Story code: ST-000896
Part 1: He Said He Was Too New To Touch It
I was on a step stool inside my fenced backyard, lining up a warped fence board with one gloved hand and a drill in the other, when Derek Collins’s drone dropped out of the air and hit my grass hard enough to make me flinch. Before the blades had even stopped twitching, he was at the other side of the fence telling me he was too new at this stuff to know what to do, and asking me not to let it get more damaged like I was suddenly the one responsible for his broken machine.
I climbed down off the stool and looked at the drone where it had landed a few feet from my mulch bed. One front arm was bent at an angle that didn’t look right. The camera hung down crooked. My drill was still in my hand.
Derek’s voice came over the fence fast and friendly, the way people talk when they want something done before you have time to say no.
“Hey, Mara, hey, sorry, I’m still learning. Can you just pick it up for me? Carefully? I don’t know what’s safe on those if they’ve crashed.”
I set the drill on the patio table instead. “If you don’t know what’s safe, I definitely don’t.”
“No, I just mean like, I don’t want to make it worse from this side. If you could maybe move it into the shade? Or flip it over so I can see the bottom?”
He said it with a little laugh that didn’t match the timing of it. The drone had landed in my yard less than thirty seconds earlier, and I was still standing there with my fence board leaning loose against the post because he’d interrupted me mid-install.
“I’m not touching it,” I said.
I expected that to end it, but he kept going, stacking small requests on top of each other like they didn’t add up to anything.
“Can you at least tell me if a battery popped out?”
“No.”
“Can you get a closer look?”
“From here, it looks broken.”
He gave a short exhale through his nose and shifted along the fence until I could see the top of his head over one of the slats where the grade dipped. He had a controller in one hand and his phone in the other. He kept glancing down at both.
“I’m just brand-new with these,” he said. “I don’t want to hit some wrong thing and make this a whole insurance issue.”
That got my attention for a different reason. I pulled off one glove finger by finger and pointed at the drone with it.
“Then don’t say insurance to me if you’re asking me to pick it up.”
He raised his free hand a little. “No, no, not like that. I’m just saying if it sits there and gets wet or something, then everybody gets stuck in a bigger mess.”
Everybody.
I looked at the open bucket of screws by my shoe, then at the loose board, then back at the drone in my grass. My entire morning had narrowed down to a broken machine that wasn’t mine and a man at the fence trying to make every next step sound minor.
“You can come get it through the side gate,” I said.
He paused just long enough for me to notice. “I don’t know if I should move it if the props are armed.”
The blades were still.
“They’re not moving,” I said.
“Right, but I don’t know what mode it’s in. That’s what I’m saying. I’m still super new.”
He crouched enough that I lost sight of him. I heard tapping on his phone, then the faint electronic chirp of something connecting. When he stood again, he looked over the fence and said, “Did the camera just twitch?”
I hadn’t seen it move. “No.”
“Can you go see if the gimbal resets when I tap this?”
“No.”
His tone tightened for the first time. “I’m trying to keep this simple, Mara.”
“So am I. Your drone is in my yard. I’m not operating it, moving it, or checking it for you. If you want it, use the side gate and come get it.”
He took a second before answering. “If I come in there and it turns out the arm snapped because it got stepped on, that’s a whole different thing.”
I looked down at the grass between me and the drone. No footprints except the flat marks from where I’d dragged the fence board over earlier. I hadn’t gone near it.
“Then don’t suggest I touch it,” I said.
At that point Tessa opened their back door and stepped onto their patio. She didn’t say anything right away. She just looked from Derek to the fence to the drone lying in my yard.
Derek lifted his voice enough for her to hear. “I told her I don’t even know how to recover it right. I’m trying not to make it worse.”
I stayed where I was, one glove off, one glove on, my fence board still unsecured behind me. “You’ve asked me four different ways to do it for you.”
Tessa leaned one forearm on their railing and looked at Derek’s hands. “Then why are you holding both controls?”
He didn’t answer her. He kept his eyes on the drone. Then, without warning, he made a quick, exact swipe on his phone and rolled one stick on the controller with his thumb like he’d done it a hundred times.
The drone on my grass gave a clean electronic chirp, and its little camera snapped level for one second before hanging crooked again.
Derek looked up too slowly after that for a man who’d spent ten straight minutes telling me he was too new to know what button did what.
