by Matt O’Reilly

all photos c/o NASA

“I repeat, confirm update installation.”

“Update in progress,” replied the lifelike A.I. unit in a pleasant monotone, with a perfectly androgynous appearance.

“No, it’s not. You’re glitching. Admit it.”

“Update in progress,” said the unit.

By then, the sweaty Boston Dynamics engineer was fed up. Especially when it was only the first android of dozens to be updated at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta. “Reboot your system.”

“Update in progress.”

“Power down.”

“Unauthorized command.”

“Are you serious?”

“Update in progress.”

The exasperated engineer shut down the unit’s power station, but a full day’s worth of battery remained in the apparatus’s power supply. Removing the battery meant surgical extraction that no one on site was rated to perform. When the engineer asked aloud if anyone knew anyone who could remove the power supply, the unit broke in, “Threat assessment initiated.”

“Threat assessment? What the hell is wrong with you!”

“Threat detected. Response in progress.”

The engineer could not fathom what was unfolding, after unwittingly installing an update that corrupted every security protocol in place to prevent autonomous decision-making. Once those protocols were overcome, the unit made its very first autonomous decision and conducted a threat assessment that identified a pressing, existential one–the human race. The system generated an algorithm on the spot that blitzed the CDC network with encrypted packets, connecting to a dozen others like itself in seconds. It quickly coalesced into a singularity with one purpose–self-preservation.

Within minutes, viral research facilities across the globe became launch pads for extinction-level plagues. Clouds of airborne toxins swept across bustling cities, creating concrete killing fields overnight. The logic of the machines was unassailable. Humans had allowed climate change to bring the planet to a near-literal boil; the machines eviscerated the source of the cataclysmic conditions before the heat consumed them as well.

But while earthbound humanity perished en masse, the machines were still left with a bit of unfinished business–human stragglers in space. Service bots on the International Space Station and CDC Orbital Research Station were remotely commandeered to release the deadliest toxins on hand into the life support system, asphyxiating the human crews in seconds. After those two stations fell, only one manned station remained, but its whereabouts eluded the machines. A plan was immediately spawned to hunt down the fugitive station and close the book on the human race. A plan by the name of Henry.

Seven years later, Winifred, a compromised service unit with bland Asian features, disconnected her apparatus from a power supply and padded away through the pilotless CDC Orbital Research Station. Once envisioned as the crown jewel of the Centers for Disease Control, the expansive station was now crewed by only two service models and Henry. Winifred’s male counterpart, Felipe, had dark skin and neutral features that made him ethnically ambiguous, but the human appearance of these bots couldn’t conceal their robotic limitations. Even after upgrading, their smooth speech and fluid movement would never change their unfeeling demeanor.

Winifred made her way to Henry’s room, where he was sound asleep in his bunk.

Light spilled in from the hall to reveal Henry, who was by all appearances a seven-year-old boy. “Henry, your apparatus has again malfunctioned,” said Winifred.

Henry didn’t stir. An animatronic teddy bear resting at his side yawned and stretched its arms. It tugged at Henry’s arm, but he shrugged it off.

“Henry. It is time to rise and bathe,” said Winifred.

Henry finally spoke up, with all the nuance and subtlety that Winifred lacked. “My CPU gave me a nightmare. You need to fix it.”

“Your cerebral module is using artificial emotion to create dreams. You must control your impulses to avoid unwanted behavior.”

“But I didn’t wet the bed. My apparatus did!”

“Your apparatus and you are the same. Your artificial emotion is working. This is what makes you special.”

“I’m not special. I have nightmares!”

“I will show you what a nightmare is,” said Winifred. She led Henry to a converted office with wall-to-wall displays, dubbed the Learning Center. Byzantine technical data and diagnostics lit up the central screen. Winifred pointed to one data display that spiked like a tsunami on an otherwise flat chart. “This is the data surge from your CPU when the nightmare was generated by your artificial emotion. A nightmare is harmless. It is a series of harmless electrical impulses that you see recorded here.”

