The Potential Machine

A Quick and Simple Imperfect Metaphor

A man in a nice suit enters our campsite in the city. Julius invited him, claiming he could help us. We have our doubts, but we’re desperate.

“I heard your gang wants to overthrow the corrupt government, is that correct?” the man smiles at us, holding out a closed suitcase in the orange glow of our trashcan fire.

“Don’t we all?” I ask. The rest of our group shuffles uncomfortably in their seats made of shrapnel. “Why do you even have to ask that?”

The smiling man blinks twice and looks away from me. His body buzzes and clicks. He’s not a man. He’s an old salesbot from the last century, when nonsense conquered reality. His mouth opens and his programmed pitch continues to emit from his audio speaker.

“Well, you’re in luck. Introducing the Potential Machine!” he opens the suitcase. A black ball floats out and hides in the smoke.

“Ah, shit. One of those killed my brother. Get your rusty ass and your killing machine out of our camp!” shouts Amy, directing her remaining siblings behind her.

“No! Not again. Not again!” Hector picks up his shoes and runs down the street.

“I’m sorry y’all,” Julius says, standing his ground next to the salesbot and across from me. “I just thought—” Julius is interrupted.

The Potential Machine comets out of its hiding place and beheads him. Julius’ wide eyes stare up at me as his neck bleeds onto my shoes. His body slumps over on the other side of the fire. I stand alone with the bot and his killing machine. Amy and her siblings duck and cover in the false security of their tents.

“You see, the Potential Machine has the ability to kill people, which means it has the ability, or potential…” the bot pauses for laughter that doesn’t come. “…to kill who you want it to kill. All you need to do is let it roam free and watch it go!”

“Put that thing away and get out of here!”

“You wanted help taking down the corrupt government. This is how I help.” The bot says this with his white teeth dripping red. Julius’ blood squirts out of his body and onto the bot’s latex face.

“But it’s killing us, not them!”

“Right now it is. But it has the potential—”

I interrupt the broken record with a large chunk of asphalt. His broken head pulls itself back up to make sure the one remaining eye is still lit up and aimed at me. He opens his busted mouth again.

“You don’t understand. It has the potential to do what it is doing to you, to them. Eventually, if you survive, it could save you all. Isn’t that nice?” The salesbot smiles with half of its teeth still intact. His loose wires spark like warring stars. The Potential Machine swoops down and beheads Hector, hiding down the street. My found family screams and cries as the bubble bobs up and down around our camp.

“I don’t care what it can do! I care about what it is actively doing!”

I drop the rock on the unwanted visitor’s head once more. The robot stops sparking, but its insides glow read. A voice booms out of the dead bot’s chest.

“You have destroyed government property! You must die!”

The Potential Machine imitates my rock. My head imitates the bot’s.