by Bush, J. M.
August picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. After a little while, they made love gently and slowly. There was no rush. It was more about being with one another, and being a part of one another, than finishing. They lost themselves in each other and found a stronger bond than ever before. It was the most intimate and beautiful moment they ever shared together. But it would be the last time either of them ever had sex.
Chapter 22
DAY THREE
So far, today had been perfect for both Samantha and August. They had both woken still wrapped in the spell of the previous night’s lovemaking; both still drunk on the power of that moment together.
They only spoke a few words here and there, preferring the silence of the early morning while they made breakfast together. Afterward, they just sat on opposite ends of the couch with their legs intertwined and read real books, made of real paper. August read a fantasy novel, as usual, and Samantha read an entertaining autobiography written by a hilarious female comedian. At lunchtime, they finally broke the silence with the sound of their grumbling stomachs.
“Sweets, I think our bellies are trying to tell us something,” she said with a laugh.
August looked down at his stomach and shushed it, saying, “You can’t tell me what to do, Steve.”
Samantha arched an eyebrow at the man she had been with for years, and with a very curious tone said, “Steve? You… you named your stomach Steve?”
He merely shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head, and answered, “He never used to be big enough to have a name, but years of eatin’ your cookin’ have made him large and in charge. He’s earned a formal title.”
Samantha looked at him like August had lost his marbles and said, “And you went with Steve…”
“As gGood a name as any,” he told her. “Now, despite what I just told Steve, he can actually tell me what to do, and often does. Let’s fill him up. I’m thinkin’ we can make some sandwiches and hit Poplar Head Park for a little picnic. What say you, wench?”
“Wench? Don’t go using your fantasy novel lingo on me, sweets,” she said, and then muttered under her breath, “What say you… I swear to the Lord above.”
They laughed together,; with their legs still intertwined on the couch. August got off of the sofa and bowed deeply, saying, “Verily, m’lady.”
He was in the kitchen long before the book flew at him from his wife’s perch.
After lunch, they took a walk down South Foster and over to West Main Street. They walked by where the diner used to be. Standing there, holding hands, they reminisced about days gone by. They talked about Tara, and how much Samantha missed her still. They spoke of the man who brought them together, John.
“He was so sweet in the diner that day,” she recalled. “He was about to cry because he couldn’t pay for his pie. Come to find out that he wanted it so bad because it was his ex-wife’s recipe. I mean… how beautiful is that, sweets?”
August nodded and said, “Man, that old fella was somethin’ else. It had been so long since I had met someone that kind. Not since my granny had passed, I guess.”
“You know, if it hadn’t been for Montek we might not have ended up together,” Samantha regretfully admitted. “They put out the coupon, which brought both you and John to the diner that day.”
August hated to admit it, but she was right. Montek did have a lot to do with their getting together.
“Yeah, that did get us to meet for the second time,” he said begrudgingly. “But I think what truly brought us together was, and I hate to say it, but it was John’s accident outside of the diner. When you called to tell me how he had been hit by an AutoCar and was in the clinic, and then asked me to be there with you to ease his passing? Well, I knew you were good inside. I wanted to be there for John, yeah, absolutely. But I wanted to be there with you, too.”
Samantha looked into his bright eyes. He looked back and squeezed her hand forcefully.
“You’re right, sweets,” she said. “And then to find out he was Cheryl’s ex-husband, and that he was giving the diner to me… and the house, too! It was fate. It was all destiny. God had a hand in everything. I just know it.”
August sighed. He still wasn’t sure if he believed in God. As an inventor, or tinkerer, he had made the SameSoul with science, and it was going to change the world very soon. Most people weren’t very religious anymore, so August was certain a vast majority of the world would love to live forever inside of a robot. But Sam kept holding onto the belief that there was a Heaven, and that a soul should be free to move on. August didn’t necessarily agree.
“Maybe, babe. Maybe he did,” August said, not wanting to argue about faith in that perfectly beautiful moment.
“She, sweets,” Sam said with a wink. “God is a woman.”
Suddenly, August felt something hit him in the shoulder with the force of a truck. He spun around awkwardly to see an old lady walking by with a Montek.Automaton at her side. Her robot was what had clipped August so hard.
He listened as they talked to one another. It was a newer model, one that had his tech in it. Not the SameSoul, though. It was too soon for Montek to have gotten that into production. No, it was the improvements he had made to the body, voice systems, and BrainSave that he could detect just by watching and listening.
The body type was newer and more human-like, suspiciously looking like Woodrow 2.0. The voice sounded less robotic and more like what this woman’s husband. One of the innovations he had made was a vocal capture in the BrainSave that could emulate the deceased’s voice based on a sample. And the way the automaton responded to the old woman; they were having a conversation. It was wonderful to see his work affecting someone in such a positive way. He didn’t even mind his sore shoulder at that moment.
“Sam, do you see that?” he said, pointing to the old woman.
Samantha had not been paying attention to any of it and was still looking at the site of her old diner. Cheryl’s old restaurant. She was still thinking of all the meals she had cooked inside, and all the wonderful smells that used to permeate this area because of that extraordinary old place. It was all gone now and had been for a while. But Samantha could still see it in her mind’s eye.
