from the girl’s cheek.
“Oh come on Mick, she’s a cellbot, she
can take it.”
So that’s a cellbot. Humanity’s
imagination and power all bent upon the execution of aesthetics. My god, who
could blame someone for never wanting a human again.
“She’ll help us,” Mick said.
“She’ll tell us lies and try to destroy
our—” Sera was cut off by XJ and GR. They had both been staring expressionless
at the fray until XJ spoke:
“Sera?” he said.
“What?”
“Carner replied. She’s right: Utopia
permits have tripled.”
“What about the deadline?” Sera said,
her drawn fist falling to her side in disbelief, her spirit escaping her.
“We’ve got to come up with a new plan,
don’t we?” said GR.
“I’m sorry Sera. It seems we have a
month to get the money together.”
Sera collapsed alongside the beautiful, broken
girl who lay soundless, battered into the hull beam. Red warmth dripped onto
her. Neither said a word. Together, they juxtaposed all that aroused and
saddened Mick, and from whom he derived sadness and from whom arousal he could
not tell. It was all meaningless to him anyhow; their plight was not his. He
had enough for his jump, and Sera had retrieved what she’d gone after. All that
was left was to return to Melbot’s and let GR learn the jump module. As for the
girl, if he hadn’t saved her, he’d tried to. He could live with that. Either
way, his acts of charity and lust were over. He had something precious that now
required his full attention.
Some people learn over time to restore
order and happiness in their lives. They make their mistakes, grow, and are
still free to live in their new gratitude and humility. They cherish the now.
Others do not, because the cost of their lessons is too great. Freedom is taken
away as a result of their mistakes, and so the wisdom, the humility, and the
gratitude gained is wasted on a crippled life. It is never put to full use. It
may avail itself partially to some circumstance or another, but it will never
be true unfettered freedom: A blank slate.
Blank slate. That’s what I’m heading
toward. A blank slate, lessons learned, wisdom and humility intact. I can’t
continue to pity these drifters. To the green wastes, and I’m gone.
“I’m sorry Mick, but you know what this
means, don’t you?” Sera finally spoke, tilting her head up.
Mick eyed her half vacantly, already
detaching himself from the world and people he’d come to know in fourteen. He’d
made a conscious decision to forget their struggle, stop trying to help, and
focus all his thoughts on how he would conduct himself once he returned home. To
where and when shall I send you? GR would soon ask him. There’s a
ballroom near MIT. My sophomore year of college. A dance. A tight golden
waterfall of silk and heat. The taste of new lips. A bright-eyed optimist who
believed in the present.
“I’m sorry,” she started. He nodded
dismissively, feeling entirely done with her, the beautiful girl, the robots,
fourteen, Utopia, all of it.
“Why?” Mick barely said.
“I can’t let you go home.”
32
“It’s not so bad Mick. In fact,
you’ll have a lot more time to rematch me,” XJ said as he pinned Mick’s last
remaining knight with his queen.
Easy for you to say robot—your AM makes
it easy for you to forget everything that matters—that once mattered to you.
I’m dying—trapped in a cage—lost in spacetime.
“Oh come on Mick,” XJ tried again,
sensing Mick’s waning interest. “Sera will have the money in no time. Then
you’ll have your wish and return to your home.”
“I need a drink.”
“I’d be perfectly happy to get you one
if you’d make your move.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking about
XJ?”
“Whether or not you can kill Sera in her
sleep?”
Dead on. Another one bites the dust—the
end justifies the means.
“How’d you guess?” Mick laughed,
suddenly finding his
“Oh come on Mick, she’s a cellbot, she
can take it.”
So that’s a cellbot. Humanity’s
imagination and power all bent upon the execution of aesthetics. My god, who
could blame someone for never wanting a human again.
“She’ll help us,” Mick said.
“She’ll tell us lies and try to destroy
our—” Sera was cut off by XJ and GR. They had both been staring expressionless
at the fray until XJ spoke:
“Sera?” he said.
“What?”
“Carner replied. She’s right: Utopia
permits have tripled.”
“What about the deadline?” Sera said,
her drawn fist falling to her side in disbelief, her spirit escaping her.
“We’ve got to come up with a new plan,
don’t we?” said GR.
“I’m sorry Sera. It seems we have a
month to get the money together.”
Sera collapsed alongside the beautiful, broken
girl who lay soundless, battered into the hull beam. Red warmth dripped onto
her. Neither said a word. Together, they juxtaposed all that aroused and
saddened Mick, and from whom he derived sadness and from whom arousal he could
not tell. It was all meaningless to him anyhow; their plight was not his. He
had enough for his jump, and Sera had retrieved what she’d gone after. All that
was left was to return to Melbot’s and let GR learn the jump module. As for the
girl, if he hadn’t saved her, he’d tried to. He could live with that. Either
way, his acts of charity and lust were over. He had something precious that now
required his full attention.
Some people learn over time to restore
order and happiness in their lives. They make their mistakes, grow, and are
still free to live in their new gratitude and humility. They cherish the now.
Others do not, because the cost of their lessons is too great. Freedom is taken
away as a result of their mistakes, and so the wisdom, the humility, and the
gratitude gained is wasted on a crippled life. It is never put to full use. It
may avail itself partially to some circumstance or another, but it will never
be true unfettered freedom: A blank slate.
Blank slate. That’s what I’m heading
toward. A blank slate, lessons learned, wisdom and humility intact. I can’t
continue to pity these drifters. To the green wastes, and I’m gone.
“I’m sorry Mick, but you know what this
means, don’t you?” Sera finally spoke, tilting her head up.
Mick eyed her half vacantly, already
detaching himself from the world and people he’d come to know in fourteen. He’d
made a conscious decision to forget their struggle, stop trying to help, and
focus all his thoughts on how he would conduct himself once he returned home. To
where and when shall I send you? GR would soon ask him. There’s a
ballroom near MIT. My sophomore year of college. A dance. A tight golden
waterfall of silk and heat. The taste of new lips. A bright-eyed optimist who
believed in the present.
“I’m sorry,” she started. He nodded
dismissively, feeling entirely done with her, the beautiful girl, the robots,
fourteen, Utopia, all of it.
“Why?” Mick barely said.
“I can’t let you go home.”
32
“It’s not so bad Mick. In fact,
you’ll have a lot more time to rematch me,” XJ said as he pinned Mick’s last
remaining knight with his queen.
Easy for you to say robot—your AM makes
it easy for you to forget everything that matters—that once mattered to you.
I’m dying—trapped in a cage—lost in spacetime.
“Oh come on Mick,” XJ tried again,
sensing Mick’s waning interest. “Sera will have the money in no time. Then
you’ll have your wish and return to your home.”
“I need a drink.”
“I’d be perfectly happy to get you one
if you’d make your move.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking about
XJ?”
“Whether or not you can kill Sera in her
sleep?”
Dead on. Another one bites the dust—the
end justifies the means.
“How’d you guess?” Mick laughed,
suddenly finding his
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