I wasn’t back at school yet, even though I still wanted—no, needed—to get into a real college and land a decent-paying job. But surviving a nuclear blast and murderous robots from another world kind of put things in perspective. Grades were still important, but so was making time for the people who mattered in my life. Especially for Matt.
We hadn’t seen a ton of each other the past couple weeks, what with everyone recovering from their injuries and trauma, an ongoing process. But now I had to keep him from drifting away into the swirling void of friends and school after everything we’d been through. And I guess nothing said Let’s stay in touch like a casual dumpster hangout under the guise of finding pawnable castoffs.
So as we dug through a dumpster behind shuttered Sunset Bowl—that defunct Sears vibe still going strong—I couldn’t help feeling sentimental about the two of us getting through everything intact. I mean, I guess I was a robot now. But Matt was still Matt, crouched between trash bags in his fire-engine red high-tops, resplendent in the late afternoon sun. His wrist was strangely cast-free though as he pawed through the garbage, searching for something he was being all cagey about.
It didn’t really matter, as long as I could pin him down to hang out again. I tossed aside a trash bag with my metal fingers, disturbing the sparrows chittering on a fence in the unseasonably warm weather. “So where’re your fancy new FBI sandals?”
Matt sat back on his haunches, his nose twitching at any one of several ripe odors. “Those puppies are only for standing around and looking pretty.” He shoved hair from his eyes, waggling a gloved finger at me. “And don’t you start.”
I fluttered innocent eyelashes at him. He sure was digging around like he hoped to find something in particular beneath the point-of-sale device he was wrestling with. “Need a hand?”
He shot me a grin. “Not if it’s attached to those creepy Luke Skywalker fingers.”
I gave him a look of mock offense, cranking up the middle finger of my metallic hand for him. Maybe not so creepy anymore. Maybe I was getting used to being a teenage robot. Except I knew I couldn’t do it by myself. “We still on for movie night next week?”
He shoved aside the device. “Uh, when?”
“… Friday.”
“Shit!” he said, alarm on his face. “That’s the week my sister’s in town.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind if you step out for a bit. But you do you.” I wasn’t about to tear Matt away from his long-lost sister. Even if I really needed this.
He rocked into a crouch, his grin creeping back. “No, you’re right. Hey, you should join us! I’m gonna take her out, apologize for wrecking her RV. Probably head down to the shore, get hella tanked. We can invite Garrett too!”
I met his grin. “As long as it counts toward the party I owe you. You know, the one with cupcakes and fire. Garrett would probably be in favor of—”
My phone buzzed. “Speak of the devil.” I clambered out of the dumpster onto a patchwork of brick pavers, nearly tripping over a loose one as I answered with BrainLink.
“Ko.” Garrett was breathy as if having just run somewhere. “I’m sad to report that your father’s watch will never tell time again.”
My heart went into free fall. I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. “Oh.”
“However, I managed to extract a hidden voice recording from it anyway. It’s quite encrypted.”
“Oh, damn.”
“The good news …” He paused for effect. “I found a cipher compromise from last year—and paid a pretty penny for the exploit.”
There was a pattering in my chest. “What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying I managed to decode the audio,” he said triumphantly. “It should appear in your email. You can—”
I hung up, wilting against the building’s corrugated concrete as my pulse revved into high gear, my hoodie suddenly a furnace. Oh my God. An audio file from Dad’s watch. But it could be anything. A podcast. A ringtone.
Flinging open my inbox, I hit play.
There was the hiss of warbly static, maybe some machinery humming in the background. Finally, a man spoke with a faint Slavic accent, his voice like a spoonful of honey.
“Hey. Eniko. This is your father.”
My vision misted over, the alley going blurry. He sounded so close, right there in my ear.
“If you’re hearing this,” he continued, “it means I never did make my way to you. I wanted to say …” A huff across the microphone. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. You’ll probably feel I betrayed you by staying behind. And I guess ... I guess you’d be right. But I want you to know I love you, and I’ll always keep a place in my heart for you. That even if this turns out to be my last message, it won’t be the last time I think of you….”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
My heart swelled and withered all at the same time.
Dad’s voice sharpened. “You’re probably old enough to have discovered the Talisman by now. And in case Otokotronics captures me, I left behind a little insurance. I performed a brain scan and stored it on the Talisman’s chip. That way you can restore me to a bot if you ever … want to. If you ever want to talk. And if not, I … I understand. I definitely don’t deserve it. But I-I’ve got to go now. Take care of yourself, Eniko.” There were indistinct shouts in the background—and banging, maybe—before the recording cut to silence.
My throat burned. Oh man. In destroying the Talisman, I’d unwittingly thrown away my only chance to see Dad again. And now it sounded like he actually wasn’t such an awful guy after all? What the fuck was I supposed to do with this?
I reeled, lightheaded, my chest warring with guilt and relief. At least Dad had actually recorded a message for me the one time. I needed to hold onto that feeling as long as I could.
