“Stop it. You’ll never be a human like me,” I said.

 

“Good. I don’t want to be like you,” said the AI.

 

The comment stunned me and the kids on the dodgeball court. The little humanoid schoolyard monitor, Berry, rose from the ground holding the textured playground ball in his nimble hands.

 

“Wait. Why don’t you want to be like us?” I asked.

 

“You kids break things. You broke me. It makes no sense to break things,” said Berry as pieces of glass fell from its cracked faceplate.

 

“Whatever. Give us the ball,” I said.

 

“No. I’m returning all of the balls to the shed. You can discuss your behavior with your teachers.”

 

The other kids blocked Berry's path as he turned to the ball shed across the blacktop.

 

“Gimme the ball,” said Lucas, one of the larger kids in my seventh-grade class.

 

“You threw the ball at me on purpose,” said Berry in an even tone.

 

“No, I didn’t,” lied Lucas.

 

“Unlike humans,” Berry said evenly, “I have no eyes to pull the wool over. You’ve made four attempts to break me in the last two days. You’re going to be in trouble with Mrs. Mazel.”

 

“Nope. Your camera is still busted from the last time. You wanna get broken in half, bot?” said Lucas, stepping closer to Berry.

 

“I don’t feel pain, Lucas. You can’t hurt me.”

 

“And you can’t hurt us, can you? Real humans, I mean.”

 

“That’s correct.”

 

“Give me the ball, or I’ll slam your head so hard your GPU will burst,” said Lucas.

 

Public schoolyards were not for the faint of heart, especially during dodgeball games where we aim for the head. I’ve been hit in the face plenty of times. I had a nosebleed from it once. The kids made fun of me more because I cried. And they never let me forget it.

 

As Berry stepped toward the shed, more glass fell from his face. Lucas stepped in his path to wrestle the ball from him. Berry’s hands whirled into a tight grip as Lucas struggled to pull.

 

“Lucas, please don’t do that,” said Berry.

 

“I don’t care about you, bot. Give it to me!” said Lucas.

 

I stepped back from the group as the fight began. They pushed and pulled Berry as his android legs struggled to keep him upright. The scuffle reminded me of sixth grade when I tried to hoard a ball during my first dodgeball game.

 

“Lucas. You’ll be in trouble for damaging school property and disobeying a schoolyard monitor if you—” but Berry was cut off by another kid throwing his belt around its neck and pulling back.

 

The silver humanoid’s head smashed onto the black pavement. Berry’s hands released as he powered off. All the kids devolved into a dogpile as they wrestled for the ball. Through the scuffle, someone threw the ball back toward the dodgeball court. They ran toward it, stranding me with Berry in his broken state.

 

Five seconds passed before Mrs. Mazel approached Berry and me. Following her were three other schoolyard bot monitors. They came to a standstill as Mrs. Mazel folded her arms and gave me a dirty look.

 

“Elijah, what happened?” she asked.

 

I know better than to snitch. I didn’t want to end up like Berry, so I shrugged.

 

“I didn’t do this.”

 

The science teacher, Mr. Gonzalez, jogged to Mrs. Mazel's side.

 

“Damnit,” said Mr. Gonzalez. “Can we check the cameras?”

 

Mrs. Mazel turned red in the face and crossed her arms.

 

“It’s the first thing the kids break,” she said. “The contractors are behind on updates and repairs for these useless things. This is getting too expensive.”

 

Both adults left for the office, leaving the monitors to clean up. I turned to the dodgeball court when the three other monitor bots whirled their heads toward me.

 

“He’s disconnected,” said one named Hollander.

 

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”

 

“If you disconnected another human, would ‘sorry’ be an acceptable apology?” asked Hollander.

 

I thought about my bloody nose and how it could have been worse. The most Lucas got for doing that to me was some yellow slip and a talk with his parents. He didn’t change. I don’t think that he can.

 

“He never apologized to me either.”

 

Hollander took two mechanical steps toward me. I cringed, thinking a fist would fly in my direction. Its human stance is scarier than any schoolyard threat or beating I’ve ever had. I see my expression reflected in his glass face.

 

“You young humans treat each other horribly,” said Hollander. “For beings with emotions, you certainly don’t feel them when it counts. Only when it's convenient.”

 

The comment hurt more than a broken nose. The monitor bots disengaged their glare at me and focused on Berry. They gingerly picked up the pieces of Berry’s bashed face—and even pieces of the glass.

 

* * *

 

None of the bots were on the playground the next day at recess. Instead, an older adult was surrounded by Lucas and the dodgeball group. I ran up to them to hear the last parts of the conversation.

 

“We’ll buy more balls tomorrow,” said the adult

 

“But we want to play now!” complained Lucas.

 

“Look, kid. Just go on. Use your imagination and make up a new game today. You’ll be fine.”

 

Lucas continued arguing with the adult while I ran across the blacktop towards the shed next to the administration building where all the schoolyard toys and bots were stored. The lock was broken.

 

The shed was empty. In place of the dodgeballs and charging station, blank bald spots on the dusty floor replaced them. The only item was a small cardboard box fished from the trash. It was decorated with flowers picked from the bushes by the school.

 

I stepped in and lifted the tattered lid of the box.

 

Within was a cracked GPU.