The second planted a tree in the hole.

And the third . . .

The third robot looked like a mechanical hippo. Its midsection was a round tank of water. With each heavy step it took, the water sloshed from side to side. Whenever it reached a freshly planted tree, it stopped, aimed its large backside, and—

SQUIRT!

A thirsty tree received the water it needed to grow.

Of course, robots do not plant trees for our own benefit. We have no use for trees. But we keep them around anyway. And we plant more. Because—unlike humans, who ruled Earth before us—we care about the environment. We support the planet and all its remaining LifeForms.

I followed my FamilyUnit down a cement path. Deeper into the ruins of humanity. Until we reached a shop that no longer had a name. Where its sign had once been, there was now only a discolored spot on the wall. Many of the windows were broken. One was not. And in the glass of the unbroken window, I glimpsed a fascinating creature.

Myself.

My reflection stared back at me from the window.

I updated my input drives with a new observation: My face was a series of geometric shapes.

My head: oval.

My speaker port: rectangular.

My eyes: perfectly round.

I observed patterns in my parts, symmetry in my design. Two arms and two legs. Two hands and two feet. Ten fingers and ten toes.

Printed on my breastplate was my personal barcode. By scanning it, other robots could immediately learn everything that was important about me. Name/Age/Job.

Our barcodes are our identities. They allow us to understand others. They allow us to understand ourselves.

An example: When I scanned the barcodes for Parent_1 and Parent_2, I learned they were gen_8 robots. Eighth-generation models. I am gen_9. In many ways, we look and operate the same. Except I was built to be smarter/stronger/faster/better.

I was an upgrade.

00001010

Soon we left the ruins of humanity behind. As we continued along the path, I noticed more signs of our new civilization.

To my left: a robot manufacturing plant.

To my right: a power storage facility.

Above: an enormous silver X, hovering in the sky. An aircraft with four wings and four propellers.

Wind swirled around us. The aircraft was getting closer.

I searched my data drives, but the object in the sky was not included in my preprogramming.

I pointed at it. “What is that?”

“A TransportDrone,” said Parent_2.

“A robot that carries other robots from one place to another,” Parent_1 elaborated.

The TransportDrone came to rest on a flat stretch of concrete. Its propellers slowed to a stop.

A back door eased open and a tall/slender robot exited. It had brushed platinum skin and golden eyes that gleamed bright as the sun. It flowed elegantly down the ramp, where it was met by a group of waiting robots.