All at once, we chuckle and exhale. Victoria laughs, a light, flighty, innocent laugh, and I find myself falling in love with her all over again.
“That’s excellent, Julie!” I exclaim. “How about you and I go to the library after dinner and pick up the original play? This way, you can study it and truly grasp Juliet’s tragedy.”
“Oh, thank you, Daddy!” Julie beams, “I was afraid to ask because I thought you’d be too busy! Thank you!”
“I’m never too busy for my children,” I reply, feeling paternal pride at their successes.
There is still one more, and he seems withdrawn.
“Chris?”
My youngest son jumps when I say his name. I only now realize that he hasn’t touched his food, and he seems pale. His eyes are wide as he looks at me.
“Y-yes, Dad?”
“Chris,” I remind him gently, “How many times do I have to say it? Call me Daddy, son.”
Chris quickly nods.
“O-okay, Daddy.” He emphasizes the word.
“There, that’s better. Now, would you like to share your day with us?”
Chris’ eyes dart to his waiting siblings and mother, who patiently sit, staring.
“Um, nothing special happened,” he says quickly.
I wait, but he says nothing further. Strange, he never stuttered before. Almost like… No. I mustn’t think back.
“Nothing?” I finally inquire. “Nothing at all?”
“Nope. It was just another day at school, Daddy. But I am really, really looking forward to going tomorrow, okay?”
Julie laughs and pats her little brother on the back.
“You are such an ambitious boy, Chris.”
“I was the same way when I was his age, wasn’t I, Daddy?”
Alexander looks at me as he asks his question.
I nod, smiling broadly.
“Absolutely, Alexander, and look where it’s taken you. Chris, you’re a good boy for wanting to become educated. You’ll go far in life, I promise.”
I can’t tell if Chris is breathing. He hasn’t blinked in forty-five seconds. I believe he’s sweating. Is he coming down with something? The stammer is new; he may need improvement. He nods quickly, too quickly, recoiling under his sister’s touch.
“T-thank you, Daddy.”
I motion to my beautiful family, “Now, let’s enjoy this meal your mother was kind enough to cook.”
“Aren’t you forgetting someone, Daddy?” Julie asks me.
“Oh! Victoria!” I exclaim, “I’m so sorry! How was your day, sweetheart?”
Victoria looks at me as though she’s surprised I called her name. She holds up a finger, laughing as she swallows her food.
“Oh, you needn’t worry about me. I love hearing how our children are progressing. Especially little Chris.”
She reaches over to rub his head. He flinches at her touch. I wonder about Chris.
“Well, my day was…” She trails off, playing with her salad as she ponders the right words. “...eventful, I guess you could say. I was out doing the shopping when a very strange man approached me.”
“Strange? How so?” I inquire.
“Well, he was certain that he knew me, although I was more than certain I had never heard of him.”
That’s not terribly unusual.
“Everyone makes mistakes, honey. Pay it no mind.”
“Oh, I didn’t, dear. It’s just that he was so certain! He was even mentioning things that, um…” She uncomfortably glances at the children and giggles nervously. “Well, things I can’t repeat in front of our children.”
That is very unusual.
“Please, dear, keep going.”
“Well, his name was Thomas, and he approached me as though we were old friends. He seemed like a nice enough gentleman, but I am a happily married woman, and there are just certain ways men are not to speak to or touch married women.”
I make a mental note of the name Thomas. Victoria continues.
“When I put him in his place, he seemed apologetic, but he began to recall times when he and I, apparently, used to do very interesting things! Honey, I know my memory is a little spotty at times, but please tell me, were we ever separated?”
“No.”
“Wow, then he was making up some very lurid stories about him and me sneaking off together and even making plans to be together! He said it all stopped after I came home two years ago, but what an imagination the man had!”
I have a hard time looking at my food, my children, anything. I have a hard time controlling this rage that came from nowhere, having known so little of Victoria’s private life. I had known there were problems, but this…this was beyond redemption.
“This man…Thomas…” I mask the anger in my voice, “Did he say where he lived? Where he was staying?”
“You know,” Victoria went on as if just then remembering some detail of the conversation with Thomas, “He did, in fact, leave me a business card. He told me to call him if I ever needed anything. You know, it was very odd, but towards the end of the conversation, it was almost as though he were afraid for me!” She laughs out loud, “As if I could be in any danger!”
My family joins in her laughter and look for me to join in. I smile, which reassures them. Inside, I’m seething. How could I have known so little of what went on in my own house?
I am calmed down by a flashing reminder as to why I began my work two years ago. Since then, my household had been running perfectly. That was all that mattered. Still, there was this to attend to.
“Victoria, your honesty is a shining example for our children. Would you please pass me that business card?”
“Dad, what’re you gonna do?” Chris blurts out the question.
It takes me a second to compose myself before replying, and I try not to let my glower burn into Chris.
“Daddy is going to call the man and talk to him, that’s all. Mommy is right. Men should never speak to married women in a certain way, and Daddy is just going to remind him of that.”
Chris says nothing. Alexander and Julie nod in admiration of me, as they should.
