Human

Ist Place Winner in the "48 Hour Short Story Contest" 
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         "Now boarding, Shuttle N321 to Mars. Please present your authentic documentation at the desk for verification. Thank you."

         "That's our cue, Miss Veronica. May I take your bags?"

         "No, it's fine," came the quiet but slightly irritated response from the young woman. She ignored the flicker of pain that danced across her escort's face, and would have laughed if she was in the mood to do so. It was so easy to forget that they could harbor no such emotions. Modern science and technology had deemed it necessary to produce robots so human-like, it was becoming a bit hard to distinguish one from the other. Since the advent of the International Laws for Artificial Intelligence and Robotic Studies, these once mechanical creatures had been given the leeway to 'act' like humans. They could own homes, raise families, even reproduce - something Veronica could still not comprehend or accept for the life of her.

         From her conception, she had been assigned a robot; his name Scott. His role as babysitter and playmate was one she had accepted without complaint. Since her father worked in the Ministry of Intelligent Studies and her mother was a Biochemist, it was no wonder they had given her the best of the best; a robot so human - it was downright creepy.

         She could still remember the first time she had realized he wasn't a real boy, the day her world lost its colorful luster and turned into a fine shade of gray. It was the night before her eighth birthday, and she had been so excited she could barely sleep. Scott had been called away by her father earlier for reasons unexplained, but she still needed to speak to him. He was the only one who could understand and share her enthusiasm. Jumping out of bed, she slipped on her favorite black sock - the other she had given to Scott as a present; a running joke between them - and left the room.

         "Scott," she whispered as she crept down the long hallway of doors and shadows, her tiny feet barely audible on the rich carpet. It was then that it occurred to her that she really didn't know where Scott stayed. She always fell asleep before him, and believed that he was always at her side since she woke up to see him still in the room with her.

         "Scott, where are you?" She pushed open doors which led to empty guest rooms, musty and damp with disuse as if begging for a human presence to make them alive once again. Just when she decided her search was going to be fruitless, she noticed the door leading to the basement ajar with a blade of light illuminating the hallway.

         She took a peek, an eye within the tiny space that slowly widened in disbelief. Within a room of blinding white, there were wires of all shapes and sizes, curling and winding like snakes in a jungle. Machinery and equipment beeped with green dots that danced upon black screens recording, measuring and decoding. Colored fluids flowed from bottles and beakers through coiled tubes that connected to a row of robots - servants and butlers, maids and gardeners, cooks and drivers, stable hands and private tutors - those she had once thought as 'human'.

         Her heart pounding harder in her chest, she finally noticed the one she sought, the one she had considered a friend and had jokingly whispered that she would marry him when they grew up. There he lay in the middle of the room, as if it had been reserved specially for him. On a bed of white, Scott was in a catatonic state...being rebooted. He seemed to be plugged in everywhere, the tubes and wires buried within his flesh as he dreamt of things she could not understand. She fought back a sob as she noticed that despite his naked state, one foot still had that black sock on - as if it was a beacon of defiance against this inhuman treatment.

         Suddenly a hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped in fright. She looked up to see her father with a sad smile on his visage. His pencil thin mustache crinkled upwards as he stooped to her level.

         "Sweetheart," he began softly. "I'm sorry you had to see this now. I was going to tell you when you were a little older, but..."

         But she wouldn't listen. She didn't want to listen. She tore herself away from his attempt at an embrace, her tiny feet running back up the flight of stairs that never seemed to end. She slammed the door shut to her bedroom and crawled to a corner, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. She had to stop the shriek of terror within her - the one which seemed to grow louder and louder until she felt she would go mad.

         "Pass key verified. Thank you, Miss DuPont."

         Another robot, she thought bitterly as she stepped on the escalator which led to the warm confines of the shuttle. She could hear Scott behind her although he did not make a sound. She was so attuned to him now, that every little thing he did was noticeable to her alone. It had taken her a while -

         (Six long months)

         - to accept Scott as he was. He was one of a kind, the most sophisticated robot ever created. She was lucky to have him as a companion, her parents had said. Did she know how many people would kill to have one as human-like as Scott? He could feel, they insisted. He could eat and dream and perhaps even love. She doubted it, but she went along with the charade and allowed herself to be caught up in the need for a 'friend' like Scott. She kept him at home when she went on her dates with other human boys or men, deliberately ignoring the pained look he sometimes had whenever he helped to pick out an outfit. She would bring them back to her apartment: make him play a tune on the piano, order him to make dinner...punish him. Punish him. Punish him for making her believe he was real.

         Let him feel hurt, if he can. After all, he only has to reboot himself and the memories will be forgotten.

