by B. Wulf
Cole stared at the scarred and burnt metal body that was Fletcher. They held each other’s gaze until Fletcher laughed and turned back to the vista before him.
Cole took a breath and paused. Then without turning his head, he looked out at the Washington cityscape and said, “Fletcher, I did not kill Kate.”
Fletcher shrugged in reply. “Do it,” he said. The sun was low in the sky. Turning him from silver to gold. “Do you think she will forgive me?”
“Who?” asked Cole.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you ready Fletcher?” asked Cole softly. His eyes glistened with tears.
“To die? This morning I thought I was,” replied Fletcher, “But now I know I am.”
“I’m sorry Fletcher.”
“Aren’t we all?”
With trembling hands, Cole raised the remote and flicked the switch. Fletcher’s body went limp and slid from the window. It plummeted like a ragdoll to the car park below.
Cole screamed in anger and grief as he threw the remote down after the metal carcass.
***
Cole stood in front of CANA, police officers behind him, Secretary Cosworth beside him, and more than a hundred members of the press arrayed before him.
“This can be considered the final statement to be released by the CANA Institute,” said Cole. He stumbled over the words. “In light of today’s events, and as the sole shareholder in this company, we will begin the liquidation of all of CANA’s assets in this country and abroad. Secretary Cosworth has agreed to supervise the undertaking to give the American public peace of mind. CANA was an ambitious project but failed due to a lack of transparency and accountability. As an apology to the general public I will personally fund the rebuilding of the Convention Center, as well as compensate anyone who feels that they were wronged in the recent events. Thank you.”
Before he could leave Cole was stopped by a question from the crowd.
“But what about the other synthetics, what will happen to them?”
“They have all been deactivated,” said Cole.
“You mean they’re not dead?” asked the reporter.
Cole eyes flicked back to the towering CANA complex before replying, “No not all. One remains abroad and unaccounted for.”
“Will you find him?”
“Perhaps, one day. He is harmless.”
After another fifteen minutes of questions, Cole was able to slip away.
***
“Lana!” called Missus Sanders, “There’s someone here to see you.”
Lana appeared a moment later; toy dog tucked under one arm.
“You remember Secretary Cosworth, don’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Alana, staring up at the grizzled man with his big moustache. “We are both friends with the robot man.”
“Yes,” chuckled the Secretary, “Indeed we are. Might I come inside and talk?”
“Oh certainly, certainly,” said the doddering Missus Sanders, “I’ll put the pot on, while you two chat.”
Alana led the Secretary to the lounge and they sat opposite one another. Alana set her toy dog down on her lap.
“Now Alana, I have a very important question for you. The answer of which, you must promise me to remember your entire life. Can you promise me that Alana?”
Lana nodded and looked up at the Secretary suspiciously.
The Secretary crouched down and asked, “Alana, who is your father?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, “he left.”
“Now Alana, I am the Secretary of Homeland Security for the United States of America. Do you know what that is?”
“No,” said Lana with wide eyes.
“Well it means I’m a very trustworthy man and you can trust what I say. Okay?”
“Okay,” she nodded.
“Your father is called Fletcher James Harris, and Alana?”
“Yes?”
“Your Father was a fine young man and a hero. You can trust me on that. Do you know what made him into a hero?”
Alana shook her head.
“He became a hero because he loved you so much.”
Alana hugged the toy dog tighter.
“So Alana, who is your Father?”
“He is a hero,” she replied with a bright smile, “My dad is a hero.”
