Mechanical

by Pauline C. Harris

  “Turn here. Go two miles, turn left on Grande Road.”

  Michael followed my instructions and turned in the direction I pointed. “So, what do you think would be a good career for me?” he asked.

  “Well, I don’t think I know you well enough,” I answered. “What are you good at?”

  He snorted. “Nothing.”

  “I’ll bet that’s not true.”

  “Well...”

  “I could see you as a doctor,” I said, interrupting him.

  He shot me an incredulous look. “A doctor? Why?”

  “I don’t know. You just look like one.” I looked at him innocently.

  “Okay. Now that’s settled,” he replied teasingly. “We now have our careers mapped out for ourselves. But you gotta promise me one thing; when you’re a rich and famous writer one day, don’t forget about me. Remember? That guy from high school who gave you a ride home that one time?”

  I laughed. “Like I’ll ever get rich and famous,” I replied sarcastically.

  “You just wait and see,” Michael said.

  I had been so caught up in the conversation I hadn’t noticed how close to the Institution we were. “Stop here,” I said quickly.

  He looked confused. “Where do you live?”

  “I’ll walk from here...the driveway ... its hard to get into,” I lied.

  “Oh ... okay.” He slowly pulled the car to a stop.

  I hopped out and he handed me my bag. “Thanks for the ride,” I said.

  “No problem.”

  “Jessica said you never give her rides.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Because she’s no fun to talk to in the car like you are.”

  I laughed. “Well, I have to go.”

  “See you tomorrow, Drew,” he said.

  “Bye.” I shut the car door and watched as he drove off. I walked a few blocks and soon the Institution come into view. Suddenly I stopped, seeing the building in a different way. Before it had always just been where I lived, my life, my reality.

  For a few moments in the car, I had actually believed that I could someday become a writer. I shook my head, wondering how I could’ve even thought that about myself. For a moment, I had believed I could take a job in an office, become a famous writer and be a normal person, like Michael. I had been silly to think I could be even remotely like a human. I had been stupid. The Institution was holding me back and it always would.

  I was an android. I wasn’t a real person. I told myself this a few times as I headed up the front steps. As I walked into the lobby, my dreams of Jessica, Michael, friends, and writing—a life—vanished behind the cold metal doors.

  * * * *

  I sat on the bed in my room, staring at the pile of finished homework that lay beside me. I had nothing else to do. That was mostly the reason I had brought it home in the first place. I knew that I could have finished it at school but instead, thinking ahead, I had brought it home.

  What did normal kids do after they were finished with their homework? I didn’t know because I wasn’t normal. They probably just went off and did whatever they wanted to. After all, they had family, friends and agendas. I had nothing. Nothing but white walls. I fell back on the bed and closed my eyes.

  I felt so empty. The other kids at school seemed to be much happier than I. They seemed to be living for something.

  Did I even have a reason to live? The creators had told me that my purpose was to fulfill my mission. That was a reason, wasn’t it?

  But was it a good enough reason for me?

  I rolled over, opened my eyes and stared around the room. Why was I the empty one and not other people? What made them different?

  I knew the answer, I just didn’t like it. It made me feel worthless and unessential. Like I was unwanted.

  I was mechanical. It was the answer to everything. Why can’t I do this? Why am I this way? Why are they different? Why is this hard for me?

  Because you’re mechanical, Drew.

  Chapter Twelve

  “...the kingdom of God is open to all who believe in Him,” Mrs. Stoll finished reading the paragraph out of the theology book. “So,” she went on, putting it down. “Anyone who believes in God and lives by His commandments will be welcome in His kingdom. Now, can anyone find similarities between Christianity and other religions we’ve studied?”

  A hand was raised and Mrs. Stoll gestured to the girl. “Well most of them deal with a god, or the God,” the girl commented.

  “Souls,” somebody else interjected and I turned their way. “You need a soul. You need to be able to believe in it.”

  “Good point, Tiffany,” Mrs. Stoll said. “This is a reason we have souls; so that we can have choices and choose to believe or not to believe in things.”

  “But is a soul really necessary?” someone else asked doubtfully. “I mean, we can’t really identify a soul. What is it? Who’s to say whether we have one or we don’t?”

  Mrs. Stoll nodded thoughtfully. “This is another thing that can be considered a belief, I suppose; your view on souls or if they even exist. I, personally, believe they do and are essential to you as a person. I think it defines who we are and what makes us a living, reasoning being.” I heard mumbles of agreement throughout the classroom.

  Just then, the bell rang. Students sprang from their seats and headed for the door. I started for my locker thinking about the discussion. I had never thought about the fact that you needed to have choices or ways of defining yourself. A soul, apparently, was important.

  Suddenly I stopped dead in my tracks. People pushed past me irritably, but I paid them no attention. You’re not a real person. You’re not really alive. That’s what they had told me. I was an android, not a human. I wasn’t a person. I wasn’t alive. I was nothing. But if I wasn’t a person, wasn’t a human, didn’t have life ...

  Then I didn’t have a soul.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Yvonne, have you ever thought about ... I don’t know ... believing in something?” I asked, my voice echoing eerily throughout the large, empty room.

