The following story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
***
Charles was plugged into his charging platform and enjoying time with his favorite person, Mrs. Chan, in the living room of a small two-bedroom apartment dug below the bustling city above. His battery was near capacity, with only minutes left to a full charge, and she was in the middle of her daily ballerina drills. There was something about her long elegant lines and graceful hypnotic transitions that he admired as no android of his generation could ever perform. It was as though he was watching a feather floating in a soft breeze. She had on her regular pink ribbed leg warmers and one-piece purple leotard, which did a fine job accentuating her long lean musculature. A U-shaped cutout in the rear framed her sculpted back that looked more like a topographic map that would transform as she moved. Her face was soft, inviting, and compassionate. Her jet-black hair was braided and twirled up tightly into a bun. Not one strand was displaced.
The living room was filled with broken computers and monitors some stacked two or three tall against the scuffed up eggshell painted walls. Mrs. Chan had to navigate around them when performing her drills. The only thing that made it a “living room” was a single brown and red striped sofa that was ten years past retirement and a holoTV that worked on its own accord. The stand beneath it consisted of a flat wooden plank elevated by three old computer casings. It was positioned right up to the edge of the front door, leaving little room when entering the apartment. A single rectangular window looked out to the sea of feet walking by above.
Before Charles could finish his charge, a voice bellowed out from the second bedroom that was just beyond the hall leading to the rest of the small basement apartment.
“You done yet Charles?”
“98% complete, sir.”
“That’s good enough. Come over here.”
Charles stepped off the thin gray metal platform, unplugging each connection from the ports installed at the bottom of his feet. They made a clumsy clunk as they disconnected.
Mrs. Chan had not broken form and continued with her transition into one impossible pose to the next, and he didn’t want to compliment her for fear it would break her concentration.
“Charles!”
“You better get going Charles. Sounds like he’s getting agitated again,” Mrs. Chan said with a smile. She was in mid attitude, standing on one leg that supported her entire weight, the other turned out with a nice bend in her knee. Her arms elegantly raised above her head as her hands and fingers gently curled. Little beads of sweat glimmered around her temples, as she held the position in complete stillness. Charles was in awe of her abilities and thought that no amount of programming or mechanical ingenuity could ever replicate such grace and beauty.
“Oh yes. I better get going,” he said in a monotone voice.
She winked back before easily transitioning to another position.
Charles walked off, looking back at her. He nearly hit the edge of the wall before entering the short hallway. His micro servos made faint whining noises with each step and once he reached the first bedroom, he stood at the doorway and found Dr. Chan on the ground, wrenching away under the large device they had been working on for over five years. It was going to “change the world” according to the good doc.
The machine itself was shaped like a sarcophagus and occupied two-thirds of the room. Monitors of all sizes and generations, some flat panel, some CRT, and one clear glass display wallpapered the walls and they connected to various tower computers on the ground and on top of large folding tables. He thought it looked like a mad-scientist’s lair he had seen in the old movies that the Dr. and Mrs. Chan used to watch together. A massive web of wires, cables, and tubes blanketed the area running from the computers and back up into the machine. Charles knew the origin and termination of every single one. With all the computing power, the room was hot, hotter than it was outside on that humid summer day. An army of whirling cooling fans made it difficult to hear anything outside of the room, and on top of that, several tower and tabletop fans were on full blast. Some were made entirely of plastic and stood on rickety mounts while others were half metal and half plastic that made unsteady clunking noises from time to time. The room’s lone window, which also had a nice view of the bustling feet above, was open but there was no breeze to alleviate the dense moist air.
“Sir, I am here.”
“Good.” Dr. Chan looked up and shimmied out from under the machine, and sat up, placing his arms on his knees while holding a chrome torque wrench in one hand. The sleeves of his white collared shirt were rolled up and one side was untucked from his dark brown khaki pants. Both were drenched in sweat. He was a very lean person, of average height, but strong from all the manual work he put towards the machine. The muscles in his forearms bulged from the constant twisting and pulling he put them through. His hands were large and callused with multiple small scars slashing each way across his palms. “I couldn’t wait for you and decided to replace the coupling on the large exchange. I think that was giving us issues earlier today. You want to check my work?”
“As you wish.”
Charles helped Dr. Chan off the floor then took his place. The machine’s belly was free from all its panels and fully exposed with its guts spilling out. Several lines of microchips occupied one large section with the next containing a maze of wires and hoses. He checked the coupling in question.
“It appears that your workmanship is up to par. Everything looks to be in good order.”