I look back to Victoria, who has gone back to her meal. “Victoria?” I extend my hand, “The card, please?”
“Oh!” Victoria says with a start, giggling and rising. She fishes the small business card out of her pocket and passes it to Julie, who passes it to Alexander, who passes it to me. I notice for the first time that Chris has not stopped staring at me, and his eyes are accusing.
I don’t address him. Instead, I look at the business card. It belongs to one Thomas Moyer, who, regrettably, lives in the city. The card states his business as a private investigator, and he works out of his home, which is in one of the more run-down areas in the city. I wonder what Victoria may have ever seen in this filth, but it’s in the past now, no need to dwell on it.
I look around the table to my children, smiling. Only Chris does not return the gesture. I extend my hands to all of them, maintaining the façade of perfection.
“Come now. Let’s not let all of this wonderful food your mother made go to waste! Your mother had a brief episode at the grocery store by what was clearly a lonely, desperate man hoping for some attention from a beautiful woman. We will not dwell on it any longer. Let’s eat!”
“Especially,” Victoria finishes, “because it was a G-rated episode.”
We all chuckle briefly, and I cut into my steak. One bite reveals a fatal error; the meat is too tender, too chewy, and I feel blood ooze between my teeth.
I retch, spitting the rare meat back onto my plate.
“Oh, dear!” Victoria exclaims, rising suddenly. “I’m so sorry! I thought you said you wanted your meat medium rare!”
“Medium well, Victoria,” I correct her, trying to keep my anger from erupting. No matter how many times we go through this, she just can’t seem to get it right. “Sit down. We’ll address it later.”
“Dad, it’s not that big a deal.”
I do not like the rebellious tone Chris uses toward me. I look sharply at him.
“I have told you not to meddle in the affairs of adults, young man.”
I do not like the look he gives me. The boy clearly must be dealt with.
“Would you like my steak, Daddy?” Julie asks.
She’s so sweet.
I shake my head, moving to the Caesar salad in the separate bowl that Victoria has prepared.
“No, Julie. You go ahead and eat your food. But thank you for offering.”
We eat the rest of our meal in silence. I curse myself, and the work that lies ahead. Where did I go wrong with Victoria? Why is this never exactly as it should be?
When the meal is complete, Julie, Alexander, and Chris clear the table without saying anything. Chris nearly drops my plate. Something is wrong with him, but Victoria must be addressed first. The children excuse themselves to their homework, leaving Victoria and me alone.
She looks up at me with reddened eyes. She knows.
“Come, Victoria,” I say gently. I try to make this as easy on her as possible. “To the bedroom.”
“I…I really thought you said…”
“I know.” I almost feel sorry for her. “But I didn’t. If you search your memory, you’ll recall the truth. And…mistakes…can only be tolerated for so long. Now come.”
Victoria takes her time in dabbing the corners of her mouth before slowly pushing away from the table. She keeps her eyes down. She folds her hands in front of her and exits through the kitchen behind her, and from there, she heads up the stairs to the bedroom. No sounds can be heard from the rooms in the hall. The children are doing homework as they should. I follow her into the bedroom and close the door. She whirls on me suddenly.
“Will…will it hurt?” she asks, afraid.
I smile.
“No, dear. You won’t feel a thing. I promise.”
“O…okay.” She begins crying. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
I nod. The time for apologies has passed.
“On your knees, please.”
She obeys dutifully, turning around, and kneeling. She lowers her head.
I reach over to the dresser to a bronze lockbox that can only be opened by my fingerprint. I touch my index finger to the reader on the front of the box, and the lock gives, allowing the box to open. Within is a .45 automatic handgun, unregistered, of course, and a silencer. I affix the silencer to the handgun and turn back to Victoria, who has not moved. I lower the muzzle of the gun to her head and with no hesitation, squeeze the trigger.
Her body flops forward, thrown to the ground by the terrible force of the bullet I just fired through her brain. Her head explodes in a beautiful, visual symphonic delight as gray brain matter, combined with my own rainbow of colored wiring and green circuitry are suddenly and violently revealed for my perusal.
Were I a surgeon, this process would be much less enjoyable. But I confess it is this part I love the most, seeing what I have created splayed about, the first impressions of what was right and what must be perfected.
Victoria’s head is more pieces than I can count; no one would ever be able to identify her. The shredded stub of her neck spits blood and oil onto the floor. I’ll need to have one of the children clean it up while I rebuild.
I replace the gun in the bronze lockbox and quickly slip on a pair of latex gloves. I squat, quickly rifling through the remnants of my wife’s cybernetic mind and — there.
Reinforcing the Black Box in titanium proved a wise idea; it survived the bullet. With the first two models, rebuilding had taken weeks. People had begun getting suspicious, but I had alluded that Victoria was enjoying her time in Italy and I, being the good husband, had no problem with my wife wanting to better herself. To make the story complete, I had programmed Victoria 2.0 with the ability to speak Italian like a native. No one had been the wiser.
Unfortunately, Victoria 2.0 had the audacity to question me in front of my children. Clearly, more work was needed. I originally had such high hopes for Victoria 3.0.
