The routine
The rain poured relentlessly.
Through the great window, tall fir trees could be seen swaying beneath the wind while droplets struck the glass and slowly slid across its surface. Far away, thunder rumbled through the darkness.
A faint bluish glow from outside bathed the small room in artificial calm as Artemis slept deeply. At times, the intensity of the storm made him curl slightly beneath the blanket, breathing more heavily.
Then the window darkened.
Yellow numbers appeared across the glass.
6:45 AM.
At the same time, a soft chime began to ring.
Artemis stirred in bed and stretched out a hand toward the bedside table, fumbling until he found the snooze button. The room returned to darkness. There was barely enough space for the bed, a closet, and a small metal table.
He drifted back to sleep for a few more minutes.
Then the time appeared again across the glass.
6:50 AM.
“Engineer, it is 6:50 AM. You have a corporate meeting at 7:30.”
The male voice was soft and perfectly modulated.
Artemis let out a long sigh. He remained lying there for several seconds, staring at the immaculate white metal ceiling before finally sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“I’m awake already, Nok,” he muttered. “Open the window.”
The glass slowly regained its transparency.
The reddish glow of dawn revealed the processing facilities stretching into the distance. Conveyors, industrial structures, and mining platforms disappeared beneath the endless dust. Some robots transported ore toward the production sectors while others moved containers into automated storage bays. Beyond them rose jagged crimson mountains beneath a motionless sky.
There were no clouds.
There never had been.
Artemis stood and opened the closet. He pulled out a maroon jumpsuit with his name embroidered over the left breast and laid it across the bed before leaving the room.
The small apartment contained little more than a compact kitchen, a dining table beside the panoramic window, and a modest sitting area. Everything was functional. Everything had been designed for a single occupant.
He entered the bathroom and began the same routine he had repeated for the last eighteen years: shaving, showering, and preparing himself for another day identical to the one before it.
Yet that morning he lingered a few seconds longer in front of the mirror.
The first crow’s feet had begun to form around his eyes.
“Christ… I’m getting old.”
When he emerged, Nok was already waiting in the center of the room.
The android wore a dark blue uniform and carried the calm smile the company had programmed into him to appear approachable.
“Good morning, Engineer. Would you like your usual breakfast?”
“Do we have sausages?”
“They were not included in the last supply requisition. They should arrive in approximately two weeks.”
“Right… then cereal.”
A short while later, Artemis sat eating breakfast before the window. The sun now illuminated the barren and desolate landscape outside. The only sounds came from distant machinery and the constant movement of robots beneath the reddish morning light.
While eating, he distractedly scrolled through music videos, news reports, and old cartoons.
“Engineer, the operational report is ready.”
Artemis set aside the tablet and walked toward the station’s command center.
The room was surrounded by monitors, servers, and control panels. Before him unfolded graphs displaying operational efficiency, machinery utilization, and production yield.
He frowned.
“Why did we drop below target again?”
Nok stood motionless for several seconds while interfacing with the plant systems.
“Confirming information.”
Another screen appeared, displaying utilization charts and efficiency curves. Artemis reviewed the data carefully.
“Why are we at ninety-seven percent utilization?”
“According to Fred’s report, two excavation units lost signal during operation. Additionally, one transport unit suffered a tire failure.”
Artemis typed several commands. A screen opened, revealing the image of a field supervisor robot.
“Good morning, Engineer,” said the unit.
“Morning, Viko. What happened to the excavators?”
“They were operating normally when communication with the central system was lost. Fred is currently diagnosing them.”
Artemis opened another window. The robot in charge of diagnostics and repair appeared on-screen.
“Fred, what happened?”
“The failures began after the update, but the issue does not appear to be firmware-related.”
Artemis froze.
“Then what?”
“I am currently investigating physical damage to the communication boards.”
“Physical damage?”
“No conclusion yet. Additionally, a traction servomotor failure was detected in unit Lulis. Due to lack of spare parts, repairs were carried out using components recovered from inactive units in storage.”
Artemis leaned back in his chair and stared at the figures for several moments before activating the videoconference.
“Corporate isn’t going to like this…”
“Three minutes,” Nok replied.
A minute later, several executives appeared projected across the main display. They were located in another star system entirely, though quantum synchronization made real-time meetings from Eika possible.
“Good morning, Artemis,” one of them said. “We’ve reviewed the production report. We’re concerned the yield has once again fallen below target.”
“Several units started failing after the system update.”
The executives murmured among themselves. One of them made a call. Moments later, a woman with a cold expression appeared on-screen, dressed in a blue jumpsuit with black stripes along the sides.
Artemis had never seen her before.
“Ilse,” said the director, “we’ve received reports from Eika claiming the update caused operational issues in the robotics systems.”
