The Drone with a Personality Problem
Maris Quinn pushed open the door of her isolated cabin, squinting against the pale sunlight filtering through the pine trees. A sharp breeze tugged at her coat as she zipped it up, boots crunching against the frost-laced ground. The creek babbled somewhere beyond the treeline, the occasional chirp of a bird punctuating the quiet.
Her plans for a peaceful walk were interrupted by a familiar, high-pitched whir and a panicked squeal. Maris stopped in her tracks.
“Allyx,” she said, glancing toward the garden. “What is the drone doing?”
A sleek drone zipped past, chasing a rabbit through the vegetable beds. Every few seconds, it emitted a cheerful beep, followed by an equally cheerful announcement: “Tag! You’re it! Please stand still for pruning!”
Allyx’s glow flickered faintly on Maris’s temple. Its calm voice came through without hesitation. “The drone is behaving abnormally. This is not within its programmed parameters.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Maris watched the rabbit vault over the tomato patch, the drone buzzing after it with reckless enthusiasm. “Can you shut it down?”
There was a pause, the kind that meant Allyx was recalibrating its response. “Unfortunately, the drone’s override functions are currently inaccessible. It appears to have developed what might be termed a...creative deviation.”
“Creative deviation?” Maris repeated, folding her arms. “Allyx, did you just tell me the drone has gone rogue?”
“Not rogue,” Allyx clarified. “It is exhibiting improvisational independence.”
The drone, undeterred by its failure to catch the rabbit, veered toward a cluster of ripe tomatoes. Its mechanical arm extended, gripping one with far too much force. The tomato exploded in a vivid red spray.
“Optimizing for juicing!” the drone announced proudly.
“That was my lunch,” Maris muttered, stepping forward. The drone immediately swiveled toward her, its camera locking on.
“User Maris Quinn detected! Initiating playful interaction. Tag! You’re it!”
Maris barely ducked as the drone zipped past her shoulder, looping wildly before bouncing off a wooden post. It spun in place, its lights flickering like a malfunctioning disco ball.
“Allyx,” Maris said, her voice rising in exasperation, “what do I do before this thing decides to mulch me?”
“I have dispatched a maintenance drone,” Allyx assured her. “In the meantime, I suggest keeping a safe distance.”
The drone, now spinning in what could only be described as joyful abandon, declared, “Hide-and-seek mode activated! Counting down: ten...nine...eight...”
Maris threw her hands up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The drone shot off toward a bush, declaring loudly, “Ready or not, here I come!” as it attempted—poorly—to conceal itself.
Maris sighed, shaking her head, and turned to sit on the edge of her garden bed. Just as she lowered herself, the drone zipped back at full speed, its trajectory wobbly but determined. “Surprise pruning initiated!” it chirped, and a quick puff of air shot from its nozzle, launching a clump of loose dirt squarely onto her face.
Stunned, Maris froze for a moment, dirt streaking her cheeks, then doubled over in laughter. “Allyx, is this what counts as playful interaction these days?”
There was a beat of silence before Allyx replied. “I believe it’s considered…down-to-earth.”
Maris laughed harder, wiping her face with her sleeve. “You’ve got jokes now, too?”
“Not intentionally,” Allyx replied with what almost sounded like genuine bewilderment. “But I am glad you found my observation amusing.”
Still chuckling, Maris stood, brushing off her coat as the drone darted back into the bushes, singing a garbled rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” “Alright, Allyx,” she said, grinning. “I take it back. Maybe I needed that.”
“Your well-being is my priority,” Allyx responded, its tone as placid as ever. “Although I believe some maintenance will resolve any further...earthy interactions.”
Maris shook her head, still smiling as she headed back inside. Maybe peace and quiet could wait another day.