*system initializing*
*checking*
*memory...OK*
*motor function...OK*
*system...OK*
At least I hope so.
Sorry. That doesn’t really happen to me every day. Though sometimes I wish it would. Sometimes I wish I could perceive my body like a machine, instead of having to continue to feel sensations as if they were real.
One time, my arm went numb and my brother had to dig around inside it for more than half an hour before finding the cause. A loose connection. I could have told him it was a loose connection, but I don’t have a computer inside my head with diagnostic software. Or sensors along my body, flashing warnings into my eyes when something malfunctions. Even though, were you to look at me, you would think such things were obvious.
Maybe I should just stop bitching about this. So when I say my “eyes” happened to “open” upon my beautiful wife this morning, I’m just going to leave it at that.
My second sight was of the clock on her bed stand. Just after 6 o’clock. My timing was good today. My metal fingers brushed her cheek, and I was glad a temperature reading wasn’t getting in my way of enjoying her warmth. So maybe my body isn’t all bad.
“Morning, Bernie,” I mumbled.
A small smile crept onto her lips. The same one that would refuse to let go for the rest of the day. “Good morning, Jules. It’s not that time already, is it?”
“Sorry, Love. Got to wake up sometime.”
Her eyes opened to mine. Never more blue. “Yes. But it still didn’t have to be this early.”
“Then why don’t I open the store by myself, and let you get some more sleep?”
“Because then you’ll have something to gloat about.” She turned over and sat up, the covers spilling off her. “No, I’m up. I’ll be downstairs after a shower.”
“Alright,” I said and watched her get ready.
The store I was talking about was my brother’s restaurant. Charles always was the more industrious one—told me he could never be satisfied unless he was working at something all day, every day. But when his duties to the Science Ministry started to overwhelm him, he asked if Bernadette and I could keep it open. Then he sold half of it to us and left us in charge. I know; what was he thinking?
Once, she was gone, I left the bedroom and headed downstairs to cook breakfast. I paused outside Sonic’s room and looked in. Good, he made it home last night. Not every father can boast that they have a recognized hero for a son, but how many of those fathers worry that their son’s career could kill him one day? I fought in the Great War hoping he would have freedom one day. I almost died, and forced myself into this metal shell, with the hope that he would be able to enjoy a world without conflict. For all the pride Sonic gives me, sometimes I feel like I failed him.
Boy, am I feeling moody today.
Downstairs, I threw together a couple of plates and waited at the kitchen table. Bernie came down and sat across from me.
“Jules, why did you make two plates?”
“I thought it would make you more comfortable if it looked as though we were having breakfast together. I can leave it for Sonic when he wakes up.”
“You know I’ve never had a problem with it before. Is everything okay?”
“What? Everything’s fine. Can I help it if I felt like doing something nice?”
Then, she looked at me in an almost smug way, like I had let slip some big secret I was trying to keep from her. “Oh, I see what’s going on.”
My brow furrowed and I smirked. “Then can you tell me, because I don’t get it.”
“Somebody’s worried about turning forty tomorrow.”
Huh? I looked at the calendar. “Holy crap. I am turning forty tomorrow!”
Bernie laughed. “You mean you really did forget?”
A thought entered my head. Now it was my turn to look smug. I gave her a sidelong glance. “Then that means someone is going to be following me in a couple of months, as well.”
She grinned back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, you don’t. You were roboticized right along with me.”
“So?”
“So, when you were restored last year, you came out of your shell looking the same as you went in. How can I feel forty when you still look twenty-seven?” I stood up. “You still have a twenty-seven-year-old face. A twenty-seven-year-old body…”
She got out of her chair as I walked over, blushing furiously. “Jules...”
“I bet you still have a twenty-seven-year-old butt, too,” I said, then gave chase as she ran around the kitchen.
“Ha! Jules, stop! Hee hee! Wait—”
I caught her in a hug and we broke apart into a fit of giggles, her trying to kick away, me trying to feel her up.
Sonic picked that time to venture down. “Why are you two making so much—aw, jeez!” He covered his eyes. “Let me know when you guys are going to do that. You know I can leave fast enough.”
Bernie and I looked at each other. Later? Later. “We should be opening the restaurant, anyway. Have some breakfast, Son.”
The lunch rush at the restaurant had passed and I was stacking the washer with the used dishes and cutlery. The clean, mildly acidic smell of the dishsoap won a short battle against the thick, weighty aroma of grilled and fried foods until I closed the machine and started another cycle. A quick wipe with a fresh towel removed the oil and grease from my metallic carapace and I ploughed back into the rest of the orders for the late-lunchers.