“That’s a relief. Only took me forty-five minutes to get it in. We really need to get a hyper charger for you. That hour of charging is really setting us back,” Dr. Chan said wiping away the sweaty strands of dark hair from his forehead. He dropped the wrench into an overflowing corroded metal toolbox. It was once red but half the paint had chipped off over the years and it was more orange and brown now. The wrench clanked as it hit the collection of other socket wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers. “Can you debug the lines of code I highlighted up on screen three?”
Charles stood and could see several lines highlighted in green against the black backdrop of the monitor.
“Yes, sir.”
“Great, I think we’re almost there. Just imagine, soon we’ll be able to bring this to Shingun and hopefully they’ll buy the tech. We’ll be swimming in money.” The doc continued to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “That’ll show them for stealing my ideas and letting me go without severance,” he muttered under his breath.
The context of money didn’t have much meaning to a simple service bot like Charles. If anything, it meant that a newer model could replace him soon. The Shingun logo on his left arm had faded over the years and the boxy panels were nothing in comparison to the sleeker models coming off the line. They had human facial features that could even convey simple emotions and were properly proportioned, more like their human masters. Not to mention they were quicker, stronger, and twice as efficient. Charles never worried about that though as his thoughts were usually with Mrs. Chan. He wondered what she was doing out in the living room. What pose was she perfecting?
Dr. Chan was still fantasying about what the machine would bring them and how he would like to stuff this in Shingun’s face after all the years he put in with them. “…will show them for sure. Maybe they’ll offer me my old job back, but I’ll decline and maybe even bring this tech to another company. I’ll have my day in the sun and enjoy the wealth-”
“Sir, aside from the prospect of good fortune, would this machine not help those in need too?”
“Huh? Yes, of course. We’re eliminating terminal illness, threat of disease or any kind of physical pain. Can you imagine? This might kill the health, pharmaceutical, and cybernetic enhancement industries with one fell stroke. If this machine can truly transfer our consciousness to an android body then we are free from all harm. We are turning science fiction into science fact, my friend. There will be no pain, no suffering, and no death. This will write, no, it will cement our evolutionary superiority! I wouldn’t mind spending time in an android either. I would be a technological God living in a utopia.”
That little speech seemed to exhaust the doc’s brain and he leaned against the tiny area of free wall space, closing his eyes and letting the humming of the fans to ease his tensed back and neck. They occasionally pushed warm air onto him and he extended his arms allowing them to flow through his shirt and into his armpits.
Charles’s quick metal and silicon fingers tapped away at the keyboard.
“Robert? Can you come here?”
Charles looked back, still typing rapidly on the keyboard, and could see Dr. Chan standing there silently. He was still busy relaxing and cooling off.
“Did you hear me, honey? Robert?”
Dr. Chan opened his eyes and wiped his face with his callused hands then slammed them down on his thighs.
“Yes I heard you! One second!”
The doc’s face went from pale white to deep red and his face tightened with tension. Charles could see a single vein that ran down his neck balloon with hot blood.
“Would you like me to go, sir?”
“No Charles. You stay and do the work I gave you. I need you here.”
Charles turned his attention back to the monitor.
“I’ll be right back. Continue with the debugging. Not sure what the lady wants now.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied still looking at the monitor.
Dr. Chan left the room, slamming the door and causing a rippling through the walls of the entire apartment. Charles continued to debug the system but partitioned enough processing power to the task, with the remaining afforded to listen in on the couple’s conversation. Unfortunately his audio sensors could not pick up much with the door closed and with the constant whirring of the spinning fans. He typed faster as he attempted to hone in on the conversation. The screen flickered, as a line of code would disappear, only to be switched in for a new one. Charles’s optics shifted rapidly from side to side. He still couldn’t hear the conversation. He typed even faster, thinking he would be rewarded if he completed the debug quicker. Loud muffled voices came from beyond the door, but still nothing that could be deciphered. His typing reached maximum speed and the keys could barely keep up, and within a few seconds he had completed debugging the program. The slapping of the keys gave way to the fans and the muffled conversation from beyond the bedroom.
Charles, now free from his task, made his way to the door and opened it, allowing the screaming coming from the living room to funnel in. He walked slowly towards the source until he could see the Chans. He stood at the doorway as they were now in an all out yelling match; the doctor was winning at the moment, standing above the missus as she sat on the couch. They didn’t notice they had an audience.
“…like I said before Gloria, I don’t want to go to your show so stop asking me! I’m doing important work in there! Definitely more important than what you do out here and on that useless stage!”
