It ain't what it used to be

“It kinda comes and goes, y’know? The nightmare. I just see Sophitia falling and my god damn jetpack isn’t going fast enough. Most times I don’t even wake up when she hits. I keep flying down until I hit too.”

“And then you wake up?”

“That’s usually enough, yeah.”

“I see.”

Marqus watched as his therapist scribbled a note on its pad. He couldn’t help but notice a screw coming loose from the neck.

“Hold still a second Biff. You got a screw coming loose.”

“Projecting isn’t conducive to treatment, doctor.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

He picked up one of the many cross-head screwdrivers lying around and, bracing Biff with his hand, tightened the screw. The robot’s glowing white eyes flickered and died, its arms stuck in note scribbling position. Marqus waited a few seconds for reboot until he noticed the tapping pen.

“Biff, knock it off.” He rapped the handle of the screwdriver against the metal skull and the eyes lit back up. “Honestly, why you had to develop a sense of humor.”

“I am programmed to understand the human psyche on such a level that developing such traits was all but a foregone conclusion.”

“Yeah. You mentioned something like that before. G’night, Biff.”

“But doctor, your session-” Marqus flipped the off switch. The way a robot’s voice lost momentum and wound down to stuttering groans when shut down would always unnerve him. To be sure it turned off he tapped Biff’s head again. Nothing.

He hadn’t always been so quick to shut down his robots but their constant mechanical whirring sounded best when it stopped. However, after years surrounded by them he could no longer stand straight up silence, so finding just the right balance between quiet and noisy was a never ending struggle. Even the otherwise inaudible buzz of light bulbs reached his ears. He turned out the lights as he left the room.

The spiral staircase creaked at every footfall and the wrought iron hand rail felt cold as death. Whenever it was windy, which was often, trips to and from his therapy sessions became a foreboding affair. Biff had commented on it before, going so far as to suggest they go elsewhere in the compound, making Marqus remind it of his long and perilous career that left mere creaking and chills a non-issue. He preferred to keep his past well removed and secure from his present and the east tower was perfect for that.

“Augh! What the-!” He felt a stinging sensation in his palm,  different from the dull ache of mild arthritis. A thin cut went across it, though only small sections were bleeding. He looked for the cause and found a fine point barely sticking out of the rail. In the dozens of times going up and down the steps he’d never come across it, so while he cursed his luck he couldn’t help but laugh at the odds. Examining the cut further he realized that it intersected a scar he got years before in heated combat. It faded to a pale streak over the years, but he could still make it out when he squinted.

~~~

continued in Stranger and Fiction Anthology 2

Beyond All Spheres of Force and Matter by Federico Piatti. Inspiration for this story.