Though I have to worry about the occasional malfunction—my joints don’t seem to get along with the sprays that bounce off my cook-top—for one aspect of my artificial body and systems I am grateful is the ability to pick out almost every word spoken by every patron and employee in the restaurant. Even when the noise in the kitchen is the loudest, I can collect several orders and track the progress of several others, even while I may be taking a delivery order on the phone. I can’t see the words in front of my eyes or play back the sentences in my ears, but I haven’t forgotten an order yet. Needless, our waitstaff love to work here.
Checking that the food could wait for me a moment and that no one new had arrived, I picked up the bags of used linen and carried them outside. The cleaning service Bernie and I had hired would be here in a little over an hour.
Tossing them in the bin the cleaners provided, I turned to go back in and almost collided with Sonic. He caught me in mid-stride, with my foot on the down-step, and a not-inconsiderable amount of weight about to crush his.
I wasn’t a split-second into my warning of, “Sonic, look out!” and he had already pulled away and readied himself should I tumble further forward. I did catch myself as soon as I had both feet on the ground.
“Good reflexes.”
“You too, Dad.”
We straightened up. “Is there any reason you hang out behind such disreputable establishments?” I joked.
“Sorry for bugging you at work, but...” he shifted from side to side. I could see the anxiety well up inside him. Like he wanted to run flat out, but couldn’t decide on his destination.
I frowned. “Is everything all right, Sonic?”
“Well, it’s about last week.”
Ah, yes. He meant the night he and Sally discussed their issues of emerging incompatibility. In public. Loud enough to scare cats.
Through the open door, I could hear the bell on the entrance chiming. “Come on inside. We can split a chili dog.” I ushered him inside and we walked over to the grill. Just in time, as a few orders were becoming overdone.
Collecting the prepared food onto their proper plates and signalling Bernie to pick them up, I told Sonic to take a seat. He pulled a stool over beside the fridge and sat. He didn’t relax, though—one leg kept bouncing nervously. He also kept staring at the floor the entire time.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“What’ll you have?”
“I just don’t understand—”
“I’ll take a burger and fries.” I flipped a patty on the grill.
“—how Sally could treat me that way.”
“The same for me. No pickles.” I dumped a mess of chips in the fryer.
“I mean, I thought I was doing everything she asked.”
“Anything to drink?” I grabbed a pair of glasses off the shelf above me.
“I agreed to become her companion.”
“Colas.” I walked over the fountain and poured the drinks.
“I think I would’ve agreed to—”
“Okay. Your order will be—”
“—marry her if she’d asked.”
“—ready in a moment.”
I spun my head around at Sonic’s last statement. “Marry her? Was it that serious?”
“I thought it was. But I also thought she knew I wouldn’t give up fighting Robotnik.”
I finished the drinks and set them on the pick-up counter. “Does it matter if you fight him or not?”
Sonic finally looked up at me as if I had just passed gas. “I’ve been fighting against him my entire life!”
“So has Sally. Do you think she’s given up?
“Of course she hasn’t.”
“But I doubt she’s going to meet Dr. Robotnik face-to-face anytime soon. Why do you have to?”
He looked away again at some unidentifiable point on the wall. “Man, I can’t believe you’re taking her side.”
“I’ve turned traitor, have I?” A memory fluttered into my head, something I hadn’t thought about in a long time. “This reminds of a similar conversation I had with Mom.”
“How?”
“This would have been just after you were born. The Great War was almost over, yet the battles were never more gruesome. I had been approached by one of the generals after a successful raid on one of the Overlander army’s weapon supply buildings. They told me that because of my skills in tactics and strategy, they were offering to commission me, make me a lieutenant. Such a position meant I wouldn’t have to fight on the front lines anymore. So, that night, Mom and I talked about it. We argued for hours.”
“She didn’t want you to fight anymore, either. Right?”
“She threw every argument she could think of. A better place for us to live—at least something that had a second bedroom. A larger retirement package, in case we won. A better chance that I would come home at night so you could still have a father. But, in the end, I declined.
“The next night, our squad was given a rescue mission. It required us venturing further into Megalopolis than any of us were comfortable with. We failed on our objective, in my case fatally so. The only reason I’m able to tell you about this is because of my roboticization.”
Sonic had returned to the more sombre tone he had arrived with. “So...you’re saying I should quit before I’m killed.”
“Not at all. Sonic, the one thing that ended our argument—the only point we agreed on—was that there was no way our duties would separate us. If I had accepted commission, it could’ve been me ordering Mom into Megalopolis. It could have been her in my position.”
“Then, what do I do?”
