Let's Go To Robotville

I have the greatest of the great ideas!” My husband said. “Best one I have ever had!” He uses this line weekly Since he is in sales, and we have been married a long time I did not drop my I-pads to listen, for I was playing word games And love using “scrabble cheat” to win. ……………… thinking Robotville!” He said with a flourish. Bear in mind this is a man who always wants to be on the cutting edge. But Robotville? Was he kidding? Why would we risk our lives? Robotville has an excellent reputation, but getting there is tricky. Two Mon-3’s full of excited tourists had gone down in the past ten days. No survivors. One hundred and eighty-three on one flight. One hundred and two on the other. Two hundred and eighty-five dead earthlings. Just because they wanted a vacation on Robotville! I would rather stay in my recliner and be alive, I thought. A face leaned over my chair and startled me. “Here are our tickets!” he said, dropping two Robotville tickets on one of my I-pads. I had just played a one hundred and eighty-five point word. An omen. 185 points. 185 dead! Since he had the tickets and he is the world’s greatest salesmen, I found myself on planet Robotville three days later. Five robotville natives were at the airstrip to greet us. Blue stamped us with a temporary blue tattoo that said TOURIST. Red shook our hands or hugged us, depending on our feeling level. Orange gave us a twirl and said something terrific to each of us. Something different. “This is great!” I admitted when Green handed me vouchers worth five Kims of free stuff. Purple said, “Wait until you meet Gold and Silver!” and gave us a relaxing waterless-shower as we entered the Robot-port. By the time we got to the scooter rental center, I had met Gold and Silver. Gold lulled me to sleep and brushed my hair. Silver had taken my luggage, and rented us scooters. “Where do you think they took our stuff?” I asked my husband. He was getting a full body massage by Gold. "Who cares? We are on Robotville!” I laughed at his enthusiasm. We are both Type A, but today I felt like Type Z. “You do not drive the scooters yourself,” the ticket master told us. “That is for M-6 and T-45 to do for you.” We had been assigned M-6 and T-45, the most polite robots I had ever met; actually the only robots I had ever met. They got on the scooters and motioned for us to get on the back. “Hotel R-67-Q right?” M-6 asked my husband. “How did you know?” “Your itinerary is programmed in.” We were pampered and given key lime pie and coffee almost the second we arrived. We danced, played tennis, ate exotic foods, walked on the beach, and went swimming. I had not been this active since I was in my twenties. On our last day on Robotville I was thinking about a cinnamon roll and hot tea, and they instantly appeared on a silver tray in front of me. “I cannot believe it!” I told my husband. “Best vacation ever.” “We will be back!” we told M-6 and T-45 at the Robot-port. “It has been marvelous,” agreed the man I was with. He looked familiar, but my memories were fading. Stolen by robots who were collecting data on humans hard and fast. Two days later my husband looked at me and said, “Robotville!” “What about it?” “We should go.” “I don’t know about that,” I argued. I am not much of an adventurer. He is not either, but he had tickets so we went. “Wow!” I said, as M-6 and T-45 were assigned to us. “A robot for each person!” “What do you do on Robotville?” I asked T-45 as we traveled through space. “Whatever you want,” she told me. “Just make sure you are relaxed.” It was the best vacation I had ever had. “Let’s come back some time,” I said to my husband. “Who are you?” He asked me. His memories were gone. Taken by M-6. I began screaming my head off. T-45 was concerned. “What’s the matter?” “There is a strange man in my room!” I yelped. They took him away. But I never returned home. Because a few minutes later I thought I was home.