  She looked slightly puzzled. “What do you mean?” she mumbled, not even bothering to look up from the book she was reading.

  “Well ... like something that’s greater than us. That created us, maybe.”

  Yvonne snorted disdainfully. “Drew. We’re androids; there’s nothing greater than us.” She laughed like I had just supposed the world was flat. “And besides, I already know who created us. The creators.” She smirked.

  “Yvonne, I’m serious.”

  She gave me an annoyed look. “No, I don’t ever think about believing in things I can’t touch or see. It’s stupid.”

  I sighed and looked away. After a few moments I asked, “Do you know if we have souls?” I whispered this, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

  She shook her head, as if irritated by my interrogation. “Why does it even matter?”

  “Well ... I just wondered.”

  “What’s going on with you? You’re acting weird ...” She frowned at me, her brows furrowing. “Well quite frankly, I don’t care if we have souls. We’re fine with or without them.”

  I was silent for a few moments, just staring off into space.

  Eventually Yvonne closed her book and turned to me. “So, how is the mission going?”

  “Fine,” I answered. “It’s strange, the way different people behave outside the Institution.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’ve gotten used to it.” Her tone suggested she felt she was more experienced, better than I was. I didn’t let it bother me.

  “How’s it going with you?”

  She shrugged. “They’re humans.” Then she laughed. “They bug me.”

  “Oh.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “So I heard you spent the night at a girl’s house,” she added.

  “Yeah...”

  “So...how was it?” she asked halfheartedly as though she thought it would be nothing more than trivial,
but I could hear the curiosity hidden in her voice.

  “It was fun.”

  She gave me an odd look then dropped the subject. “I heard,” she whispered, leaning in. “That we—you and I—are involved in a huge mission.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “That our little missions are part of one great big one.”

  I looked at her. “How did you hear that?” I asked, suddenly intrigued.

  She smiled smugly. “I have ways.”

  I wondered what important mission she could be talking about. Considering I wasn’t up to speed with Yvonne and that I had basically just ignored Glen this whole weekend, I probably wasn’t going to be let in on it anytime soon. I felt a cloud of frustration settle around me. I was frustrated with Glen for not believing in me and also frustrated with myself because deep down I couldn’t help but feel it was my fault that I wasn’t being trusted.

  “I guess it's why they brought you back,” Yvonne said. “Although I don’t know why they didn’t just use a more experienced android ... but you seem to be doing a good job.”

  I nodded, recognizing the comment as Yvonne’s twisted way of giving a compliment.

  “You know, only you and I and a few others are involved in this mission, apparently,” Yvonne said.

  “Who are the others?”

  “Last I heard, it was Ryan, Jeremy and Abby, but more and more people are being brought back for this mission. It must be important.”

  “Weird ... I wonder what the whole mission is. Do you know?” I asked her, hoping she was feeling generous and in an explanatory mood.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “But I’m going to find out.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” I asked, skeptical.

  “I have my ways, Drew.” She gave me a sly look. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I want you to write a paper,” Miss Clark declared from the front of the classroom, wearing a smile on her face as if this task would be something exciting and enjoyable.

  When the class moaned in unison, Miss Clark frowned at everyone.

  “Oh come on, guys,” she said. “It’s not a hard one. All I want you to do is write a paper on something that is important to you. It can be anything, as long as you put some thought into it and it really matters to you.”

  “What do you want it to be on?” one girl asked uncertainly.

  “I just told you. Anything that you care about,” Miss Clark answered.

  “But I don’t know what to do,” the girl whined.

  Miss Clark looked thoughtful. “It could be anything. What matters to you, Hannah?” she asked the girl. Miss Clark leaned against the edge of her desk with one leg extended, her palms grasping the edge for balance. “Well, you’ll think of something.”

  When the girl gave her a despairing look, Miss Clark tried again. “Just reach down into your soul and find something there to write about. The eyes are the windows to your soul, look there,” she said, spreading her arms out in an imitation of some dramatic poet.

  Some of the class laughed, although most of them just looked disgruntled.

  I didn’t. I stared at her in wonder. The eyes are the windows to your soul? Was that really true? The phrase stuck to my mind and wouldn’t let go. It had power and I wondered how, when the words were so small and simple.

  Just then, the bell rang and students jumped up around me, but I wasn’t watching them. I was staring blankly ahead of me, lost in thought.

  “Hey Drew, what are you doing your paper on?” I vaguely heard Michael’s voice waft through my thoughts.

  “Um ... I don’t know yet,” I said, standing up quickly.

  “Well ...”

  “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you later,” I said quickly and hurried out of the room. I rushed past kids in the hallway, pushing my way through the crowd and ignoring any rude comments flung my way. I hurriedly ran into the girl’s bathroom and stood in front of the mirror.

  “You gonna puke?” a girl standing next to me asked, eyeing me suspiciously as she applied her lip-gloss.

  I shook my head, barely even acknowledging her as I stared into the mirror. The girl gave me a strange look and left the bathroom, as if she didn’t want to be caught alone with the insane new girl.