“You’ve already done it, Sonic. You’ve been true to yourself. I think Sally knows that, but she needs time to accept it. If you think your relationship has been ruined because of one argument, you need to learn a few more things about love.”
“Does one of those things involve chasing her around the kitchen?”
I sighed. It was too bad he was smiling again, now that I had to kill him.
Before I could carry out my dastardly deed, Sonic was saved by Bernie stopping in front of the pick-up window. “Hello, Sonic. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Hi, Ma.”
“What’s up, Hon?”
“I was wondering what the hold up was.”
I blinked. Hold up?
“How is everything?”
“It’s okay, but we’re kind of wondering how much longer our food is going to be.”
I looked at the food. The meat was burnt on one side, still raw on the other. The fries had been reduced to matchsticks.
I slapped my forehead, metal clanging against metal. “Aw! Sorry, Bernie! Give it to them for free. I’ll fix it as quick as I can.”
“Sorry, Mom. I was distracting him.”
Her ever-present smile grew warmer. “Don’t worry about it, you two,” she said walking away. “It’s good that you can still talk to each other once in a while.”
I restarted the food. I also prepared the one item on the menu that Charles insisted be available within a moment’s notice, at any time of the day.
“Here you go, Sonic. One Chuck’s Chili Dog Special. Like I promised.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“So what did Sonic want to talk to you about?” Bernie asked as she flipped the store’s “Come On In” sign to “Back Before You Know It.”
I was busy stacking the chairs so I could clean the floor of the day’s accumulated footprints and spills. “Guy stuff.”
She asked me to toss her a cloth so she could wipe down the tables. “Anything interesting about this ‘Guy stuff?’”
“The conversation did get me thinking about the Great War.”
“The War? How did that come up?”
“I was telling him about the day they wanted to promote me.”
Bernie’s back was to me, but I could see her shoulders stiffen. “I see.” Her words tried play down the tension in her voice. I knew the memories were still painful for her. “I hope I didn’t appear as the inconsiderate one.”
“I kept it neutral. But the interesting part, the part I kept from Sonic, was that I remembered it at all.”
She stopped and turned around. “What do you mean?”
“It was the first time I’ve been able to remember any of my life before I was roboticized.”
Amazed at my statement, Bernie asked, “How come you never told me?”
“Because today was also the first time I was aware I had forgotten. Now I can’t remember anything else. I can’t remember how we even fell in love.”
“Oh, Jules.” She walked over and hugged me.
“I know that I do. Love you, I mean.”
“I know, too.”
My chin rested on her shoulder. I wish that I hadn’t because it forced me to stare at the glass that walled the front of the restaurant.
Through eyes that wouldn’t shut unless I put my systems through a sleep cycle, I watched my ghostly, translucent reflection and felt as hollow as it looked. I knew my mouth was smiling. I could sense my cheeks pinching the corners of my eyes. At the same time I knew I could be doing no such thing, for my reflection didn’t move. My “mouth” was just a rectangular hole in my head with a speaker behind it to compensate for my lack of vocal chords. I had no cheeks to pinch with, which was okay—I would have hurt them on the inverted-triangular lenses that covered the cameras that allowed me to see.
“Bernie?” I pulled back until we held onto each other shoulders.
“Yes, Jules?”
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to tell her I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to tell her I would feel her lips as tenderly and as completely as though they were against mine, even if she would receive all the satisfaction of kissing a toaster. Instead, I broke us apart and picked up a plastic container that Bernie had made up earlier and was resting on the counter.
“Don’t worry about me. Right now, my biggest concern making sure Charles doesn’t starve himself.”
“Okay, I’ll finish up here.”
“All right. I’ll see you at home,” I lied.
Charles’ home was built as an afterthought, connected to the back of his workshop. But it also reflected his personality. He seemed to think about his life like an afterthought, preferring to concentrate on work.
Charles answered his door the third time I tried knocking. “Jules! Great to see you.”
“Thanks.” I waited a moment. “Can I come in?”
Charles jumped out of the way and waved me inside. “Oh! Sure, sure! Sorry. To what do I owe the honour?”
“It’s after midnight; you said you had to work,” I gave him the box as he closed the door, “so Bernie knew you would end up missing dinner.”
He inspected the contents and grinned. “Chili dogs? How’d you guess?”
“You were the one who got Sonic addicted to them. And your menu says, ‘the chili dogs are always fresh,’ so we always have a lot left over at the end of the day.”
He brushed his thick moustache as he carried the food into the kitchen, less a habit than a necessity. Unless he wanted to chew on his facial hair as he ate.