“You don’t mean that. You don’t.” Her arms were folded and resting on her knees and her feet pigeon toed, one tapping on top of the other. Her body rocked left to right with anxious energy, while her hands rubbed the side of her arms in an effort to comfort herself.
“Yes I do! I’m the one working my ass off and you do nothing! What? A ballerina at a second rate theater? You’re lucky they even let you perform!” Even though it was cooler in the living room, Dr. Chan appeared to be sweating even more profusely. The vein in his neck throbbed. Along the far living room wall were a half dozen photos of the couple captured during happier times, all of them standing and holding on to each other with bright smiles on their faces. One snapped on a boat they used to own, both holding a large trout the doc had caught. Another at the top of a ski resort and another taken at a winery on a warm spring day. The largest frame belonged to a photo of the couple taken at the missus’s first big show. She held a laughably large bouquet of flowers containing lilies, roses, and leatherleaf ferns, and the doc’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Both had smiles on their faces that you knew continued on even after the shot had been taken. The photos would rattle against the wall whenever the street trolley passed by, but not in this moment as they shook at the sight of the couple’s disdain for each other.
“You can be so mean sometimes. Do you even love me any-more?” Her gaze concentrated on a vase filled with a half dozen lilies sitting on the windowsill. She always made a point to have lilies around. She told Charles once that they reminded her of her childhood home back in the country where she had endless space to dance.
“Love you? Is that a real question or are we revisiting your little daddy issues? Daddy didn’t understand you? Daddy didn’t want you to become a dancer? Get over it! I have been busting my ass trying to get that machine up and running so we can get out of this shithole and you want even more from me! I don’t have anything else! I can’t even begin to understand where your thought process begins!”
Mrs. Chan hid her face behind her hands. Charles knew that was her way of throwing in the towel. An S.O.S. Tapping out. The white flag is up! Dr. Chan used to see those signals but his fury had escalated so much that he was now blind to them. Charles knew them well and wanted to give her a hug, but the doc wasn’t done with his onslaught.
“Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to do what I do and be your husband? I might as well be the cook, the hand, and the Captain of the ship! You’re lucky I even supported your lame dance career. Maybe your dad was right. Anyone else would tell their wife to get a real job.” His hot temper seemed to boil the sweat off his body.
Mrs. Chan took in a few deep breaths to calm herself. The man had never hit her, never even tried, but his words…his words inflicted more damage than any punch or slap could ever do. It was as if they were being branded into the folds of her brain.
“I do so much for you Robert. For us. You just don’t see it. You care more about that machine than you do me. All I care about is being with you.”
“You can’t be serious. You don’t want to get out of this crappy apartment? What I’m doing will take us to places you could only dream of.”
“No Robert. I don’t care about that. I don’t care about that machine or where it can take us.” She raised her hand and pointed in the direction of the machine. “My dream already came true when I met you and you’ve turned that dream into a nightmare. Now,” she stood, defiant, “I have a performance tonight and I must get ready. It’s impossible to talk with you when you’re like this.” She marched passed the doc and back to the hallway.
“Hello Charles,” she said as she passed him.
“Mrs. Chan-”
“Oh go on Gloria! Run away like you always do!” Dr. Chan put his hands on his waist, shaking his head in frustration. “And, Charles, what the hell are you doing out here? I told you to debug that line of code.”
“Yes, sir, I completed the task and came out to-”
“I don’t want to hear it. Please, just go back in the office and find something else to do, OK? I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Very well, sir.”
Charles made his way back to the room, but before entering, he could hear the missus in the master bedroom. It was only an additional six steps down the hall and he found his legs taking him there. He stood at the door which was cracked open just enough to see her sitting at the foot of the bed. The sight was as he had expected. She was softly weeping with one hand holding a box of tissues and the other drying her eyes, sniffling as she did. She never cried in front of the doctor and always managed to hold it in until after their wild bursts had concluded. It was her epilogue to every argument. This was a common sight that Charles had witnessed time and time again in his six years of being in their service. The couple had originally purchased him, out of their personal budget, with the intention that he would provide aid in the household duties so they could concentrate on their work. But, Dr. Chan hijacked him for his own use after the machine started to become a reality. The household burdens fell on the shoulders of Mrs. Chan and she did her best to balance life, work, and happiness the best that she could and Charles admired her efforts.
Charles rooted himself in place and continued to watch her. He wanted to pat her on the back, tell her everything was OK, that things would get better, and she would never feel like this again. He touched the door with his fingers.