         She resented that with a passion. They were lucky in the grand scheme of things.

         "Your parents will be happy to see you," Scott began with some hesitation. Whenever his mistress was in this mood, it was hard to get her to talk to him. His voice was quiet, almost lost in the drone of the cooling system as they were ushered into their private room - one of the many perks of being the daughter of such a V.I.P.

         Veronica said nothing as she settled into her seat and closed her eyes. At twenty-five, she was finally ready to head the Mars Division of her father's Robotics and Engineering Department. Her years of studying on Earth were finally paying off.

         "Your memory chip," she suddenly said, hoping she could shut him up for a while.

         He blinked in confusion. "Wha...what? But..."

         She opened her eyes, pinning an impatient gaze on the flustered A.I. "You heard me, Scott. Give." She held out a hand, watching as he lowered his gaze in misery before reaching behind his ear to press the little button. He held out the small black square device, feeling devoid and empty as she placed it within the visor to cover her eyes.

         "Might as well see what you've been up to," she said, glad she couldn't see his face as she did this. The last time she had read his memory chip was almost ten years ago, and even then it had been a mish mash of images that made no sense to her. She wondered what she would see this time around.

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         The transition into Scott's memories was so effortless she did not blink in surprise as she found herself sitting on the beach dressed in a bathing suit. The feel of the sun against her skin was a welcome reprieve and she could remember this moment like it was yesterday. It was a trip she had taken to the Bahamas a year ago, a much needed vacation after a marathon cram session in preparation for her exams. The cascading waterfall in the distance made for a picture perfect scenario, the rich and almost sickening smell of ripe mangos, pawpaws and pineapple, an aphrodisiac to her senses. It was a lonely strip of sand against the backdrop of crystal blue water and white foam. She sank her toes into the sand, wondering where Scott was, for it was too quiet. Despite the sounds of the birds and seagulls, there was an eerie silence that she did not like.

         "Scott," she whispered longingly, unaware she was actually sounding that way, only to notice that the scene had changed again. This time she stood before a bicycle shop, where a sixteen year old Scott seemed to be fixing a Schwinn model for the owner. They were now in the town where she grew up, but in a street she was not quite familiar with.

         "Well I'll be damned, sonny," the old man said with a guffaw. "Didn't think she'd be on the road again." He caressed the body of the once pink but now rusty machine gently. "She's precious to me, she is."

         "How so?" Scott asked, his green eyes bright with curiosity.

         "Belonged to my baby girl," the old man said, now scrubbing his eyes with a hand to stop the tears. "She was killed in an accident not too far from here."

         "Oh..."

         "You...you're a robot, ain't ya?"

         Scott jumped as if goosed and looked away in guilt. It was as if he expected to be admonished and for a moment, Veronica felt like screaming that he had nothing to be ashamed about. "Yes, I am," came the quiet reply. "I'm sorry..."

         "What you being sorry for?" the man asked in genuine bemusement. He reached out to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, smiling warmly. "You're about as real as any of them boys out there. Wanna come in for a cuppa with an old geezer like me?"

         "Can I? Really?"

         Veronica had to giggle a little at Scott's eagerness. He looked like a boy who had never had a cup of tea in his life and the old man's laughter was enough to prove just how infectious the robot's response had been. "Well, it ain't the best tea in the world, but sure, sure, it's been a while since I had company. Come on in."

         When did this happen? Veronica wondered as she walked into the clustered but cozy shop. Bicycles of all shapes and sizes, some from years before she was born, filled the tiny space. The old man disappeared into the backroom, muttering something about finding his teabags as Scott seemed to drink in the sight of everything. He touched and prodded gently, his face flushed with delight as his memory banks buzzed with information on what each item was.

         "Here you go, sonny. A cuppa nice hot cocoa for ya."

         "Thank you," came the enthusiastic reply as Scott sat on a chair across the old man's desk. He sipped the drink and sighed in pleasure, eliciting another laugh from his companion.

         "Well now, you're about as real as they come. You can't tell me ya actually tasted that, did you?"

         Scott smiled and placed a hand on his chest. "Yes. It's sweet and I'm not just saying that because I'm programmed to believe that hot cocoa is that way." He held out his hands, a sad smile now on his handsome features. "I just wish people would believe I can actually do that."

         "Hmm...well, I believe you," came the firm reply. "Hey, lookie here, sonny. Know what this is?"

         Scott blinked at the small white object in the man's hand. "It's a bottle cap, sir. One from the early 21st century...used for such products as sodas and - "

         "Yeah, yeah, all that. But it ain't just any bottle cap. It's magical."

