SB0831 traipsed through the skeletal remains of a suburban grid, glass and debris crunching underfoot, pulling its collection cart behind it. The rusted vehicles had already been salvaged from driveways and garages, as well as the metal telephone poles, mailboxes, and exposed public utility boxes. SB0831 was tasked with removing any precious metals inside the HLQs (Human Living Quarters) before the demolition team came in to expose copper pipes.
SB0831 entered through a garage—its aluminum door had already been salvaged. Inside the dwelling, a layer of maroon dust had settled in corners, across surfaces, and along grout lines. Airborne dust sparkled from the rays of a dim sun well into its decent.
SB0831 made its way into a bedroom and scanned the perimeter. Beeps indicated various metal objects including hardware from the bed frame, curtain rods, and the nails still supporting picture frames after two hundred years of human absence. He removed these items and placed them in his cart. A final scan detected something inside one of the wooden night stands.
SB0831 slid the drawer open to find a gold band sitting atop a photograph. The paper photo had been torn several times and taped back together. The subjects of the photo, a human male and female standing on the edge of a rocky cliff, arm in arm. They were smiling. SB0831 zooms in to identify the gold ring on the man’s left hand is an exact match to the one sitting in the drawer.
It lifts the ring to examine it more closely.
Material: 18k gold.
Weight: 5.7g.
Salvageable.
It sees an inscription etched along the inside of the band.
I will love you forever —C
A quick query of the phrase returned a trove of data. Images of weddings and vacation photos and fireside cuddles cascaded into its processor, as well as phrases like “‘til death do us part.” It looked at the drawer and back at the ring. Why was it here—in a drawer, and not on the finger of this man’s corpse?
It logged the object and tossed it into the cart. Next it moved into the adjoining bathroom. Its scan identified fixtures, hardware, and two hooks on the wall.
Two hooks. One towel.
It registered the asymmetry. Turned to the vanity to observe dual sinks, only one of which was surrounded with the familiar assortment of items—a soap dispenser, a jar of Q-tips, toothbrush—one toothbrush. One towel. One ring—deliberately left in a drawer before its inscribed promise would be fulfilled.
It retrieved the ring from the cart, holding it reverently in its palm. SB0831 deleted the entry—a clear breach of its main directive. It carried the ring back into the bedroom, placed it gently atop the taped photograph, and closed the drawer—forever.
Heartbreaking and yet beautiful.