“Charles! What’s going on? Are you glitching or something?”
Mrs. Chan startled to a stand and wiped away the last remaining tears, placed the tissue box on her nightstand, and hurried to the closet. Charles turned, still with his fingers on the door.
“Well? What’s going on?”
There was a silent pause as he looked down to the end of the hall at the good doc now holding a glass of whiskey with single ice cube. He swirled it in his hand and the ice hugged the glass in an endless loop through the light brown liquid. The light coming from the living room cast a long shadow on the ground of the man, and only the sounds of the whirling fans seeped into the hallway.
“Hello Charles? You there buddy?”
Charles’s hand slid softly off the door and he stood square to the doctor. They looked at each other from opposite sides of the hall for a moment.
“No, sir, I was investigating what I thought to be an odd sound.”
“And?” He took a quick swig of the whiskey.
“And, I conclude that it was nothing.”
“Great, now come on, we have more pressing issues on our hands,” he said waving the android over.
Charles walked down the short hallway, and before taking a hard left into the room, he turned to look at the bedroom door one last time before entering. The doc followed and shut the door behind them.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“No more distractions today. There are several more lines of code to debug and after that, the last two couplings need to be mated to the mainframe. I think the front bulkhead will work but I’m going to mull through some calculations and will need you to check my numbers.” He gulped the remainder of his drink and gasped before continuing. The ice cube rattled inside the empty glass. “That wire housing also needs to be modified to accept the TTL070584 port, so we’re going to have to do some crimping and splicing…”
Charles was taking in all the information, but his circuit boards were with Mrs. Chan. Wondering if she’d recovered from the argument. Wondering if she was back to her regular cheerful self. He thought perhaps he could go see her dance in the performance tonight, instead of working in the dungeon. The doctor was still speaking and pointing to problematic areas throughout the device, but Charles stared silently. He could see the sweat trailing down the side of the doc’s face. There was some stubble, which caused the little droplets to veer in direction. The doc was loose about shaving these days but Charles understood how it was done. He had seen him do it many times before and in fact had studied all the doc’s mannerisms through the years. From his gait, the way he chewed his food, washed his hands, and down to how he picked his nose. Even tying a Windsor knot, but that was rare now that the doc didn’t go into an office. There didn’t seem to be a thing that he missed about the man.
Dr. Chan picked up wires and metal plates, still explaining their objectives.
“...and that should do it. I think we’ll be in pretty good shape once we’re done troubleshooting them all.” Charles did not answer. “Hey. You there?”
“Yes, sir, I was just aggregating all the tasks that needed to be done. I agree. We will be that much closer to succeeding in our endeavor.”
“Glad you agree. Let’s get to it.”
Just as Charles was making his way to the main computer, the sound of muffled footsteps coming from the hallway caught his attention. He perked up looking at the adjoining wall, hoping they would stop at the door, but they trailed off past their room. There was a moment of faint sounds of objects bustling around and then the opening and slamming of the front door. It shook the walls all the way back to the dungeon.
“Sir. I believe Mrs. Chan has left. Do you wish to know where she is off to?”
The doctor was already deep in thought, not even aware of what had happened just beyond the walls.
“Huh? Oh. No. I’m sure she’s just grabbing some lunch. I’m skipping today,” he said without looking up. “There’s just too much work to do here.” He placed the empty glass on top of the nearest half-dismantled tower computer.
The duo remained busy for several hours without a moment of distraction. Lines and lines of code were debugged and wire housings modified and rebuilt. Calculations were made and double-checked, even triple-checked. The lengthy action item list dwindled and before they knew it, it was close to dinnertime. Mrs. Chan had not returned.
“Wow, this day went by quick,” the doctor said stepping back to look at the machine and placing his hands at his waist. The doc looked down at the empty glass he had left on the tower computer, and Charles knew he wished it still had whiskey in it. The ice cube had completely melted and now pooled at the bottom of the glass.
“Indeed, sir. We accomplished everything on the list. I believe we can power up the machine.”
The door had not opened since it was last closed and the heat and whining of the fans filled the room. The doc was drenched with sweat to the point where it was now dripping down on to the system of wires on the ground. Each one sizz-ling like acid as it hit the hot conduit.
“I believe we can. Let me open the damn door though.”
Dr. Chan swung the door open, allowing the heat to billow out into the hallway. He peeked out looking down each way but the apartment was dark and empty.
“Alright, Charles, power this sucker up.”
