Ficly

No Home For a God

After a final check of my suit, I stepped out the airlock into the Yard. Silence, and then, clanking and grinding. I winced.
Someone needs repairs. I hit the button for Tia.
Life on Mars was quiet, tenuous, and lonely. I was stationed with two other scientists, old men even more introverted than I.
And three dozen robots, scattered across the surface of the planet. They called this meager base Home. We should have given it a proper name, but it was their Home. The only Home.
This project had been conceived decades ago, before any of these robots had been constructed.
What will we do when we create Ones which are truly self-aware?
We cannot destroy them, beings like us.
Cannot enslave them.
Earth is too crowded already.
And so the Martian base became their reservation. They could work if they chose, as areologists, or what they would. Fuels and supplies parachuted down.
I was the ambassador.
I watched Tia replace a motor in Joe’s aft limb. So gentle she looked.
Male and female we created them.

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