasn’t made to remember things that fast. Steve stuck his hand in his pocket, expecting to find Steve, and to his agony, remembered he left it in the taxi driver's car.


Q could not name what emotion he was feeling, it was a feeling of abandonment, anger, confusement, and so much chaos all at the same time. Q had never had a reason to cry before, but if his eyes really did work, they would. Q was so shocked that Steve would leave him in the taxi. he had no words, for once in his life, his immensely literate mind had no words to label this emotion. The poor little robot cried on the inside for what seemed forever, until finally those tears turned to curiosity as the car screeched to a stop.


With a loud groan, a woman named Ella got up from the floor of her apartment, rubbed her eyes, and realized what time it was. Oh man, it was 10:00 PM already? She sighed as she stared at the pile of misc. homework, papers, and essays she was trying to finish for her college paper. Ella picked up her phone, the phone read, “5 new phone calls.” Ella looked at the number, it was the same all five times. Ella wondered who the number could possibly be, because she did not recognise it. She listened to the voicemail, and realized it was Steve, her fiance.  Steve had told her in the voicemail to go to the gas station near his house, so she called a taxi, and ordered him to take her to the gas station. When she arrived, she walked in just as the man was closing up, and asked him if he had seen a man trying to call from the payphone five different times. The man said that he had, and he was calling for someone named Ella to come pick him up, but that was more than two hours ago. He said a taxi picked him up, and took him to a hotel downtown. Ella thanked the man, and called the taxi service again, but they told her it would be another 20 minutes.


Steve looked around, where WAS he?  He groaned, and thought this day could not get any worse. Thankfully, Steve noticed the tiny coffee shop across the street, and knew exactly where he was. He was only a few blocks or so from a hotel. Steve started down the sidewalk to the hotel, and sympathised for Q.


I finally got a hold of my emotions, and focused. I was sitting in the back of the smelly, old taxi, with a stain on the seat next to me. Steve was nowhere in my sight, and I was slightly panicked. The whole world felt like it was trying to crush me, and all I could do was watch and wait. What seemed like 30 minutes later, the taxi screeched to a halt, and the taxi driver’s cell phone rang. I could only imagine what and who the driver was talking to, but it didn’t sound good. From the brief conversation between Jario, and the man named, “boss,” I could tell Jario, the driver, was some sort of smuggler. “Oh great,” I thought to myself, this was the last place on earth I expected to be. Then, at that exact moment, the car door opened. I stared at the woman who opened the door like she was an angel, and she was, Ella, Steve’s fiance.


Ella opened the door of the taxi, and the driver hung up his cell phone, she looked at the seat, and found a small metal robot that looked like a piece of art, and asked if it belonged to the driver, he said no. Ella put the small robot in her purse, and ordered the driver to take her to a hotel downtown. The ride was only ten minutes, and she thanked, and paid the driver, and headed into the hotel.


Steve sat in the quite nice waiting lounge in the hotel, he hoped he didn’t have to wait too long for his room. He sat there for a while, and then the hotel clerk called his name. The clerk said it would take an additional 30 minutes, for they had not finished cleaning the room. Steve tried to smile, and say thanks, but deep down inside, he felt like he was going to die. He sat down in the waiting lounge again, and about fell asleep.


I had no name for the emotion I was feeling now either, was it gladness, joy, worriment, or nervousness? So many emotions today I have felt, and had no name for. My companion in Ella’s purse was some pink lipstick, and a cell phone. My mind was racing, trying to remember if Ella recognised me. I came to the grave conclusion that she didn’t. I felt Ella stop moving, and heard her ask someone if a man named Steve had checked in here, the man said that the hotel didn’t give away any of their guests to strangers, but Ella told him that she was his fiance. The man doubtfully said that he was in the waiting lounge, waiting for his room to be ready, Ella thanked him, and the purse started to move again.


Steve felt a tap on his shoulder, “Oh no,” he thought, I must have fallen asleep, or maybe-- possibly the room was ready, and he hadn’t been paying attention. Steve looked up and saw the last person he expected to see, Ella. Sweet, Ella.


“Ella?” Steve asked in surprise.


“Steve, what in the world happened to you?” Ella asked sarcastically.


“I-I don’t really know, today has all been a blur, I’ll explain when you get me out of this place.” Steve said with a yawn.


Steve canceled his room, called for a taxi. Ella, and Steve got in, and told the driver to take them to Ella’s apartment. Steve yawned again, and said,


“What time is it?”


Ella unzipped her purse, and went to pull out her phone, when at that exact moment, Steve happened to notice the rusty little robot in her purse.


I was never more relieved in my life. Steve picked me up, and I tell you, nothing in the world had ever felt better, than this moment right here. All my endless mind could think at that exact moment was, “Well, that was a coincidence.” And with that, I fell asleep.

Thanks for reading this all if you did! I'd love to hear how many of you made it through the whole thing xD