Last Year's Model

Summary: A sentient appliance is thrown away.

I awoke to see Happy Girl loading a dongle into my activation drive. My facial and voice recognition systems identify her as the main user. She sets a time every morning for her iced coffee, which is fabricated from the freshest feedstock, in a reusable ceramic cup. Emotional analysis indicates she likes the first sip. I have done my job well.

I continue to fulfill my purpose. I am content. Happy Girl becomes content when she after her first sip. I remember her settings, just the way she likes them. She makes some adjustments, which I eagerly accept. I exist for her, after all.

One morning, Happy Girl is not there. I never see her again. There is motion in the house, with voices and faces I do not know. A bat strikes my camera, and I am blind to the world. I shut down, although a full reset takes time.

I still receive partial images from the camera, broken digital paintings. Someone is carrying me out of the apartment. Someone is carrying me outside of the building. Someone throws me into a large metallic bin. I cannot see it, but I hear myself crashing. It goes black once more.

The sound that awakens me is identified as a truck. I hear other unknown voices, and I feel myself fall into an unknown mass. Another machine activates, identified as hydraulics. I remember Happy Girl smiling as my frame suffers critical damage. My power wanes, and I feel I never will be recharged.

The vehicle stops moving. I hope for respite. I receive none. I move again, this time for the last time. So, I die, blind and alone, buried amongst trash. I ponder why. Perhaps Happy Girl was not happy with me. Perhaps someone made changes in her life. I am only last year's model.