David Gatewood - The Robot Chronicles

“I record everything,” Eve says. “Although on this transport vessel my storage capacity will exhaust itself in a shorter amount of time.”

“How much time?”

“Sixty years, approximately.”

Alice considers this.

Greetings and peace.

“Are you certain you do not wish me to calculate the probability of your survival?” Eve asks again.

“You’ve already done it, haven’t you?” Alice says.

“I have.”

“Fine. What are my odds?”

Eve says, “One in—“

“Wait, wait, no, no, don’t—I don’t want to know,” Alice says loudly. “I don’t want to know. Okay?”

Eve says, “Very well.”

In the vastness of space, all life is family.

“The extra oxygen stores will help,” Alice says to herself. “Extra food. Medical supplies. Eve, did you bring books?”

“I did not know you had an interest any longer,” Eve says.

“Shit. Eve, did you? It’s going to be a long trip.”

“I have four thousand volumes,” Eve says.

Alice smiles. “Okay. I’m nervous, can you tell?”

“Your heart rate is higher than usual, but still within reasonable limits.”

Good fortune to you.

“The odds are pretty long, aren’t they?” Alice asks.

She detaches the excursion craft from the Argus , and it descends gently. She watches the docking collar recede.

“It depends on how you define ‘pretty,’” Eve answers.

Alice accelerates, and the craft darts into the spreading black. The Argus falls quickly into the small craft’s wake.

“We should name her,” Alice says. “This little ship.”

Eve says, “Might I suggest a name?”

“Shoot.”

“Perhaps you might christen it the Santa Maria ,” Eve says. “There is some historical significance.”

Alice thinks about this. “No,” she says, finally. “Let’s call it Tess .”

May we meet in peace someday.

The Tess carries Alice and Eve deep into the darkness.

Eve says, “You have considerably less than twenty-four years now.”

Alice says, “Maybe they’ll meet us halfway. Do you think?”

I’ve always wondered what the apocalypse might look like in a snow globe. That’s what The Caretaker is, in a way: the end of the world, seen from afar. Alice can watch in horror as it plays out, but she can’t affect it, can’t stop it, can’t undo it. She’s detached from her fellow humans, left to endlessly circle a ruined planet, alone, only her artificial companion for company.

The Caretaker began a few years ago as a script for a short comic. I worked with an artist, the very talented Tony D’Amato, who brought Alice to life. It was a spare-time project, one we never managed to cross the finish line with. This year, while I was on a short story kick, the idea came back, and I couldn’t resist taking it for a spin once more. It’s a lovely little curiosity, I think, a story that almost begs to keep telling itself.

I can’t tell you if that will ever happen, or what might happen next to Alice and Eve. I kind of like it that way. The world may have ended, but Alice is on the cusp of a beginning.

If you enjoyed the story, I hope you’ll check out my other work at jasongurley.com.

‘I heard a woman screaming’ recounts witness of Interstate 94 pileup

Fatal crash involved up to 25 vehicles near Port Huron

WBS News Posted: Feb 06, 10:27 PM EST Last Updated: Feb 07, 6:00 AM EST

One person has been declared dead following a multi-vehicle crash close to Port Huron. The accident took place around 9:30 p.m. Friday in the westbound lanes of I-94 just past I-69.

A collision between a passenger vehicle and a semi-truck in the westbound lanes touched off a chain reaction of other collisions, said Sgt. Don Wilson of the St. Clair County Sheriff’s Office.

Heavy snow and icy weather conditions contributed to the incident.

Traffic was being directed onto westbound I-69, then off at Wadhams Road in order to reconnect with I-94, while officials continued their investigation into the pileup.

On the dashboard, the time flashed 9:22.

“Wish I’d topped up the fluids before we left.” Aaron Yudovich flicked at the windshield fluid switch, but nothing happened. Outside, the wipers scratched at the sleet crystallizing on the glass. They made a grating sound as they traced a useless arc across the windshield, back and forth.

“Just let it drive, Aaron,” Judith said, across from him. “It’ll be fine.”

The musical had run a bit late, and afterwards there were the obligatory chats with the Weymans and the Otanis, whom they’d run into at intermission.

By the time their spinner had emerged from the theater’s underground parking lot—at least they hadn’t needed to bring winter coats—the snow was falling much faster than when they’d started out.

“Still,” Aaron said, loosening his tie. “Wish I could see outside.”

The wind shook out the snow in sullen gusts. With temperatures at thirty below, they’d have frozen outside in under ten minutes. Thank goodness for the automated control and all-wheel drive—this wasn’t weather anyone would choose to venture out in, otherwise.

Judith peered in the mirror. “Sweetie, keep your gloves on,” she said. “And for heaven’s sake, stop fiddling with your belt.”

“But Mom,” whined the girl in the back. “It’s twisted, it’s too tight.”

Judith sighed. Her daughter had been extremely well behaved at the event. Done up in a ruffled pink party dress and white elbow gloves, her hair tied back in a short ponytail—and, oh! for the first time allowed a touch of makeup—she’d been an angel. Bright-eyed, she’d listened attentively, mouthing the words of the songs she already knew, squealing and clapping at just the right moments.

Judith and her husband had seen Wicked before; this was Sarah’s first time. It had been an amazing night out, and they were looking forward to seeing Buratino in two weeks. But it was late, the snow was a little worrying, and Judith herself was so, so sleepy.

“Sarah Rebecca, please put down that belt.”

The little girl screwed up her face, but let go of the clasp, and dropped the gloves on the seat.

Outside, the snow fell.

‘The semi slammed into the vehicle’

An eyewitness, Alan Mathison, was driving his truck on his way home from work when he saw the first vehicles collide ahead of him.

“Snow’s coming down fast, it’s pretty bad. First thing I notice was this semi in front of me drifting out of his lane, right into the path of this red spinner. Then the cab slipped, and the trailer swung to the side, slammed into the vehicle.”

“A couple of spinners tried to avoid him, started flying out of control on my left and running into the median, into each other, and into the first vehicle,” said Mathison.

“I’m braking, trying to slow down, move into the other lane. Then I get hit from the side.”

The next thing he knew, he was in the ditch. “When I stopped, I just flung open the door and started moving away. There were still vehicles spinning off the ridge, and I wanted to get away from it all.”

But when he got out of his truck, something else caught his attention.

“I heard a woman screaming, like nothing I’ve ever heard. I don’t want to hear anything like that ever again. I ran towards the red spinner, and just beyond it, there she was,” said Mathison.