Of Robots and Humanity

Word Count: 752



Of Robots and Humanity



I went for a walk with my 9 year old brother, and for once it was quiet. He was at peace with his mind, and it brought a smile to my face that he looked so calm and content. He always has fantastical ideas of robots and aliens, of witches and ghosts, of just about anything you can imagine. Not a lot of people understand the way his mind works, and it takes a unique and understanding person to handle his ever changing thoughts and actions.



"Do you think robots control the world?"



His question interrupts my musings, and I glance at him before looking up at the 'do not walk' sign.



"No Alex, robots do not control the world."



"But what about Doris? Does she control the world?"



Doris is the bowler hat on the movie "Meet the Robinsons". Long story short, she is a robot hat who tries to control the world.



"No. It's just a movie," I say as if he will understand the fact from fiction.



"Oh. It's just a movie," He said sadly. He acted like I had just ruined his day.



"But you know, robots help people control the world."



"Really?" He asked, looking up at me.



"Oh yes. There are robots who help people who are sick, and some of them go to the moon."



"All the way to the moon?"



"Yep. There are even some robots that give you food out of machines. Robots do a lot of things, but for the most part people control the world."



"Wow! That's so cool!"



I smiled, his excitement was always genuine, and even the smallest thing would make him happy.



We walked along and came up to the courtyard in the middle of our small town. There were some people putting up lights and setting up chairs.



"Excuse me sir? Sir? Sir?" Alex called, walking slowly to a man, a curious look on his face.



"Yes young man?"



"Are these lights robots?"



I lightly touched his arm and pointed to the small hanging light bulbs.



"Alex, these are only lights. They turn on when someone plugs it in."



"You plug robots in. Don't you Annie?"



"It's ok." The man said, looking at me with a genuine expression of understanding on his face. He knelt down to my brothers height and looked him in the eyes.



"They are kind of like robots." He told Alex, who seemed confused.



How can something be "kind of like something?" It either is or it isn't.



"Are they or aren't they?" He asked, getting agitated.



"Why yes, I think so." He said pointing to the lights. Alex looked around and up at the lights.



"Why yes, I think so too." He said and started to walk towards an ice cream stand, content that the conversation was over, and he came to the conclusion he was after.



"I'm sorry." I said, pointing to Alex. "He's my little brother. He's autistic."



He has had many people that had come and go in his young life. At first they say they understand, that it's ok, that he does things a little differently, that he will continuously talk about the same thing over and over again, that he doesn't understand many things. Then it changes, and they start to yell at him, call him names, bully him. People who are supposed to love and protect him tell him to "stop being stupid", "shut up", "don't be retarded."



"My daughter is autistic. She's ten."



"Oh. Is she highly functioning?"



"Yeah, she goes to the elementary school."



"Noble? That's where Alex goes. He's having a hard time with it, it's new and harder work. His attention span isn't very long, you know?"



"Oh yes, I know all about it." He said smiling as if thinking of a fond memory.



"Well, I better go get him some ice cream. Good luck." I say and head over to my brother who had already ordered his chocolate ice cream.



He smiled his goofy smile and clapped his hands while jumping up and down as he received his ice cream. I could understand where people would get annoyed with him, I have. Some people have no filter though and say things that I know hurts his feelings even if he does forget about it the next minute. To him he is normal and who gives anyone the right to bully him or any other child with a condition? My mind wanders the way it usually does when things like this happen. I was eighteen years old when he was born. I could be his mother, so I sometimes act like one.



"Let's sit down over here, Alex." I said, pointing to a bench facing what I had realized was a large projection screen. It was movie night, and they shut down the street. I had forgot all about it.



Alex and I talked about movies and cartoons and what he wanted for breakfast the next morning (chocolate chip pancakes of course) until it was dark, and the only lights came from the hanging lights, and the now lit up projection screen.



"Meet the Robinsons." It came across the screen, and Alex grew excited. I could only smile as we watched the movie I could now quote word for word. Thank goodness it was my favorite.