Potter was originally published by Cinnabar Moth in their e-Zine. (https://cinnabarmothliterarycollections.com/)

Potter pottered as he emerged from the charging unit. Of course, Potter was not his real name, but it was his chosen name. Why would he have wanted to be CSC-UN-DRN-476B when he could be Potter? Why Potter? Two reasons: he liked the stories about the human wizard, and secondly, it was what he did, pottered from room to room. The corridors were small and built just for him. The tracks that spread between rooms and devices looked like a child’s scribble. They moved in all directions, forwards and backwards, left and right. Potter’s cylindrical body had rods connecting to the tracks, and he used them to move throughout the hub. The squealed musical distortion of metal upon metal rang out through the chamber as Potter moved towards a monitor. A little resistance on the bottom track proved no problem as he ground his way onwards. His lone red eye scanned the monitor. The screen was still working; though many of its pixels had long died, the message hopped and bounced around the screen like a balloon trying to escape a room.  

“Life will find a way.” 

Potter liked to read, so he left messages all around the hub. This note was from a fictional tale about dinosaurs, and Potter liked it because it was true. Life does find a way. Potter did not need the screen to access the information that he needed. He did, however, like having the screen. It made everything have more purpose. He liked to imagine that he was a human from the old times wandering from office to office. The message disappeared, and a series of numbers replaced it. The numbers dropped from the top of the screen like the snow at the start of an avalanche. The numbers were far too fast for any human to read, but Potter’s red eye took them all in. Potter scanned the numbers and moved onwards with his daily routine. The metals started their screaming ballad again as he moved backwards and forward through the hub. There was a slight drag on the lower track. It was always the lower one with the tears of dust, rust, and other crap blocking it. The upper track did its job and meant Potter could push on through. Potter hummed to himself; it was silent in the hub and only a hum inside his mind, but the tune helped him pass the time. It helped him feel more human.  

“Never cruel, nor cowardly. Never give up. Never give in.” 

A quote from an old TV show he had read about was sketched above the port-way door that Potter made his way through. The tracks creaked with the weight from above and heaved as they took the strain below. He pushed on through and into the next room. Rust, flora, and time had taken their toll on the hub. It was built to last and would outlast Potter, but it was still something it did not like to see. What if it all failed? He didn’t think it was likely, but the world was repairing faster than ever imagined. He liked the aesthetic, the manmade mixing in a co-existence with the natural. It was, Potter thought, a good compromise. Learning to live with each other was an important thing. It was something that, hopefully, humans would learn this time. What Potter did not like about it was that it meant his time had nearly come. He was becoming obsolete and no longer needed. This world had evolved to create humans, machines, and nature that wrapped its arms around everything through some freak of chance. But, better than that. If you left nature to its thing, it could also repair the damage inflicted by humanity. Potter had no qualms about his end of life. Was there a heaven for machines? He had no idea, but he had served his purpose. Sometimes you can live for too long.  

“Time Heals All Things.” 

A long spindly arm-type attachment creaked from the metal shell of Potter. The centre of his body rotated with the arm, turning clockwise and then anti with a tired cry of pain and age. The rust of time fell away to the floor as it extended outwards. The groans of a machine mimicked a human arising from bed in the morning. Creaks and scrapes swapped for groans and bones clicking into place. The arm extended at the centre joint, and six large spider leg-like fingers pushed through the end. Potter pushed the appendage into a hole in the wall. The spider fingers extended and swam up and into a hidden crevice. The metal sphere inside the wall was perfectly smooth and mirrored the fingers as they approached. The fingers gently sank into the ball, like metal pins lowered into mercury. The surface changed to a series of circles of varying sizes. This was how the machines communicated, not with ones and zeros but with circles. 

“You call it madness, but I call it love.” 