Sitting behind Sunset Bowl in the dying light, there was a strange peace in not having to wonder about Dad anymore. In knowing that even if he wasn’t out there thinking of his robot daughter, he had been.
Maybe that was enough. It had to be, right?
My phone pulsed in my hand—Garrett calling back. Why couldn’t this kid give a girl a little space? I gathered myself and answered.
“I believe we were disconnected.” He didn’t sound miffed. More, puzzled. “One additional thing I wanted to ask about … How would you like me to transfer the funds? It may be tricky across worlds.”
I wiped at my nose, blinking. What the hell was he talking about? “What funds?”
“Oh, did I not mention it earlier? I wanted to give you a little gift.”
Either I was really confused—or Garrett was. “I thought your gift was destroying the Talisman. Making it so Otokotronics stops coming after us. You know, encouraging them not to send attack squirrels through any tiny portals or whatever.”
Garrett laughed. “That’s right. But also, I suppose, I want to do something to thank you for tracking it down. Matt as well. I haven't seen Father so ... full of life in such a long time. My parents are always doing philanthropic work and I thought—why couldn’t I do the same? I never really spend my allowance as I truly have everything I need. I apologize if I forgot to mention it earlier.”
For the next few minutes I grilled him, making sure this wasn’t some elaborate joke Matt had put him up to. That there wasn’t some ulterior motive. But no, Garrett was just a good kid. A really good kid. Jesus, what kind of allowance did he get?
When we finally wrapped up the call, I tapped out a search on my phone. My belly was aflutter, my head spinning. I needed to talk to Mom.
The birds on the fence took off in a rustle of wings, spooked by Matt banging about in the dumpster. “You coming back?” he called out. “Or am I gonna have to eat all these expired Raisinets myself?”
“I’ve gotta make a call. Why don’t you finish up. I trust you.”
“You trust me?” His voice was tinged with suspicion. “Who’re you and what’ve you done with Ko?”
“She’s been replaced by a robot,” I said, turning away to BrainLink dial Mom.
“Hey,” she answered cheerily. “How late do you think you’ll be? I’m cooking tonight. Going all out—ramen and the good hot dogs. There was also a sale on frozen peas, and I may have gone a little nuts.”
“Mom.” My stomach was doing backflips. I couldn’t think about food. “I’ve got some news. Are you sitting down?” The whole Dad thing would have to wait. Plus I wanted it all to myself for a bit.
“Oh, Ko. How many times have I told you? I’m not ready to be a grandmother.”
I shook my head. “Oh my God, Mom. Still not funny. It’ll never be funny.”
“Okay, then what’s your news?” The faint drubbing of a classic rock anthem played in the background.
I smoothed my jeans. “Uh. We’ve recently come into a bit of money.”
Mom’s voice rose. “What? From where?”
“Garrett. For the Talisman. Little thank you, he said, for helping him find it.” I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Wow, that’s sweet of him. How much are we talking?”
I pushed up my sleeves, my face pulsing. “Sooo, you remember that house you really liked, the one with the stupid big bathroom? You know, from when we used to crash open houses for the food?”
“That place was drop-dead gorgeous. I would do terrible things for that house.” Her voice dropped. “Why?”
My heart thundered against my ribs. “It’s back on the market. And … I think we should move there.”
Heavy silence over the line. Finally, a shuddering exhalation.
I was grinning ear-to-ear, my eyes stinging, just imagining what was going through her head. “Also,” I said, my smile so big it hurt, “you can probably quit your job for a while. If you want. Totally up to you.”
After the call, I skipped back to the dumpster.
One of the sparrows returned to the fence to peer down at Matt. “Everything okay?” he called out.
“I think it’s going to be.” This feeling was new for me.
“Okay,” Matt said, “because I … found something.”
There was an edge to his voice that made my blood run cold. Goddamn it, universe. Why couldn’t I feel alright for like a solid sixty seconds in a row? It wasn’t much to ask. “What is it?”
“Ceramic object, roughly rectangular. Ko, this could mean Otokotronics is still using dumpsters to transit things. They could be tracking this as we speak.”
My skin tingled. We were supposed to be done. “I’m coming in.” I scrambled up the railing and over the rim, landing with an echoing thump beside Matt kneeling in the trash.
He turned, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes, a garden-variety red brick cradled in his upturned hands—and a giant shit-eating grin smeared across his face. “Do you think it’s … it’s … dangerous?” He burst out laughing.
I rolled my gaze heavenward, open mouthed, and shoved his shoulder hard. “Only if I use it to smack you upside the head for pulling that kinda crap.” But a smile crept up on me too, and I joined in his laughter. I’d never been so relieved in my entire life.
“Oh man,” Matt said finally, knuckling away a tear. “You should’ve seen your face.”
“You got me,” I said, loosening my iron grip on the hem of my hoodie.
I plunked down beside him and we pawed through the rest of the trash, shoulder to shoulder like that—until a lone sparrow flitted to the rim of the dumpster.
And made a sharp, metallic chirp.
