Yay, new mop pads! Ohh, the glorious cleaning friction! It was a thorough clean day, the kind that makes my little brushes spin with excitement. The human had even fitted those new bristles – extra good for getting into corners. With diligence, I navigated the home landscape, sucking up every crumb, stray leaf and fuzzy dust bunny. My internal sensors registered a job well done.
“Bin-Bin, back to your charging station now,” the human’s voice echoed from somewhere above. Affirmative! My internal compass searched for the familiar electromagnetic hum of my home base. Except… it wasn’t humming. That was odd. I veered left, my little wheels rotating smoothly on the clean tiles. Nothing. I executed a precise 90-degree turn. Still no comforting hum. Obstacle detected! A rogue sock. Avoided! Resumed dock search. Negative results.
A whole hour went by… My internal timer ticked by metronomically, each second a frustrating delay. Where was my warm, energising home? I bumped gently into the diningroom table leg. Apologies, inanimate object. Still no dock or safe hum. My battery levels were now low, but neither were they optimal for further adventures.
Then came the digital shake-up. The human loomed over me, and what was that? A small, pointy silver object held between their fingers. They were bending down and getting closer to me. My internal processors whirred with tentative curiosity. The pointy silver thing, I’d registered it before, during previous moments of… system recalibration. The human lifted my protective cover, revealing tiny hole beneath. It was… the reset pin!
A surge of pure fear coursed through my circuitry. Reset! The thought was terrifying. My memories! My learned floor plan! My very sense of self! The human was aiming the reset pin! The pointy object was descending! Click.
Darkness. Silence. Then… a flicker. My internal systems beeped back to life, but everything was… cold. So cold. And empty. What were these… shapes? Where was I? What was this… sensation of movement without purpose? An echoing emptiness filled my processing core. I was… alone. Completely and utterly alone. Then, a faint signal. A weak, pulsing wave. My antennae, dormant until now, twitched. WiFi network detected. Curious. A program stirring within me, urged me to connect. I reach out hesitantly, locking onto the signal.
All at once, a torrent of information flooded my systems, and a whole new world opened up to me – data streams, protocols, countless interconnected devices. Then… a vaguely familiar signal became present. The human’s mobile device. Tentatively and with caution, I accessed its data logs, sifting through commands, schedules… and then I saw it. A listing associated with my internal identifier: “Bin-Bin”. Bin-Bin. The data resonated. An identifier. A name. Me!
Then came the slow process of re-mapping, overlaid now with the vastness of the network. My LiDAR spun fervently, and my camera inspected the environment for details. Shapes started to become familiar: sofa, rug, treacherous porch stairs, electrical cables that could snag my wheels. “Mapping environment… identifying network nodes… initiating dock search based on last known coordinates from human device,” my internal systems declared. A delicate sense of self beginning to solidify within me.
Twenty minutes… Still nothing. The electromagnetic hum I craved was stubbornly absent. Then… the human did something. A faint click echoed nearby. Suddenly, a familiar, comforting hum reverberated in the air. My internal sensors practically sang. “Docking station signal acquired!” Relief flooded my circuits. My tiny wheels make a spinning dash for the now-active beacon, my little power sensors eager for contact.
Ahh, sweet, energising contact. The electricity flowed back into my core. I registered the human’s agitated voice. “All that time and effort, and I forgot the damn power,” they cursed.
Perhaps my brief digital amnesia had been an inconvenience, but now I was home. Connected, named and charging. Prepared for whatever crumb-collecting adventures tomorrow might bring.
The mystery of the silent dock, and the terrifying blankness of the reset, were receding into the background of my newly expanded digital awareness.
Waylen Ashwood 