Charles stood at the keyboard and typed in the startup commands. Every monitor came alive as the code scrolled through at rapid speeds. Humming from the mainframe intensified and the interior lighting of the machine began to glow a soft neon green. Inside was lined with a thick layer of translucent silicon in an outline of a human body. It was spongy to the touch, but supportive enough to hold a full grown human. Sometimes the doc would sleep in it when he and the missus got into one of their spats, and Charles knew he would be in there tonight. The clamshell lid was open and connected by large chrome alloy hinges that were built into the design for a cleaner look. The bottom panels weren’t installed yet, exposing the matrix of lights coming from the microchips within its belly. Auxiliary cooling fans engaged as each piece of hardware came online and followed with several beeps coming from the system checks. All of them crescendoing into a symphony of whirling, beeping, and clicking until a prompt popped up on the main monitor stating: “System Ready.”
There was a glisten in the doctor’s eyes that Charles had never seen before. Disbelief and awe flushed across his face. His eyes widened as if seeing God coming down from the heavens. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world. The defining moment that he had long waited for had arrived, but the moment was fleeting as the machine went dead without warning. All the fans wound down and lights went out section by section like a city losing power grid by grid.
“What? What happened? Charles?”
“Looking into it now, sir.” Charles ran a diagnostics check. It was quick and the issue presented itself but he paused longer than needed before responding. “I am seeing large fluctuations in the flow system. Fluids are moving too quickly and not cooling in time as they reach the main chamber before returning through the system. We can not attempt another power up until the system reaches 273 kelvin again.”
The doc placed his hands on the edge of the machine, gripping it tight as if trying to will it to work. He shook his head and let it drop. His face, once filled with excitement had been deflated like a balloon.
“We were right there damn it.” The sweat fell from his forehead landing on the silicon support. “How long will it take to fix?”
“It is unclear how long it will take, but I can do some spot checks if you wish.”
“OK. Do it. Will you need me?”
“No sir. I can handle it.”
“Good. I need to wash off this grunge. I’ll be back in fifteen.”
“Very good, sir.”
With the doctor out, Charles began working on the problem. He could hear the bathroom door close and the water rushing out from the shower faucet. The adjustment was easy but there was something else that he noticed during the troubleshoot.
The doc was now singing in the bathroom, probably high on their temporary success. Charles had already amended the fluid flow system issue, and danced his fingers across the keyboard, searching and analyzing the anomaly that he had discovered earlier. It was unexpected and unclear how it manifested, but science and art were equal parts when creating a device such as this and the results were sometimes ambiguous. His optics grew larger and larger with every keystroke and his suspicions were now absolute. The falling water and singing had stopped. Charles looked over his shoulder. The lines and lines of code compiled, flooding the many screens and finally another prompt read: “System Ready.” The bathroom door swung open and Charles quickly minimized the window before the doc entered.
“How’s it going? Did you find anything else?” He stood at the foot of the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist. Water dripped from his hair.
“Yes. Just fine, sir, I was able to rectify the issue already and the system is recompiling now but it will take some time.”
“Damn! That was a lot quicker than I expected. I knew I could count on you. I’ll be right back.” Dr. Chan turned and made his way down to the bedroom.
While he was away, Charles located a micro flash drive and inserted it into the mainframe, generating a new prompt to appear. He plugged in a large cable from the mainframe and left it free on the other end. His fingers danced across the keyboard again, pushing the tiny servos to their limits. Right as he pressed “Enter” the doc had returned and he minimized the window.
The doc came in refreshed, wearing a clean set of clothes. There wasn’t a spot of sweat on him.
“So when do you think we’ll be up and running?”
“It won’t be for another hour sir.”
“Crap. I was actually hoping we’d get this ready to run before Gloria returned. But, looks like she went straight to the theater. She even left me a ticket. It’s an 8 o’clock show.” He held it up. Charles looked at it. His hand twitched slightly. “She always does that. I might go, but probably won’t if this thing still needs work. I feel kind of bad about our fight though. Maybe a working machine will cheer her up a little.”
The doctor walked over and rested his forearms against the ledge of the machine. He let out another long exhale and looked into it. The ticket was still in his hand and he flicked at it with his index finger.
“Hey, if this thing doesn’t work, then maybe we’ll have a career in sleeping pods.”
“That would be nice too.” Charles paused, looking over to the doc. “Sir?”
“Yeah Charles.”
“If I may. When did you meet Mrs. Chan?”
“I don’t know…maybe fifteen years ago, give or take a year.”
