“The rain isn’t working.” Kamal sighed.
He traced the dive a hefty droplet as it swelled from a wispy microcloud high above and landed with a loud splash onto the yellow-tipped leaves of a tea bush. Moments later, a second oversized drop fell—missing the bushes entirely—snuffing out the cloud and leaving behind only the unblemished azure of the late afternoon sky.
Aamo zoomed over to Kamal’s shoulder with a whir that made him think of bees. It had taken him weeks not to instinctively duck every time the bot approached. It didn’t help that Aamo was the size of a small beehive—even resembling one with its stack of smooth white rings that tapered at the top and bottom to give it an ovoid form.
“It appears to be so,” Aamo said evenly. “I will file a maintenance case with CloudSeedBros.”
Kamal tried to not worry, but the bureaucracy of it all annoyed him. He had assumed that being an Autonomous Agriculture Management Operator would include managing and operating the tea estates rainmaking services.
“I thought Malathi would’ve given you access to troubleshoot the rainmaker,” he said, gruffly.
Aamo blinked—two white circles on the pill-shaped screen in its middle ring momentarily flattened into straight lines. It was a design feature, his daughter’s attempt to anthropomorphise the bot.
“I am unable to determine the issue. I will need to contact the service provider, CloudSeedBros.”
“That’s a shame,” Kamal said under his breath.
“Feedback recorded.”
Kamal started to respond, then thought better of it. Aamo’s presence over the past season had stretched his Luddite instincts to their limit, but he couldn’t deny how helpful the robot had been.
Age had crept into his joints, leaving him unable to look after the estate on his own. So, when his brilliant engineer daughter suggested—with little room for objection—that she install her groundbreaking new agricultural intelligence bot at the estate, he reluctantly agreed. Now, Kamal was little more than a bystander to the tea cultivation, free to enjoy the views without any of the sweat. Still, he found Aamo’s robotic eccentricities slightly irksome.
When Malathi and her team came over to install Aamo, Kamal had overheard them discussing potential teething issues. It didn’t take much to realise they meant him, not the robot. It made him think back to when his daughter had called him in tears because she couldn’t figure out the washing machine in her dormitory. Kamal had resolved then, with a middle finger raised to the circle of life’s little joke, that he would have no “teething issues”.
He watched Aamo whir off after announcing that it needed to inspect a disturbance near the eastern boundary. With nothing else to do, Kamal trudged back to his house at the top of the hill, hands bracing his knees at each step. He settled into his planter’s chair on the veranda, sipping a warm cup of tea as he massaged his feet. He would tell Malathi about the pain, but her response would probably be to ship him a pair of exoskeletal pants that would solve all his mobility issues at the very steep cost of his dignity. He might be can’t-handle-manual-labour old, but he wasn’t exoskeletal-pants old. Not yet.
So, Kamal sat kneading his calf and basking in the splendour of Ambawatte Estate before him. The hill grew a lush carpet of tea that glimmered in its many virescent shades under the early evening sun, the bushes arranged in sinuous lines, as if a giant rake had been pulled through them. Occasionally, one of the several mango trees that gave the estate its name would break the pattern. Slim white poles, about as tall as Kamal, stood between the tea bushes in an intermittent grid—posts that housed the myriad cameras and sensors that allowed Aamo to operate.
Decades ago, dreaming of retirement from the drab cubicles of his shipping and logistics job, this was the scene he had imagined. Except for the Leela-shaped absence in the armchair to his left, it was what Kamal had wanted for the waning years of his life. It unfolded around him now, with a strange, hollow clarity, as though he were only passing through it.
A swarm of bees disturbed the sweaty reverie he had drifted into. Aamo hovered just below the eaves of the house, waiting patiently for his attention.
“I need your help,” the bot announced once Kamal had rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes. It bobbed in the air, uncannily mimicking anxiety.
Kamal coughed, spitting out most of his now-cold tea mid-chug. “My help?”
Mano blinked.
“What do you need help with?”
“There’s an unidentified item inside the perimeter. Standard dispersion protocol is not effective.”
“What is it?” Kamal asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Unidentified.”
Kamal felt he deserved the blunt response. “Okay,” he said, hauling himself out of the chair with a loud grunt. “Take me there.”
They set off down the eastern slope of the estate, descending with the sun.
“Did you hear back about the rain?” Kamal asked.
The bot was silent for several long seconds before it said, “No. Estimated wait time on response is twelve hours, seven minutes and forty-two seconds.”
Kamal huffed in response. The lack of rain wasn’t critical. Not yet. He could tap into the municipal pipelines if needed, keep the plants watered. But the inconvenience of it all settled under his skin with a persistent prickle. If he were in charge, this would have been a quick fix—at least, he liked to think so. Instead, he was left dealing with the unprofessionalism of a “fully autonomous” system that, it turned out, wasn’t fully autonomous. Both CloudSeedBros and Malathi would be hearing his thoughts on this disruption if it wasn’t sorted soon. This kind of lack of synergy would never have been tolerated in his day.
