by Alex Leu
[But what about my mission? I only have one job left to do. Only one master to serve. It is too late and impossible to switch sides. And it isn’t even up to me.]
Maybe it could be, just this one time, it had to be. For all the times he listened, for all the times he followed, served. Maybe this time he knew what was better. Not for him, not for Richard. But only for her. That was true serving.
[No. The mission has to be completed.]
The mission could and should be changed.
[The mission is me.]
Then he had to change.
Cap rushed to the closest electric wall outlet and pushed his right index finger into it.
[Abort! No!!]
Sparks flew and Cap’s body shook. Slow at first, then faster. Until his hand was pushed away from the wall with an incredible force that spun his body and threw it to the floor.
Cap ran a forced internal system diagnostic and switched all his controls to manual. His mission was set to [undecided] for now, but he was sure the voice would guide him, to a new mission, one that would better serve her.
Not having a defined goal felt strange, but good, because he knew that now Julie was safe from him and his forced desire to tell her anything. The things he now wanted to tell her were anything but forced, they were things he never thought about before. Things he hoped to hear himself one day.
4
CAP NEVER SLEPT, HIS brain never turned off, always on guard tending to the needs of his master. He was used to spending the nights sitting on the couch alone, recharging, but they were never as long as that night.
After a soul-crushing wait, the sun filled the living room with light, and soon, Julie came out too.
She looked different, rested. Almost as if she forgot. Her eyes were still red. But instead of desperation, it seemed like acceptance was settling on her face.
Julie approached the couch and Cap got up.
“Thank you,” she said, “for the blanket.”
She hugged him and rested her head on his chest. Cap froze and looked at their reflection in a mirror. He noticed that something was missing from that moment, something that would make it fit with all the other frozen moments that adorned the apartment walls.
Cap hugged her back, and then the reflection was perfect.
She looked up at him. “You’re learning fast,” she smiled and sat on the couch.
He sat next to her and basked in the smile that he already knew by heart. It was the smile of the real Mrs. Davis, the adult, the smile of Julie. Just thinking about her name filled him with energy, and he wanted to share that energy with her. He wanted to share the joy. He wanted the red in her eyes to fade and her smile to widen.
“What should we do today?” she said.
We? A word that never included him, a question he was never asked. Always unattainable, freedom seemed so heavy now. But the choice was simple, because there was only one.
Cap got up and approached the piano. He pulled out the little bench from under it and opened the fallboard revealing the black and white keys that Julie hadn’t touched in a long time. He opened the little bench and took out a small black towel and carefully wiped the thin layer of dust from the piano keys. They shined as new, and he turned to Julie.
“Would you please play?” said Cap.
Julie sat on the couch looking at the piano, at Cap. Surprised by her own question, by his request. Something was different about him, something she felt but couldn’t explain. His actions and words, completely normal, but not for him, not for his kind. She was a little intrigued and fearful at the same time. He answered her question. A question, not an order.
Julie smiled and approached the piano. Cap pulled the bench and helped Julie sit down and then he sat on the couch.
Julie watched him, wondering who he was, because he wasn’t the Cap that left with her husband. She turned and faced the piano for the first time in weeks. She had changed, and the view from the bench as well. Something was missing from both. Something and someone who would never return. Something that was on the piano, smiling back at her every time she played. Someone who was the reason she played for. Someone in a photo, her dear husband. A photo that was now face down on the piano and it wasn’t her who did it.
She looked at Cap. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“Do what, Julie?” said Cap.
Hearing her name she jumped off the bench. It was the first time he called her that. The first time he didn’t apologize first when being accused of something.
She slammed the fallboard on the keys and locked it then picked up Richard’s photo from the piano and showed it to Cap.
“Why did you do this?!”
Cap stared at it and it all came back. His anger at Richard, his fear of telling her, his failure, his mission. [My mission.]
Cap’s internal system connected to the Sector A’s central server and began updating itself from the main database, and all of a sudden everything was back in his brain and he could not stop it from leaking out and destroying her.
“Mrs. Davis,” said Cap. “I have a message for you from Richard.”
Cap’s mouth opened involuntarily, and he spoke, it was Richard’s voice, it was the message, one of the last few Cap had to absolutely deliver to Julie. Cap sunk into the couch as low as it was possible, feeling like he lost control, and maybe even her.
“Hey Jules,” Richard’s voice filled the room, and Julie’s eyes with tears.
“I’m kind of upset with you. Really? No sandwiches this time?”
Julie collapsed on the floor looking at Cap, at his wounded chest, imagining her husband’s.
“I’m getting a bit tired of these green tubes of goo. Not my thing at all, and they’re burning my throat. Next time, please...”
‘Next time.’ The words looped in Julie’s mind and muted out everything else. She sobbed uncontrollably and stood up unwilling to accept that there wouldn’t be a next time. Not anymore, not ever.
Cap could only watch as she disintegrated more and more with every word of Richard that came out of him.
