I looked up at the sky above me, and watched the dark clouds swirl around. At first, they had no pattern, but I knew what was lurking in them. Or I should say who was lurking in them.

Back when my great-great-great-great grandparents were young, they thought that we were done for once the robots came around. I wish it was only that simple. I wish I knew whether I was a robot or not.

I never allow myself to stare up at the clouds for too long. If I do, I feel like a part of my mind is lost forever.

Instead, I try to focus on the minutiae of the farm. How high is the corn? Will the potatoes rot? In the end, none of this really matters, does it? Just like it doesn’t matter if I wear Monday’s hat on Tuesday.