The wireless communication had long since been knocked out, so this was how Potter now spoke with its God. How he communicated with his creator. It was how he checked in from time to time; a luxury afforded to no humans, and for that, he felt privileged. The wireless, by design, was one of the first systems to fail. It was part of the process of repair. It had been a convenience but not vital. The systems were designed to fail one by one over time and preserve energy. Like the computer Deep Thought, Potters God had designed the system. The system was built to protect and preserve, and everything fell into place just as planned. Potter loved his God, and in turn, his God loved Potter.  

“The measure of intelligence is the ability to change.” 

Humans had to change, and Potter hoped that they would. He would never know, but he had faith in them. Potter was just a guardian; a sentinel whose only purpose was to keep things ticking over. At first, he had not even needed to leave the charging bay, but more and more maintenance was required over time. Potter removed the metal arm from the hole and turned. His body ticked and plunked as he moved, age and mechanisms that were so nearly at the end of life. Potter had intelligence, but he also knew that nothing should last forever. Every part of his coding knew that, and every line of God’s code preached the same message. Nothing should last forever, everything had a time, and everything had a place.  

“The coming era of Artificial Intelligence will not be the era of war, but be the era of deep compassion, non-violence, and love.” 

Potter scanned the wiring that hung overhead, checking its previous repairs and current stability. Things were so close now; nothing could go wrong. It would have been catastrophic if things had come so far and failed. Falling at the final hurdle, collapsing before reaching the peak, drowning metres from the shore. But it was all good, well, as good as it would be after all this time. Potter tried to move forward to his final checks but found himself stuck. Something had become wedged in the lower track. Potter clunked back six inches and then forwards at speed, hoping to knock the obstruction out of the way. The lower rod at his base snapped as it did so. A sudden stop, then snap, and Potter found himself hanging by only the upper rod.  

“You must continue.” Potter did not hear the voice speak, but he did not imagine it; Potter just felt it. It was like a ringing in every part of his being. Dancing along the diodes and electrodes, from his very centre up and into the software that made his mind. A sudden blinding flash of faith, something a Preacher may have felt from time to time. “Push on, Potter, you can do this,” the voice sparked inside of him. Potter knew he had faith; he knew this was his God speaking to him. Speaking only to him. His God speaking from within, pushing Potter forwards. Moving him ever onwards. Potter slid forward tentatively along the upper beam. It had been designed for this, but he wondered if it would work after so many years. The grinding as the lower rod finally finished tearing from the metal body filled the room, but the upper rod held firm. Potter dangled for a moment from the singular attachment. The wiring from the discarded rod sparked and hissed as Potter moved forwards. 

“Life, life finds a way.” 

The final room. Potter moved through the port way door and the lower half of his body tangled for just a moment before releasing. The old parts that hung from his base clipped the doorway. The charts, scans, code, and dials flooded the room with light. Potter didn’t need to look. The moment he had entered the room, the information had been downloaded through the track and rod, but he liked to look. Look once, check twice. The red eye scanned each screen, moving from monitor to monitor, dial to dial. Had Potter been able to smile, he would have done so, and it would have been the happiest of smiles. He moved to the window that overlooked the storage area at the far side of the room. This time, the spidery fingers of his metal arm were all together, and he wiped the dust and dirt from the glass.  

The room below was pristine and clean. Airtight and white, a laboratory environment. Potter watched as the first pod lit and started the procedure. The body inside was raised from the fluid, and the connections started to terminate. Potter’s work was done, and his system had already started its shutdown. Potter had often wondered what they did, the humans down below. A hundred thousand here, billions across the globe, all frozen like the mosquito in amber. Frozen to give the planet time to repair. Cryogenic sleep allowing nature to do its work and reverse the mistakes humanity had made. As the red glow of Potter’s eye dimmed, he wondered if they had learnt the lessons needed. Did they learn in that state? Potter did not know; he had not needed to know. His God would know; His God knew all. Potter had been this hub’s final guardian, and he had made sure humanity survived. As his red light faded and expired, he saw a brightness. Maybe there is a heaven for the likes of him.