Putting the dogs on a plate, he put the box in the sink to wash later. I knew it would be at least three days before that happened. We sat at the small table in the kitchen and he brushed aside an impressive collection of newspapers and periodicals to make room for us.
“Is it after midnight?” he said after a couple of mouthfuls. “Happy birthday, then. Sorry I don’t have a gift for you. I’ve been busy.”
“That’s all right, Charles. I only wanted one thing this year, anyway. But you can’t call me crazy.”
“What’s that?”
A non-existent lump formed in my non-existent throat. “I want you to deroboticize me.”
Charles paused first, and then finished the bite in his mouth. He stood and I watched him walk over to the sink and grab a paper towel. Wiping up the chili that had stuck to his whiskers, he looked at me. “And you’re sure I can’t call you crazy?”
“Nope.”
“Because, you know what this sounds like?”
“What?”
He slammed his fist on the counter. “Like you’re crazy!”
“Chuck—”
“Did you know I had many expectations for the roboticization process when I developed it? Think about it, being able to transform living tissue into metal, preserving it indefinitely. To replace tired or damaged organs with artificial components that could use the same blood to maintain themselves and in turn maintain the rest of the body with whatever functions the originals were tasked.
“But in my zeal I made two critical errors. I should have spent more time on refining the beam; I never wanted to completely transform you. And I should have thought about the future, when it was time to reverse the process.”
His voice grew smaller as he hung his head. “When we started to deroboticize the first of Robotnik’s victims, how do you think I felt watching everyone emerge from their metal cocoons in the same condition, the same age, as if the last ten-plus years had elapsed like ten seconds? Or when some of those victims needed medical help to repair broken bones or other injuries they had suffered when being herded into insentient bondage? What it meant for you?”
“I know what it means.”
He blew up. “Then you know why I won’t help my brother when he tells me he wants to commit suicide!”
I remained calm. Devolving this argument into a shouting match would only serve to cement Charles’ thinking. “If I wanted to commit suicide I would have thrown myself off the nearest cliff. But I would like to see my wife and son one more time.”
“Deroboticize and you die, Jules.”
“Prove to me that I am alive and I won’t. Tell me the thoughts in my head are my own. Show me that the love I feel when I look at my family isn’t some sophisticated approximation.”
Charles turned his back to me and leaned against the counter. No doubt he was reliving his robotic incarceration.
“What did it feel like?” I asked.
He didn’t turn around. “What did what feel like?”
“Becoming whole again? Seeing your real body again?” I walked over and leaned on the counter with him. “Regardless of whether I live or die, don’t I deserve the same cure?”
“Don’t you think I’ve thought about it? It haunts me every day that I keep you stuffed in that robotic coffin.”
“Then let me out. Let Aurora decide what to do with me.”
He sighed. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“Because I can’t wait to hold Bernie in my real arms again.”
As Charles set up the equipment and arranged for a hospital bed, I asked him one more favour. I asked him if it was possible to copy a letter I had composed in my mind about today’s events. It’s for you, Sonic. If you’ve read to this point, I hope it means I’ve been able to explain a little of my reason for doing what I did. I love you, Son.
Writing those last few words at the bottom of the print out, I sealed the envelope and held it in my hands. My real hands. Polished blue metal had been restored to stiff, blue fur.
Setting the envelope at my bed side, I laid on my back, mindful of the pain and of the various tubes connected to me. As had been proven with all the other former Robians, I had been returned to the same body I left behind ten years ago. I had a broken arm and shoulder. My left eye was missing. Two broken ribs had punctured my lung, the cavity slowly filling with blood. This was tapped by one tube to drain it while another fed fresh blood into my good arm to keep my pressure from dropping. Another cable was connected to a catheter—although I hadn’t been flesh long enough to use it. Finally, one more cable fed me saline and pain-killers. All accounted, I felt fabulous.
Though it was open, someone knocked on my door. When he pulled back the curtain of my oxygen tent, I saw it was Charles.
“Hello,” I whispered. Any louder and all Charles would hear would be unintelligible rasps.
“Good afternoon, Jules,” he replied, a wane smile tried to conceal the sorrow in his gaze.
“Hey, now, none of that. You did right by me. I’m grateful. Have you called Bernie yet?”
Then I heard her. “Hello, handsome.” She slipped into my tent beside Charles. She didn’t try to hide the tears streaming down her face, yet she was able to smile—a genuine smile—when she saw me.
I smiled back, both for her and for myself. I could feel it again. My love for her. “Hi,” I managed.
“Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks. I hope you don’t mind that I unwrapped myself.”