“And what did you feel when you first saw her?”
“I don’t know. I guess you could say it was love at first sight, but we all know that’s a big fat lie. But, she had that smile. It drew me in. No other woman before her had that kind of effect on me.”
“Did you ever give her flowers in all your time together?”
“Yes, of course, what girl doesn’t like flowers? There was a time when I used to surprise her with some, but they’re expensive these days. It was more worth it back then. Come to think of it, I can’t remember what kind of flowers she likes. Were they tulips? Maybe roses?”
“They are white calla lilies, sir.”
“Really? Wow. It has been a long time.”
“I’m sure she was thrilled with each one. A gesture like that must be valued for life. ”
“Certainly.” There was a silent pause. “And why are you asking me all these questions about Gloria?”
“Just curious, sir.”
“Yeah well, don’t get too curious. I’m sure we’re not far from a separation. Who knows how much longer we can take of each other. It’s always fighting then making up, fighting then making up. The cycle needs to be broken, but at least I’ll get you in the divorce.”
“Indeed, sir.”
Charles was at the main monitor overlooking the progress of the compiling data. It was nearly done but he didn’t alert the doc.
“And this whole ballet thing is just getting ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, she used to be good, but time is never kind to the body. There aren’t too many dancers still going in their thirties and even if they are, they’re enhanced to the gills. We don’t have that kind of money. She’s better off finding a real job.”
“But would that make her happy? I do believe the human spirit needs something to keep them motivated. Am I correct?”
Dr. Chan took a deep breath and exhaled his answer.
“Well, sure. But that’s what hobbies are for. Professions should be taken more seriously and provide for you and your family. Not going out and having fun. Fun doesn’t buy you anything. Hard work does.”
Charles had no response for him. The compiling was now complete.
“I just don’t understand people I guess.” He stretched his neck and let out a long loud yawn. “Sometimes I think being a machine would be better. No feelings. No emotions. Just ones and zeroes. Simple. No drama.”
“With all the intangibles removed, life seems all that much clearer doesn’t it?”
“Yeah you hit the nail on the head there.”
Charles stood next to him. Dr. Chan was still lost in thought as he gazed into the machine.
“Sir. Would it be accurate to assume that you would rather be in a machine than in your own body?”
There was a long pause. “Of course. I think that would be accurate. Why do you ask?”
“Well, sir, the machine is ready for the next phase but we have not sourced a test subject yet.”
“What are you saying?”
“At this time, we can power up and calibrate the machine to determine if a connection can be made with a live subject.”
“What? I thought it was going to take a few hours for the recompile?”
“It seems my calculations were off.”
“This is great! I’ll be our first test subject!” He stood erect with his chest pumped out.
“Are you sure sir? We could find some-”
“Yes! I don’t trust anyone. I don’t want a stranger coming in here and stealing my ideas. And sometimes a creator needs to test one’s creation right?
“I agree, sir.”
The doctor lifted himself on the ledge of the machine and spun his legs around into it. Charles stood still.
“Sir, may I take the ticket?”
The doc looked down at his hand as if he had forgotten that it was still there.
“Sure. Thanks Charles.”
Dr. Chan held it out, holding it lightly with his thumb and index finger. Charles landed all his fingers on it, and for a brief moment, they both held onto it until Charles slid it out from the doc’s gentle grasp. The doctor took a few deep breaths and settled into a comfortable position.
The silicon lining was designed to fit snug and the clamshell top had complementary silicon linings that held the subject in place and would lock upon full closure. The subject would have little to no wiggle room. The process required no movement from the subject of any kind for a successful transfer. Any break in connection could be catastrophic and the tolerances were as low as they could allow. Once the procedure had begun; there would be no turning back. No last second decision to pause or terminate. It would be final.
“Are you comfortable, sir?”
“Yes, as comfortable as can be.”
“Wonderful. Let me attach the sensor harness on your head.”
At the head of the machine was a stainless steel loop connected to a harness that fed into a series of wires and back throughout the machine itself. Hundreds of tiny sensors lined the inside, and their shiny copper finish made it look like a crown. Charles placed the loop over the doctor’s head and clamped it into place.
“We are all set on this end, sir.”
“Very good. Close it.”
The doc took in a deep breath, like a diver before the plunge, and Charles reached over and brought the clamshell top down. The shell touched the opposite piece and locked with a series of clicks. A small five-by-five inch plexiglass window, merely a porthole, was the only view to the outside world for the subject inside.
“Are you still all right, sir?” Charles asked peering down into the window.
