2163
The trucker had been dreaming of chilaquiles when he pulled into the Chimaltenango depot. His dreams were coming true in a corner of the first bodega to open; an aging but well-kept building not fifteen minutes walk from the depot. The lean old man who'd busied himself in the little kitchen stood at the front counter speaking with an even older man, voices thick with local color that made him wonder if it was still even Spanish. He was intently munching away with one eye on the television when the laughable telenovela was replaced with an anchor staring out from behind disaster.
"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you urgent news. Akilah Mkapa, CEO of the Tanganyika Group held a press conference earlier today in Kasama during which she announced the discovery of a new class of robot from before the Cataclysm. We now present translated footage of this conference."
His sight went grey—a problem with the television? No, an elderly woman had stepped into the aisle and was carefully considering a can of beans, her tacky piled-up hair blocking the way. He thought to shout at her, but the store owner looked the chivalrous type. He took two quick bites of chilaquiles and stood up to get a better view. A woman was stood at a podium talking; the translated voice-over was too faint, no subtitles. He swore and picked up his plate, carrying it closer to the screen.
". . . possible without the work of Doctors Eusebio Cain and Sigmund Doppler, Preston DeWitt, and Martinique Sy in unearthing this treasure from Exclusion Zone Beta. What they have found is nothing short of revolutionary: a fully functioning humanoid machine that is not only more advanced than any currently in operation, but which entirely eclipses the documented capabilities of even the most advanced pre-Cataclysm robots. Not only . . ."
The trucker's fork had stopped midway up to his mouth while the woman was speaking. He forced himself to finish the movement, but he barely tasted or felt anything. The exhaustion of thirty hours on the road receded.
". . . with Tanganyika Group to establish the Cain-Doppler Robotics Corporation, with the aim of understanding, replicating, and applying the technological advances embodied in this machine. We understand that all this may come as a shock. Some will not believe us; we hope you understand that for security reasons we cannot yet present this machine, but rest assured that we shall do so as soon as safely possible."
The old woman was crossing herself, clutching her can of beans for dear life. She slapped a few coins down on the counter, jostling the can where the owner could see it, and left without change. She was praying. The shop owner had his back turned to the counter and was busy stocking shelves with cigarettes, but the man who'd been talking with him was silent, countenance ashen. He turned his gaze to the floor of the bodega.
"Later, Anselmo," he said, shuffling out. The shop owner said nothing, kept about his business. The scene left the trucker with a train-wreck watcher's guilt.