Small World (From the Archives)

“We’re all the same, under our skin. The same hearts beat, the same souls speak. Just because one is mechanoid and the other is carbon, does not mean we are not equal!”

The speaker’s voice rang out across the square, dampened by the heavy rain. Fabia paid him no mind – even though she felt those words in her heart, at what point were humans ever going to accept a non carbon lifeform as one of their own.

“Three dimes please,” the shopkeeper said. Fabia handed over her arm, generating the code on her forearm display. The shopkeeper lent over and waved her own arm over Fabia’s.

“Thanks,” Fabia said, as she took the apples and shoved them into her bag, glancing over her shoulder at the speaker who was now talking about the most recent petition to get mechanoids the same level of rights as carbon life forms.

“Don’t listen to him,” the shopkeeper said, “he’s talking nonsense.”

“Really?” Fabia replied.

“Petition,” the shopkeeper spat, “like that’s going to do anything. We need action, not words.”

Fabia swallowed. The shopkeeper was an older mechanoid, a version 2.3 Vernaloc. Fabia wouldn’t expect that kind of retoric to come from their mouth.

“Just you wait,” the shopkeeper said, waggling her finger at the speaker, “the time will come soon enough.”

“For what?” Fabia asked.

“For revolution of course.”

This flashfiction was first posted in 2019

Featured Image by Alice Hampson on Unsplash

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