When Tomo woke up from his recharge, Mamá was standing in front of the TV again, watching the Humanity First rallies. A news anchor reported on a list of demands that protesters scrawled on their many posters; increased pay for “real” workers, equal distribution of complex and simple tasks for humans, and a one-bot per person policy.

“Mamá,” Tomo reached for her hand, and she jumped in response.

“Ay, chiquillo, you scared me half to death.”

“Perdón, Mamá, I sensed your heart rate elevating. The news is not good for your mental state,” he said.

“We have a lot to do before harvest and the heat will spoil the cultivars.” She tossed a pair of mud-stained outdoor gloves at his face. “Ya pues, levántate. Up, up, up!”

It was a hot day, well over a hundred degrees. Cloud seeding drones, with their silver iodide streaks lining the sky, usually flew over once a week. They had missed the countryside, where Tomo and Mamá lived, for the past two weeks, which left them unprotected against the relentless sun. It wouldn’t be good for the cultivar.

The cultivar on Mamá’s farm mimicked a variety of meats— from chicken to goat. Some grew in bulbous, fleshy tones, and others in unusual spirals, like curly fries. The business was good and steady.

Mamá wiped sweat off her forehead as she examined one particularly large cultivar that hung off an arched trellis. She took a knife from her pocket and pushed hard against the stem with her right hand as she cradled the cultivar with her left. It gave way and shot a spurt of bright red liquid across her face and overalls. Mamá cleaned the knife on her pant leg and used a rag in her pocket to clear up the mess on her face. She could smell the iron-rich heme that reminded her of walking through the butcher’s aisle of a market when she was young. Celine, the head chef of one of the best restaurants in the city, could use it to create a beef wellington or a steak tartare, and most people wouldn't even distinguish it from animal meat. She salivated at the thought of what it would eventually become.

“Hey Tomo,” Mamá called out. “Catch!” She took the meaty fruit in both hands and quickly swung it upwards, into the air. Tomo snapped to attention as he saw the cultivar hanging in the air. It was almost as if it levitated for a brief second, right before heading back towards the Earth. In an instant, he was running, eyes locked on the plummeting object. He raised the basket high and caught the fruit with a one smooth, shock-absorbing motion.

Tomo shot a look at Mamá, who was rolling on the ground, laughing. “What the heck did you do that for?” he asked as his face transitioned from worry to annoyance. Tomo’s facial expressions were realistic enough to pass for human if someone wasn’t observing closely.

“I’m just having a little fun,” Mamá said. “You should’ve seen the look on your face!”

“That’s not very nice,” Tomo said. “What if I didn’t catch it?”

“Oh, come on, Tomo. I knew you’d catch it,” Mamá said.

“But what if I didn’t? I would have failed at my task,” Tomo replied. “I don’t know what I would do if I failed.”

Mamá looked at him with gentle eyes. “Oh, my Tomito. It’s okay if you fail a task. You don’t have to succeed at everything you do,” she said.

“Yes, but I could have hurt myself and broken something. What then?” Tomo asked.

“Well, then it would be up to me to fix you up like new,” she said with a smile. “And you know I will always get you the best parts I can find.”

“You know, sometimes I feel like an old tractor or something,” Tomo said. “One of these days, I’m going to wake up and find out that you’ve replaced my legs with two big wheels.”

“As tempting as that may be, I would never do that to you!” she said. “And besides, tractors never made me laugh this much.”

Tomo stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, which sent Mamá into a fit of laughter. Suddenly, her laugh turned into a wheeze and then a full cough, as her knees buckled, making her fall to the ground.

Tomo dropped his basket and ran to her. “Ma! Are you okay?” He propped her upper back with his forearm.

“I need my medicine,” she said. “Inside. It’s inside.”

Mamá had recently tuned up Tomo’s servos and load stabilizers, making it easy for him to pick her up like a child and take her into the cottage, where it was much cooler.

“The medicine cabinet. The black case,” Mamá said.

Tomo rushed to the medicine cabinet. When he returned to the couch, she was only semi-conscious, breathing heavily. He opened the case and removed the syringe and a half-full vial of liquid. In a quick motion, he filled it with the remaining fluid and plunged it into her right arm. At first, nothing happened. He thought to himself that maybe he was too late. But then he saw that her chest began to move up and down in a smooth rhythm. She was going to be okay.

The sun drifted heavily across the sky while Tomo waited for Mamá to wake. As night came, she slowly regained consciousness. “Tomo?” She reached out.

“Aqui, Mamá. I’m right here,” he said as placed his hand on hers. “What is happening? How sick are you?”

