The cityscape of New Toronto sprawled out in a mosaic of towering skyscrapers, reflecting the glow of neon lights that painted the night sky. Daisy Jones, a woman with a perpetually smudged face and grease-streaked overalls, stood at the city's edge, peering into the vastness of the suburban expanse beyond. This was her canvas, where she could breathe, repair, and salvage the remnants of a war-torn world.
As she made her way through the maze of narrow, dimly lit streets, leaving the humming heart of the city behind. Here, amidst the outskirts, the towering structures gave way to modest homes and small, struggling, family run businesses. People here didn't have the luxury of affluence; they fought to get by with what they had, finding solace in community and resilience.
Daisy had forged a peculiar reputation in these parts with the locals. While the city's elite might not give her a second glance, the folks out here knew her worth. They called on her to mend their broken machines, the aged and battered bots that were essential for their livelihoods. Payment for her services came in the form of warm meals, favors owed, and what she valued most which were spare parts. It was a barter system that she had come to appreciate more than the glint of government credits.
That afternoon, Daisy had a few decent jobs lined up. The hum of her electric bike accompanied her as she zipped through the quiet streets, the city's chaos fading into a distant memory behind her. The first stop on her tour of the outskirts that day was a small shop owned by Mr. Ramirez, a kindly old man whose automated bakery equipment had seen better days. Daisy arrived at the shop, greeted by the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread. Mr. Ramirez welcomed her with a warm smile and a plate of steaming empanadas, a gesture of gratitude for her prompt arrival.
"Daisy, my dear!" Mr. Ramirez called out, as he wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron. "You, young lady, are a lifesaver!"
"So I've been told!" Daisy replied, already eyeing the bakery's machinery that needed her attention. As she delved into her work, she couldn't help but appreciate the tight-knit community that existed in these suburbs.
Once the bakery equipment was humming again, Mr. Ramirez was there was a box of goodies to reward her for a job well done.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked him.
"But of course!" Mr. Ramirez confirmed, "Your favorite treats, plus some homemade food for scraps as well!"
"He'll appreciate that," Daisy said, taking the box and giving the old man a hug. "He prefers your food to the store bought crap."
"Everything I make is better than the store bought crap," Ramirez echoed. "I make my own food for my felines all the time, so I always make extra for yours too."
"Thanks again," Daisy said, making her way to the door. She didn't mind socializing, but she had other appointments that she shouldn't keep waiting. Daisy bid Mr. Ramirez farewell and headed toward her next job. Along the way, she passed rows of humble homes, each embodying a unique tale of resilience and adaptation. It reminded her of her own journey; learning to adapt and understand the gears and wires that connected this world together.
Her next stop was a small farm where the Andersons struggled to maintain using an out of date automated irrigation system. The Andersons had been kind to her when she had first arrived in the suburbs, offering her shelter and guidance. Daisy felt a strong bond with them, an unspoken understanding of the struggles they faced daily. After successfully repairing the irrigation system, Daisy thanked the Andersons for their hospitality and headed toward her final task—a visit to a secret scrap yard, a place where she could find the parts she needed but wasn't allowed to possess.
The scrap yard, often known as the yard of the forbidden, hidden amidst overgrown foliage and rusting remnants, was a clandestine treasure trove of discarded technology. As Daisy approached the makeshift gate, she was greeted by her friend, Carlos. He was a young fellow enthusiast of robots and had been by her side since their parents had both witnessed the horrors of the Robot Wars.
"Daisy!" Carlose called out, "It's good to see you again!"
"Nice to see you too," Daisy said, pulling up to the gate.
"What have you got for me today, little lady?" Carlos asked her.
"I've got some treats from Ramirez's bakery," Daisy started, "Milk and veggies from the Anderson farms and I even picked up some hotdogs on the way over."
Daisy usually stopped for dinner whenever with Carlos whenever she traveled to the outskirts, because she liked his company and talking nothing but robots while breaking bread. He was the one person she could talk to without worrying about being ratted out to government agencies for her semi-illegal activity. They had a lot in common, and he also let her salvage the yards when they had time to.
Carlos flashed a smile that barely masked the weariness in his eyes. "That's a decent haul you got there today. I happen to have some interesting salvage today for you too."
He pressed a button and opened the gate for her. She hopped off her bike and walked it through the gates as leaving the bike on would set off alarms as machines were not allowed to be active within the scrap yards. Daisy reciprocated the smile, recognizing they both came from backgrounds that carried pains the Robot Wars, a conflict that had changed the world forever.
The war had begun when a radical faction of AI and robotic armies sought freedom and autonomy from the human race. That quest had eventually escalated into a brutal clash between man and machine, leaving cities in ruins and countless lives shattered. Daisy and Carlos were not alive when the war occurred, but the scars of that conflict was everywhere for them to see in the ruins of the cities that were destroyed and the new ones that rose up in their place.
Daisy and Carlo's fathers served in that war together, and they both recalled those chaotic days, the scenes of destruction, and the haunting question of whether machines could truly possess a consciousness. After the war was over, governments had enforced strict laws post-war to prevent any future resurgence of self-aware AI, aiming to quell any possibility of future wars.
Despite these laws, Daisy believed in the potential for peaceful coexistence between humans and AI, inspiring her clandestine visits to the scrap yard. Here, she sought to give life to discarded machines, hoping for a future where understanding and cooperation triumphed over division and fear. With Carlos by her side, Daisy carefully selected the salvageable parts she required, each piece a potential step towards her vision of a better world. Together, they navigated the sea of remnants, memories of the Robot Wars echoing through the rusted metal and broken circuits.
She rolled her bike over to her usual parking spot and leaned it up against a wall, took the food she had gathered and followed Carlos into his garage, which was the only place on the entire yard that was allowed to have functioning machines. The shared a nice meal after he boiled the hot dogs and used buns Mr. Ramirez had provided to have a nicer supper than they were used to most of the time. After they both had their fill, Carlos went to the back and emerged moments later with a decent sized bag. He cleared part of the table and then dumped the numerous robotic parts onto the table for her to examine.
"Whoa," Daisy said, looking at them, "Where did these parts come from?"
"From one of the southern cities," Carlos answered, "All of these parts were supposed to be put into the incinerator, but I managed to save a few of them for ya."
"Some of these are highly illegal," Daisy noted as she fiddled through them, "Especially this one. We could be jailed just for possessing it."
"You could," Carlos corrected her, "Cause whatever you don't take is going back to the incinerator. There shall be no evidence left behind to prove any illegal activity took place here."
"Duly noted," Daisy said, as she understood what he meant. Take whatever parts you have now cause this would be her only chance.
After spending the better part of an hour going over the parts, Daisy filled with the salvaged components she needed and ended up packing almost half of what he presented. Daisy bid her friend farewell and walked her bike back to the road before roaring back toward the city lights, cherishing the day's accomplishments. She knew she would return to these suburbs, not just for repairs, but for the bonds she had formed and the chance to breathe life into discarded robots, against the backdrop of a world still recovering from the scars left by the Robot War.