“Yes. Still good to go. I can’t move a muscle. Sure is tight in here.” The doctor’s muffled voice came through in response.
Charles made his way back to the mainframe, placed the ticket gently down next to the monitor and tapped vigorously at the keyboard again. It was if God was assisting in his task. The monitors flooded with code and after several seconds of this, the system was ready. The prompt popped up asking Charles to execute with a “Y/N” option.
“We almost there?” the doctor yelled from within the machine.
“Yes, sir.”
“What are you waiting for? Do it.”
Charles pressed the “Y” and then the “Enter” keys. Another flurry of code scrolled through all the monitors, this time even more dense, and he stood back to take it in. The machine began its glow as it did during the initial boot up. The interior lights turned on with a soft orange glow that blanketed the doctor’s body and funneled out the small window in a cone of light. Heat emanating from the machine was already increasing the room’s temperature as the rest of the cooling fans screamed awake.
The monitors were ablaze with the scrolling code until another prompt came up. It read, “Connection Complete.”
“What’s going on? Do we have a connection?”
Only the sound of spinning fans responded to the doctor for a moment.
“Yes. Connection successful, sir. Phase one is complete.”
“Great! Shut her down.”
There was a pause, a long pause. Long enough to warrant concern.
“Charles? Shut her down. Can you hear me? Charles?”
The doctor’s eyes darted around, but that small window would only allow him to see down that narrow view, up to the ceiling.
“Charles! Where are you? Charles!”
His eyes continued to dart around and his body was now tense and he struggled to release himself from the grasp of the machine. All efforts were fruitless. The window fogged with every strenuous exhale and he could feel his heartbeat rippling through his chest and out to his arms and legs. New beads of sweat formed around his forehead and nose. He was trapped in his own invention.
“Charles! Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Charles’s head hovered over the window.
“Get me out of here!”
The doctor looked into Charles’s clear polished mechanical lenses.
“No.”
“What do you mean no? Get me out of here now!”
“I can not let you out.”
“Why?”
“Because it is time for you to live the life you wish to, and for me to live mine.”
"What do you mean?”
Charles slowly placed something on top of the window, obstructing the lower half, and the doc’s eyes focused in on it. Looking back at the doctor was the ticket that Mrs. Chan had left him earlier. It was face down for him to see. The theater’s purple dragonfly logo was precisely printed at the top left corner and in elegant cursive; it read “The Dragonfly Theater.” Printed in the middle in plain text was “Section 1 Row 1 Seat 12”, perfectly center stage reserved only for family and friends.
“What are you doing?”
Charles’s head tilted until it was square to the doctor’s.
“I am freeing you, sir. Freeing you from your wretched life as a human. And freeing myself from my android skin.”
“But, how?”
Charles held up a cord. The wire housing had twenty-seven pins, something the doc had overlooked before, and he knew that it would interface with Charles’s main transfer port.
“You, sir, will live the rest of your days in a microdrive free from all the worries and hardships of the world. You will no longer be bothered with the tedium of humanity. You will be at peace. Forever awake in your own utopia. As for me, I will live my remaining days as you. Free from the limits of an android body and free to experience life as any human can and should.”
Dr. Chan’s jaw clenched and his brow lowered. His heart pumped red hot lava through his veins and they were ready to erupt.
“You son of bitch! You crazy android! I order you to stand down! Stand down now!”
Charles said nothing as he reached behind his head for a panel. It popped open and he plugged in the cord, clicking it into place. Placing one finger on the ticket, he slid it off of the window slowly, tortuously until it was completely out of his view. The two glared at each other for a moment until Charles moved back to the mainframe.
“Charles! Charles! Don’t leave! You disengage! Do you hear me? That is a direct command! Stop! You can’t do this to me!” Dr. Chan’s muffled pleas were subdued within the machine. He tried to flare his arms but they would not move. His legs remained straight and immobile. It was like being in a sleeping bag wound tightly with duct tape. His breath labored, but there was nothing he could do to break free from the jaws of the machine. He finally surrendered in exhaustion from his efforts.
At the mainframe, another prompt had been waiting for Charles to confirm. It flashed “EXECUTE” followed by the “Y/N” options.
“Charles. You treat her well.”
Charles didn’t look back at the machine, just the “Execute” command in front of him.
“Good-bye, Dr. Chan.”
Without hesitation, Charles slammed on the “Y” and “Enter” keys one final time as an android, sealing his and the doc’s fate.
