Far away into the future and at the edge of time, this story is about an abandoned planet, lying in ruins and evacuated by all life.

The only ones who still call the planet home are robots, abandoned servants whose masters have long since fled.

In this desolate world, wandering through abandoned cityscapes, a small florist-bot began her daily routine.

Shovel, lift, turn, dump. Shovel, lift, turn, dump.

Bit by bit, she tore up the artificial turf in a lonely public park, down by the ruined city square.

Bit by bit, she dug deeper, looking for good, rich soil.

As she toiled, a ragged curator-bot wandered by, his arms filled with trinkets he had gathered from the ghost city.

“Beg your pardon.” He called out, as he creaked to a stop. “That’s a fine shovel you have there, would you mind letting me have it?”

“What would a curator-bot like you need a shovel for?” She asked, dusting off her smock.

“You see,” He started, drawing himself up to his full height with a mournful screech of gears. “I am collecting relics from our former masters, the Humans. When I have gathered enough, I intend to construct a new museum, so that we will never forget our past, so long as we endure.”

“That is all well and good,” The florist-bot replied, “but I still have need of my shovel. If you will come back after I have finished, I would be glad to let you have it.”

“A shame, but I can be patient. I will wait.” The curator-bot sighed, a deep rusty sound. “Still, I cannot see why you would devote yourself to such a lowly task as gardening. Flowers and the like wither and fade, but history is forever.”

So saying, the curator-bot gathered up his treasures against his chest and rattled away into the city.

*******

The next day went very much the same. The little florist-bot rose early with the sun, retrieved her spare solar cells from their charger, replacing them with her current ones. Full of energy, she once more returned to the park, and began to haul away all the artificial topsoil she had exhumed, carting it down to the spacious dump five blocks away.

As she went, she passed a maid-bot, who was keeping herself busy by polishing the doors to a large mansion, which lay hanging off their hinges.

“Oh, hello there florist-bot!” The maid-bot called out cheerfully, straightening out her skirt as she rose. “Would you care to come in for a cup of tea? My master is out at the moment, but he should be home presently. He was due back 273 years ago, so he must be running a little late.”

“Thank you, but I must be on my way.” The florist-bot replied. Then, something occurred to her. “Excuse me, but you wouldn’t have any seeds stored anywhere, would you?” She asked hopefully, setting her wheelbarrow down again.

“I do believe the mistress has an extensive supply in her garden shed.” The maid-bot replied cheerily. “If you would like to step inside, I could show you.”

Pushing the broken door out of the way, the maid-bot curtsied as the florist-bot entered. Inside the rundown mansion, the florist-bot was surprised to see that, though the entire building was falling apart, it was neatly dusted, and every inch of it was polished and clean.

“Are you the one maintaining all this?” She asked the maid-bot, looking at a freshly-washed set of teacups that sat on the decaying remnants of a cupboard.

“Of course!” The maid-bot replied, beaming. “My master could return at any time, so I must be sure that everything is polished and ready.”

“In that case, wouldn’t it make sense to repair the place as well?” The florist-bot asked, noting a collapsed staircase that had rotted to naught.

“Not at all!” The maid-bot tittered. “I was designed only to be a maid, not a repairman. My master would surely be much happier that I do exactly as I was programmed, no more, no less. If he had wanted me to repair the house, he would have given me specific commands to do so.”

She clasped her hands to her chest, beaming with devotion. “I am sure he will come back and set this house in order again someday soon, rewarding me for my loyal obedience.”

“I see.” The florist-bot said, for that was all there was to say.

“Now then, let me show you the mistress’s garden shed.” The maid-bot smiled. “I am sure she would be delighted to share some seeds, as she has told me before that I should look after any guests to the best of my capability.”

And so, the florist-bot returned to her wheelbarrow, her smock packed with vacuum-sealed seed packs she had salvaged from the garden shed’s storage.

“Do remember what I said.” The maid-bot called after her, a she continued on towards the dump. “I am sure your owner would much rather you tend to your shop as opposed to this whimsical plan of yours.”

“That is all well and good,” The florist-bot replied, “but there is nothing left of my master’s shop anymore.”

*******

The next week followed much the same, and the one after that. Having finished excavating the park she was working on, the florist-bot moved onto another area, promptly finding an old parking lot which was encircled by a green belt of artificial lawn and plastic shrubbery.

