In the Midst

by Beth Martin

  And now, Leona found herself under Roemell’s concerned gaze, completely inexperienced and terrified.

  He wiped his hands over his face, then shook his head. “Do communication robots have any medical knowledge?”

  She sniffled and wiped a sleeve across her cheeks to wipe away some of the tears. “All robots are required to have first-aid programming. But the full medical package doesn’t take up too much disk space, so it’s fairly common for household bots to have it.”

  “Great. I’m going to go get ours. Will you be okay alone for just a minute?”

  She nodded weakly, and he got up and ran inside. While he was away, she grabbed her discarded pants and underwear, then slipped them on. She hated the appearance of her legs and felt a little better having them covered.

  A moment later, Benobot and Roemell returned to the courtyard and approached her. A gentle glow emanated from the robot’s chest, illuminating the area around her. It crouched down next to her and asked, “How are you feeling, Miss Leona?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice already hoarse from all the crying.

  “May I examine you?” She nodded, and the android placed one cold, textured-plastic hand on her chest and another on her back. “Heart rate, slightly elevated. Respiration steady. Electrical activity normal.” It removed both hands, then grasped her upper arm, slowly compressing until she was slightly uncomfortable. “Blood pressure elevated.” After releasing her arm, it pricked her finger and collected a drop of blood.

  Roemell stood behind Benobot with his arms crossed. “Is she all right?”

  “Miss Leona appears to be just fine,” the robot responded. “The episode you described was most likely a panic attack.”

  “A panic attack?” he asked.

  She covered her face with her hands as Benobot explained the medical details of her total breakdown. Although she had never experienced one personally, her mother had suffered from them for a while. Of course, one of the few traits she had in common with her mother would be acute anxiety.

  “So, how does she get better?” Roemell asked.

  Benobot returned to standing upright. “Unfortunately, pharmaceuticals and cognitive behavior therapy are not readily available to you at this time. The best alternative would be for Miss Leona to talk openly about her emotional troubles with a trusted individual, practice positive self-affirmations, get plenty of exercise and sleep, and eat a balanced diet.”

  She wanted to hide under a rock and never come out. When her mother had spiraled downward after learning about her father’s affair, her mom had fully embraced the pharmaceutical option. Leona wished she could simply take a handful of pills and not talk about all the morbid thoughts circling in her mind.

  “Well, thanks, uh, robot,” Roemell stammered. “You can go away. I’ve got it from here.” As soon as the android was back inside, he relaxed his posture. He took a seat next to her and asked, “You want to talk about it?”

  She couldn’t even meet his eyes. “Not really.”

  “Even without the medical endorsement from a machine, I’ve found that talking helps.”

  She took a shaky breath. Slowly, the words began tumbling out. She told him about her anxieties, her constant worry that Tina might go free, and the uncertainty of their future, all while he patiently sat and listened.

  But she knew that eventually, she had to get to the part of who she had left the supplies with. “Ava’s absorbing all that abuse to protect her family. She needs those supplies more than we do. I didn’t even try asking anyone else.”

  Roemell sighed. “That’s what had you so worried? I’m sorry she’s going through that, and of course, I’ll do my best to set aside our differences and try to get along with her.” He shifted to angle his body toward her. “I think it would be wise for us to just stay here. Traveling and testifying will be incredibly stressful, and you’ll feel a lot better if you don’t have to worry about it.”

  “No,” she said firmly. She looked up at his face, his green eyes barely visible in the starlight. “Skipping the trial is not an option. I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to get justice for my father.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “All right, we’ll go. When are we supposed to leave?”

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  “We should try to get some sleep. If you’d like, we could stay out here.”

  She nodded, then laid down on her side. He curled up next to her, looping an arm around her waist and holding her close. Just one more day, and then she’d be able to actually do something instead of sitting around and waiting. She closed her eyes and focused on the sounds of the night as she tried to fall asleep.

  • • •

  Roemell had known a number of destitute people who had gone mad from despair, but he had always assumed the wealthy were immune. Judging by Leona’s current state, though, he had no idea who was—and was not—susceptible to depression. However, she was no longer wealthy, and her new lifestyle was much harder than it had been. There was a lot for her to be sad about.

  He desperately wanted to tell her about Tammy’s confession—that his former partner was still in love with him. Leona deserved to know, and although he technically didn’t have sex with Tammy last night, he would have if they hadn’t been interrupted. The dirty secret felt like a heavy weight sinking in his gut, but right now was not the time to bring it up. She clearly had too many worries already. He tried to stuff down the guilt and shame and focus on her instead.

  So, instead of being totally honest and talking openly about his troubles, Roemell went through an entire day barely speaking at all. There wasn’t anything comforting for him to say, and he didn’t want to bring up the events of the previous two days. Leona didn’t try to start up a conversation even once.