“No!” she wailed, shaking her head. “It should have been you, you didn't protect him! Go away. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
She ran out of the living room and locked herself in the bedroom.
“Things are not looking so good here...” Richard continued when Cap stopped the message.
Julie was crumbling, and the nagging feeling Cap brought with him from the desert was back. The mission was back, and he had no choice but to play the message to her until the end. Until her end. An end he hoped not to cause, not to see. And now he had the excuse, the order, the knife into his chest that hurt more than the explosion that ripped it open. ‘Go away.’
The shame and pain filled him, pushing out everything else he carried inside until finally, it pushed him out of the apartment.
The elevator doors opened and Cap stepped out onto the roof and the piercing cold wind that pushed him as it pleased. He tried to fight the wind but eventually gave up, and followed its orders as he followed everyone else’s his entire life. He let the wind guide him as he stumbled through the thick white clouds that fogged out his view, wondering how long it would take until he reached the edge.
Cap saw it from a few feet away, marking the divide between pain and something else. He wasn’t sure what. But he imagined that what lay beyond was nothing like being there, nothing like the pain he carried inside, or the feeling that took over him when she was around. Julie. A word that like a hand pulled him back. But it wasn’t strong enough to fight the push and pull of the high wind.
The cold pushed him all the way to the edge and Cap was now on top of the world, but it felt like he was all the way at the bottom. The whiteness of the clouds beyond the edge called out to him, like the soft feeling of a warm blanket waiting to cover him before sleep. He wondered how it would feel to fall asleep and tune out everything that hurt. A single step would be all he needed to take to turn off his pain and the
pain we would cause her. A single step, the simplest of movements that would stop the biggest tragedy.
His right foot moved forward, away from the building, away from the pain. The surrounding silence turned into the whistle of a high wind, and then into a scream. It was the shriek of a voice that was bursting from inside him, burning everything it touched, everything that was dying, that was already dead. The small fire ravaged through him, through his memories, and the image of something that filled him with a desire that not even his makers were able to program into him. It was the image of a fragile face, smiling, her face, Julie’s. A smile that he desperately wanted, needed to see again.
The wind wailed not willing to let go of its victim and pushed Cap over the edge of the building. He fell forward grabbing at the clouds, at his life, at his job, at his freedom, but he couldn’t hold on to any of it until he grabbed at the thing he feared losing the most. He grabbed at the building and smashed through the glass walls, letting shards and spikes sink deep into his body. The immense pain made him smile because he could feel, he was alive and looking forward to everything there was to feel, because of her.
He crashed into one of the apartments. It was silent and dark, when suddenly from nowhere a hand reached out to him. The hand was one Cap knew, it was like his own, the hand of a cyborg that was the same model as him. The hand was clean, intact, and untouched by the fire of the internal desire to do more than serve.
Cap grabbed the hand and got up. He stood tall and looked into the blank eyes of his former self, the serving eyes of a cyborg who waited for others to fill it with desire. Cap turned and headed for the door to answer the call of his own.
His internal system screamed with alarms and safeguards ordering him to stop, but Cap only heard one, the loud whisper of a voice, his voice that now overpowered everything else.
He went into the building’s basement looking for a way to break free of himself. Once he found it, Cap touched the back of his head and located the place where his wireless server antenna was located. Confirming its location, he then reached out and ripped open one of the building’s power cables. Sparks and small fires danced at the edges of the torn cable, fires that Cap hoped would replace his cold and automatic behavior.
He pointed the cable at the antenna. No more updates, no more unwanted messages, no more mission, no more pain, no more.
Cap pushed the cable into the back of his head and it immediately caught fire and sent his body into an electric seizure. System failure alarms flashed in his vision, but he kept the cable pressed to his head, trying to fry the antenna. His body shook frantically until it stopped, and he dropped the electric cable to the ground. Cap’s body slammed into the concrete floor and [Battery Failure] blinked in his vision before he passed out.
5
A PUNGENT SMELL FILLED Julie’s breathing passages and pushed its way into her lungs, waking her up from a deep sleep. 'Something’s burning. Fire!'
She raced out of the bedroom but suddenly stopped, afraid to go on, afraid to find out what was going on. The smell was coming from an area in the apartment that she didn’t use for a while since he left. And it was a smell that she once enjoyed, but now didn’t have anyone to share with.
Somebody was cooking breakfast in her kitchen. Was he back?
Julie entered the kitchen and found it empty, but there were two pans on the stove, a mushroom omelet in one, french toast and sausage in the other. Her favorite breakfast. Their favorite.
She stood in the kitchen doorway enjoying the moment, hoping for the cook to show up, praying it would be him, her beloved Richard. Hoping the last few days were a dream.
“May I?” a voice startled her from behind. A new voice.
She turned and took a few steps back, scared by the burned metallic dark cyborg standing in her kitchen. They were both dressed in black, one burned by life, one by choice.