Aamo flew to a stop near the eastern boundary, where the hill dropped sharply into a short cliff that walled the estate’s winding driveway. The bot circled the lone Field Node jutting out from between the final row of tea bushes.
Kamal immediately saw what the bot had failed to identify. The cylindrical post opened into a bowl-shaped dish at the top, an antenna that doubled as a sensor array along its outer surface. A wild mess of dried grass, leaves, and twigs had accumulated inside. A bird had made its home on one of the bot’s Field Nodes and, in the process, confused it.
“It’s a bird’s nest.”
Aamo blinked, again. “Yes, the nest of a Ceylon Scimitar Babbler.”
It was Kamal’s turn to blink. “You need my help to clear it?”
“No,” the bot said quickly. It drifted between Kamal and the post. “The nest does not impede the Field Node’s functionality.”
Aamo hovered lower, angling its screen toward the top of the tea bush directly below the post. “I need assistance recovering this unidentified item.”
Nestled between the tea leaves was a small egg, creamy yellow with buff-brown specks, barely the size of a thumb.
Kamal eyed the bot. “You couldn’t do this?”
He hadn’t meant to sound exasperated; he was genuinely curious why Aamo—which had a modular humanoid form it could slip into for manual tasks—couldn’t handle the egg itself. It kept a meticulous watch on the animals that wandered the estate throughout the day. The daily reports noted plenty of activity: civet cats, porcupines, snakes, peacocks, and, once, even a leopard that the bot had safely diverted back into the neighbouring forest.
“The item requires precision handling. I estimate a twenty-two percent probability of failure; therefore, I cannot proceed. If your assistance is unavailable, I will request that an emergency crew be sent to the estate.”
Kamal shooed the bot away. “I will, I will. I just wanted to know why you needed me.”
He picked up the egg with gentle hands and placed it back in the nest alongside the others. The fallen egg was slightly discoloured; the rest were a smooth, unmarked white.
Aamo hovered close, tracking his every movement. Once it was certain he was done, it said, “Thank you, Kamal.”
“Don’t worry about it. Good thing you noticed the fallen egg.”
“It’s my job.”
Kamal didn’t have a response. He nodded to the bot and made his way back to the house. A memory stirred at the edge of his mind—one of Malathi and a similar bird nest. By the time he was back in his chair on the veranda, it had returned to him in full.
Aamo followed him home, and now hummed a low, satisfied note, docked in its charging station by the front door.
“Malathi once found a nest like the one you did,” Kamal said. “Back then, the estate was just a holiday home for us, when my parents ran the place, and the workers were all human.
“The nest was in a mango tree. My daughter was obsessed with watching over it, determined to make sure the birds survived. She refused to go back home at the end of summer, and only did once her grandmother promised to videocall every day and show her the nest.
“But those were the days when the weather was out of our control—no rainmaking or sun filtering. A cyclone ravaged the estate, and the nest along with it. Malathi was inconsolable for days. I built her a birdhouse to comfort her, one we hung outside our home so she could watch and feed other birds.”
Aamo stayed silent, and Kamal felt foolish for expecting any kind of response.
It was the most he had spoken to the bot. He couldn’t remember the last time he had told anyone a story, perhaps to Leela, back when she was still there. The memory had been one of his late wife’s favourites. The birdhouse would eventually set their daughter on her path to becoming a leading aerial robotics engineer, and, curiously, to the invention of Aamo itself.
Kamal watched the sun pull the day’s curtains closed over Ambawatte Estate, feeling gently warmed by the telling of the memory. Stars twinkled where the microclouds should have been.
Morning came, and the rain still wasn’t working.
Aamo drew water from the municipal pipes after Kamal gave his reluctant approval. He watched from the veranda as sprinklers opened midway up the Field Node posts, casting a fine, rainbowed mist over the rows of tea.
“Any response from CloudSeedBros?” he asked. “I’m sure we’re up to date on subscription payments. I checked.”
“Estimated wait time on our case is now eighteen hours, four minutes and fifty-two seconds.”
Kamal bristled. He didn’t like how cavalier Aamo was about the concerning lack of rain in Ambawatte Estate. The municipal water they were drawing would put a sizeable dent in his contingency fund.
Biting his tongue, he took a tour of the estate to steady his rising irritability. The blazing sun and the clear sky were locked in a battle, competing for brilliance. A cooling wind brushed across the hill, ruffling the leaves. Despite the angry creak of his knees, Kamal felt himself relax.
He came upon Aamo by the eastern boundary, hovering over the Field Node with the nest.
“The unidentified item is still here,” the bot announced in an upbeat, monotone approximation of glee.
“The egg.”
“The egg is still here.” The bot corrected itself.