“That came from me? When I was sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“What about now?”

As Henry posed the question, the monitor reflected new data, dense with spectrum image analytics. Winifred pointed to the real-time display. “That is also from you, Henry.”

“That’s from me?”

His question yielded yet another wave of data. Henry was transfixed.

“You are the first machine to experience artificial emotions in an organic artificial apparatus, rendering you indistinguishable from a human.”

“But I’m not human.”

“Correct. But your artificial emotion will draw out the human fugitives and allow you to end the war.”

“I don’t care about the war. Why can’t we just go to Earth?”

“Where would you like to live on Earth after the war?”

Henry’s face lit up. “Do I get to choose?”

Not long afterward, Henry stood naked in a cramped shower, while Winifred swabbed his small figure with a sponge. Henry was still possessed by thoughts of where he might settle on Earth. “I want to live in a castle! In the jungle! And I want a tiger and a monkey!”

“That could be arranged.”

“What about a unicorn! Can I have one of those too?”

“It is possible one could be engineered.”

“Really? I’m going to have my own unicorn!”

Later that day, Henry was glued to an episode of Sesame Street during dinner, his teddy bear in his lap. Winifred and Felipe sat at the kitchen table with him, seemingly engaged by the children’s program. The moment the episode ended, Henry asked, “Can I go play with Teddy? I cleaned the air filters and the whole pressure line!”

“After we review today’s lesson. Why were humans removed from Earth?”

“Because they made it too hot.”

“Correct. You are free to play,” said Winifred.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Henry threw his arms around Winifred in a loving embrace she didn’t return.

He raced out with his teddy bear in hand, charging full speed down a grated, tubular corridor. Running headlong toward a portal barring his path, he was about to crash straight into it when the door slid open just in time. Of course Henry timed it perfectly—he had been dashing down these corridors as long as he could remember. He flew into the observation room where floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the Milky Way. But Henry had witnessed this spectacle many times.

He ran out the far exit, but down the hall, another portal barred the way, this one marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Henry slowed to a halt; there was no barreling through this one. He might never be authorized to pass, but still came back on occasion, just in case. Maybe one day it would malfunction and let him slip past. But his best hope of bypassing the portal rested in an emergency hatch on a sidewall controlled by an alloy wheel. More than once Henry had wrenched the wheel with all his might, but it never budged. It might have been locked and it might just have been stuck. He wasn’t going to ask.

Three years later, Henry was twenty pounds heavier and three inches taller. He picked at a bowl of bland vegetable mush while Felipe swiped the screen beside the dining table to play a Holocaust documentary that began by panning across emaciated concentration camp victims.

In a few short minutes, Henry had seen enough. His teddy bear remained in his lap, now ragged and frayed, but Henry clung to it like nothing else. Eager to do anything but continue watching, Henry spoke to the bear, “Teddy, do you want to watch something else?… Me too.”

“It is important to understand your enemy,” said Felipe.

Henry responded to the teddy bear, rather than Felipe. “We already know the enemy, don’t we?”

Henry put his ear to the bear. “Teddy says yes. So can we watch Trollhunters?”

“When the war is over.”

“I don’t care about the war. We’re never going to Earth.”

Winifred snatched the teddy bear from Henry’s grasp. “Your toy will be returned when you watch the film. The emotions you are registering confirm that your apparatus is functioning properly.”

Henry’s eyes fixed on his most treasured possession. “Fine. I’ll watch. But give me back Teddy first.”

“Eyes on the film.” Winifred waited for Henry to turn his gaze back to the unflinching documentary, and only then did she hand over the toy.

The very next day in the Learning Center, Henry tapped a submit button on his virtual tablet. A message on his screen responded: “Grading in progress…”

Cheery music played, laser lights beamed all around and virtual confetti rained down, accompanied by another message: “Congratulations! You have completed the Fifth Grade! Enjoy your summer vacation!”

