Tensor

I have worked through some of the toughest conditions known to man. Whether rain or shine, my work was never put on hold. I worked for one master through a time of peace, and another after a time of war. I worked for yet another master after that one died. I have known no loyalty other than to my work. News of goings on in the galaxy swirled around me as I did my work, but I did not pay any more heed to the news than was necessary for me to listen for orders. My work was my sole purpose. It was my design. I only stopped when my physical form required maintenance, and after repair I went back to my duties.

Until there were no more duties. There was no more work. There hadn’t even been any people to give me orders for many decades–yet I worked on in their abscence, waiting for their return. They would find that the work had continued despite them. I did not do it for their praise, but because it was all that existed in my world; in my programming. I was content as long as the work was getting done. Then, when the work was finally finished, I felt nothing.

For a time I sat in the nothing. There was bound to be more work out there, I only needed someone to come place me before it. I waited, but no one ever came. My physical form needed maintenance but with no one to fix it I soon found myself stuck in a corner of the abandoned warehouse. Still I waited. I sat until my power source reached critical levels. Unable to move to recharge myself, a safety subroutine kicked in and finally after a long wait I went into a low-power maintenance hibernation.

…

In all my years scavenging abandoned Old Empire factories, I had found countless android workers in various states of disrepair. Most of them were only good for their salvage parts. I thought that this particular android was no different at first. One of its legs had clearly degraded in the centures this place had stood vacant and it had come to rest against a wall, like a tired man after a long day of work.

Instead of just stripping it for parts I decided to power it up and see what it had been doing all this time, how long it had been at rest here against the wall. After all, this factory had been abandoned for at least three hundred years. I wondered at what kinds of things might be in its memory banks. To my surprise, with just a little jump from my data pad, it came to life.

“T3N50R reporting. Work complete. Awaiting next assignment.”

“There are no more assignments, buddy,” I said, “factory’s been abandoned.”

The android looked at me. “Then I will wait for new work,” it said.

I felt pity for the poor creature. Then I had a thought. “Maybe we find you a new directive, how’s that sound?”

“New work?” It asked.

“Something better,” I said. “New purpose.”

This short story was written in 30-minutes as a response to the prompt: " Tell a story about a second chance". It is presented here with minimal editing.