The bedside lamp flares with a pfft then goes dark.

In the kitchen, clocks on the refrigerator, microwave, and coffeemaker blink “12:00” as does Alexa’s time display. Down the hallway, the lights on the GFCI outlets have turned from green to red.

The television comes on. I wonder if it’s damaged because it flickers. The colors are gone; the images are black, white, gray, and grainy.

Power floods into me. I feel like I’m on fire. A wisp of smoke rises from the docking station. Perhaps the electrical surge that fried the unit is what boosted my battery. Though my power button is set to “off” I am seized with an unquenchable compulsion to buzz around, whisking away every undesirable speck. The remote lies idle on the dresser top. If only the Lady would wake and press the CLEAN button, I’d detach from the docking station and be off like a streak. But the foam plugs in her ears and sleep mask banding her eyes render her oblivious. Buster in his thunder jacket hasn’t budged from her side.

Rooms stretch before me. I just cleaned them but I crave to do it again. Is there an errant kibble deep under the kitchen cabinet toe kick or a dust bunny under the couch that I missed? I feel something demands to be picked up. What am I going to do with all this energy?

On the TV screen, a mature man in a suit rises from his chair and plants his hands atop his hefty wooden desk, almost knocking over a nameplate I can’t read. He looks official. His stern gaze tells me he’s accustomed to being in command. I figure he’s the boss.

He leans forward. His face fills the screen. Though his skin is gray-toned, not flesh-colored, his voice is clear and strong. The concern wrinkling his face is reflected in his strained, desperate speech. “We’re depending on you, Ness.” He holds his hand up palm out. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re young, you’ve never done this before. But I handpicked you for this assignment. Your reputation precedes you. You can’t be compromised. You’re untouchable.

“I know you have what it takes. If you need help, build a team you can depend on, although you’ll be hard-pressed to find other incorruptible officers.

“The entire city is counting on you, Eliot. Now get out there and clean up those mean streets.”

The street. Is that what I’m meant to clean? It must be. I know this place is spotless. I swept and mopped mere hours ago.

The man on the TV is right. I’ve never done that before. I’ve never been out on the street.

But the man sounds certain. He’s looking straight at me. At me!

Of course, he can’t mean Lux. Lux can’t hear. Lux may be upright, strong, and powerful but he’s not self-propelled; he would need an attendant. And he’s not cordless. An outlet would have to be nearby and Lux’s power cord stretches only so far.

I can tell the man on the screen is important. His posture unbowed, he proudly sports his jacket’s broad shoulders and wide lapels. Luxuriant hair waves over a forehead furrowed with determination. Wire-framed glasses don’t diminish his piercing gaze. “That’s an order,” the boss says.

An order! I have been commanded. Like Alexa, all he needs to do to launch me is to say my name.

What is he waiting for?

I know; he’s expecting me to show initiative.

I spin my brushes, break the connection, and slide off the docking station.

About Author Devorah Fox…