I was on a step stool inside my fenced backyard, lining up a warped fence board with one gloved hand and a drill in the other, when Derek Collins’s drone dropped out of the air and hit my grass hard enough to make me flinch. Before the blades had even stopped twitching, he was at the other side of the fence telling me he was too new at this stuff to know what to do, and asking me not to let it get more damaged like I was suddenly the one responsible for his broken machine.
I climbed down off the stool and looked at the drone where it had landed a few feet from my mulch bed. One front arm was bent at an angle that didn’t look right. The camera hung down crooked. My drill was still in my hand.
Derek’s voice came over the fence fast and friendly, the way people talk when they want something done before you have time to say no.
“Hey, Mara, hey, sorry, I’m still learning. Can you just pick it up for me? Carefully? I don’t know what’s safe on those if they’ve crashed.”
I set the drill on the patio table instead. “If you don’t know what’s safe, I definitely don’t.”
“No, I just mean like, I don’t want to make it worse from this side. If you could maybe move it into the shade? Or flip it over so I can see the bottom?”
He said it with a little laugh that didn’t match the timing of it. The drone had landed in my yard less than thirty seconds earlier, and I was still standing there with my fence board leaning loose against the post because he’d interrupted me mid-install.
“I’m not touching it,” I said.
I expected that to end it, but he kept going, stacking small requests on top of each other like they didn’t add up to anything.
“Can you at least tell me if a battery popped out?”
“No.”
“Can you get a closer look?”
“From here, it looks broken.”
He gave a short exhale through his nose and shifted along the fence until I could see the top of his head over one of the slats where the grade dipped. He had a controller in one hand and his phone in the other. He kept glancing down at both.
“I’m just brand-new with these,” he said. “I don’t want to hit some wrong thing and make this a whole insurance issue.”
That got my attention for a different reason. I pulled off one glove finger by finger and pointed at the drone with it.
“Then don’t say insurance to me if you’re asking me to pick it up.”
He raised his free hand a little. “No, no, not like that. I’m just saying if it sits there and gets wet or something, then everybody gets stuck in a bigger mess.”
Everybody.
I looked at the open bucket of screws by my shoe, then at the loose board, then back at the drone in my grass. My entire morning had narrowed down to a broken machine that wasn’t mine and a man at the fence trying to make every next step sound minor.
“You can come get it through the side gate,” I said.
He paused just long enough for me to notice. “I don’t know if I should move it if the props are armed.”
The blades were still.
“They’re not moving,” I said.
“Right, but I don’t know what mode it’s in. That’s what I’m saying. I’m still super new.”
He crouched enough that I lost sight of him. I heard tapping on his phone, then the faint electronic chirp of something connecting. When he stood again, he looked over the fence and said, “Did the camera just twitch?”
I hadn’t seen it move. “No.”
“Can you go see if the gimbal resets when I tap this?”
“No.”
His tone tightened for the first time. “I’m trying to keep this simple, Mara.”
“So am I. Your drone is in my yard. I’m not operating it, moving it, or checking it for you. If you want it, use the side gate and come get it.”
He took a second before answering. “If I come in there and it turns out the arm snapped because it got stepped on, that’s a whole different thing.”
I looked down at the grass between me and the drone. No footprints except the flat marks from where I’d dragged the fence board over earlier. I hadn’t gone near it.
“Then don’t suggest I touch it,” I said.
At that point Tessa opened their back door and stepped onto their patio. She didn’t say anything right away. She just looked from Derek to the fence to the drone lying in my yard.
Derek lifted his voice enough for her to hear. “I told her I don’t even know how to recover it right. I’m trying not to make it worse.”
I stayed where I was, one glove off, one glove on, my fence board still unsecured behind me. “You’ve asked me four different ways to do it for you.”
Tessa leaned one forearm on their railing and looked at Derek’s hands. “Then why are you holding both controls?”
He didn’t answer her. He kept his eyes on the drone. Then, without warning, he made a quick, exact swipe on his phone and rolled one stick on the controller with his thumb like he’d done it a hundred times.
The drone on my grass gave a clean electronic chirp, and its little camera snapped level for one second before hanging crooked again.
Derek looked up too slowly after that for a man who’d spent ten straight minutes telling me he was too new to know what button did what.