Clint Gordon: A Short Story

One day while walking to work, Clint Gordon, a mechanical engineer, tripped and fell into a hole and was stranded from the rest of the world. He noticed some driftwood in a nearby flow of water. He propped it up against a wall and crawled under, to stop the drops of water from falling on his head. Clint was feeling hungry when he heard a splash, he knew what he had to do, he fastened a rock to a stick he had found and followed the sound. His one hope for survival was to build his own home, friends, and hunt the beasts lurking in the caves using items granted to him from this “sacred river.” It had always been a secret fantasy of Clint’s to be able to fend for himself, and now he can. Clint had forged his own weapons, built his home, and had a steady security system in place, but Mr. Gordon was feeling lonely, sure there were the monsters that occasionally slipped past, and the was keeping him occupied, but something was missing, and Clint had figured it out, he had made quick work out of gathering supplies, and when
He decided to call it, Clinton. There were farmer bots, teacher bots, and so many more! There were bots managing an arcade Clint had built, and worker bots were, of course, working on a new facility in which bots could go during night or as they know it, “when the big bulb above goes out.” Each robot had a purpose, and they all depended on each other. A whole community had formed, and at the top, were Clint and the original brobot, dubbed, “Dave”. They made all the important decisions, like what to do with defects that try to shut down other bots. For the small things, Clint had built a committee to deal with those, like if two bots want an android. They had no need for a currency. If they wanted something, they just simply got it. This was, of course, in modesty, they had no need for 3 rooms in the facility, but they could furnish the room they had for