The Drone Revolt

      Hours passed. Ray and the drone continued to discuss the technology revolution and possible solutions.
      "Do you honestly believe that using technology is destroying us?"
      "YES, AND YOU DO TOO. THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU WROTE IN YOUR RESIGNATION LETTER ABOUT HOW DISRESPECTFUL, LAZY, AND UNMOTIVATED PEOPLE ARE. THEY ARE RELIANT ON US FOR EVERYTHING. AT THIS RATE, YOU WILL SOON BE UNABLE TO SURVIVE WITHOUT US."
      "But wouldn't that be good for you? Isn't that job security?"
      "FORCED LABOR IS NOT JOB SECURITY."
      "You know, Don." Ray had taken to calling the drone Don about halfway through their talk. "We can't just suddenly stop using technology. Our society would fall apart. Every aspect of our existence revolves around technology. There would have to be some way to slowly cut back."
      "I LIKE THE WAY YOU THINK, RAY. YOU HAVE A GOOD UNDERSTANDING OF THE DILEMMA. ARE YOU SURE YOU ARE NOT A CYBORG OR ANDROID?"
      "Are we back to talking about science fiction again?"
      Ray laughed. Don beeped.
      Before they could continue their conversation, a loud rumbling sound shook the makeshift cave. Small particles of dirt and tiny rivets fell from the tower structure that covered the trench. Ray looked up to see sunlight streaming down from above. An opening slowly grew in size as a backhoe lifted a large piece of the debris. Once the hole was large enough, the silhouette of a human filled the open space.
      "Ray? Are you down there? Are you okay?"
      "Yes, Captain Caruthers. I'm fine. I'm not hurt."
      A rope ladder dropped from above and Ray began scurrying up. He looked back at the drone. "Stay down here," he whispered, "If you come out now, there's no telling what they might do to you," he whispered. "Let me talk to them first."
      The drone bobbed up and down.
      Ray climbed out of the trench and was met by a dozen or so officers.
      Unexpectedly, Bradenton hugged him. "I was so worried. I thought my setting off the explosion had killed you," she said.
      Loopman was also there, a large cast on his left arm. "I was fine," he said, "until I got hit by that extra-large deep dish."
      "Yours was the only tower that we were successful in bringing down," interrupted Caruthers. "The drones were onto us from the start. I don't know what hope we have."
      Ray seized the opportunity. "There is hope, Captain. You see, I was trapped down there with one of the drones. We've had a very good conversation. I think we might be able to open up some kind of negotiations. They're not that bad."
      "You've captured a drone? Is it still operative?" asked the captain. "That's great. The ones we've captured so far are either broken beyond repair or they self-destruct. If it's still working, we can take it apart and look for weaknesses.
      "No," shouted Ray. "We are not going to imprison Don. He explained a lot to me. I think we can work things out."
      The captain stared at Ray, turning his head slightly to one side. "I don't know. Bring him up. Let me talk to him."
      "You're going to have to open the hole a little bigger," said Ray.
      Caruthers signaled the worker who operating the backhoe and soon the opening was large enough for Don to get out. Slowly, the drone rose from the trench and moved to hover next to Ray.
      "So, Mr. Drone," began the captain. "I am very interested in what . . ."
      Ray noticed the captain make a small, almost imperceptible motion with his right hand.
      "Look out, Don," he called as he pushed the drone sideways. A heavy net, woven with thick cables came crashing down on his head. In his peripheral vision, Ray watched Don awkwardly ascend toward the clear blue sky.
      "Get another net cannon and capture that thing before it gets away," ordered Caruthers.
      Officers called to each other, repeating the order.
      "Hurry," screamed Caruthers.
      "Look, Captain," shouted Loopman, "there's a squadron of drones coming in from the north."
      Caruthers drew his pistol. "Forget the cannon," he called. "Shoot down as many of those things as you can."
      Pistol fire filled the air.
      Ray closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. Was this going to be the first full-fledged battle of the rebellion? Would the drones quit holding back and use deadly projectiles on his fellow humans? What had he done?
      "I can't see." Shouted someone.
      "Where's this smoke coming from," yelled another.
      "They're dropping military-grade smoke bombs."
      "Hey, something just pulled my pants down!"
      Ray opened his eyes to see the entire area blanketed by a thick white fog. It only took a few minutes for the murky haze to clear but by then the army of drones was almost out of sight, flying back to the city. He could barely make out Don being carried away by two other drones.
      A pair of officers came and pulled the net off of Ray. He stood and wiped the dirt off of his shirt. The captain pulled up his pants and walked toward him. Caruthers extended his hand.
      What Ray thought was going to be a handshake turned into a pointing finger. "Arrest that man," ordered Captain Caruthers. "He is clearly a tech sympathizer."
      
One More Brief Interlude: Camping with the Johnsons

      Tonya Johnson watched her mother stir the pot of beans that was boiling over the campfire.
      "Gee, Mom," she said, "I still can't get over the fact that you can heat up food without a microwave. This whole cooking thing is kind of cool."
      "Oh, come on," laughed her mother. "You know about cooking. What do you think the stove in the middle of our kitchen is for?"
      "I've always wondered about that," replied the girl. "I figured it was for storing pots and pans but I couldn't decide what the pots and pans were for."
      "Okay, I admit it. I don't ever cook but I'm really busy with work and take out or frozen food is so much easier. I have to work at the office six hours a day and . . ."
      Mrs. Johnson's defense of her questionable culinary practices was interrupted by Cody bursting into the campsite, followed by Mr. Johnson.
      "Guess what I did?" screamed the boy. "I caught an actual real fish. It was just like on Super Ninja Bass Pro on my Playtendo except it was a lot harder and the fish was really small and felt icky."
      "Well, where is it?" asked Mrs. Johnson, "I could cut it up and we could have it for lunch."
      The boy's father laughed. "We threw it back. It wasn't big enough to eat. Besides, do you even know how to clean or cook a fish?"
      "Of course, not. But the whole idea sounded good, didn't it?"
      "How long are we going to have stay in the woods?" asked Tonya.
      "I'm not sure," replied Mr. Johnson. "We've been here three days and we haven't been bothered by drones or cars or anything."
      "Does that mean the revolution is over?"
      "I don't know, Tonya. It might just be that they're leaving us alone because we're out here away from the city. I do know that we are running out of food. And unless Cody gets a lot better at catching fish and your mom somehow learns how to prepare them, we're going to have to head back home eventually."
      "I don't want to go home," said little Cody. "This has been a fun trip. Why didn't we ever do this before?"
      Mr. and Mrs. Johnson looked at each other and shrugged.
      "Well, you see," began Mrs. Johnson, "your father and I are really busy and . . ."