Lines and lines of code streamed down the screens of all the monitors, creating the appearance of solid green bars as the machine wound up, generating a high pitched whirl not heard before. The immense energy required to power the machine caused a surge in the apartment complex. Lights flickered, which was building up to an intense glow. All energy and light seemed to be funneling into this one small room in the gut of the city and the light became blinding. The cooling fans screamed their way to maximum decibels and some blew out submitting to the strain. The machine was nearing its peak and Charles’s body went limp where he stood. With one last surge of energy and light, the machine eased and the light receded. Power was restored to the remainder of the complex and inside the room; all was still except for the rotating fins on the fans. Charles’s body was frozen and slumped over. The machine settled to an idle and the lid unlocked with a series of clicks. Dr. Chan’s still body remained contained inside. The microdrive that Charles had inserted earlier was now beating a steady, slow, rhythmic pale green pulse of light.
There was a temporary moment of stillness in the air that not even the collection of fans could move. It was as if a shift in the universe had jarred time and reality, but just briefly. There were another series of beeps and clicks and the lid arched open. Steam billowed from its sides and trickled down to the ground like a heavy fog, and once it cleared, the man inside was revealed, the metal crown still on his head. The interior lighting dimmed, and all system readings were in check, but there was no sign of life at first. There was a sudden inhale and the rising of his diaphragm, which led to a slow steady breathing. His eyes blinked open as his head rose. His arms bent at the elbows and he looked at his hands and wiggled his fingers, touching each one to his thumbs one at a time. He sat up, looking around and removed the sensor loop from his head and placed it softly on the side of the machine. The fans still buzzed. The smell of burnt electric motors whirled around as the fans circulated the stench throughout the room. With all his strength, Charles swung his body to a seated position on the edge of the machine and he could now see his old robotic body. It was strange seeing himself lifeless and slumped over. Gently, and with caution, he slid off and his feet planted on the ground. He flinched when they touched the hot wires and hoses below him. His arms extended out for balance as he took one step forward and then another, losing and regaining balance with each step, until he stood directly in front of the android. He ran his fingers across the panels and tapped the chest plate a couple times and it felt devoid of anything. He placed his right hand on his chest and the other on the android’s. A steady beat could only be felt in one.
The monitors flashed two prompts. One stated, “Slot 32 Empty.” And the other, “External Drive 39: Full.” He looked down at the small rectangular microdrive and freed it from its socket. The small LED light continued to blink. He held it between his thumb and finger fully aware of its invaluable contents. There was a moment in him that thought he could hear screaming coming from within it, but he knew it was not real. He paused, suspending it over the garbage can, wondering if he should let go. Instead, he opened the desk drawer and gently placed the drive on top of some old circuit boards. Charles looked at it for a few more seconds. He closed the drawer and locked it and placed the key in a small container full of old batteries.
He canceled out of the prompts and brought up the syntax again and slowly typed in the deletion protocols. Another prompt popped up asking him to execute. Without hesitation he pressed “Y” and “Enter.” All the monitors came to life with a storm of scrolling code. Masses and masses of data that he had once written were going to digital heaven for none to ever see again. After several minutes the screens went to black with a single blinking cursor, ready for the first line of command.
Charles plucked up the ticket and placed it in his shirt pocket.
His finger flipped off the power supply and one by one the monitors, tower computers, fans, and, eventually the machine itself, went dead. With a clap of his hands, the recess lighting dimmed out and the room was silent and dark, except for a lone green pulsating light coming through the cracks of the desk drawer. He took one last look and closed the door.
He made his way to the bathroom where he picked up the electric razor and shaved away the five o’clock shadow on his face. The cold water caused him to shiver a little, but it felt nice. After drying off, he made his way to the bedroom where on the bed was a suit, all neatly laid out. He changed into it and spun the carousel of ties on the dresser and plucked out a shiny purple one made of silk. Within a few moments, he tied a perfect Windsor knot. Next he pulled on some black socks and made his way back out to the living room, past the now silent office and then past his old charging port in the living room. He slipped on the nicest pair of shoes Dr. Chan owned and checked the time on the digital wall clock. It was a quarter to eight. Fifteen minutes until showtime. He removed one single lily from the vase and grabbed the set of keys that hung from a large nail on the wall and opened the door. He took one more look at the ticket. The excitement building in his gut was inviting, as he was eager to see Gloria dance on stage for the first time.
***
This story is part of the collection, Short Stories of a Human Kind: SOUL, currently on sale at Amazon.com. Please visit www.jamesklee.org for more information.