  Instead, she had disappeared with a book for the majority of the day while he walked around the grounds. They still hadn’t started setting up a commune, and he had no idea if Ava would take good care of the supplies. At least the chickens were still alive, inexplicably wandering around the estate. His heart fell as he walked by field after field, each already showing signs of neglect. They could have made something of this place. But he refused to lose hope; they’d figure something out. Although he wasn’t thrilled about having to take a trip to the capital, it would give him time to come up with a new plan.

  They had run out of food and settled in for the night without eating dinner, deciding to sleep in the courtyard under the stars.

  The next morning, a cold hand grasped his shoulder, waking him with a start. The robot was standing behind him while Leona was a few feet away, curled into a ball and still asleep.

  “Good morning, Mr. Roemell,” the bot said. Roemell rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe away his fatigue. “Mr. VanStraten has sent a car to collect you and bring you to the plane. The car should arrive in fifteen minutes.”

  “Great,” he said before letting out a yawn. The sun had not risen yet, although a warm glow came from over the mountaintops. He gently squeezed Leona’s arm to wake her. Whispering in a soft tone, he said, “Time to get up.” She groaned and covered her face with her arm. “We need to leave soon.”

  She immediately sat up, her eyes bright and open wide. “Oh! We should wait out front.” She moved in short jerky motions which made her seem more anxious than excited.

  “I already have my bag packed.” He got up, then held out a hand to help her up too. “I’m pretty sure I dropped it in the entrance hall. Let me go grab it.” She followed him closely as he went through the house, grabbed his backpack, then walked out of the house to wait out front. “Should we bring the bicycles?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. There will be plenty of taxis at the capital.” He had forgotten that she used to travel all over the world. Knowing that she had experience visiting new places made him a little more confident about this trip.

  As he took a seat on one of the concrete steps which led to the front porch, he
asked, “What’s a taxi?”

  With her arms crossed, she paced along the driveway in front of the porch. “A hired vehicle.”

  He tried to lean back and get comfortable, but there was no way to on the hard steps. He tucked his bag behind him, using it as a pillow. “Doesn’t that mean we have to pay? Do we have any money?”

  Her eyes widened as she stopped pacing and looked at him. “No, I actually don’t have any sort of money.” She slid her hands into her curly hair and pulled at it with her fists. She began talking quickly, saying, “We can’t take the bicycles. They’ll be too big to fit in the plane. We could walk, but I don’t know my way around. And, it will take us forever to get anywhere. You shouldn’t be on the roads alone. Especially at night. There’s too much crime. We could get mugged.” Her voice became more and more panicked.

  “Leona, calm down. Why don’t you sit down for a moment? Try to take some deep breaths.” She complied, sucking in a sharp breath then slowly exhaling. He looked around and realized something was missing. “Hey, where did that robot go?”

  “Benobot!” she called. He hadn’t realized the android had a name. Or maybe she had named it. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or another red flag of her deteriorating mental health.

  The bot’s leather shoes made loud slapping sounds as it approached. “How can I be of service?”

  Roemell looked up at the machine’s expressionless plastic face. “Could you ask Mr. VanStraten if there are any plans for when we arrive?”

  “All arrangements have already been made,” the robot answered. “You will lodge at the Hamilton Hotel on Capitol Hill. Additionally, you have been provided a small fund for incidentals while you’re there.”

  “Wow. All right.” He turned to Leona. “See? Everything’s taken care of. You don’t need to worry.” He watched her face, hoping her expression would relax, but it didn’t. The car pulled up and she immediately jumped up from her seat.

  “It’s here,” she said, dashing out to meet the approaching vehicle. As soon as it stopped, she yanked the door open and jumped inside. Roemell took a seat next to her and, to his surprise, Benobot got into the passenger seat.

  “The robot’s coming with us?” he asked.

  She raised a single brow. “Of course.”

  “Right.” He leaned back into the seat and dropped his bag onto the floorboard. He had no idea what to expect on the trip, but knew it would certainly be an adventure.

  7

  THE AIRPLANE WAITED for them on the long, paved runway, all fueled up and ready to go. It was a smaller personal jet, just big enough for a few people and their robot companions.

  Leona stepped out of the car and marveled at the beautiful, shiny white plane. Her father had owned a small jet as well, but he’d always insisted on taking the large cargo and passenger plane since it was ‘safer.’ She looked behind her to verify that Roemell was following before climbing the mobile staircase which led to the plane. The inside was trimmed completely in white leather, with rows of little white lights lining the walkway and ceiling.

  She settled into one of the large chairs, propping up her feet and reclining slightly.

  “And I thought the car was nice,” Roemell muttered. He took the seat nearest hers, just across the aisle.

  Benobot stowed Roemell’s bag in a compartment at the front of the cabin. The other robot, the driver from the car, got into the front of the plain to act as their pilot.

  “Could I get something to drink?” Leona asked.

  Benobot came over to her. “What would you like?”

  “Whiskey. Make it a double.”

  The android went to the back of the cabin, then rummaged through another compartment, returning with a napkin, glass, and unopened bottle of single malt. It carefully uncorked the bottle and poured out two servings before handing her the glass. She downed the entire glass before catching Roemell staring at her. “You should have some too. It makes flying less scary.”