THE END
So you've reached the end of Seven Robots Later. Thank you so much for taking a chance on this twisty, pulpy, preposterous story when these weird little characters pulled up in an RV, rolled down a window, and said, "Get in loser let's go noveling." And against all odds, you somehow ended up reading the whole-ass book! I really appreciate you sticking with it, given everything else you probably have going on. I hope you got something out of it too.
If I can ask you for one more thing, please take a moment to add an honest star rating or review here on Royal Road. And give the story a follow and/or favorite if you haven't already. That will help others find out about it and also effectively virtue signal your extremely good taste in novels. Speaking of, maybe tell a friend or two about Seven Robots if you think they'd enjoy it. (And tell an enemy if you know they wouldn't.)
Also, head to the comments section below with any questions or comments you have about the book as a whole. There's a final "favorite character" poll after the following wall of text, so I really hope for your sake your scroll wheel works.
Here's what you can do now:
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and be the first to find out when and where my next story comes out... It may or may not be on Royal Road. As soon as you sign up, as a little thank you, you'll get a free bonus chapter set in the Seven Robots Later cinematic universe—told from the perspective of a character you'd least expect. (And no, it's not Aiden. ??)
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(and not just this story) on Royal Road. That way, if I do post any other stories here, you'll find out as soon as the first chapter drops.
You know how in the acknowledgments section in the back of a book, the author goes on and on about how terribly hard it was to write? How much gnashing of teeth occurred while it was being written? How they owe such a deep gratitude to their agent, editor, spouse, priest, rabbi, mentor, cat, and really, a cast of characters so expansive it could almost fill a book on its own?
Well, I used to always roll my eyes as I skimmed those acknowledgments in books I read. After all, how hard could it possibly be to write something that I, as a reader, could knock out in a couple hours? How much emotional support did one author possibly need? And why in the ever-living frick-frack were there so very many people involved in the process?
And then I wrote a book.
Oh my God, let me tell you. Now I totally get it. I will never skim an acknowledgments section ever again. Writing a book, turns out, takes some goddamned doing. Blood, sweat, tears. On the page. Off the page. It's really a total shit show.
First, there are writing groups and critique partners. Like Jimmy, the true trailblazer. He was either brave or foolhardy enough to read some real rough stuff—and yet still give me amazingly helpful feedback. I owe you a huge debt of thanks, mate. Also, there was Jayjaydee4 and Secret Cat and Lish and Karen and Ted and Pele and maddOphelia. Some major troopers, always willing to tell me what I needed to hear even if I sometimes wanted to put my fingers in my ears and say la-la-la my story is already perfect you must be mistaken. But for real, my writing improved greatly under your watch.
Also! Melissa, Scott, Isabel, Alex, Heather, and Rachel, who put up with my weird little YA sci-fi story about dumpsters for years while still providing super actionable and insightful comments. And I’d be really remiss if I didn’t mention Anne (OMG thank you for reading about robots!), SquirkyTurtle, wendiferously, Denali, Zeroender, S. Cole (thanks for review #1 and the tireless plugs!), amchagar, disaster-termite, fatamorgana, the whole Writers Inc. crew, and also Sophia, Alan, Carly, and Alice, who didn’t let me get away with weak motivations or poor characterization or questionable pacing—and really made me bring my A game or at minimum my solid B- game.
Next, there are beta readers. Like Fey, Mark, stopeats, Catherine, Luka, Andrew, Melissa (again!), Lydia, Brett, Suzanne, Lindy, and disaster-termite (again!). They took the mostly intact story the critiquers had helped produce and tore it down anew so that it could be built up bigger and better and with more explosions.
Then, there are actual readers of the “finished” product! (No book is ever finished. You just put down the IBM Selectric at some point.) A huge thank you goes to all the Royal Road readers and followers and favoriters and commenters (special thanks to Youngish Oldster, Pengtron, and !). And also the shout-outers and raters and reviewers and even the 0.5-star haters. I literally couldn’t have done it without you all. (Okay, I probably could've done it without the 0.5-star haters. To each one of you: I hope you find what you're looking for, because it sure wasn't highly emotional robots.)
Also, someone’s gotta design the cover, right? And God knows I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. So a huge thanks to for providing tons of generous help and feedback as I struggled through using the Midjourney plagiarism engine for the first time. And also thanks to for making my first cover, parts of which I'm still using on . So much hair. So much fire. It's glorious!
Lastly, but not leastly, there's the super supportive and understanding family. Not only did mine encourage me to keep writing this thing through the whole fricking decade it took to write (in my defense, like 9.75 years of that was learning how to, you know, word good), they read it too and provided beta feedback even though this really wasn’t their genre! Total champs. Mom and Lindy, thank you from the bottom, middle, and top of my partially robotic heart.
Anyhoo, that’s a wrap. Thanks for reading—and see you in the comments!
Dan
P.S. Here's a link to the in case you missed it the first time around.
P.P.S. If anyone is bored enough to consider a re-read at some point, there are tons of little foreshadowing nuggets for you to find—starting from chapter one!
P.P.P.S. Okay, one last plug for the ol' .
Who is your favorite character?