Straight off the factory floor, MO-239 was just the same as any other Organisation Unit. He stood tall on his rollers at 36 inches from the ground, carried a rectangular head, with two brown eyes, had all the elements you might expect of a Unit of his designation- scoops, suction hoses, etc… and sported a brand new, bright white coat of paint.

His assignment was to work in a public area of beauty that needed the occasional upkeep- a small park in one of the city’s outer neighbourhoods with a couple of large trees, a grassy expanse and one or two shrubberies. At first he ran smoothly, collecting scraps of garbage, dog poop…and the months went by. He was happy.
Then something changed, he began to notice the work getting harder, the cleaning taking longer and the trash growing higher in the receptacles. 
He became so worried by the work load he began to work through the nights, the innocent hum of his electric motor murmuring throughout. When the residents would waken, their park would glisten, but all to the detriment of MO-239. The seasons changed and with them came confusion.The leaves littered heavily the ground and as winter approached, he moved faster and faster, only to falter. His rollers slid and he with them. Before too long, the Organisation Unit lost his control and careened into traffic- there to find Organisation himself. 

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