Robot in the Woods is proud to debut its first short fiction piece by Science Fiction author Michael Ugulini. Mr. Ugulini is a freelance writer located in Toronto, Canada. Three of his short scripts have recently won awards, including First Place in the American Gem Short Screenplay Competition (2006) for his screenplay PARCHED. For more information about Mr. Ugulini, please visit his website.

DAYS ON THE WIND FARM, by Michael Ugulini

She watched me from the crest of the hill, which overlooked the water. I had beached my canoe to rest from a long morning’s paddling along the coast, and I was ready to eat some lunch. She was maybe forty-five, with shoulder length blond hair, and wore a blue summer dress, which caught the breeze like the giant wind turbines that towered over her fifteen yards behind.

These, in fact, had caught my eye as I traversed the coast. There were at least a dozen of them spread along a wide expanse of farmland, impressive to see as their white blades cut the air. Others had told me about them, how they had changed the landscape, and were providing electricity to a town down in the valley. Farms in other parts of the country were leasing out space for these as well, as sources of income. People said it was common now to see fields of robot-workers moving their metal arms along rows of crops in synchronicity with the spinning blades above them.

She waved to me and I waved back. I opened my backpack and took a sandwich out. She stood watching me, brushing the hair back off her forehead. She moved closer to me along the crest and put her hand to her lips as if to suppress words. I took a bite of my sandwich and looked out at the sea. It was a day as bright as fresh paint. She was standing over me now from her position above. She mouthed something, but a wind gust stole her words, carrying them down the beach.

“Excuse me ma’am?”
“You have come for me”
I stood up. She did not move - her eyes now locked on mine. I wanted to look away from them but could not, for they had an earnest luminosity, which mirrored the water before us.

“You have come for me from the city.”

I crouched down, put my sandwich back into the backpack, and then stepped forward.

“I’m sorry ma’am?”
“Are you not from the city?”
“Yes, ma’am I am.”
“Do not call me ma’am, please, I am Alana.”
“Do you live around here…Alana?”
She stepped forward again, and stood as if teetering on the cusp of the rise.
“This is my farm. I am a provider. You have come to take me to the city?”
Another gust shot a length of hair across her eyes and she brushed it quickly away, as if fearing I would disappear if not in her view.
“I’m just stopping for some lunch ma’am… Alana. I’m Dan.
“I have waited a long time for you, Dan.”

I picked up my backpack and hoisted it over my shoulder. She watched me and I sensed anxiety from her. I was unsure of all she was about and wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“I should be getting back on the water, still a lot of the coast I want to see.”
“I allow them to capture wind on my property. I am a provider of electricity; crops too, this morning my robot-workers and I harvested record yields in sector B. You will see my bounty in your city markets.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, moving to the water. I threw my backpack into the canoe. I turned back and looked beyond her.

“That is one magnificent sight, all those turbines humming over that lush farmland.” I pushed the canoe off the sand and climbed in, paddling back from the water’s edge. I left, not knowing how to respond to a woman who felt a twenty year-old was her long awaited someone.

“Come back tomorrow, you are the one I have been waiting to meet; I will show you how the turbines work, and the robot-workers.”

My last view, before I rounded the point, was of her shading here eyes to watch me, the tall turbines rotating in unison above her.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
I returned the next day because I was the one she was waiting for.

She stood in exactly the same spot. She wore the same blue dress. I beached the canoe and walked until I was upon the rise beside her. She stepped back as I reached her and started walking - maintaining a distance of a couple of yards between us, while keeping her eye on me.

“I will show you turbine seven, it’s the closest, and then the robot-workers.”
We walked ahead and I saw rows of lettuce. At the far end of the long rows was an army of robots progressing our way. They were spindly shining mechanisms like chrome praying mantises, stooping with long arms to pluck heads of lettuce then placing them in crates. I sensed hesitation from them as they looked my way but I must have imagined it, as they continued with their work.
We reached turbine seven and she gave me a lesson about its history and operation. It was a fascinating story, this piece of technology rising above me at a height of two hundred and fifteen feet - its blades one hundred and sixteen feet in length. She explained how the men from the corporation installed it and how the blades spun according to wind speed and generated electricity. She said she was continuing a job by her long-dead father. She was carrying on his vision, his dreams, at the expense of her own. His agreement with the authorities calling for more turbines every five years, income from the leased plots of land paying for more robot workers to grow and harvest lettuce to feed the hungry cities.

Her eyes were moist and she wiped away a stray tear winding its way down her cheek. I turned away, not wanting to embarrass her. I peered down the rows of lettuce to the robot-workers who were moving methodically, halfway to us now. I turned back to face her.

“I see on my monitor each night those from the city touching one another, people touching constantly each day,” she whispered. “I have not touched flesh in twenty-five years; the last person I touched was my father’s face, as he lay dying. I deal with wind, soil, and robot-workers all day and that is all. The robots do not touch because of the nature of their programming. They protect this land and me. I am alone; I have been since my father’s death.”

“I’m sorry.”
“You are here to bring me to the enclosed city, where people touch; I prayed for you to come to me for years. I will touch you and you will take me with you.”
She reached out to me and gently placed her hand on my cheek. I did not move.

She moved closer, and slowly ran both her hands along the length of my arms. Her hands rose and she ran them slowly over my eyes, my forehead, and through my hair. She stared in my eyes than kissed my lips, blowing a wisp of hot air into my mouth that felt like an electric charge.

The robot-workers were closer. They stopped and each stood upright, heads of lettuce falling at their sides onto the dirt between the rows. They advanced now, a little faster, still methodical in their movements. Alana continued to run her hands over me.

“Take me with you. You are here for a purpose. I am tired of the open spaces, the wind through my hair. I’m tired of this dusty land, and the whirr of the robots and the spinning blades upon it. I want the narrow streets, the crowded subways where people touch. I want hands through my hair and the smell of concrete.”
“But why now, why did you not leave years ago?”

“The robots would not let me. They are programmed. I have no more heart. I am a mechanism, programmed to spend the rest of my days on the wind farm with them.”
“But you must see people, people must service the turbines and the robots, you must buy supplies in town.”
“I do not touch, I conduct business with robot-workers at my side, they watch over me as I am alone.
The robots were upon us. Their heads turned in unison, first to her then to me. She backed away from me as they came to her.

“Go. It is too late.”
The robots encircled her but did not touch her. She stood in the center of their circle tears streaming down her face.

‘”Go”, she screamed, “Go back to your city, you are too late to act.” She fell to her knees sobbing.

The robot-workers turned and started towards me.

I ran to the beach and my canoe. I looked back and saw the turbines turning slowly in the wind, the robot-workers lined up under them watching me float out to sea.

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Next Week’s Story: A RUSTY ROBOT IN THE WOODS, by children’s author David Kerr

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