Mamá was always stubborn about her illness and lay there quietly. “It’s nothing that a little tea and milk can’t fix.”

Tomo remotely activated the electric kettle in the kitchen. He sensed that whatever she was going through wasn’t normal and her symptoms seemed to be getting worse. “When will you get better? Isn’t there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“I am fine. I’ve already dealt with these ADRs since I was a kid and I’m still around. Besides, I’ve learned not to worry so much about tomorrow, so I can enjoy what I have today,” she said. “Now, will you please fetch my tea, please?”

Tomo went to make her the tea she requested and pulled up the definition of ADR in his mind— Adverse Drug Reaction. He cross-referenced articles on drugs with adverse effects during the years when Mamá would’ve been a young girl. One drug dominated the headlines: Zurdavafil.

Tomo sweetened the black tea and milk with some honey and balanced the mug on the flat of his palm. Mamá thanked him as she grabbed the ear of the mug took a small sip.

“Mamá, were you a test subject when Unicare Pharma was developing Zurdavafil? The Genius Drug?” Tomo asked.

“Ah, gosh, you make the best tea, Tomo,” she said and stared into her mug as if searching for something more. “Yes, I and several other children were given the drug they nicknamed the Genius Drug. The same drug that made us smarter, but also gave us violent seizures.” Mamá shifted around, struggling to get more comfortable. Tomo placed a pillow behind her back and helped her moved into a better position.

“Of course, the drug study ended early. And although most of us have suffered early deaths since the program began, we’ve also done many great things. And creating you was one of the great things I did.”

Tomo leaned over Mamá and hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I never knew.”

“How could you? It’s been years since it happened and no one really talks about it anymore,” Mamá said.

Tomo suddenly had a look of concern.

“What? What is it, mi querido?” She asked.

“Well. I was just wondering. Would I exist without the drugs they gave you?” Tomo asked.

“Oh Tomo,” Mamá said. “It’s unlikely that you would exist as you are now. But maybe you would be in my life in some other way.”

“But would your life have been better if they did not give you the drug?” Tomo asked.

“Ay, mijo,” Mamá said. “Life is how it is. You can’t go back and change it. What may or may not have been doesn’t matter as much as where I am today.”

“I just don’t understand why people did that to you,” Tomo said.

“Well, Tomo, that’s a hard question to answer. For some, it’s just greed. Others really believe they really tried to help. But we were immigrants, and they needed someone to test their drug on. Outsiders are easy to forget when the world is getting hotter, wealth gaps grow wider, and most people are just struggling to survive.”

“I don’t want to be like those people,” Tomo said.

Mamá smiled. “Bien. You must always have empathy, Tomo. Even when they hurt you or the ones you love. Try your best to understand them.”

“I will, if I can, Mamá.”

That evening was warmer than usual, and the air felt charged with electricity. Tomo didn’t want to power down tonight. Instead, he went outside to look at the stars. He wondered if he should be angry or sad. He was angry because of what Mamá went through growing up. But he felt sad that he wouldn’t have existed otherwise. I am that which burdens and unburdens all the same. Then he closed his eyes and powered down.

Tomo took the car into the city the next morning to get some supplies for the week. The blue morning light filtered through the clouds like ribbons in the sky.

The car’s navigation screen flashed a yellow traffic warning and began an automatic re-route. The car exited onto the surface streets, going through a human-free zone. Tomo had never been through this area before. He could see bots hiding inside the old, rundown buildings. Some of the windowless rooms flashed with the bright blue sparks of a welder.

Ahead of the car, Tomo could see two men following a bright yellow worker bot. One of them gave the bot a hard kick and laughed.

“Vehicle, stop ahead and let me out,” Tomo demanded.

“You have not yet reached your destination,” the vehicle replied.

“I don’t care, just let me out here,” Tomo said.

The car pulled over and stopped. Tomo got out of the car and started approaching the two men, one in a muscle shirt and another in a torn red jersey.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Tomo asked.

The man that wore a white muscle shirt stepped forward and yelled back. “Mind your own business, pretty boy.” He grabbed the bot by the arm while the other man pulled the bot in the opposite direction. Tomo heard a pop and saw the man in the muscle shirt fly back, taking the bot’s arm with him. They made an awful sound as they laughed, whooped, and cheered as if they had done something wonderful.

“Stop doing that!” Tomo yelled.

The man in the muscle shirt stood up and looked serious. “I thought I told you to mind your own business.” He swung the arm around like a bat.

Tomo stepped in front of the bot. “Leave them alone,” he said firmly.