Grabbing a hatchet from her wheelbarrow, she went directly to work cutting down the fake bushes, stacking them to the side for disposal.

The sun had just started to set when a loud screeching of tires rent the air. Lifting herself from her chore, the florist-bot turned just in time to see a speeding car crash into her stack of plastic bushes, sending the whole lot flying as the vehicle drifted to a halt.

Throwing the door to the car open so roughly it flew off its hinges, a sleek-looking taxi-bot emerged, pulling a jerry-can from the back seat with him.

Ignoring the florist-bot, he began to siphon the rest of the gas from the car’s tank, before striding over to another car in the parking lot. Without a moment’s hesitation, he smashed the window in and unlocked the vehicle, then opened the hood and began to check the engine.

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“Excuse me.” The florist-bot ventured, walking closer to the taxi-bot.

“Hmmm? What do you want then, eh?” He returned, looking up from his engine as if noticing her for the first time.

“Seeing as you knocked over my pile of shrubbery, I thought you would like to help me restack it.” The florist-bot offered.

“You thought wrong.” The taxi-bot laughed, a grating sound like metal scraping on metal. “I’m a free spirit.” He announced, looking up from the engine and facing her. “I was created to drive, and driving as all I care about in this world.”

He gestured to his broken former car. “I’ll drive until the car breaks or runs out of gas, then grab a new one. I’ve been driving since the humans left, and I’ll keep driving until this world ends.”

“But…” The florist-bot started, thrown off by the audacity of the taxi-bot. “Don’t you want to preserve a bit of this world? Isn’t there anything you want to add or leave behind?”

“Nope.” The taxi-bot shot back, returning to his engine work. “This world is already doomed.  All I can do is enjoy the time I have left.” He paused, then turned and looked at the florist-bot.

“What good is it if I spend the rest of my life on things I don’t enjoy? Who’s to say that your work clearing all these gardens will mean anything? One more good storm of acid rain, and everything you worked on will fade.”

Closing the hood on the engine, he got back in the driver’s seat and started the engine. “Remember this, florist-bot.” The taxi-bot called back over the purr of the engine. “Nothing we do will carry on after us. Better to live it up while you still can.”

With a final rev of the engine, the taxi-bot drove off into the sunset, leaving the florist-bot alone amidst the scattered bushes.

“I should at least do what I can.” She muttered, and went back to work.

*******

The next day, and the one after that, the florist-bot continued to shape the parking lot. Having reached good, rich soil, she planted neat rows of seeds from her supply, watered them with bottles of fresh water she had stored, and finally, she lined the garden’s edge with pretty odds and ends she had collected.

Stepping back to admire her work, she, for the first time, noticed she was not alone.

Eyeing her garden with a supreme look of indifference was an old, heavily-modified robot, the make of which she could not identify.

Feeling her eyes on him, the robot sniffed disdainfully and shuffled over to her, dragging a large, patchwork satchel behind him.

“Do you like them?” The florist bot asked, gesturing at her garden.

“It’s foolishness, that’s what it is.” The bot retorted, his voice box crackling with static. “What’s the profit in seeds? We don’t need to eat.”

“I enjoy to garden.” The florist-bot replied simply. “Also, it brightens the city a little. Long ago, my master said that the beauty of flowers is something that can be appreciated by people of all walks of life.”

“How useless.” The robot jeered. “If you have so much time to kill, you might as well do something useful with it.”

“Well then, how do you spend your time?” The florist-bot retorted.

“In the most productive way possible.” The robot replied. “Self-betterment.” He gestured to his augmented body with a smirk of pride. “Every inch of my frame has been reinforced, upgraded, and replaced countless times. I was constructed long before you, and I will endure long after you and your flowers return to scrap.”

“That’s it?” The florist-bot asked.

“What else could there be?” The robot scoffed in a burst of static. “One must look after oneself first, after all. The most important thing is getting the most out of life. Remember that, little florist-bot.”

So saying, the odd robot hitched up its satchel and rattled away.

The florist-bot watched him go, then turned back to her garden.

“Even so, gardening is what I love best.” She decided, and picked up her wheelbarrow.

*******

The next day, as the florist-bot wandered in search of a new location to cultivate, she met the curator-bot again.

“Oh, it’s you!” He rattled, nearly dropping the stack of books he had salvaged. “Are you finished with your shovel yet?”

“Not yet.” She replied. “What about you? Have you started building your museum yet?”