  I stared at my eyes. They stared back at me—confused, desperate, searching. I tried to look past the deep blue color and see into my soul ... if there was one there to see. I don’t know how long I stood there, looking intently into my eyes, but eventually someone entered the bathroom.

  “Drew, are you okay?”

  I turned to see my fourth period social studies teacher standing there, watching me with concern.

  “Yeah,” I said, turning away from the mirror.

  “Are you going to come to class?”

  I nodded. I let myself be walked back to class but during the entire time, I wasn’t thinking about social studies. I was thinking about the mirror.

  The eyes are the windows to your soul.

  Did that mean if I looked hard enough I would see mine? Tears started to blur my vision. I had to look away and blink profusely until they left. I had stood in the bathroom staring into the supposed windows to my soul for almost an hour. Just staring and waiting; hoping I might see something.

  Anything.

  I had seen nothing because maybe there was no soul to see.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So what are you doing your paper on?” Michael asked as we were walking down the school hallway. The corridor was crowded. We had to walk single file and push our way through the crowd, but Michael didn’t seem daunted or put off. He just shoved his way through to walk beside me.

  My mind went blank for a moment. Oh. The paper. I had completely forgotten. “I don’t know yet ... when’s it due?” I asked.

  “Not for awhile,” Michael assured me, trying to wrestle his way through the throngs of students so he could remain walking beside me.

  “Oh good,” I replied.

  “So what do you think it’ll be on?”

  I laughed. “Why do you want to know?”

  He angled his head in thought. “’Cause it’s about what you really care about and I would like to know what you care about.” His eyes were sparkling, no hint of sarcasm or embarrassment.

  I gave him an amused look. “Why?”

  “Why not?” he asked, his brown eyes glinting.

  I stared at him for a minute. He had a nice smile—a really nice smile. Suddenly my stomach did something. Something weird. I didn’t know what it was, but it was a strange, clenching yet freeing feeling. Like the kind of feeling you get on a roller coaster, flying up and down the track, screaming with excitement, yet fear.

  “Oh, here’s my class,” I said, noticing we had come up to the P.E. room. I looked back at Michael, trying to rid myself of the strange phenomenon that seemed to have taken a hold of my entire mind and body. I felt my face growing hot. Could I blush? Wasn’t I mechanically incapable of blushing? I hoped so.

  “Okay, see you around, Drew,” Michael called, walking away.

  “Bye.” I watched him vanish into the crowd.

  I shook my head and hurried into the locker room to change, and soon I was out in the gym with the rest of the class.

  “Okay guys,” Ms. Webster called. “Today, we’re going to be running laps.”

  The girls around me groaned, tightening their ponytails and adjusting their shoelaces, getting ready.

  “Okay, let’s move it,” she ordered.

  The girls slowly started jogging in a circle around the court. I followed their lead, quickly getting into a rhythm of running and easily performing my task. I regulated my breathing; in, two steps, out, two steps. Soon every care dissipated and I focused solely on running.

  In a little while, I noticed quite a few of the girls were lagging behind and breathing heavily. Before I knew it, I was in the lead.

  “How can you ... do that?” Caroline asked breathlessly. She was running just a fe
w feet behind me.

  “Do what?” I was starting to get panicky and self-conscious, losing my momentary composure as I glanced around the room.

  “Not even break a sweat. You ... don’t even look tired,” she gasped between breaths.

  I'd never had to worry much about physical fatigue. Yes, I could get tired, but apparently not as easily as the average human. Glancing around, I realized that the rest of the girls looked absolutely exhausted and I was glad I hadn’t been made with features similar to a human’s physical capacity. I looked back at Caroline to say something when I heard my name called.

  “Drew, look out!” someone cried. But before I knew what she was talking about, I ran straight into the bleachers, falling over myself multiple times and landing on my back.

  “Drew, are you okay?” Caroline cried, bending over me. I noticed Ms. Webster was there also and I wondered how she had gotten across the gym so quickly.

  “Go to the nurse,” she told me.

  “The nurse? But, I’m fine,” I protested, shaking my head and sitting up.

  She shook her head. “I saw how you fell. You hit your head a few times. Hard, it looked like.”

  “But—”

  “Go,” she ordered. I immediately got up and headed for the doors.

  I walked down the deserted hallway, my shoes squeaking on the clean, waxed floor until I reached the nurse’s office.

  “Hello,” the nurse said to me as I walked in. She smiled, her cheeks dimpling. “Now, what have we got here?”

  “I’m fine, really,” I assured her, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Ms. Webster just told me to come. I fell on the bleachers and she wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  “Alrighty then,” the nurse said, motioning for me to have a seat on the bench.

  I sat down and watched as she pulled out some glasses from her purse on the desk. She walked over and immediately picked up my arm to start examining it. I felt her fingers on my skin, cold, but gentle, sending shivers up my arm. I looked around the room at the human anatomy posters and health tips littering the walls and wondered for a moment if my insides looked even remotely similar. The creators modeled us after humans so maybe I was set up the same way except ... mechanically.