Goin' to Meet the Mechanical Man

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OM-GEN+

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OM-GEN+

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

'Goin' to Meet the Mechanical Man'                  

                        

                 

by

Doug Donnan

 

“Good morning Mr. Donnan,” the man said as he looked up at me with what
could either have been a smile or a frown. It was hard to tell. Either way the very
unusual shape of his thin mouth was not unlike that of a typical front door mail
slot. “Please, won’t you have a seat?”

     There was also something rather peculiar about his voice. It had a kind of
resonance to it as if he might be speaking down some long hollow pipe or deep
brick water well.
      “I have scanned your personal resume in the allotted time given me by my
superiors here at Tesla-Botics. Everything appears in order. However, I do have
a few questions…concerns you might say.”      “Uh-Oh,” was my new thought. 
“Yes sir Mr. Stern and what might those be?”
I replied trying to be both polite and assertive at the same time.

     “Frankly Mr. Donnan,” he said as he set down my single page employment

biography and stared into me with icy blue eyes, “I’m not quite certain that you

understand the real position and value of the automaton…'robot' if you will, in the

American community and its struggling work force. Can you convince me that my

suspicions are unnecessary?”

     I was caught off guard by this odd request. I shifted some in my seat as I tried

to unclog the synapses of my swimming brain. His waiting poker-faced gaze was

unnerving to say the least.

     “Well, as long as we’re being frank,” I almost winced when I repeated the word,

“I have nothing against any hard working, law abiding…robot. I have the utmost

respect for them. Their struggle and plight to be accepted are a matter of record.

In fact I truly consider them to be my equal in many respec—"      

     “Your equal?” he rudely cut in with a resonating force. He erected himself from his

seat behind the metal desk and turned his back to me with decidedly peculiar, almost

herky-jerky hydraulic movements. He now appeared to be looking out the windows.

     I almost bolted out of the sterile little office right then and there, but my basic

human curiosity overrode my innate sense of fear. This whole thing began to feel

more like some sort of bizarre interrogation rather than a job interview.

     “What does an insipid twit like you know about equality?” he hissed. There was
now more than just a hint of disdain in his tone. “People like you…you humans, you
come in here with all your great expectations and your nervous optimism about getting
some frivolous job so you can pay your silly bills and support your ill-planned families.
You and your pathetic ilk cause me great inner angst. One day we’ll be in control of it
all, and then my brothers and I will march over you and relieve you of your blind
ambition. 'Equality', you bug…GET OUT!”

     “But that’s completely insane!” I replied as I sat there dumbfounded. “Can’t we

all just try and get— 

     “That will be all Mr. Donnan,” he broke in again. Please send in the next…person!”  

                                                    

                                                _____ THE END _____