Ada's Light Goes Up the Hill

Pop! went the little stove, and the cabin filled up with the smell of wood smoke and cinnamon. Ada rolled over to it on her two round wheels. Ada was a small helper robot, no bigger than a teapot, with one soft light in her chest and one favorite job in all the world: helping.

Tonight Mama was folding blankets into a big box. "Ada," she said, "we're moving to a new cabin today. Up the hill, past the big pine." Ada's light blinked blue. Blue meant worried. "Will my window come too?" she asked. "The moon comes in my window. It sits in the corner of the glass."

Ada rolled to the old door to say goodbye. Creak, went the door, because the old door always creaked. She said goodbye to the warm spot by the stove, where her wheels never, ever got cold. She said goodbye to the little round window where the moon sat.

Then out they went, into the snow. The snow came down without a sound. Shhh, went the snow. Shhh, shhh, shhh. Ada put her small spoons in a small box and stacked the small cups on top. She was helping.

Theo the yak met them on the path, big and shaggy and kind, and he carried the big boxes on his back. Ada carried one small box with her blanket and her bunny with the floppy ears.

The new cabin stood up the hill. Its door went click, not creak. Its rooms were empty and echoey. Shhh, went the snow on the new roof. Shhh, shhh, shhh. Ada's wheels went tap, tap, tap across the floor, and nobody answered, because nobody lived there yet but them.

Mama lifted her into the big new tub. The water was warm, and the bubbles went pop, pop. Ada's little tin duck floated by, up and down. Her light turned yellow for a while, which meant nearly happy.

Then came bedtime. Ada had her blanket and her bunny with the floppy ears. But the new window was dark. A big pine tree stood in front of it, tall and wide, and there was no moon in the corner of the glass. "My moon didn't come," Ada whispered. Her light went small and blue.

Just then Theo knocked on the door. He had the very last box on his back, and snow sat on his whiskers. His ears drooped low. "The old cabin will be dark tonight," said Theo. "I'll miss your little light in the window."

Ada thought about that for one whole second. Then she rolled to the new window, quick as a marble. She turned her chest light up bright and warm and gold.

"Theo!" she called. "Look! You can see my light from your door. We're still near. We're only up the hill."

Theo looked up. His ears lifted. His tail went swish, swish, swish. "I see it," he said. "I see it from here. Goodnight, little helper."

And he walked home through the quiet snow, and her light stayed with him all the way down.

Shhh, went the snow as he went. Shhh, shhh, shhh. Then something moved behind the pine tree. Out slid the moon, round and white. It sat in the corner of the new glass, just the same as the old one.

"It's the same moon," said Mama. "It comes to every window, wherever you are." Ada looked and looked at her moon. Her light blinked gold, then soft, then slow.

Mama pulled up the blanket, all the way to Ada's wheels. Ada hugged her bunny with the floppy ears. She yawned a big round yawn. Her light glowed low and warm, like a sleepy star, and her wheels went still.

Shhh, went the snow. Shhh, shhh, shhh. Goodnight, little helper.