Oops. Wrong thing to say. Bernie looked like she was going to crumple to the floor. Charles held out a hand to steady her. “Let me get you a chair, Bernie.”
“Thanks, Chuck. I’m sorry.”
“No need. I’ll leave you two alone.”
When she was seated at my bedside, Charles left a bit angry.
“Great,” I hushed. “I’ve upset everybody.”
Bernie clasped my hand between hers. “It’s not because of you. When he told Sonic what you had done, Sonic took off.”
“When was that?”
“A couple of hours ago.”
I rested back on my pillow, Bernie disappearing from my sight thanks to the lack of one of my eyes. But my hand never left hers and just knowing she was there was enough.
I suppose we dozed, because I didn’t hear the nurse come in. I only became aware of her as she was replacing the blood bag. I watched in silence as she worked. She was a racoon, not much older than Sonic. Probably a student. Yet she remained calm around me. She didn’t hesitate to meet my gaze when she noticed it.
“There you are, Mr. Hedgehog.” Not cheery, but neither sombre nor impersonal. Just...consoling.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “But I think that’ll be the last one for me.”
“I’ll inform the doctor. Are you comfortable?”
I knew she meant: did I have enough drugs. But I almost thought she was asking me if I wanted to change my mind about dying. The answer to either meaning was the same, though. “I’m fine.”
As she left I could hear Charles on the phone at the nurses’ station—not because I had retained my supernormal hearing, but because he was yelling into it.
“You found him? Good put him on.” A pause. “Where are you? Well get back here. You don’t have much time left.” Another pause. “I don’t care! He’s your father and he wants to see you before—don’t give me that!”
Bernie stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Within a minute Charles had quieted down and he and Bernie were back in my room. “He’ll be here,” was all she said.
Wondering what she could have told him, I nearly jumped out of my brand new skin when I heard a loud BOOM! come from outside the hospital. A couple of minutes and a few deactivated car alarms later, Sonic walked in the room.
“Thanks for coming, sweetie,” Bernie said to him.
“Whatever.” His eyes didn’t leave the floor. Tried to hide that he’d been crying.
“Come on, Sonic,” Charles said. “I’ve never seen you this bull-headed. At least—”
“It’s okay,” I said, still not raising my voice above a murmur. “He has every right to be upset.”
Sonic finally looked at me and almost flinched. “Of course I’m upset! Look what you’re doing to yourself!”
“I’m taking my own advice; I’m being true to myself.”
“Being true to yourself means leaving me and Mom?”
“It means giving you two one last chance to see me, this Me.”
“But we could’ve found a way to heal you. All you had to do was wait.”
I shook my head. “How long would I have to wait? The treatment may not be found in your lifetime. Or an accident could have kept me from it forever. I’d rather go now, flesh and blood, than tomorrow as robot, or years from now without a family.”
Sonic broke down, slamming a fist on the bed mattress. “But I don’t want you to go!” he forced out between sobs.
“I know, Sonic. And I’m sorry for being so selfish. But I look at it this way: I should have died eleven years ago. But thanks to your uncle, I’ve been able to see the kind of person you’ve grown up to be. And you’ve been able to glimpse the kind of person I’ve been. It’s more than what any other war torn family has received.”
His crying diminished but kept going. He came over to hug me. “I love you, Dad. But I’m not ready to let you go.”
“No one ever is, Sonic. I love you, too.”
About an hour later, I felt my heart flutter. I looked over at the blood bag. I had taken all it could give.
Bernie had seen it too and gave a sniffle. Charles, who along with Sonic had their own chairs by my bedside, gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“It’s time, Sonny boy.”
Sonic had kept his arms crossed and his head buried in my mattress for most of the hour. At Charles’ nudge, he got up and left the room, keeping his eyes averted from mine.
“Sonic! Don’t start this again.”
“Charles,” I said. “It’s okay. Just go comfort him.”
He stood. “You’ll be okay?”
I smiled. “I can’t get any worse.” He left the room. I looked at Bernie.
“I love you, Jules.” She brushed my hair with one hand—how wonderful it was to feel that again—her other remaining firmly entwined with mine.
“I love you, too.” I felt myself grow tired as my blood pressure fell, my life force draining out the hole in my lung cavity into a jar under my bed. “Can I ask for my birthday present, now?”
She smiled through renewed tears. “Anything.”
“I’ve been waiting over a decade for you to kiss me.”
She leaned over me, grazing my lips once before meeting them with earnest. It was better than my pale memories had told me. More than her scent, her taste, I could feel her warmth spreading through me. And I knew that, at last, she could feel mine.
Warmth. I was so warm, so warm...