Fools say a soul cannot be replicated. I say there is no soul, only man’s vain hope that their actions in this world may be justified in another that couldn’t possibly exist. I wonder how anyone could possibly believe in things they cannot see, hear, have no definite proof of, but it’s not my concern. Their beliefs are for my exploitation, in this case. I am building their better world, right before their eyes. And they are none the wiser.
This Black Box, with the pulsing green light in its center to indicate it is still functional, contains what one would call a soul: virtually every quirk, mannerism, and personality trait, recorded during lengthy periods of observation. It is all programmed into routines and then inserted into the bodies I create. Bodies which are perfect replicas of the originals; as they wear down over time, they even appear to be aging.
Having been at this for more than two years, I understand why my genius went unappreciated by the masses. Had the world been aware I had the knowledge to do such things, I would never have come this far. It would’ve been so simple to check my background, which I listed plainly on my resume…but the world was so desperate to fill slots left vacant by plague victims, no one looked twice at anyone looking for work.
As always, I allow myself a moment of reflection, sitting at the foot of the bed I share with my wife, who will unexpectedly lose another member of her family, forcing her absence for seven days, which is more than enough time to ensure that Victoria 4.0 is ready to fulfill her duties.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to marry a woman clearly not ready to settle down, and step into the role of wife and mother as every woman should. The first decade of our marriage had been difficult, at best. Victoria was willful, arrogant, and flirtatious with other men, with no sense of duty. Oh, but how the children loved her.
Of course they did, as she indulged their every whim. Imagine: consumption of large quantities of sugar after dinner? Dessert is just child abuse veiled in tradition, if you ask me. Saturday mornings spent before the television watching poorly animated and equally crafted stories that were neither funny nor relevant? It was a recipe for madness.
Yet, I could tolerate all of this. My wife was beautiful, and she was mine. That was all that mattered. It was her threatening the status quo that forced me to take drastic steps.
I think we need time apart; her words will stay with me forever. You’re always angry, and you’re always yelling at the children, so I will take them with me, and you can find a better job – something that makes you happy. Your children are frightened of you, Robert, so it’s best I take them and go…
It was the second time in my life I gave into the impulse, but I could no longer bear it. Wasting away as a glorified file clerk to support a rebellious wife and three children, only to have her tell me she was leaving me?!
She never had a chance. Rage amplifies strength a thousand fold. I throttled the life from that wench, wrestled her to the ground even as she silently pleaded with her eyes, striking vainly at my arms as I forced the breath from her body.
Then, of course, I realized I had a problem. Just as quickly, I happened across a desperate solution, one even I didn’t think would work. But it had. Amazingly, it had. Victoria 1.0 had not been a resounding success, not by any stretch, but she was as alive as alive got without breathing.
If anything was salvaged from that debacle, her voice emulator was perfect. She had shorted out within a week, while driving Alexander home from school. There had been a car crash, and far worse than Alexander being injured, he had discovered the truth about his mother.
In his prime, I may not have been a match for him. Lying prone and helpless in a hospital bed, dispatching him was easy. Alexander 1.0 had yet to require improvement.
But twins know. Somehow, they always know. And seizing upon that supposedly-intangible bond between brother and sister made programming Julie 1.0 remarkably easy. Julie was originally shy and stuttered when she spoke. Disgusting. Yet it wa
s so easy to fix with a language and speech modifier! But I couldn’t throttle poor Julie, no. So having Victoria slip something into her dinner was her way of passing. I had her perfect replacement waiting, and no one was the wiser.
I toss the Black Box to myself as though it’s a coin, and I feel my spirit renewed with the challenge of a new Victoria. This one would be programmed with better cooking subroutines, and then I would turn my attention to Chris—
A door slams hard downstairs. Panic grips me.
I don’t bother to lock the bedroom door – I know Julie and Alexander wouldn’t betray me – and race to the front door, which is swinging open from the force with which it was slammed. I step out onto the front porch and look around.
Chris is gone.
As is the business card. I could’ve sworn I…
Damn that boy.
This is inexcusable, but easily rectified, I tell myself. First, I must get Julie and Alexander to bury Victoria 3.0 in the azalea graveyard. She’ll join the bodies of every other failed creations and their original models, who’ve been buried and feeding the garden all these years.
Then, I must send them for Chris, and they must bring him back alive. No one will question a brother and sister seeking to retrieve their runaway brother, the one who makes up crazy stories about Daddy killing their family and turning them into robots.
Unfortunately, Chris will need improving too, but all of this can be wrapped up within a matter of days.
Soon, everything will be perfect.
Inevitable Death
By Christopher C. Payne
I live in a small, two-bedroom house in the beautiful sunny state of California. My house might be smaller than some, but it is cozy. It’s adorned with beautiful hardwood floors and detailed molding that signifies a house of its age. I try to overlook the draftiness. On most days, there is a slight breeze that whisks through the cracks in the creaking, old windows and doors. It has character, my old house, and it’s this character that is underappreciated in my generation of demanding, non-stop activities that push us to constantly overachieve.
Journalstone's 2010 Warped Words for Twisted Minds Page 9