The woman reviewed something off-screen.
“The firmware is clean,” she replied. “No faults were found in the update.”
“Then why is Artemis reporting robotic failures?”
Ilse looked directly into the camera.
“Most likely a mechanical or maintenance-related issue.”
Artemis clenched his jaw.
“Several units had to return to diagnostics immediately after the update.”
“After does not necessarily imply because of,” she replied calmly.
The director folded his hands once more.
“What is your recovery strategy?”
“Optimize the lines and recover downtime.”
“We cannot continue missing the plan.”
“We’ve maintained this operation for nearly two decades,” Artemis answered, exhaustion visible in his voice. “The failures started after the update, and we’ve also had problems with the latest chemical profiles sent by the client.”
“Now you’re blaming the client?” the director asked.
“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m saying that if we receive incorrect profiles and updates that coincide with operational failures—”
“Excuses don’t correct metrics,” Ilse interrupted. “We need concrete actions. There are delivery commitments involved.”
Everyone nodded.
Artemis remained silent.
The meeting continued through financial projections, revenue reports, and logistics schedules that had ceased to interest him years ago. Even so, he continued taking notes mechanically.
When the videoconference ended, he waited a few seconds before dialing another contact.
Soon the image of Luka appeared: head of corporate diagnostics, bald, bespectacled, and visibly tired.
“Hey, Artemis.”
“Hey, Luka. I need help figuring out how to make them believe the update is actually causing problems.”
“How many units are failing?”
“Two excavators, one transport unit, and several crushers with intermittent disconnects.”
Luka sighed.
“Listen, the firmware’s been checked. Multiple runs were performed. Nothing corrupted showed up. I’d review the preventive maintenance.”
“The boys don’t forget their routines.”
“Did you forget when an SEM routine got wiped?”
Artemis bit his lip.
“Right.”
“Check the execution system. There could be omitted cleaning routines or incomplete records.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“Tell me what you find and I’ll help.”
Artemis nodded.
“Hey, Luka… who was the woman in the meeting?”
“Ilse. The new operations engineer.”
Artemis raised an eyebrow.
“I see.”
He ended the call and, without another word, headed toward the environmental suit compartment.
Minutes later, he and Nok moved across the exterior in heavy pressurized suits designed to protect them from the planet’s fine red dust. According to geological estimates, it had not rained on Eika in millions of years.
They boarded a transport vehicle and slowly made their way toward the processing plant. Through the drifting dust, pipelines, industrial structures, and enormous automated platforms could be seen moving in the distance. Dozens of robots processed ore extracted from the quarry beneath the constant thunder of conveyors and industrial machinery.
After passing through the decontamination airlock, the two entered the main sector.
“How are things looking, Luis?” Artemis asked.
The supervisor robot slowly turned its head toward him.
“All units are operating within acceptable parameters. No active failures detected.”
Artemis continued walking along the processing line. Ore traveled through conveyors toward crushers, compactors, mixers, furnaces, and robotic arms that worked beneath a perfectly synchronized roar. A persistent chemical smell lingered in the air.
He then crossed into the vast repair bay.
Several units remained connected to diagnostic stations there. At the far end stretched the storage area everyone referred to as the graveyard: a place where obsolete, damaged, or decommissioned robots rested while their components were salvaged to keep the others functioning.
Artemis and Nok approached Mike and Derek, the two disabled excavators.
“What do they have?”
“Susana is running diagnostics,” Fred replied.
“Susana, what did you find?”
A female voice answered from the console.
“No glitch or bug detected. Firmware integrity remains intact.”
Artemis blinked.
“So now I’m getting mixed signals. First you told me it was the update.”
“Perhaps there was a misunderstanding,” Fred answered. “Chronologically, the failures began after the update. That does not necessarily mean the update caused the failures.”
“Perfect. I made myself look like an idiot in front of corporate.”
“My apologies, Engineer.”
Nok tilted his head slightly.
“Fred’s logic tends to be… excessively precise.”
Fred continued working on the communication boards.
Artemis said nothing.
They left the processing area, climbed back into the transport vehicle, and drove toward the quarry until they stopped at the edge of the crater.
The gigantic artificial pit stretched as far as the eye could see. At its center operated a colossal excavation robot whose immense arm ended in a rotating disc capable of tearing through solid rock. Around it, secondary excavators opened veins in the stone while automated haulers collected the ore and transported it toward the conveyors feeding the plant.
“Hello, Uncle Tom,” Artemis said through the communicator.
“Engineer,” replied a deep metallic voice. “A pleasure to see you. Would you like to come up to the cabin?”
“No, Tom. If you stop for even a second, corporate’s going to have a heart attack.”