         "...magic..al?"

         "You believe in magic, don't you?"

         "Sometimes...Miss Veronica..." His voice faltered and he lowered his gaze. He shook his head and sat up to continue in a much stronger voice. "Miss Veronica thinks it's silly, but I don't."

         "Yah, well you tell Miss 'Ronica, that magic is everywhere, sonny. I want you to have it. Let it bring you the good luck it brought me." The old man winked and placed it in Scott's hand. "Besides, it's the least I can do after you helped me with the bike."

         Scott stared at the dirty old object in his hand as if he had discovered a nugget of gold. Veronica tried not to roll her eyes at the scene, but she wouldn't have anyway. She could now remember this day and why Scott wasn't with her. She had argued with the robot that morning, after he had said that her current boyfriend was cheating on her. It was the first time he had raised his voice in frustration and it had surprised her...a lot. For just a brief moment he had acted so...human. She could remember shoving him out the door of her bedroom and telling him to get lost and how much she hated him. She didn't think he would go wandering around town on his own.

         "You like her, don't ya?"

         "Huh?" Scott looked up bemused and yet with a light blush dusting his cheeks. He had been read easily, since the fight with Miss Veronica still stung.

         The old man smiled. "It's okay, sonny. Like you, I fell for something beyond my reach. She was a robot...pretty fine one too. Used to work across the street there selling pastries and stuff."

         "What happened to her?"

         The old man gave a sigh of regret. "She got scrapped. Got that disease floating around back in the day and didn't make it. I couldn't do anything for her. I only know bikes, son. I didn't know nothing about fixing a robot. But the bottom line, is that you've gotta tell her how you feel."

         "I can't," Scott moaned miserably. "She doesn't...she likes humans."

         "Really?" The old man raised a brow and leaned forward. "Be honest now, sonny. When she's with those humans, do you think she's really happy? How long have you been with her?"

         "Since she was born. I was programmed to do whatever she wanted and..." His voice trailed off again. He bit his lower lip and when he looked up again, Veronica gasped at the tears in his eyes. Tears? Robots didn't cry! They weren't supposed to feel anything!

         "She can't stand me," Scott was saying, now physically trembling. Veronica's mind raced with worry...with fear. He couldn't shut down. He just couldn't! She...she needed him.

         I need him. Dear God, I do.

         "I'm worried that one day she'll eventually get tired of me and send me away," Scott confessed quietly. "I want her to be happy, sir. I want to do anything and everything I can for her. That's why I suffer it quietly. I don't want to ever leave her sight. I want to grow old with her if I can...if she will let me. At least even if she does...find someone to love and have a family with, I would be satisfied just taking care of her children."

         Veronica choked back a sob, a fierce ache within her heart at the words uttered.

         Oh, Scott...

         "And you're just gonna keep loving her in silence, eh?" the old man asked with an understanding smile. "Must be hard for you."

         Scott took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. "But I cannot let her see that, sir. To her, I'll always be a robot, no matter how sophisticated my A.I. is. Sometimes I wish I was immune to such feelings, but it's my curse. It's my -"

         She took off the visor with a fierce yank and gulped for air, feeling as if she had been sent into a spin cycle and her emotions completely wrung out of her. How stupid had she been? All this time she had tried to punish Scott for being inhuman, she had failed to acknowledge what made him so special, what made him so easy to talk to, the only one she could really trust. She now found it hard to look at him, for her heated cheeks burned as his words of affection filled her mind again.

         "Miss...Veronica?" Scott asked quietly, eyes widening in disbelief as she leaned forward to fix back his memory chip. She was close, so close he could almost kiss her if he wanted to, and how he longed for that. She smelled like the tropical flowers of their stay at the Islands, and he closed his eyes with inherent longing, hoping they could remain this way for a while.

         "Scott?" she whispered, her ear pressed gently against his chest as she listened to his heartbeat. It was a low thud, but it was there all the same. A heart. He had indeed had one all this time.

         "Yes, Miss Veronica?"

         "You have my permission to hug me...for as long as you want, whenever you want."

         His eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. Not once had she ever let him do that. She never allowed him to touch her if she could help it but now...just what part of his memory had she seen? He was elated and yet -

         "Miss...Miss Veroni-"

         "And stop adding the damn 'Miss'," she muttered, closing her eyes while hiding a small smile. "It's Veronica. Got it?"

         "Yes...Veronica," came the quiet reply, and as he wrapped his arms around her in a gentle but protective hug, he smiled into the richness of her dark hair, the magical bottle cap now burning a hole in the pocket of his jacket.

-The End-




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