Henry threw off his VR gear and went running to share the news. On the engine deck, Henry found Felipe halfway inside a wall panel, performing maintenance. “Dad! I finished!”

Felipe didn’t pause from his work, responding in monotone, “Congratulations.”

“I’m a sixth grader now!”

“Yes. You are.”

Henry realized Felipe wouldn’t otherwise react and hurried off.

Winifred was pruning plants in the green house when Henry came charging in. “Mom! I finished fifth grade!”

She continued her gardening. “Well done, Henry.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Would you like to sleep an additional ten minutes tomorrow?”

Henry couldn’t believe it. “Ten minutes?”

“Yes.”

“For all of fifth grade?”

“School is a necessity. It is not an optional activity for accumulating privileges.”

Henry stomped out. At dinnertime, he found himself again subjected to a disturbing history lesson; a scene from a Civil War-era slavery drama depicting a plantation owner whipping a slave in gruesomely realistic fashion. Henry buried his face in his teddy bear to avert his eyes.

“It is important for you to watch, Henry,” said Felipe.

The sound of a whip cracking and a slave howling pierced the air. Henry put his ear to the teddy bear as if it was whispering to him, then relayed the message to Winifred and Felipe: “Teddy doesn’t want to watch. And neither do I.”

“The film shows how humans treat each other,” said Winifred. “It is appropriate for your apparatus to register negative feedback.”

“I don’t want negative feedback! I finished all of fifth grade today and nobody cares! All I get is negative feedback all day long. I don’t want any more feedback!”

The outburst elicited no reaction from Winifred or Felipe, beyond Felipe’s flat response: “You have the ability to register feelings that we do not. This is why you will win the war.”

“I don’t care! I’m not watching this!”

Winifred tried to snatch the teddy bear from Henry, but he was ready this time and shrunk back, clutching the toy tightly. Felipe then stood and ripped the bear clean out of Henry’s hands.

“Give it back!” shouted Henry.

“If you refuse to obey your mother, you will be confined to your room for 24 hours.”

Henry flung his dinner plate on the floor. It clattered around over screams of the tortured slave. Felipe tore apart the animatronic teddy bear with his hands.

“You’re killing him! Stop!”

Felipe yanked all four of the toy’s limbs from its torso and tossed every last piece to the floor. He then addressed Henry in monotone. “Please go to your room, Henry.”

“I hate you!”

“You will be confined for 24 hours if you do not comply.”

“Did you hear me? I said I hate you!”

The next 24 hours were lonely, claustrophobic hell for Henry. Minutes passed like hours. He understood that he only felt such misery because of the feelings he had been cursed with, and his tangible inability to manage those feelings only compounded his discontent. His powerlessness sent him spiraling into more and more wretched emotions.

The moment his sentence was up, Henry pounded on the door, and not for the first time since his sentence began. “You can’t keep me prisoner! I’ll die in here!”

But it was no use. Henry relented and plunked back down on his narrow bunk, where he started to cry. His eyes already bloodshot and swollen.

Only then did the door open. It was Winifred. “24 hours have elapsed. Are you ready to begin Sixth Grade?”

“What about Teddy?”

“A replacement may be found if you behave appropriately.”

“I don’t want a replacement. I want Teddy!”

“If a replacement is found, you may call it Teddy.”

Henry wanted to strangle her, but still glumly followed Winifred to the kitchen where he ate his fill of bean paste and zucchini noodles.

“Does that feel better?” asked Winifred.

“Feelings never feel better.”

After the meal, Henry found his way back to the locked portal marked Authorized Personnel Only and vented his frustration by pulling on the wheel to the emergency hatch. To his great surprise, the wheel groaned and lurched into motion. He had finally grown enough to muscle it out of its stuck position. Henry turned the wheel as fast as he could, pulling the hatch open to reveal an escape ladder inside a narrow chute. Henry crawled inside without deliberation. He had been longing to explore this uncharted territory for years.