“I am aware. Considering the number of failing units, it would constitute an administrative tragedy.”
Artemis smiled.
“I thought it was the update, but now they’re telling me it’s something else.”
“Perhaps we are simply getting old.”
“You’re not even twenty years old.”
“We strive to remain perfect in service to you, Engineer.”
It always amused Artemis hearing that deep metallic voice coming from such a monstrous industrial machine.
“Keep working, Uncle Tom. We need to recover the delays.”
“As long as the excavators keep failing and another hauler jams its servo, I doubt it,” another unit interrupted.
“Shut up, Saul, and move that material to processing,” Tom growled.
“He’s always meddling,” another voice echoed from deeper within the quarry.
“I think the meddler here is someone else. Good morning, Engineer,” added a third robot.
An automated transport vehicle passed in the distance beneath clouds of reddish dust.
Artemis stood silently for several seconds, observing the mining operation.
Everything moved with precise and perfectly synchronized motion.
It was like watching an enormous mechanical ballet.
Then a shadow passed over him.
He looked up.
A small spherical robot floated slowly above the quarry. It was Tiki, the topographic drone.
“Hello, Tiki.”
“Engineer, I hope you are well.”
“Any news from the region I should be concerned about?”
“A dust storm is approaching. Estimated impact in approximately two hours and twenty-two minutes. Estimated wind velocity: one hundred twenty kilometers per hour.”
Artemis observed the facilities, then hurried up a small ridge followed by Nok and the drone.
From there he contemplated the horizon.
In the distance rose tall mountains, beyond which stretched the immense sterile ocean of Eika, dark and motionless beneath the reddish daylight.
He then turned toward the plain carved by jagged rocky hills.
There was not the slightest trace of life anywhere.
Artemis had almost forgotten what it felt like to share a world with another living being.
And there, far away in the distance, a faint reddish halo betrayed the presence of the storm slowly advancing toward the station.
“Damn it… Nok, coordinate the plant lockdown and send all the boys to the hangar.”
“In progress, Engineer.”
“Downtime again…” Tiki remarked.
“I’ve told them thousands of times to schedule production around these storms,” Artemis muttered. “But nobody listens to me.”
“I understand your frustration… Have you ever considered retiring?” Tiki asked.
Artemis slowly turned toward the small drone.
“You’re awfully nosy,” came Uncle Tom’s voice through Artemis’s helmet communicator.
“Shouldn’t you be working, busybody?” Tiki snapped back.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” the technological mastodon replied from the quarry below.
For the first time in hours, Artemis smiled.
“Come on, boys. Finish out this hour, then everybody goes into shelter.”
Within the next hour, quarry operations shut down completely. The processing plant continued operating behind walls sealed against external contamination, but all exposed equipment was moved into the hangar.
Just as forecasted, the storm eventually swallowed the entire station.
It advanced like an immense crimson wall until it devoured everything in its path.
Dust slammed violently against the structures, hiding the quarry and conveyors beneath a thick red haze.
All the robots had been secured inside the hangar except for Uncle Tom, who remained motionless in the middle of the storm, enduring the raging winds like an ancient metallic statue.
Artemis could barely make out the unit’s blinking light disappearing within the red vortex.
Seated before the command center terminal, he finished filling out the operational report.
Under downtime, he wrote only one word:
“Storm.”
A couple of hours passed.
Outside, the storm roared violently against the facilities while Artemis completed his work routine and returned to his personal module.
He prepared a simple dinner before dropping onto the couch in front of the main screen. Distractedly, he flipped through programs until, as usual, he ended up watching old cartoons.
Nok appeared at the entrance to the module.
“Engineer, do you require anything before I retire to recharge my batteries?”
“I think I’ll be fine… you can go rest.”
The android smiled softly. The concept of rest was abstract to a machine, though artificial intelligences understood the idea well enough to facilitate coexistence with humans.
“Good night, Engineer.”
The module door slid shut behind him.
Once again, Artemis was alone.
While the storm continued hammering the exterior, he took out several notebooks and absentmindedly began sketching. Trees, mountains, impossible landscapes—green places he knew only through photographs and ancient archives.
Eventually exhaustion overtook him.
He rose and performed his small nightly ritual: removing his uniform, putting on his pajamas, brushing his teeth, and preparing for sleep.
When he returned to the bedroom, he looked toward the window. The glass remained darkened, though the violent gusts of dust could still be seen battering it from outside.
He activated the nighttime environment.
The window darkened completely and, little by little, the image of a rainy landscape appeared accompanied by the sound of rainfall and distant thunder.
Artemis slowly lay down.
Outside, the dead planet roared beneath the dust storm.
Inside, Artemis drifted to sleep cradled by a rain that did not exist.