  His brow furrowed and his hands tightened on the armrests. “Flying is scary?”

  She recalled how he’d gotten sick after one carnival ride, the memory almost making her laugh. “It might be for you.” She smiled, then asked for another before the plane even lifted off.

  Sure enough, Roemell looked absolutely terrified during liftoff, and he turned practically green when they got into the air. She should have felt bad for him, but her head was already swimming from all the alcohol and she couldn’t bring herself to care. It was such a relief to finally be on their way to the capital. Before long, she passed out.

  • • •

  Even though Roemell desperately wanted to watch the far-away landscape through the plane window, every time he glanced out the small portal, his stomach would heave. He had already gone through countless sick bags, items manufactured with the sole purpose of catching vomit. The ridiculous things the wealthy produced would never cease to amaze him.

  Benobot walked up to his seat with a tray. “Would you like some ginger ale and crackers to calm your stomach, Mr. Roemell?”

  Just the thought of eating anything made his gut clench. “No thanks.”

  As the robot walked away, he glanced over at Leona, who happened to be fast asleep. She snored indelicately, her body sprawled across the leather seat. He was profoundly worried about her. This trip probably wasn’t the best thing for her mental health, though he didn’t foresee returning to the settlement as something that would improve her somber mood either. He vainly wished they could have immediately gone to the Evanko Estate to get the commune started instead of wasting time traveling to the capital.

  And as much as he wanted to help her, he knew he needed to take care of himself first. He cared for her deeply and would do anything for her. But he couldn’t fix her depression by himself. If she didn’t want to help herself, he wouldn’t be able to help her either.

  He had Ivan to take care of as well and had to make sure he didn’t spend all of his energy worrying about Leona. The last thing he wanted to do was choose between her and his nephew.

  The airplane jostled up and down. The sound of splashing liquid was followed by a crash of glass smashing against the floor. Roemell gripped the armrests tightly. “What was that?”

  “Just turbulence, Mr. Roemell,” Benobot responded.

  “What do you mean, ‘just turbulence’? Are you saying this is normal?”

  The robot dabbed several paper napkins on a pool of spilled soda. “Over this area of the country, air flow can get quite rough. I would say that we are experiencing more than a typical degree of disruption.”

  The airplane jolted upwards, then wobbled from side to side. Roemell grabbed another paper bag from the assortment in the back pocket of the seat in front of him and quickly pressed the opening against his face. His stomach expelled all the bile left in his system. After a moment, he crumpled up the bag, and Benobot quickly approached him. He handed over the newest barf bag and said, “Maybe I will go for some of that ginger ale.”

  “Right away, sir.” The bot shuffled away to the back of the plane.

  A minute passed, and then another. The usually efficient robot was taking its sweet time. Roemell leaned to the side and peered down the aisle to the back of the cabin. Instead of fetching his drink, the robot was sitting on the bench against the back wall. “Hey, Benobot! What are you doing?”

  The robot sat motionless, like it had momentarily shut down. Perhaps its batteries had finally died. He had wondered how long the machine would last without a charge and wasn’t surprised that it petered out after only a few days.

  He carefully unbuckled himself and got up from his seat. As soon as he stood, butterflies rose in his stomach. This whole flying thing was not for him, and he hoped there was another way they could travel back to the settlement.

  Gripping onto each seat as he passed them, he made his way to the back of the plane. The bottle of ginger ale was out and open, so he grabbed it and held it up to his lips. The plane made another sudden
jerk, downwards this time, which caused him to spill the soda onto his face and shirt.

  “Damnit,” he cursed, looking down at his now wet shirt. The plane lurched again, so hard that he dropped the bottle of soda. But something strange happened. Instead of falling, the bottle floated away from him. As he reached for it, his feet left the floor. His body felt weightless, like gravity had stopped. He looked out the window, and saw the horizon was at a sickening, almost vertical angle. They were falling. Fast.

  He scrambled to the front of the plane, pulling himself along by gripping each of the seats. Little bags of snacks and glasses of melted ice flung around the cabin, smacking into the walls, seats, and Roemell. Once he got to the front of the cabin, he wrenched open the door and pulled himself through the opening into the cockpit. The android acting as the pilot was sitting rigidly in its seat. “Hey!” he yelled at the bot. He shook it by the shoulder, but like Benobot, it was a lifeless, stationary lump. What appeared to be a steering wheel rotated in one direction, then the other. He grabbed it and tried to direct the plane, but he had no idea how airplanes worked, and neither pushing, leaning, nor turning the control wheel seemed to make a difference. He pulled it with all of his might, which sent the plane into a tumble. Suddenly, he was being thrown in any and every direction, the horizon appearing to spin in the windshield as the plane spiraled out of control.

  There was no time to think. He wrestled his way back into the cabin and grasped on to the sides of Leona’s seat. “Leona!” he yelled.

  She grimaced and opened her eyes. “What’s going—” She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed the view out the window.