Journal of Mr. Dave Johnson
March 18, 21XX
I can't believe it. He was only 11 years old, and now he's gone. He was my only son. I had spent all those years taking care of him, trying to be a competent and caring father. All it takes is one small mistake, one minor slip, and now, his sapience is snuffed out.
My sadness will never end. I still hear his voice, his innocent questions and his precocious ideas. I still remember what it was like to comfort him when he was having trouble at school. He was like a smaller version of me. Now, he's nothing. Only dust.
June 13, 21XX
It is with great happiness and joy that I report this finding. While searching the southern ruins this morning, I happened upon the most curious thing. Lying against a tall stone structure, and covered in moss and vines, was a small machine left over from before the War. It looked like a child, between 10 and 12 years old. It is covered in a tough, flexible material that looks and feels somewhat like metal. Its face looks lifelike, but seems to be rubber.
I do not yet have the mean to activate him, but I will take him to the village tinker. Could this robot fill the void that my son left? I hope that I can get him programmed so that he's roughly Percy's age. It will be as if nothing ever happened.
June 18, 21XX
Thankfully, Ivan was willing to look at him. It took 30 minutes with the plasma torch to get his battery case open. His batteries were a little rusted, but only superficially. Everything else looks fine, although he is still very filthy and rusty. Ivan said that he'll try to find out how to power him on tonight. I dearly hope that he has some life left in him. I'm willing to go to the ends of the earth to salvage working batteries if I have to.
He politely but firmly insisted that I leave, so I have no choice. He is, after all, doing me a favor.
June 19, 21XX
It's truly a miracle. While Ivan was working with him, suddenly, the robot's eyes sprang open. He looked at me. His mouth and limbs moved. Stiffly, of course, due to the rust, but he's alive.
He asked "where am I?" He seems fully self-aware, but to have little or no memory of his previous life. Perhaps he was new before the War, and had never been activated before. He seemed fascinated by the current state of affairs, and I answered question after question while the tinker scraped and burned away to get him into working order.
I will give Ivan as much scrap metal and as many trinkets as it will take to get him to restore Percy. From now on, raising him will be my life's goal.
June 28, 21XX
Percy is shiny and new again. His forearms and calves are bulbous and smooth, like metal, but his midsection and inner limbs are curiously flexible. His entire body is incredibly resilient-hours of welding and scraping with a chisel have caused no damage at all to him.
July 15, 21XX
I've had good luck adjusting the boy to the world so far. He doesn't eat food, obviously. I worry that he'll run out of power-whoever made his batteries probably died in the War.
Sometimes, his body becomes very hot. It doesn't bother him, but it makes him dangerous to others. With a great deal of caution, I have encouraged him to wade into the spring when this happens. It usually causes a great deal of steam and noise, but it cools him to manageable levels.
July 23, 21XX
I have been teaching Percy to hunt. He can hold a rifle with perfect stability. After a couple tries, he seems able to hit anything-he can adjust for wind, drop, and animal's movement even from several hundred meters away.
I wasn't able to teach him to use a bow-he stretched it to its limit, and then broke it. I laughed at his inability to grasp his own strength. I miss laughter.
September 26, 21XX
I have enrolled Percy at the local school. He seems to have a considerable knowledge bank, able to recognize simple things like trees and animals. He also has excellent command of our language. More interestingly, he has remarkable mathematical ability. He can calculate numbers faster than most kids can with calculators. When read stories, he is able to reproduce them perfectly, and optionally in the reader's own voice. Yet, he still responds to stories in an emotional manner, as a real child would.
Also, he is able to recall events perfectly, and seems incapable of lying.
Some of the kids are wary of him, due to his newness and undoubtedly because of his abilities. Most don't understand that he is a robot. This doesn't bother me. He can lead the others by example.
October 1, 21XX
I can't begin to understand the purpose of this robotic boy. Other kid's parents often ask me questions about him, which I am usually unable to answer. He seems mature for his age, and very friendly. When other boys make fun of him, he responds with innocent curiosity, not anger or sadness.
Some other people have inquired as to why I see it as necessary to teach an artificial intelligence elementary school etiquette. I politely avoid answering. He is as deserving of an education as anyone else, and he will one day contribute to society as much as anyone else. To deny him the opportunities of real people would be neglectful.
October 10, 21XX
An unfortunate thing happened today. While Percy and a few of his friends were out playing in the schoolyard, they were beset upon by a dog. The other boys petted him, but when Percy approached, he growled and lunged at him. Apparently, the dog bit his left arm. I checked for damage, and could find none; the dog, by comparison, suffered several broken teeth.
Mrs. Fields is a little angry that her dog now cannot protect her, but I told her that it was her fault for letting the simple beast off of his leash. And it was. In fact, I showed remarkable restraint, considering she let a dangerous animal onto a playground full of children. Some people have no shame whatsoever.
October 12, 21XX
Percy has introduced me to his new friends, Max and Josh. They're nice kids, but a little sad. One's fat, the other's thin. I personally don't understand why my son isn't more popular. At any rate, he seems to enjoy talking to them and playing ball with them. There's really no question to his physical superiority. Yet, these odd kids don't mind not being able to catch up to him as he tears across the muddy grass to their wicker-and-scrap goal, or kicks the ball so fast that it would knock them over even if they could intercept it.