“Hmm? What’s that, sweets?” she answered dreamily, turning around to look at her husband, and letting go of his hand.
“That old lady and her automaton,” he said, still pointing. “Ain’t it great? That could be us one day, you know, only much better with the SameSoul. If only I could find the damn thing.” Revisiting that frustration, he kicked at a loose stone on the ground… and fell.
Samantha grabbed at his hand, but it was no good. He fell right onto his ass. Hard. She covered her mouth to stifle a gasp, but when she saw the look on his face, Sam burst out laughing.
“Not funny, babe. I think I broke my coccyx,” he said with a stifled laugh and a smile.
His wife laughed even harder now; bent over at the knees, gasping for air and tears streaming from her eyes.
August stood up, dusted off his jeans, and joined in the laughter, saying, “You know, Sam, I’m startin’ to think you ain’t as good-hearted as I once believed.”
She tried to stop giggling to apologize, but couldn’t stop.
“I’m…sorry…sweets. Oh my gosh,” she somehow got out between laughs, “I needed that. Thank you.”
August gave her a theatrical bow for the second time that day and said, “Happy to be of service, m’lady. Now why don’t we head over to…,” but he was interrupted as he stepped off of the curb, into the path of a fast-approaching AutoCar.
Samantha tried to stop him and failed once again.
“August! Look out!” she screamed.
The AutoCar passenger was reading a newspaper and letting the vehicle do the driving. It detected a new obstacle in it’s path, and moved to avoid August without slowing.
It was not enough.
The AutoCar slammed into him, not fully, but enough to send August flying into the road.
He lay there bleeding and silent. The machine drove on, never even stopping.
Chapter 23
DAY FIVE
August woke suddenly. His heart was racing as he looked frantically from side to side, trying to figure out where the hell he was. The recognition wasn’t instant, as his head was thick with pain and veiled in a mental fog. But August soon realized he was in the clinic on West Main Street. Recognition hit him as August saw one of the heartless nurses who let John die, years before. He even spared a moment to wonder why the man still worked here.
August was hooked up to several machines, and his arm lay at his side in a cast. He looked in the mirror mounted on the wall beside the bed, and saw that his face was a mess of scrapes and bruises. The rest of his body just about matched that look.
August glanced at the news vid playing on the monitor built into his bed-table and saw the date.
“Oh dear God, I’ve missed an entire day…”
Pulling at the lines in his arms and the tube in his nose, he called for a nurse. The other terrible nurse came striding into the room at the sound of the beeps from the machines, more than to August’s calls.
“Patient Lurie, stop that. You’re only making things worse. Just lie back and I’ll drug you up so you can sleep,” the nurse said.
August pushed the horrible man away from him, and yelled, “NO! Don’t you dare put anythin’ in me. You’ll regret it if you do. Where is my wife?”
The nurse scrunched up his face and said, “Fine, I won’t help you. You just go ahead and hurt yourself worse. I don’t give a damn.”
August grabbed at the rude man and yelled into his face, “WHERE IS MY WIFE?”
The nurse’s face took on a look of fear as he backed away and tried to pry Patient Lurie’s strong hands from his scrubs.
“Who? I mean, what… what does she look like? Maybe I saw her,” the nurse stammered pleadingly.
“She’s a Chinese woman, Southern accent, long, black hair… calls everyone sweets,” August said, describing the love of his life.
The nurse’s eyes opened wider in recognition and even rolled a little before thinking better of it, as he said, “Oh, her. She’s been storming around the clinic for a whole day now, talking to everyone who will listen about waking her husband up. I guess that’s you. Well, I saw her leaving about an hour ago. Probably, your wife just wants to change clothes and shower. She’s been here for too damn long if you ask my opinion.”
August let go of the man’s scrubs, who then fell back a few steps as a result.
“I didn’t ask you your opinion,” he told the wretched nurse. “Now get out of my way. I’m going home. I’ll be back later to sign any paperwork.”
The nurse started to protest, but at a glare from August he just nodded in agreement and left the room in a hurry.
Getting home wasn’t exactly easy for August. He had just been hit by an AutoCar two days ago and had suffered a broken arm and two ribs, not to mention the cuts and bruises covering the rest of him.
He had done his best to change back into his own clothes, but they weren’t in the best condition, and neither was he. The result was a shirt buttoned improperly, which created a very crooked appearance. That coupled with the blood on the garment made him look frightful. His pants were on, but August couldn’t find his belt, so he had one hand holding them up, the other hand held his shoes. There were no socks either.
August had no idea how he was going to get home, but knew he needed to see his wife as soon as possible. He began hobbling down the street in the direction of their home.
“You look terrible, Mr. Lurie,” a familiar voice said.
August glanced to the side and saw Joshua Stevens had just pulled up next to him in an AutoCar.
“I feel it, too, Mr. Stevens,” August admitted. “Look, I need a ride to my house. Could you please give me a lift? I’d greatly appreciate it.”