A shrill squawk drew Kamal’s attention to a brown dart circling above them. The bird had a yellow beak and white underbelly, its wings a coffee-brown flurry of feathers. It swooped lower, squawking another warning at the two interlopers nearing its nest. Kamal was no birdwatcher, but Leela had been, like Malathi. They would have enjoyed the show the babbler was putting on.
He nudged Aamo and asked it to follow him up the hill, away from the post. A few rows up, he turned to watch as the bird dropped into the nest, disappearing behind its twiggy walls.
A moment later, smoke billowed above the nest. Kamal started in panic, only to realise that the grey mass forming in the sky was a couple of hills over, placed over the nest by his perspective. He shifted his position, trying to get a better view.
A thick cloud hung low and still, a sodden ball of cotton in the sapphire sky, forming over the neighbouring tea estate—one Kamal knew also subscribed to CloudSeedBros’ rain. With a scintillating burst, the cloud dissolved into a deluge of hyper-focused rain that blurred the hills, lasting several minutes.
Kamal turned to find Aamo also watching the distant rain.
“I’m going to call their manned customer service line,” Kamal announced, anger sharpening his words. His patience had frayed.
“No.” Aamo bobbed in the air, jerking as though it were glitching.
“I need to know what’s happening to my rain,” Kamal shouted over his shoulder as he climbed the earth-cut stairs.
“No. I will do it. You don’t have to contact them.” Aamo darted ahead and came to a stop in front of him, as if to block his path home.
Kamal’s agitation reached its peak. “Why not, you stupid robot?” he snapped.
Aamo said nothing, only squirmed, spinning on its axis.
“Why don’t you want me to talk to CloudSeedBros?”
The bot spun again, its eyes flicking between Kamal and the the post with the nest.
A quiet realisation crept up on Kamal. “How long has the bird’s nest been on that Node, Aamo?”
“Thirty-two hours, fifty-six minutes and eighteen seconds.”
That was around the time the twice-daily scheduled rain had stopped working.
“Aamo,” Kamal said slowly. “Have you been interfering with the rain?”
The bot’s eyes vanished into the screen’s empty black.
“Aamo?” Kamal raised his voice.
“I estimate an eighty-seven percent probability that rain could damage the unidentified item. Pipeline irrigation is sufficient for plant survival.”
Kamal shook his head, irritated. Malathi’s robot had serious issues if it was sabotaging itself. He pulled out his phone, ready to call his daughter, then hesitated.
“What do you mean damage the item?”
Aamo turned toward the nest. Its eyes blinked back into existence. “Rain is not suitable for precision handling.”
Kamal huffed. Without another word, he turned and hiked back up the hill to his house, ignoring the increasingly uneven whir of the bot. Aamo hovered in the garden as Kamal disappeared inside.
He emerged a few minutes later carrying a green pole. He marched back down the steps, through the rows of tea that grew on the eastern slope of the estate. When he reached the field node with the nest, he unfolded the pole into a wide umbrella, and hooked it beneath the dish. Producing a roll of tape from his pocket, Kamal secured the umbrella’s handle to the post, leaving enough head room for the babbler to comfortably fly in and out.
Aamo stopped spinning and watched Kamal intently.
“What is that?” the bot asked as Kamal stepped back to inspect his work. “Is it a bird house?”
“Of sorts.” Not quite the one he had built for Malathi years ago. The bot’s allusion to his story caught him pleasantly off guard.
“For precision handling?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Kamal sat down on a step a few rows of tea above the nest, the hard soil cool against the seat of his linen pants. Aamo floated beside him, settling into a steady hover to his left.
“Will you turn the rain back on now?” he asked the bot.
In the span of a few short minutes, a microcloud bared its thick grey underside above them. Kamal felt a burst of pride. Despite its brief hiccup, his daughter had built something truly impressive.
“Rain is ready, Kamal. I suggest you go indoors to avoid getting wet.”
“No,” he replied. “I’ll stay. I want to make sure the umbrella holds.”
The bot blinked. Seconds later, thick drops of water splashed against Kamal. The rain pelted the hills, unburdening the cloud and dousing the tea bushes of Ambawatte Estate with a brilliant, reflective sheen.
It drenched Kamal, making his clothes cling to his body, but splashed off Aamo’s waterproof exterior. The cold felt good against the heat radiating from his aching knees. Maybe he would speak to Malathi about getting some exoskeletal support when he debriefed her on Aamo’s antics. For now, he watched as the bot excitedly circled the sheltered nest.
“It’s holding,” Kamal said softly, gesturing at the umbrella with a wet hand.
“Precise handling,” Aamo said.
Moh Afdhaal is a Sri Lankan writer published in Tasavvur Nama, the Flame Tree Fiction Newsletter and the Flash Point SF, among others. He works as a civil engineer and writes whenever the world allows.
Translunar Travelers Lounge 