I bought one of those robot vacuums from your world. You know, the ones that vacuum on their own? I thought it looked pretty cool, and I also thought it would be fun to see how the stories would react to it.
They saw me carrying the package into my home, and, being full of curiosity, they followed me inside to see what I purchased. They helped me open the box by tearing through the packaging, except they were so enthusiastic that they nearly tore through the vacuum itself. I stopped them from making shreds out of the vacuum by tossing what was left of the box onto the floor. They dove right in.
As I was setting up the vacuum and its charging station in a corner, some of the stories tried to converse with it. One asked what kind of story it was, and another wanted to know what world it came from. When the vacuum didn’t respond, they wondered how it could be napping through all the excitement.
I powered on the vacuum. It lit up and played a little tune as it surged forward.
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhh!” The stories scattered.
They leaped behind furniture, on top of furniture, and scurried under furniture as the robot began taking a turn about the room. The ones who scurried under the furniture soon learned their mistake and were chased out as the vacuum diligently vacuumed out their hiding spots. They were quite indignant as they demanded to know what sort of creature I had found.
A few stories stayed inside the discarded box, defending it whenever the vacuum came near. At first, the vacuum stayed safely out of reach, until it came up behind the box and began pushing it. All the stories exploded out of the box, except for one who sat on top and smacked the vacuum until it turned away to vacuum under the couch. I leafed through the instructions where it stated that the vacuum would navigate around objects rather than push them.
“Strange,” I said as I set the booklet aside. It was immediately snatched up by a story who began leafing through it while muttering something about finding the power source.
Don’t worry, I keep all tools safely hidden away from the stories.
Some of the braver stories ran up to it to get a better look before running away again. One of the stories charged it, but I managed to grab the rambunctious little story before the vacuum met with an untimely fate.
As I scolded the story, I heard a triumphant yell followed by shouts of terror. Looking up, I fully expected to see the vacuum overturned with its wheels spinning, but, instead, one of the stories had jumped on top of it and was riding around despite terrified pleas from the others to stop. The brave little story ignored them and proceeded to have a good time. At least until the story was knocked off when the vacuum went under the couch again.
To the stories’ relief, the vacuuming session was short, but it still managed to clean all the floors. The vacuum was most competent despite the constant threats, and after it parked itself in its charging station, the stories began to settle down, while only muttering the occasional grumble or casting a glare or two across the room at the little vacuum. One story sauntered by, slapped it, and scampered away.
As I settled down myself, I called out to the stories, “Be nice to the vacuum. It did a good job.”
And from the corner of the room, I heard a new voice say, “Thank you!”