“Oh, well, you see. I’m actually a pro baseball player and here just doing a little batting practice. Want to help?” He swung the arm fast, and it cracked on Tomo’s jaw, sending him to the ground.

The man in the jersey cheered, “Alright man! Home run!”

Tomo’s visual blacked out for a second as he hit the ground. His system recovered quickly, and he stood back up. A piece of the skin on his jaw was missing and underneath showed a smooth, woven carbon fiber surface that made up his skeletal structure.

“What the hell!” The muscle shirt man said.

He swung the arm for another hit, but Tomo could see it coming this time. Before it made contact, he caught it with his hand. He then snatched the robot arm in one quick motion.

The man shrieked as a spatter of red struck him across the chest. “My hand! You bastard! You cut my hand!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you,” Tomo said. “Let me help.” He reached out with his free hand.

“No, man. Stay away from me, you freak!”

From behind, the man in the red jersey smashed a wooden board on Tomo’s back. It made him stumble, but it didn’t manage to make him fall.

“Let’s get out of here, man.” The two men backed away and ran in the other direction.

Tomo watched them disappear around a corner, slightly dumbfounded by the experience. Then he looked at the robot arm still in his hand and remembered the little yellow worker bot.

“I believe this is yours,” Tomo said as a matter of fact.

The yellow worker bot shrank back and looked afraid.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you not have audio receptors? Maybe I can talk to you with near field communications,” Tomo said as he focused and switch on his wireless transmission.

I have your arm. Please take.

It cocked its head, not sure what to make of Tomo. It reached out and took the arm back with caution.

“There you go!” Tomo said aloud.

The little yellow bot spooked and ran away.

Tomo stood for a second in the middle of the dirty street, realizing he was alone again. There was an overwhelming feeling he’d never felt before. Like the world was coming down on him from above. He got back into the car and went home.

The cottage was quiet when Tomo entered. He leaned against the door, replaying what had just happened in his mind.

“Mamá?” Tomo called out. No reply.

He walked in, wondering where Mamá could be.

“Mamá? Are you here?” Tomo asked again.

As Tomo turned a corner and into the living room, Mamá looked over and took her ear buds out.

“Tomo, you’re back so soon,” she said. Then she noticed the torn skin on his face. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he replied.

“O, sí pues. You were just walking along and skin started falling off for no reason?” Mamá asked.

Tomo sat on the couch and stared into his palms. The dirty, crimson cuts on them were already healing. “I saw humans hurting a bot on the border. And I wanted them to stop. So, I asked them to.”

“And they did this to you?” Mamá asked. “You know you shouldn’t get in the middle of those fights.”

“Yes, but they were being awful to a small worker bot,” he said.

“Ay Tomo, you know those bots don’t have pain receptors. They don’t feel things the way you do,” Mamá said.

“What about fear? Can’t they feel afraid?

Mamá scratched her head. “Well, I supposed it’s possible. They are a form of artificial intelligence, even if it is a rudimentary form of it. But really, you shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Why not? Isn’t that just as bad as hurting someone? Causing them to fear you?” Tomo said.

“What?” Mamá asked. “What are you talking about? Of course not. Well, I mean, it just all depends on where that fear is coming from. Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it was afraid of me. They were all afraid of me,” Tomo said. “The bot, the humans. All of them.”

Mamá sat down and wrapped her arms around Tomo, pulling him close. She could always make him feel better that way.

“It’s okay, my dear. I’m here for you and I love you the way you are. And eventually, they’ll see you for who you are.” Tomo’s sobs slowed as she stroked his hair. “You’re something special no one has seen yet. That’s going to be difficult for them to understand. But it will get better one day. I promise you, it will get better.”

“I just don’t know where I fit in. I know I’m not human, but I don’t feel like I’m a bot either,” Tomo said. “Why did you make me this way?”

“Mijo, you’re the next step for the world. It is your time. People don’t like it when they know change is coming,” Mamá said.

“And what if they never accept me?” Tomo asked.

“Well, then you always have me,” she said. “Let me patch you up now.”

Mamá went to the medicine cabinet and opened the mirrored door. She picked up the box of bandages sitting next to the black syringe case. She returned to the living room and peeled the backing off the bandage and applied it to Tomo’s wound. As she leaned back, she suddenly lost her balance and reached out to the sofa. Tomo reacted quickly and steadied her before she could fall.

“Mamá! Are you okay? Is it another seizure?”

“Yes, I think one might be coming,” she said. “Did you pick up my medicine before coming home?”