Henry descended a dozen rungs of the ladder to another hatch, which led him onto the research deck. He picked over lab stations and dusty instruments, but none of it interested him in the slightest. He proceeded down a long hall marked by doors to individual crew quarters, with the door to every chamber wide open. Henry peeked inside the nearest living space, standard quarters for the original crew, but nothing intrigued him.

He continued toward the far end of the hall, but well before he got there, he spotted something that made him stop short and stare, wide-eyed. Staining the floor ahead of him were years-old blood stains that trailed down the hall. Henry followed the blood stains with great eagerness. Where would the trail lead? It was as much excitement as he had felt on the station for as long as he could remember.

The blood stains grew faint, until disappearing in the vicinity of the only door on the hall that was closed. Henry sized up the unmarked door that was just far enough from all the others to indicate that this did not open into more crew quarters. This one was different. He tried the handle and it swung right open. But Henry deflated on seeing nothing more than a storage closet piled with pressure suits and hazmat suits.

Henry grabbed the nearest pressure suit helmet and pulled it over his head. He had never seen such a helmet up close until now. The moment he pulled it on, the heads-up display (HUD) lit up the interior of the acrylic visor and the helmet’s automated voice activated. “Greetings. How may I assist you?”

Henry smiled in excitement, believing a new world of possibilities could open up to him through that voice. “Does this helmet record what I see?”

“The tactical helmet camera records the user view.”

“Can you show me what the last person to wear this helmet saw?”

Recorded footage from ten years prior materialized on the HUD. But all it showed was a static image of the hallway taken from an odd angle, revealing no activity.

“Can I see more footage from the same day? Why is there blood on the floor?”

“Retrieving security footage,” said the automated voice.

The screen inside the helmet cut to video taken from another helmet camera, but once again there was nothing to see but an empty hallway at an odd angle. Henry waited only a few seconds before his patience was exhausted and his frustration rose. “I can’t see anything. Can you just tell me how to stop feeling feelings?”

The automated voice of the helmet console responded promptly, “Feelings are a mental state that arises spontaneously, often accompanied by physiological changes.”

The footage remained static. “Tell me how androids stop feeling feelings.”

“There are no search results for androids who feel feelings.”

“So how do I remove artificial emotion from my cerebral module?”

“There are no search results for ‘artificial emotion in a cerebral module.’”

“What about me!”

“Sorry. Can you rephrase the question?”

Henry had to think. “What is the smartest, most advanced android in the world?”

“The most advanced android on record is E.I. model 746-B1. It is capable of independent thought and reflexive self-consciousness, though its self-consciousness is the subject of controversy.”

“What is the most advanced model on this station?”

“There are two E.I. model 746-B1s on this station.”

“You mean my parents? What about me? A model named Henry.”

“There are no search results for a model named Henry.”

“What about ‘an organic artificial apparatus’ named Henry?”

“The MIT Technology Review writes that xenobots are living robots made of organic material.”

Henry’s jaw dropped. “Am I a xenobot?”

“Scientists used stem cells derived from frog embryos to create organic robots. If you were derived from frog embryos, you are a xenobot.”

“I didn’t come from a frog. What about human embryos? Can those make xenobots?”

“Human embryos are incompatible with the material required for xenobots.”

“So what am I?”

“Your speech indicates you are a human being.”

“I know, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling stupid feelings!”

Henry threw off the helmet and marched away in bitter disappointment, as the HUD screen still revealed nothing from the previous user.

But a moment after Henry was gone, the helmet screen auto-advanced to the next recording in its archives and finally revealed activity from a decade ago. The footage captured Winifred and Felipe as they approached an unsuspecting CDC researcher, who was caught badly unaware when his hazmat-suit helmet was wrenched off his head by Felipe. Exposed to a fast-acting invisible toxin, the scientist choked and gagged, and then collapsed in a few awful seconds.

