Melinda is just walking to school when the strange man crosses her path. He has a glint in his eyes, creating a look that worries her. His scary eyes lock on her, focusing her in his gaze. He starts to walk towards her, a slow mechanical stumble that frightens her.

Melinda’s first instinct is to run. But something stops her and compels her feet to stay planted where they lay. Her hands clench into fists at her sides, betraying her lack of trust for the stranger she now meets.

He stops his movement less than a foot from where she stands. He studies her, his shady eyes calculating. Finally, he nods.

“You’ll do.”

This simple phrase sends a jolt of terror through Melinda’s bones, and she turns to bolt. A strong hand clamps on her shoulder, digging in with sharp fingernails. She cries out in pain, and the grip loosens slightly. He spins her around roughly to face him.

“Wait.”

The hint of desperation in his voice ceases her movement. He draws a shiny black box from beneath his coat. He holds it in front of her as she studies it. It is perfectly symmetrical on all sides and of the deepest black. As she looks closer, she can see that one side of the cube is actually a computer screen with a button beneath it. On another side is a rather large microphone with another button below its scratchy gray surface. It is a curious invention, and it holds Melinda’s attention until the strange man speaks.

“Take it.”

She looks up at him, confused. He repeats himself, voice shaking.

“Take it, please. I don’t want it. I don’t want to know.”

Before she can react, the man shoves the box into Melinda’s hands. Her mouth opens to speak words of objection, but he is gone before they can be released.

Melinda’s brow furrows as she scrutinizes the strange device she now possesses. The school bell rings in the distance, and Melinda’s heart jumps as she realizes she will soon be late.

All that Melinda can think about during her classes is the box stowed in her backpack. She daydreams about its functions and wonders about its mysteries. Three separate teachers tell her to focus, but Melinda cannot obey them. Her thoughts remain fully with the strange man and his curious box. School passes so slowly she thinks she will die of anticipation. Her friends attempt to engage her in conversation, but she is unreceptive of their efforts. At last, the final bell rings, and Melinda bolts from her desk, barely stopping to say a goodbye to her best friend.

She runs all the way home, not stopping until she collapses on her bed, breathing heavily. At last, she is home alone. She pulls the device from her backpack. It is curiously warm as it rests in her palms. She turns it over in her hands, running her fingers over the surface. There are no chinks, no nicks, and no imperfections. She flips it to the computer and, taking a deep breath, presses the button underneath.

The screen lights up and a voice emits from within. As she watches, Melinda can see the words the voice speaks appear on the screen. “Welcome William.”

Before she can stop herself, Melinda replies to it. “I’m not William.”

“Please enter user name,” came the prompt reply.

“Umm…Melinda.”

“Welcome Umm Melinda. Please enter a song name.”

Melinda feels weird talking to an inanimate object, but she has to ask. “What do you do exactly?’

“The Cyberborgautomatic 3000 is programmed to tell you the last time you will listen to any song currently in existence. Simply enter in a song title and artist and the date will appear on the Cyberborgautomatic 3000’s screen.”

“How could you possibly know –”

“The Cyberborgautomatic 3000 uses future technology not yet available for public use.”

Melinda sits back in amazement, puzzling over this device that she now feels she should not be using. Her curiosity finally gets the better of her, and she speaks again.

“How do I enter the information?’

“Press the button below the speaker when you wish to speak what you desire to know.”

Melinda presses the named button and speaks the name of her favorite song.

“December 17th, 2005.” The answer comes almost too quickly to be believed.

Melinda frowns. Isn’t that today’s date? She checks the calendar to be sure and finds she is correct. She scowls deeper. The stupid thing doesn’t even work. To think she got excited for nothing! Yet even as she fumes, she hears the very song come on the radio. Chills race up and down her spine, but she quickly dismisses them. She listens to the song until its end. It is followed by another of her favorites, and she speaks the name into the device.

“December 17, 2005.”

She shrugs. At least it will make a good date-checker. And it is amusing, after all. A little too amusing, perhaps, but Melinda finds she cannot tear herself away. She continues the pattern of naming songs that are on the radio and hearing the box speak the date. So intent is she on her work that she does not realize when the smoke begins to seep under her door. And by the time she finally notices the flames shooting from the walls, it is too late. Melinda screams and screams until her last breath is burned from her body. The last thing she ever hears is the device speaking.

“See, Melinda,” it says coldly. “I am never wrong.”