Mr. Stevens eyed the bloody clothes and almost said no, but August had just made Joshua a very rich man, so he didn’t especially care about the interior of this AutoCar. He was going to buy a new and more luxurious one tomorrow.
“Get in, Mr. Lurie,” he said without question.
August went to open the passenger side door, but hesitated and said, “Before I get in, tell me one thing. Did you steal my SameSoul prototype?”
Joshua looked aghast and said, “Why the hell would I do that? You sold us the blueprints. I can just make one now; I don’t need yours.”
“Damn,” August said to himself, deciding to worry about it later.
Right now he needed to get home to Sam.
He got into the car, slammed the door shut, and said to Mr. Stevens, “Drive. Fast.”
They pulled up to the Lurie family home soon after, and August exited the car without a word to Joshua Stevens.
“Goodbye, Mr. Lurie,” he called after August.
The AutoCar peeled off, going way too fast for this street. He should probably slow down. There were kids in this neighborhood.
August tore open the front door and started yelling out for his wife, “Sam! Are you here? Babe?” He ran to every door and threw them open, shouting all the while, “Sam! Babe! I’m home! Where are you?”
August hoped he hadn’t missed her. He hoped she wasn’t headed back to the clinic while he was on the way here. If she was, how would he get back? August couldn’t ride a bike in this condition. He sat down on the couch to catch his breath, starting to feel woozy from all the physical activity. He closed his eyes for just a moment, and the lanterns automatically dimmed their light.
He woke to the sound of the doorbell.
Shit! He had fallen asleep. It wasn’t his fault; August was still in immense amounts of pain as the meds were wearing off, and his body was trying to help.
The doorbell rang again.
August struggled to his feet and made his way to the front door. The lanterns followed him.
“Sam! Is that you?” he called out, as he pulled the door open as quickly as he could in this wounded state. Standing there was not his wife, but a man in a white coat.
“Dr. Granger?” August asked, his voice full of confusion. “What are you doin’ here? Look, I’m real sorry I left without fillin’ out the proper paperwork; it’s just that I needed to find my wife. You understand, right?”
Dr. Granger shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care and said, “We’ve got all of your information on file, Patient Lurie. Your leaving the clinic so soon won’t deprive me of my payment. I’ll get it, don’t you worry about that. I’m here to give you this.”
Dr. Granger handed over a large envelope with a bulge in the bottom, and August accepted it curiously.
“What is it, doc?” he asked.
“I know you and your wife don’t seem to think so,” Dr. Granger said, aggravated, “but I’m a very busy man. I don’t normally do stuff like this, but she paid me an exorbitant amount of money to deliver this package to you and to… perform other duties that I’m sure will be detailed inside that envelope.”
With that, Dr. Granger turned around and walked to the street where he had parked his AutoCar. August, standing on the front doorstep in between the lanterns, was at a loss for words momentarily.
When he found them, August called out, “Dr. Granger, you were with my wife today? Where is she? Is she back at the clinic?”
The “good” doctor didn’t even slow his stride or turn around.
“No,” Dr. Granger called back over his shoulder. “She’s dead.”
Chapter 24
I’M SORRY
She’s dead? What the hell was Dr. Granger talking about? The nurse had said she was just at the clinic this morning.
“Doc! Doc! What do you mean?” August screamed after him, hobbling as fast as he could to reach the AutoCar just before it pulled away.
The “good” doctor rolled down the window looking irritated, and said, “Just open the envelope and read the letter inside, Patient Lurie. Then get back to the cl
inic as soon as you can so we can clean you up. You don’t want to get an infection. Or maybe you do. I don’t care.”
He peeled off faster than he should on this street. He should probably slow down. There were children in this neighborhood.
August sat down on the front lawn and tore open the large envelope. Inside there were two items and a letter. He ignored everything else and pulled the handwritten note out, and as he read the first two lines, he began to wail mournfully, tears falling from his eyes like a heavy rain.
August. My love. I’m sorry. I ached to tell you before, but I didn’t want to spoil your plans. I didn’t want us to spend our last few days together in sadness. They have been wonderful days, haven’t they? You see, my Countdown started five days ago…
Suddenly, August stopped reading and stood up angrily. Still crying, and with a shattered heart, he could barely breathe with the agony inside of his chest. But he was also pissed beyond belief.
“How could you do this to me, Sam?!” he screamed into the night. “You know what I went through with Granny! YOU KNEW IT! Now I gotta go through it all over again, and this time, it’s worse! WHY? Why did you do this?”
He fell back to his knees and sobbed on all fours. A sudden wave of nausea swept over him, and August threw up in the grass. He heard voices and saw that a few neighbors had heard his yells and were staring at him from their front doors. Not wanting to continue reading the letter here and now, he stood up and stumbled back inside, slamming the door behind him, and feeling lost. This house wasn’t his home anymore; not without Sam. It seemed like some strange, foreign land to him, when suddenly he felt very sick again and ran to the toilet.
After composing himself somewhat, August went into the bedroom and sat on the bed. The covers were still down from the last time they had woken together. He reached out and touched her pillow. Fresh tears fell from his eyes and he found the strength to read more of the letter.