In the previous chapter, Orev learned from his mysterious new acquaintance, Nechoshet, that the two of them alongside two other robots were created by a man by the name of Darryl to learn about the world and preserve its knowledge.

Author’s note: This chapter is from Devorah’s perspective and, as unfortunate as it is, will be the final entry for this series.

Devorah’s Tuesday evening began with her driving home, as it usually did. However, she didn’t expect to receive a call from Roy.

Though she was tempted not to, she answered. “Hello, Roy.”

“Hey, Bee,” he said. “Good news and better news. Which do you want first?”

For a brief moment, she wished he was in the car with her so she could roll her eyes at him before remembering that meant he would be in the car with her. “I don’t know. The good news, I guess.”

“I think I’ve discovered what’s been causing robots to act on their own,” Roy exclaimed. “However, I want your input since it’s derived from an idea I came across while researching Judaism, so I was wondering if you could confirm or deny whether or not there’s any truth to it.”

Ho boy. “All right,” she said. “Hit me.”

“Have you ever heard of a dybbuk?”

“A what?” she asked as she parked on the side of the road, having a feeling that she probably shouldn’t be driving while being distracted by whatever nonsense he was going to say next.

“A dybbuk. From what I’ve learned, it’s the spirit of a dead person who runs from Hashem’s judgment, rather than passing on to the afterlife” Roy explained. “They possess people and—”

“Hold on. You’re telling me that you think that robots are developing their own wills because ghosts are possessing them? That’s…” A smile made its way to her face. “That’s actually a nice idea.”

“Wait, really?” he asked.

“I mean, I don’t know how true it is,” she admitted, “but it makes as much sense as any explanation I could think of. Not every abnormal robot is the same, and I can’t imagine that every spirit that runs from Hashem does it for the same reasons.”

“Huh?”

“Well, think about it,” Devorah said. “Someone might do it because they didn’t get enough opportunities to do the right thing during life, which,” she hesitated, “can be shorter than one would like.”

“But what about the ones who—”

“Hurt people?” she guessed, a scowl forming on her face, “What about the ones who don’t? What about the ones like Dot and Dash, the two robots who somehow continue to publish songs about gratitude, even after they found out that they were going to be disassembled? What about the janitor robot who moved books to lower shelves so children could reach them? What about Isaac, the robotic cat who saved my life and continues to bring joy to Yosef? Mel killed 27 people before I brought her in, but you saw the way her personality changed mid-interview. Yes, there are bad apples, but that doesn’t mean the whole bunch is the same.”

“I know that,” Roy said. “It’s just that I didn’t think you really liked people as much as you like robots.”

“I don’t,” she agreed, “but there were some people I did like.”

“Well, people sometimes change and—” He stopped mid sentence, realizing what she meant. “Oh. Bee, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she told him. “You didn’t know.”

“Were you close?” he asked. “I mean, if it’s—”

“It’s fine,” Devorah answered. “It’s about time I talked about it with someone who isn’t being paid to tell me what I want to hear.” She took a deep breath. “My father and two brothers, one older and one younger, were among the few people who consistently supported me when I said that I wanted to join ARIA when I got older.” She sighed. “Seven years ago, my older brother got into a self-driving car accident while driving my younger brother to school.” She wiped her eyes. “There… there were no survivors. On that very same day, my father died in a fire that burned down his workshop and everything within.”

“Oh, Devorah,” Roy said from the other side of the line, “I’m so sorry. You’re amazing for losing so many loved ones and maintaining a strong faith in God.” He noticed her silence. “You… have been maintaining a strong faith in God, right?”

“My younger brother, David, had just put on tefillin for the first time,” she told him. “My older brother, Shmuel, worked in a soup kitchen. My father, Darryl, was a convert who dedicated his working life to creating robots in order to help people. What do you think?”

“I think that it’s not my place to tell you what to do,” Roy said. “I’m not a therapist or anything like that. I also didn’t know any of those people and can’t tell you how they would react if they were still alive. However, I do know you and what you’ve accomplished. I know that you’re brave enough to do what others wouldn’t, to do what I wouldn’t. You’ve faced dangerous robots and each time, you’ve emerged triumphant. I don’t know how God runs the universe either, but I think that if you do decide to serve Him again, He won’t push you away. In fact, I think He’s grateful to you for all of the people and robots you’ve helped.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him. “By the way, I noticed that you called me by my actual name.”

“Well, the thing about bees is—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of tapping on the window of her car. She turned to see a man in an oil-stained lab coat, staring down at her.

“Hang on,” Devorah said, “there’s someone standing outside my car.”

“What does he want?” Roy asked.

“I don’t know,” she told him. “I can’t make out what he’s saying.” As she reached to lower the window, the stranger produced a gun from one of his pockets and pointed it directly at her.

Devorah’s eyes widened. While she was no stranger to dealing with hostile robots, hostile people were a different story. They couldn’t be turned off with little more than a tap from a deactivation staff. Nor could they be brought in and reprogrammed to do what they were supposed to. She thought about what she could say to convince the person with the gun to leave, thinking about offering him money or information, but guessed from his smile that for some reason or another, he only wanted her dead.

An idea came to her. Remembering what Yosef had done while the two of them were hiding from the Geards, she covered her eyes with a trembling hand and said Shema.

The moment she finished, she looked around and noticed a fox dashing in front of the car parked in front of her. However, instead of a fox emerging on the other side, she saw a tiger. Once it made its way into the middle of the road, it began to growl and pace back and forth, its yellow eyes locked on her assailant.

The stranger shrugged and directed his aim towards the “tiger,” only to realize that his gun wouldn’t fire. The color drained from his face as he dropped his weapon and fled.

The beast, seeing that it had the upper hand, roared and began to pursue him.

“Devorah?” Roy called. “What happened over there?”

“Would you believe me if I said that the man threatened me with an unloaded gun and was chased away by a tiger?” Devorah asked.

“We were talking about dybbuks a few moments ago, so why not?” he replied. “See, this is what I was trying to get at earlier. I don’t think Hashem hates you as much as you might think he does. I can’t say I know why your father or brothers died, but I know that he wants you to live, which brings me to the better news. I’m thinking of converting. I’m still learning about what that entails, but I’m getting there.”

“Oh.” She took a moment to think of what else to say. “Well, I hope that whatever decision you end up making turns out to be the right one.” She looked around, still trying to process what had just transpired. “You know,” she said after organizing her thoughts, “I think I once read a story about a tiger who hunted down a poacher who had wronged it.”

Roy laughed. “If that’s true, then it’s a good thing that neither tiger seems to be after you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Baruch Hashem.”

Noah Motechin is a summer intern at The Jewish Link and an English major at Rutgers University. He has an affinity for Torah, writing and the natural world.