THE ROBOTS

Individualism is a rare word in today's world. The focus on teamship, waste management, efficiency and profit margins seems to be the most aspired goal.

My father has been employed at a major automotive manufacturing plant for over 20 years. I remember when, as a young girl of 10, I was treated to a tour of his workplace. Goggle-eyed and curious, I remember the pride in my father's eyes when he hollered out greetings to his co-workers as we walked by "The Lines". It was a massive place in the eyes of my childish perception. I was in awe of it.

When we arrived at an area that was roped off, I saw 2 giant arms. They worked in delicate, swift, human-like motions. One man stood nearby at a panel of colourful lights and buttons, and I marvelled at the first REAL "Robots" I had ever seen.

One day, a few years later, my father returned home from work and he and I sat on our front porch - as was our habit. We talked of school and life and how I could be anything I wanted to be when I grew up: (my ambition was to become a writer, which I practised at constantly!)

This day, my father asked if I would write a story about the "Robots"; How they would someday replace men like him...how this was bad and unfair and cruel. He wanted to take my story to work and put it on the bulletin board.

Day after day, I pondered over this task. I was impressed with those "Robots". They were new and exciting to me - "The Jetsons" come to life!

I never could write that story he asked of me.

Now, almost 17 years later, I too am employed in the automotive industry; although the plant I work in is a much smaller version of my father's. Everyday I enter that world of technology I so marvelled at as a child. The lights and buttons and co-workers faces of my father's day, seem to be reflected in the metal surfaces I touch and control and manipulate.

Technology has tightened it's grip on this factory - as cold and unrelenting as the grip of those steel-fingered "Robots" I once admired. No longer is it "my job" or "your job". It's "our job". Now it's MY turn to witness the unyeilding speed of automation which will soon turn "our job" into "ITS job".

As I lead my 9 year old son through the plant, I have pride in my eyes as I holler out greetings to my co-workers; but as my son marvels at the lights and buttons and cold shiny metal - I think back to that story I never wrote

...And it haunts me.

Cathy Roy
Feb/'95

Dedicated to my father.