A Robotical Revolution 

2025 5th-6th Grade Prose Honorable Mention

2025 

   “Yes!” I cried, our robot reaching the finish line, tossing a final ring onto the pole. 
   “We won!” our coach congratulated us. “There’s still room to improve at the Youth World Championship, though.” 
   We groaned. Our coach always told us there was “room to improve.” We took our robot, quickly disassembled it, and continued. We waited, sitting nervously in the bleachers. Thoughts whirred through our heads. 
   The other teams seemed to take forever to finish, and my knees bounced up and down.
   “We won!” I hissed to my teammates. My best friend, Eren, gave me a crooked grin. The last table finished up, and the rest of the audience cleared up for lunch. 
   “Jackson, take the trophy when we get it,” the coach told me.
   My legs were uncontrollable as I bounced to the dining room. The head director spoke.
   Finally, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, I thought. I turned my attention to the head director. 
   “Hello, Robotics League of 2025!” he boomed over the microphone. “It has been an honor to be here at the National Robotics Competition this year hosted in Dallas, Texas!”
   I clapped enthusiastically with my teammates. 
   “All teams participating were outstanding. I am pleased to announce the top three winners this year!” 
   “In third, we have Falcon Middle School of Montana, Great Falls!” 
   Cheers erupted from the crowd, and the school roared with pride. Everyone started quieting down. 
   “And in second, we have Talent Ten Academy, Texas, Austin!” A louder cheer erupted from the crowd, and the team stood up, proudly holding their banner. 
   “And this year’s National Team winner, we have… Drumroll please!” The drumroll started, a banging on the seats. 
   “Glitch Middle School in New York, Rochester!” The cheers were loudest of all, and we jumped up in pride. Walking alongside, we marched up the stage and took the team trophy.
   Cameras flashed, a news story waiting to be published.

2055 

   “All ages 18-45 report to base, report to base!” 
   “Sir, yes, sir!” we roared into the walkie-talkies. They developed a special type.
   Now it was 2055, and we had been stuck in a war with robots, AI, and androids for seven years… 
   And we were losing, and the drafts were getting crazier. Sixty-year-old men were serving, and so were people as young as fifteen years old. I had just turned forty-one years old. But there had been nothing to celebrate, as I had been serving for seven years of war. And somehow survived. 
   “Private Jackson, wake up!” the sergeant punched me in the arm. I marched out with the others and saw what had once been New York, now a mess of charred rubble.
   But we didn’t care. Robots and humans were everywhere, dead or alive. It was only a matter of time before we died too. 
   I scanned and swept the streets I used to love, the streets that housed tall skyscrapers, trees, and buildings that were all gone.
   Because we were the ones who improved the robots. 
   Robots charged, their stony, unchanging faces emotionless. Not that we had programmed them to have emotions. Their robotic powers had killed all my friends and destroyed everything I knew. 
   Questions swirled around my head. Why? Why did they wish us dead? After all, we programmed them, we created them to be better. 
   Maybe it was our mistake in the first place. 
   “It’s not fair!” I cried out, as a robot loomed over me, its unforgiving eyes gleaming.
   “It’s not fair!” I cried out again, the robot unmoving. For a second, I thought I had seen a flicker of emotion on its stony face. It was time to leave. Maybe after I left, I wouldn’t have to endure what the robots would do if they won. 
   Bye, I mouthed silently to the world, the red ash sky, and everything that used to be beautiful that was now gone. 
   Swiftly, the robot lunged, and everything went black. 

The End