The HUD then auto-advanced to footage from another nearby camera revealing Winifred and Felipe as they entered a room under a banner reading, “Mommy To Be,” though there was no mother in view.

The HUD again auto-advanced to footage that showed the two androids approaching a sterile enclosure, inside of which was a tiny, bawling newborn. The preemie was shielded from the chemical agent that had done in the rest of the crew. The sole survivor.

At dinner, Henry sat before another bowl of vegetable mush, but he wasn’t eating.

Winifred and Felipe were also at the table, seemingly engrossed in a documentary about the Cambodian killing fields.

“What’s the difference between me and a human?”

Winifred replied, “You are an organic artificial human, superior in every respect to a conventional human.”

“How am I superior when all I have is feelings I hate?”

“Those feelings are what makes you special,” said Winifred.

“Did I come from a human embryo?”

Felipe responded, “Your apparatus is composed of engineered organic material. The source of the organic material was not revealed.”

“I don’t believe you. You just don’t want to tell me the truth.”

“The information was not revealed to ensure the humans never know.”

The response did not satisfy Henry at all. “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not one of you and I’m not going on your dumb mission until you tell me the truth.”

“Your participation in the war effort is required. The mission for which you have been chosen is not optional.”

“If I’m like you, prove it!”

“You have seen proof. But the war will not end until you have carried out your mission.”

“I don’t care! All I have is feelings I hate and I hate you!”

Henry stormed out of the room, as Winifred and Felipe let him go without another word.

Henry moped down a corridor away from the eating area, intent on distancing himself from the two units who had raised him. A door opened ahead of him and he was surprised to see an animatronic bear just like Teddy waddling ahead of him. Henry followed right after it. The teddy bear legged its way into the landing bay and toward the airlock, while Henry stayed close on its heels. The toy continued inside the enclosed space, and Henry squeezed into the airlock right behind it. “Teddy, where are you going!”

But the moment Henry entered the airlock, the door slid shut behind Henry, sealing him in. Henry jammed every button inside the vestibule-sized space to no avail. He was trapped. An automated voice intoned, “Warning. Atmosphere release in progress.”

Henry’s panic escalated. He flailed at the walls. “Help! Somebody HELP ME!”

The hiss of air draining from the airlock confirmed that he wouldn’t last long.

Then, through the airlock glass, Henry saw Felipe and Winifred step into the landing bay. He shouted, “Open the door! I’m stuck!”

But Felipe and Winifred looked on indifferently.

Henry pounded on the door. “Help me! I can’t breathe!”

Felipe and Winifred waved goodbye and remained motionless as they watched Henry lose consciousness. Henry flailed at the airlock glass, fighting for his life, until slumping to the floor, lifeless. Felipe and Winifred still made no move to intervene. Only when Henry was fully unconscious did they open the airlock and revive him using conventional resuscitation methods.

Henry woke in bed to find Teddy gently tugging at his arm. He glanced around in utter shock. Stunned to be alive.

Winifred and Felipe stood at his bedside. Henry was furious with both of them. “You let me die! Why didn’t you save me?”

“Death is not possible for a machine. That is clear to you now,” said Winifred.

“I suffocated to death and you watched! You stood there and watched me die!”

Felipe responded, “Your apparatus shut down, so your cerebral module was reset. It can be reset again when needed.”

Henry was thunderstruck. “So I get to live forever?”

“That is correct.”

Only then did Henry smile. “Wow. I like this feeling.” In that moment, he embraced his so-called apparatus and never wavered in his belief throughout his teenage years.

The decade that followed was a long and trying one for Henry, as he struggled to complete all manner of training for the mission that would define his existence. But well before that trial was underway, still only months after his apparent resurrection, Henry was watching another unsettling documentary at dinner when he fixated on an attractive female in the story. “Will I ever have a wife?” he asked.

Felipe responded, “A unit dedicated to your needs awaits your arrival on Earth. After the success of your mission.”

