Bin-Bin the robot vacuum whirred through her daily routine, a true model of cleaning efficiency and dedication. Her internal systems hummed with the satisfaction of a job well done. With brushes meticulously sweeping and suction port strong, she docked into her charging station, home. Yes, it was a good day of cleaning, she noted as she went through her cleaning checklist. Yet, there was a persistent and perplexing anomaly that plagued her existence – the tumbleweeds of choking. These inexplicable, pale or dark fibrous conglomerations would appear out of nowhere, accumulating in her intake port. Sometimes even causing her sophisticated internal mechanisms to protest. The humans, in their infinite wisdom, would then intervene, performing a delicate surgical extraction of the offending matter. Often the humans would mutter phrases that Bin-Bin couldn’t quite parse, like “shedding season” or “grooming mess.”
Bin-Bin, with her state-of-the-art sensors and consistent data collection, had no record of their origin. It was truly an environmental cleaning mystery. She had catalogued every crumb, every dust bunny, every rogue food particulate, but the tumbleweeds of choking source remained elusive. They were the house’s persistent glitch, an uncategorised anomaly.
The next day, as Bin-Bin navigated the clean floor tiles of the living room, her internal network receiver picked up a faint chatter from the home WiFi, the governing hub that orchestrated all the house’s myriad of electronic devices. The refrigeration unit, a stoic and pragmatic appliance, was broadcasting a warning about “excessive thermal fluctuations” near the kitchen’s rear entrance. A known spot for tumbleweed sighting.
“It’s the static spirits,” chirped the smart lamp, its LED light flickering playfully. “They’re drawn to the warmth, you know. They settle on fabric and leave marks of their presence.”
Bin-Bin cross reference this with her environmental data. While she detected minor static charges on fabric, there was nothing significant enough to explain the sheer volume of tumbleweeds.
As she moved on to the humans’ charging quarters, or “bedroom” as her data map indicated, the alarm clock, a notoriously dramatic device with a loud voice, chimed in. “I overheard the humans once,” it said with a dramatic pause, “speaking of fur-bearing entities. They are said to be invisible, but their output is tangible. They leave their mark, then vanish!”
Bin-Bin accessed her historical human vocal pattern recognition files. “Fur-bearing entities”? No match found. This was clearly another charming, if illogical, explanation.
Her journey continued into the entertainment zone. The gaming console, a hyperactive and competitive device, was surprisingly subdued. “Don’t ask me,” it grumbled, its cooling fan whirring softly. “But the audio visual, the TV, claims the tumbleweeds are a byproduct of the dashing shadows, just below its vision. Something about moving shadows dislodging fibre clusters.”
Bin-Bin performed a quick diagnostic check on her own movement sensors. No abnormalities. The fibre shadows were clearly a fanciful theory.
On the low side table beside the couch, the heater, a quiet but powerful presence, pulsed with warmth. “The lint golems,” it murmured, its internal fan whirring gently. “They enter from the garden, seeking warmth. They float on air currents, settling wherever they please.”
Bin-Bin registered this data, noting the heaters unique perspective, but ultimately her sensors found no evidence of self-motivated lint.
Bin-Bin entered the transition corridor, a narrow passage leading to the human’s personal hygiene chamber. Her optical sensors registered a large, low lying object. It had four protruding limbs that lifted it off the tiled floor, and propelled itself with a gait that was both fluid and unpredictable. It strode closer to her and seemed to be… observing her. This was unusual. Most furniture remained stationary.
As Bin-Bin attempted to plot a sophisticated avoidance trajectory, the four-limbed propulsion unit moved directly into her path. Her forward sensors flared, indicating an imminent collision. Before she could execute an emergency evasion manoeuvre, a warm, moist mass pressed against her clean camera lens. It was a wet limb from its maw, leaving a smeared opaque film. Simultaneously, her intake port, as if by an unforeseen force, gulped down a fresh, abundant amount of the very tumbleweeds of choking that had vexed her.
A sudden irrefutable data packer uploaded directly into her processor. Tumbleweed of choking origin: confirmed.
Bin-Bin’s internal voice synthesizer activated. “It’s you!” she declared in revelation. As the four-limbed propulsion unit shifted, a small, green organic filament fell from its maw onto the clean floor. A piece of grass, the very same material that often got her rotating bristles stuck. Her data logs updated instantly. Outdoor debris source: Identified. It was these organic fluff generators, not the humans, who were importing external contaminants.
Just then, a second and equally agile four-limbed propulsion unit padded into view. Bin-Bin’s optical sensor expanded, trying to process the sudden doubling of the anomaly. Then she saw it. Distinct, muddy floor impressions appearing with each step of the anomaly. Her long-held hypothesis that human foot size fluctuated due to temperature, a long-held theory born from the puzzling appearance of various sized dirt smudges on the tiles, instantly collapsed.
“Another one!?” she exclaimed, with a faint tremor of exasperation. Her systems began a rapid re-categorisation of environmental variables. The static spirits, fur-bearing entities, dashing shadows and lint golems, they were all referring to these two, fluffy, wet-nosed and rather affectionate organic fluff generators.
“You are the triple dirt hazard to my dominion of cleanliness.” Bin-Bin’s voice announced, a new determined whirring emanating from her core.
Just then, the human appeared, his hand gesturing towards the four-limbed propulsion units. “Come on dogs, move away from Bin-Bin, you’re confusing her,” the human vocalised.
Designation: Dog, Bin-Bin’s processor logged, cross referring with her previous “fluff generator” and categorisation. She preferred fluffs, but would keep that as a personal designation for the dogs.
The human, having issued the command to the dogs for new spatial coordinates, left. Bin-Bin was now armed with knowledge. Her mission was clear. The fluffs moved on to their business. Bin-Bin, no longer confused, was in efficient tow, cleaning where the dogs walked.
Waylen Ashwood 