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MidReal Story
The Old Man And His Robot Friend
Scenario:En este cuento va aparecer un anciano,un robot que le cuida
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Old Man
resilient, and contemplative. Living alone in a small cottage, he struggles to maintain his garden and walkway. He is visited by a young woman with a baby, seeking help. He assists by mowing her lawn and other chores. The woman appreciates his kindness and offers to help him with his own yard in return.
Robot
old robot with a worn surface and glowing blue eyes. He is silent and observant. The old man refers to it as "Grandpa," suggesting a deep affection and familiarity. It follows the old man around the house and seems to sense his emotions. The old man shares stories with it, and the robot listens silently but attentively. The old man's interactions with the robot bring him comfort and companionship in his isolated life.
I was accompanied by an old robot.
The robot was not large, maybe half my height.
Its surface was rough, with many dents and scratches, like a worn-out pair of shoes.
Its blue eyes glowed like sapphires in the dark.
It followed me silently wherever I went.
Sometimes I forgot it was there until I heard its quiet humming noise.
At night, it stood watch in the corner of my room.
When I woke up early in the morning, it would wait for me by the bathroom door.
After I finished brushing my teeth and washing my face, it would follow me to the living room.
I didn’t know what time it started to work each day.
Maybe it had been watching over me for years already.
It never said a word to me, not even once.
I didn’t mind; I was used to being alone.
I sat in my old armchair one evening, watching the sunset through the dusty windows.
The robot stood in its usual corner, blue eyes steady.
Today felt different.
The silence was heavier than usual.
I turned to face it directly.
It didn’t move, but its eyes flickered briefly.
"Why do you watch over me?"
I asked, my voice cracking from disuse.
The robot remained motionless, but its eyes dimmed slightly before brightening again.
I leaned forward, waiting.
Minutes passed.
The room grew darker as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Finally, the robot spoke, its voice a soft whisper, "I was programmed to protect you."
I blinked in surprise, my heart pounding, "Protect me from what?"
The robot's eyes flickered again, and it replied, "From the truth you have forgotten."
I sat back in my armchair, staring at the robot's glowing eyes, my hands trembling.
Its words echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within my consciousness.
I reached for the dusty photo album on the shelf beside me, one I hadn't opened in years.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
The first photo showed a younger version of myself standing proudly next to a sleek spacecraft.
I was wearing a pilot's uniform, and the background was a distant planet's landscape.
I remembered nothing about that moment or how I got there.
But as I flipped through the pages, more fragments surfaced.
There were pictures of other planets, alien landscapes, and a crew that once felt like family.
The robot moved closer, its mechanical hand touching the photographs gently.
Its touch triggered a cascade of memories, and I realized the truth was something I had buried deep within myself.
I leaned back in my chair, clutching the album tightly, as sweat formed on my forehead.
The robot's metal hand remained on the photos, its touch causing flashes of images to appear before my eyes.
Red sand storms in a desert planet, twin moons hanging in a purple sky, and the feeling of weightlessness in space.
My throat tightened as I remembered the crash.
Our ship spiraling down through an alien atmosphere, alarms blaring, and crew members screaming.
The robot's blue eyes dimmed slightly as it processed my reaction.
I flipped to the last page of the album.
A torn photo showed half of a crashed spacecraft and a figure lying next to it.
My hands shook so badly that I dropped the album, and loose photos scattered across the floor.
The robot bent down to collect them, but I grabbed its arm.
"Tell me everything," I demanded, my voice steady despite the chaos within.
I grip the robot's metal arm tighter, my voice hoarse.
"Tell me everything," I demand again.
The robot's blue eyes flicker once, then a beam of light projects from its chest.
The light hits the wall of my living room, and a holographic image appears before me.
The image wavers at first, like a flickering candle in the wind, but it steadies into a clear projection.
I see myself younger, in a torn spacesuit, dragging injured crew members from smoking wreckage.
The scene shifts to us huddled in the remains of our ship, rationing what little food and water we have left.
Oxygen tanks are shared among us, and the howling alien winds outside make it hard to hear each other speak.
The hologram shows me sending out desperate distress signals into static-filled channels.
Days pass, and my younger face grows gaunt from lack of food and sleep.
The projection zooms in on Dr. Chen's final moments.
She hands me something small and important, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope.
I stare at the hologram, trying to make out what Dr. Chen is pressing into my hands.
It's a small metal case, no larger than a pocket watch.
On its surface are four small, glowing stars.
The stars pulse with an otherworldly blue light that seems familiar.
It reminds me of Grandpa's eyes when it's telling stories of far-off places.
I look down at my hands, and they're still shaking as if I've just come from the crash site.
The hologram flickers once more, and the image disappears, leaving me staring at the blank wall of my living room.
The robot moves closer to me, its eyes glowing brighter than before.
I realize that the case Dr. Chen gave me might be the key to understanding everything.
But where did I put it?
I start searching my cottage, opening drawers and cabinets I haven't touched in years.
I move books from shelves and look under loose floorboards, but there's no sign of the metal case with the four glowing stars.
Just when I'm about to give up, I remember something Grandpa once said - that sometimes the most precious things are hidden in plain sight. I head upstairs to my bedroom, which has remained untouched for years.
Dust coats every surface, and old clothes hang in the closet like forgotten memories.
I open the closet door slowly, half-expecting something or someone to be waiting for me inside.
But there's only a faint scent of lavender and old wood.
I push aside the clothes on their hangers and feel along the back wall of the closet.
My fingers brush against something metal, partially hidden by old clothes that have fallen off their hooks.
I pull out a small metal case with four glowing stars embedded in its surface.
The stars still pulse with an otherworldly blue light, just like in the hologram projection.