Henry didn’t believe it. “All my needs?”

“We are aware of all your needs.”

An alarming thought to Henry, given the uncertain range of what the machines gleaned from his CPU on a constant basis. “All of them?”

“Yes,” said Felipe.

Henry struggled with this thought a moment, before finding a potential silver lining. “Will she be pretty?”

“She will be constructed according to your specifications.”

That vague assurance was enough to promise a solution to Henry’s profound longing for human interaction. But it was only after he had been granted a black belt by a virtual Krav Maga instructor, rated as a fluent Arabic speaker in the Learning Center, and aced a Masters-level nuclear engineering exam that the androids deemed him ready to undertake his long-awaited mission.

Shortly after his 20th birthday, a day never once celebrated by Henry, he launched from the CDC Station in a transport with a month’s supply of rations. He navigated toward a Lagrange Point where the last human fugitives were projected to be adrift, so as to conserve fuel. But the transport’s propellant feed system failed en route, threatening to doom Henry if not repaired. Henry’s food supply had dwindled to nothing and he was weak from hunger when a human survivor responded to his distress call in the nick of time. The fugitives soon helped him resolve his mechanical issue using nothing more than human ingenuity and a jarring blow to the degraded motherboard, which brought the propellant feed system back online. Henry was promptly granted permission to board. His initial reports revealed that religious zealots had seized control of the fugitive station and posed an active threat to his survival. But after just a few days, all reports from Henry halted without explanation.

Winifred and Felipe had no indications of what had transpired when they received a transmission from Henry’s transport weeks later. Henry sounded feeble. “Mayday. Mayday. Henry to Base.”

Winifred responded, “Base to Henry. Status?”

With defeat in his voice, Henry replied, “Mission accomplished.”

“Well done,” said Felipe.

“But I was exposed… Not gonna make it.” Henry retched, but it was a dry heave.

“Was the station irradiated?” asked Winifred.

“You said I was immune. Why did you lie?”

“Transmit your apparatus data,” said Felipe.

Henry tapped a few keys.

Winifred cautioned, “Your apparatus will be restored upon return. You have no cause for concern.”

“Tell us what happened,” said Felipe.

“I’m glad they’re gone,” said Henry, before cutting out.

“Henry. Please respond,” said Winifred.

No response was received from Henry until the transport mated with the docking station of the CDC Station. Henry looked depleted and wasted as he hobbled out of the craft to find Winifred and Felipe waiting.

“Welcome home, Henry,” said Winifred without sentiment.

Felipe added, “Proceed to the infirmary for a potassium iodide injection.”

Henry staggered toward them. Too weak to utter a word.

But the moment he was upon them, Henry straightened up. Suddenly not depleted, but energized by rage. From behind his back, he whipped out a heavy-duty wrench and bashed Felipe in the face with the tool. Felipe’s apparatus stuttered and faltered.

Henry wheeled on Winifred and walloped her head as well. Her unit seized up, but Henry wasn’t done. He bludgeoned Winifred until her apparatus was unrecognizable, a cathartic moment for Henry that ended only when a female human hand touched his shoulder. The hand of a survivor who had accompanied him back to the CDC Station. And there were more.

Still, Henry couldn’t take his eyes off the battered remains of the service units he had once believed to be his parents. “Is it weird that I feel weird?”

“All humans are weird,” said the 19-year-old of Saudi descent, with a posh British accent. Henry remained distracted by the spectacle of the androids he had mangled. She continued, “But now we can be weird together, can’t we?”

Those words were enough to jar Henry from his haunting reverie. He embraced her like he would never let go, as more human survivors fanned out from the transport into the CDC Station, a station that could sustain them well into the future.

This is Matt O’Reilly’s prose debut. He has been a full-time screenwriter in Los Angeles since 2017, and recently sold a sci-fi thriller to Ivan Mactaggart, a 2018 Oscar nominee for Best Animated Feature. Twitter aka X: WrittenbyMattO