Ping!

My watch pings. I hear a muffled voice.

A text comes in: “Ken, this is your final warning.”

Robot hunters. Trying to captcha me. I need to get home. Now.

I vaguely remember something about memory loss in the fine print of the robot replacement agreement. Who reads the fine print? Did I tell my wife Kate? I hope she’ll still feel the spark, connected to robot-me?

En route, I see the neighbour’s kid trying to sneak into his girlfriend’s house. I point at him and my finger fires a laser, missing him, knocking out the porch light. Killer upgrade!!!

Home, my quick environmental scan shows Kate gabbing with our son Shawn, and his friends Sean and Shaun. They’re having a snack of nachos with guacamole. I prefer computer chips. Robot-me is hilarious.

They’re staring at me. Was that out loud? Is my laser finger glowing?

Then I yawn. It’s contagious. Shawn yawns. Then Sean yeans. Then Shaun yauns.

Kate says “Ken, you yawned when I was talking. Am I boring you?”

“I didn’t yawn. It was an unsuccessful attempt to speak.”

I didn’t see the frying pan. Luckily, my titanium skullframe prevented serious damage. My watch shows 20% battery left – that’s what yawning means. I need to conserve power (and skullframe) to make it to the shoe shop to get re-booted before slipping into sleep mode.

Then…

My watch pings. I hear a muffled voice.

It’s Kate. Half asleep. “Turn your alarm off. Ken, this is your final warning.”

-submitted to NYC 250 Word Microfiction Challenge 2022