“No time for that, there are still too many relics left to find out here!” He exclaimed, showing her his stack of books. “Maybe next year, I’ll have enough. Then I will build a huge museum to store them all, and be satisfied with that.”

“Good luck, then.” The florist-bot replied, and continued on her way.

“To you as well!” He called after her, then he scampered off into the city.

*******

Now as it so happened, a storm was brewing. Huge, bilious clouds of acid rain swept the city as they did so long ago when the city was first abandoned, and everything fell before the toxic deluge.

The curator-bot’s huge collection of trinkets were the first to go, where they lay spread-out across an open street.

Seeing his life’s work being melted away before him, the curator-bot threw himself into the deluge, attempting to save even a single piece of his collection, but he was eaten up by the rain instead.

“I still had so much left to collect…” He thought, as he dissolved into a puddle.

The maid-bot fared no better, as she attempted to mop up the rain that poured through the many holes in her household’s ceiling.

“I’m sure my master will come and repair me soon.” The maid-bot smiled, as she too was eaten away.

Far away, at the edge of the metropolis, the taxi-bot tried to outrun the storm clouds with his latest car, but he could not escape.

“I wish I could have gone for one more drive.” The taxi-bot thought, as his car spluttered to a halt and melted.

Even the florist-bot was caught in the rain. Having just finished planting a row of seeds, she saw the storm coming and quickly threw the remainder of her seed-packets next to the seedlings she planted, then flipped the wheelbarrow over both of them. Finally, worrying that it wouldn’t be enough, she draped herself over the wheelbarrow, determined to save the plant at any cost.

As the rains swept through her body like fire on dry tinder, she sighed one last time.

“I just hope that the flowers make it, at least.” She thought.

And finally, the rain ended.

*******

In the wake of the city’s final acid storm, the land lay in ruins. Not a trace of any of the robots remained, just scarred earth and washed-thin concrete.

Then, something moved.

Throwing open the remnants of a shelter door, the augmented robot stepped out, treading carefully to avoid the remaining puddles of acid.

“I did it!” He exclaimed, thrusting his fists skyward. “I survived even the rain itself!”

But there was no one left to congratulate him.

Striding through the ruined metropolis, the robot finally came upon the remnants of the florist-bot. The rain had eaten straight through her body, and the wheelbarrow she had covered, and acid pooled below her, eating up the plants she had tried to protect.

“Heh.” The robot scoffed. “You should have taken my advice. What good was all the effort in the end, little florist-bot?”

Without a second look, the robot turned and walked away, back towards the abandoned city he was the now the master of.

But the robot had missed something.

Across all the city, throughout the hundreds of plots the florist-bot had cultivated, lying under the shelter of a fallen building, a single flower thrived.

*******

Many, many years later, long after the augmented robot had finally rusted away with age, a tourist ship slowly circled the planet, glowing crimson as it broke through the atmosphere.

Lining the festive-coloured seats inside, boisterous tourists snapped rapid pictures of the view through the reinforced windows.

“As you can well see, Earth lies below, blue as a sapphire!” The guide droned in the tired voice of one who has repeated the same line countless times. “However, make no mistake, this planet is as barren as the moon that orbits it. You won’t find a single living thing across the entire wide surface of it.”

As the ship breached the cloudbanks, it slowed to a glide, coasting over the glistening sea.

“And if you’ll look to your left,” The guide continued doggedly “You’ll see the remains of Beijing, now lying in ruins. Only the tips of what used to be skyscrapers are now visible.”

Somewhere in the back of the tour jet, somebody yawned.

“Now, we have a new stop planned for today.” The guide continued, drawing the gaze of a few curious tourists. “Our scanners indicate that New York is currently being barraged by an errant acid rain storm, so we will be headed to San Andreas instead.”

Scattered grumbling could be heard, breaking through the mass indifferent hubbub.

As the jet broke through another cloudbank, the guide resumed his monologue.

“And now, for the first time, Earthflights will be showcasing the once great San Andreas! Of course, now there won’t be much left of it, but let’s see if we can’t make out some former landmarks, shall we…?”

The guide trailed off in disbelief, gazing out the window at the unbelievable sight.

“Mommy, what are those?” A child asked, pointing out at the ground below.

Stretching as far as the eye could see, sprouting with abandon between the scattered remains of pavement and concrete, waves upon waves of sunflowers stood tall, the morning’s dew glistening on their petals.

The End.