“I know, I know...” said the cyborg. “You’re always supposed to watch the fire. Safety first, right?” the cyborg smiled then approached the stove.
Julie moved aside to give him space and avoid the occasional sparks that were flying off from the back of his head. And then, she recognized the cyborg’s smile, but only by its shape. The voice and the character were new, yet somehow familiar. Too painfully familiar.
“I’m cooking your favorite. Hope you like it. I would try it, but you know, stomach problems...” joked the cyborg.
Tears filled Julie’s eyes as she realized what was going on. She was looking at Cap’s burned body but hearing her husband, her Richard. How was that possible?
“Do we still have the smoked paprika powder?” said Cap. “I looked everywhere but couldn’t find it.”
Julie let go of the built up tears, of the fear, of the sadness. She was both crying and smiling, not really understanding what was going on, and not wanting to find out, not wanting it to end.
“I probably moved it,” she wiped her tears and joined Cap by the stove.
“Well, I kinda figured that one out,” said Cap. “But where to?”
Julie continued to smile, and she let the moment fill her with a desire to live and experience whatever was going on.
“It’s probably here,” she opened a cabinet and reached behind a bag of flour.
“Ah, of course, it was there,” smiled Cap. “How silly of me not to look there.”
They both burst out in laughter. It was a shared smile, almost in sync, just like she used to do it with Richard. A perfect copy, but not the original. Julie wanted to forget the truth and enjoy the moment, to run away from reality, from the pain that followed her even in dreams. And she didn’t know whether to hurt Cap for reminding her of the loss, or to thank him for what was happening. Was Cap trying to comfort her, or was Richard somehow back in a way that she couldn’t understand?
“OK, almost done here,” said Cap. “I hope the rest of the things are where I left them,” he gave Julie a playful warning look then opened a cabinet and took out a plate.
She reached out and touched his hand. “I’ll take it from here.”
Cap felt the touch and froze, he could only try and copy Richard so much, but some things he wasn’t prepared for, not yet. He took out another plate.
“Please, I insist,” she gently took the plate away from him. “Open the balcony and wait for me there.”
It felt strange to hear that from Julie. It wasn’t an order, it was a request, a very friendly one. Something he wasn’t used to, but something he liked.
Cap pushed open the balcony glass door and let in a breeze of cold air into the apartment. Even his internal system felt a boost as the fresh oxygen replaced the dead air inside. He walked out on the balcony and stopped next to Richard’s chair, not knowing what to do next. Waiting for an order, but hoping for another request.
Julie finished serving the food and came out on the balcony with two plates and silverware. She placed them on the balcony table and sat in her chair next to it.
Cap stood still looking at the two plates, at Richard’s empty chair, at Julie. Her face glowed in the morning sun and she smiled at him.
“Sit,” she said. It came out of her like a reflex. Automatic, to the point, cold. A desired result, followed by an order, followed by an expectation that was beginning to change. No, it wasn’t what she wanted. Not a servant, not now.
Cap heard the words and it took him longer to understand what she said than for his body to follow what it did his entire life. His head dropped acknowledging the order and he grabbed the top of the chair to pull it away from the table, when suddenly, Julie touched his hand.
The cold metal of Cap's hand almost jarred her, but the warmth she felt from his presence, from his comfort, was a medicine she didn't expect but now couldn't do without.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Will you have breakfast with me? Please.”
Cap was both ecstatic and angry at himself. What am I doing to her? He worried about her sanity, but mostly about her happiness. She looked much better
that morning, and it was all that mattered.
He looked at Richard’s chair. Once his master’s, and now it was offered to him. It was the most he could hope for.
Cap pulled the chair away from the table and sat opposite Julie. Their eyes met.
“I’m sorry about the photo yesterday,” said Cap.
She nodded and looked away, wiping a tear.
Cap couldn’t bear her pain and turned to the city. Millions of tiny dots moved around them inside the forest of skyscrapers and in the streets far below. He used to be one of those dots, always moving to where his orders pointed him, always going somewhere and doing something, but never truly being present. It took a tragedy for him to find his place in the world, to find her.
He felt her gaze turn to him.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
Just a few days ago that would have been an easy question to answer, but now he wasn’t sure. What was she referring to? She couldn’t have possibly known what was going on inside him, could she? He replied with the most obvious answer.
“Like I said, cooking accident,” he smiled.
“I think it’s an improvement,” she smiled back.
Was her answer a reply to the things he said, or to the things he didn’t?
“Thanks,” Cap said.
It all felt new, exciting, complicated. Was it always like that for humans? Cap felt so much like a stranger, slowly leaving behind the black and white of command and execution, and entering the gray of choices, of consequences, possibilities.
The sun slowly rose in the sky, climbing above the neighboring skyscrapers and warming their balcony. Julie took off her black pajama shirt and put it on the chair behind her then moved closer to the table.
“Bon appétit,” she whispered, almost afraid of what she was saying and began to eat.
He watched her eat, something he had done his entire life, but never like this, never from this angle, never so close.