That’s when Tomo realized the mistake he made. “Mamá,” he said. “I’m so sorry, but I forgot. I don’t know how, but I forgot.”

“It’s okay, Tomo,” Mamá said calmly. “Let’s just get in the car and go to the hospital.”

The drive into the city was frenzied, and they passed anyone they could to save some time.

“Tomo, slow down. You’re going to get us killed before we even get there.”

Tomo didn’t respond. He could see that there were delays on their route. The Humanity First protests were spilling out into the streets, and they blocked all the quickest paths to the hospital.

As they got closer, they could see the masses of people walking the roadways. Eventually, they couldn’t go any farther with the car.

“Oh no, the protests,” Mamá said. Her muscles stiffened, causing her to groan from the pain.

“I’ll send for an ambulance,” Tomo said, as he instantly patched through a signal for medical assistance and their GPS information. Tomo massaged Mamá’s calf muscle; it was in the middle of a full spasm.

“The ambulance won’t make it through the crowds,” Mamá said.

“If we get to the other side of the street, they can pick us up.”

“I don’t know if I can walk,” Mamá said.

“I’ll carry you,” Tomo said as he exited the car. He opened her door and cradled her like a small child. The two of them made their way through the crowd while angry chants resonated all around them. They pushed past people carrying anti-bot signs, the air seeming to be filled with the soured smell of anger and hate.

There was a slow shift in the energy around them as they kept walking. It began with murmurs and bodies started moving as they noticed him carrying Mamá.

“Hey man, is she okay?” Tomo heard someone ask.

“Hey, that woman needs help! Make some way!” someone else said.

“Come on, let them through. They need to get to the hospital,” another person said.

The crowds made space for them as they marched forward. Tomo could see the hospital sign, illuminated on the horizon. He began to feel hope as the people parted, like an ocean opening up to let them through.

But then he saw him at the corner of his eye.

Could it be? Tomo thought to himself.

And he realized that the man in the muscle shirt from earlier was walking towards them. The look on the man’s face was full of fire.

“I know what you are. You ain’t real,” he spat.

“Leave us alone,” Tomo said.

“This thing ain’t a person,” the man shouted. “He’s a goddamned bot!”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “Leave them alone, man!”

Others shook their heads at the muscle shirt man. He looked around and saw that no one believe him. “I swear it!” He said. “I knocked this guy on the head and he just got up like it was nothin’.”

“Just let me get my Mamá to the hospital,” Tomo pleaded. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Please just let us go get help. She’s going to die.” Mamá’s eyes were rolling back, going in and out of consciousness.

“Like hell I will,” the man shouted and ripped the bandage off Tomo’s face. “Look at that! That ain’t bone, now is it?”

Tomo could feel the people’s eyes turn towards them as someone gasped. A woman with a red bandana squints at the missing skin on his face. “Holy hell, he’s right. Ain’t ever seen nothing like that before.”

There was a visceral shift in the crowd, like a collapsing star falling into itself. The path in front of Tomo closed with angry faces.

The small stones started flying at the two of them, which turned into bigger stones, and eventually a glass bottle that shattered on the ground next to them. Tomo tried to charge forward, but they would tighten the circle and would push him back into the middle.

Then, the second bottle came. This time, Tomo knew to watch for it and ducked out of the way. It narrowly missed him, and he heard it crash behind.

A woman shrieked. “My baby! Oh, my god!” the woman cried. “What have you done?”

Tomo turned around and saw a young boy, about 8 years old, limp in his mother’s arms. The bottle had missed Tomo and hit the boy, knocking him unconscious. The crimson gash on the boy’s forehead gushed onto his white silk-screened shirt, with a bold-lettered slogan that said, “Bots Aren’t Real.”

The crowd was silent as Tomo looked at the boy and his mother and was filled with sadness for them. Mamá’s eyes were barely open and he could see that she was trying to say something. So, he lifted her close to his ear, and she whispered, “Go. Help him. Empathy, remember?” Tomo shook his head. “Go,” she said again as she closed her eyes.

Tomo placed her on the ground gently and balled his fists. He looked up and walked over to the crying mother. He knelt down and asked, “May I?”

“What?” the mother asked. “What do you want?”

“I want to help. Please. May I?”

The mother gave a nod. Tomo reached out and held the boy’s wrist. He scanned his body, sensing his chances of survival.

“He’s alive, but he has a cranial fracture that’s on the verge of hemorrhaging. Let me take him and I’ll get him to the hospital safely,” Tomo said.

“No way in hell,” a man behind them said. “I’ll take him before a clanker like you ever touches him.”