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A Short Story by James D. Pratt

Copyright 2010 James D. Pratt

Smashwords Edition

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For Edward T., the worst part of it was the boredom. He had a lot of down-time. All the other ABELs and bio-bots were good little drones, all but devoid of initiative and personality. Edward T. was different. He’d even been the one to give himself the name ‘Edward T.’. He’d seen it on a partially demolished tombstone (the last name had already crumbled away), beneath an epitaph that read “That is not dead/Which can eternal lie/And with strange aeons/Even death may die”. The techs didn’t encourage or discourage his displays of individuality. They didn’t know what to make of it. When Edward T. had made it clear he wasn’t content to spend most of his time in one of the charging stations in electronic oblivion, they decided not to push the issue. He already had a reputation by then. Nobody screwed with Edward T.

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