VD2011: And Yet I Wonder

Most years when I have my act together, I try to make a special project for Valentine’s Day. Most years, I’ve written stories.

I’ve written about Buddha and black market love tokens, Robotic dating services gone awry, hell hounds that encourage safer sex, and human-alien hybridization to cure over-active empathy.

I hope you’ll love this story. It’s about a monster.

---

God. I don’t even know what to write. They’re going to kill me.

I told the lady I wanted to write my story, so I guess I’ll focus on that. Hope I finish it before they come for me.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

I’m Giselle Péronne. Everyone calls me Gis. I’m a twenty-five year old demisexual woman.

On February 14th, I walked to the store to pick up some supplies. I’ve hated everyone so long I didn’t have any reason to worry about the monster. How many of you even know how easy it is for misanthropes to shop on Valentine’s now? And, no, not all demisexuals hate humanity.

I picked up my groceries and a bottle of wine to celebrate my blissfully safe holiday. When I walked out of the store, I spotted a dark-haired woman.

She walked her baby in a carriage. The monster ran up to her and its mouth engulfed her head. The woman fell over. I caught a glimpse of the pool of blood around her head.

I guessed she died, but didn’t stick around to find out. If love for a child was enough to tempt the monster, even someone like me might be in danger.

My heart raced and I walked home as fast as I dared.

I locked and bolted the door behind me and turned all the lights out. I never heard whether it was attracted to lights, but I took no chances.

I drifted off to sleep and woke up several hours later. The sun had set while I dozed. I turned the TV on.

“The monster has been sighted in Chelsea. Viewers are advised to stay indoors.”

I flicked the TV off and breathed a sigh of relief. Nowhere near my house. I needed a cigarette. I pulled the pack out of my purse and stepped outside.

The neighbors’ voices carried through the quiet. Arguing again. Great holiday for it, but I didn’t want to hear it. I walked up the street and lit the cigarette.

The clock had struck nine and the city feigned abandonment. No cars on the road and just me outside. I never heard leaves rustling in the city before.

I shivered—half with cold, half with a feeling of creeping doom.

Somehow, I knew. Maybe it’s just confirmation bias, but I knew it would show. It did and I knew I couldn’t get away.

My heart pounded. I tried to think. What could I do? The craziest thought popped in my head: “What if I loved myself and it?”

I held my breath and focused all my vague misplaced love. It walked closer. I lost my nerve for a moment and closed my eyes.

Breathe in, breath out, love. Breath in, breath out, love. Love, love, love, LOVE.

The breeze hit my face. I opened my eyes. I couldn’t see the monster anywhere.

“What the—”

I looked down.

My arms— covered in thick black fur.

I ran home and peered in the mirror. Somehow, the monster merged with me or I merged with it.

“Wow, everyone’s going to be so happy,” I thought. “Except me.” I sighed.

My life as a human ended, so I figured I may as well enjoy my wine before I let everyone know the good news.

I took my time and then tried teleporting. It’s not as easy as the monster made it look. In six attempts, I made it close enough to a TV station to walk the rest of the way.

The street was empty. I banged on the window.

“Hello! I’m not the monster. I know I look like it, but I’m not. I need to talk to you!”

I felt a slight sting on my neck and fell to the ground. I woke up in a prison cell. Probably a few hours later.

Someone had handcuffed me. I stumbled to the bars.

“Hey! I need to talk to someone. I’m not the monster!”

Police milled about the station. They all ignored me.

“Hey! Come on! “

I yelled for maybe ten minutes. An officer approached the bars, but not very close. She’d pinned her wiry brown hair under her hat. Her name tag read ‘Pam Baker.’ Pam looked 40, or maybe 30 and a heavy smoker.

“Are you in charge around here?”

She pointed to the bars. Someone had threaded them with a glowing blue wire. “That’s to keep you from teleporting. Corridor Stamp Corp. says that’ll keep you in. No more phasey-woo.”

“I’m not the monster. I—I dunno, I absorbed it or something. It won’t eat anyone again.”

“Sure, doll. I’m not going to get close enough to the bars to find out whether you’re telling the truth or not.”

I swore. “Come on. At least tell me what’s going to happen to me.”

“I don’t know. That’s up to Corridor. Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll get a huge fine for creating you in the first place no matter what happens so you’ll get your revenge. Sort of.”

“Damn it,” I said. “That’s not revenge. That’s a slap on the wrist!” Well, I might have said a few other words.

“Sorry. Nothing I can do. I’m just in charge around here.”

“Can you at least get me a paper and a pen. I want to tell my story.”

“Sure, whatever.”

She walked away. I had no confidence in her. I collapsed on the floor near the bars and listened.

I only picked up bits and pieces.

“I wonder if—”

“—execu—”

“It’s so—”

“—all these years—”

I wanted to cry. Did this monster even have tears? Yes. Thick cloudy tears pooled on the concrete around my head.

Pam returned and tossed a pen and a pad in the cell.

I scribbled out what you’re reading. If anyone can read this, I’ll be surprised. Corridor didn’t design this hand with writing in mind. I guess they designed it with lawsuit-free hugs in mind.

That’s my story and I don’t know what else I should say.

They’re going to kill me. If you’re reading this, they’ve already killed me. Maybe you’ve killed me. So, my final message to you all … to all of humanity:

I love you all. I hate you all. It’s all hopeless. And yet … I wonder.

(Read more!)

VD2009: Shades of Grey

A year and one day late, VD2009 project complete. No promises that it will remain in its current state.

---

I wanna love and treat you right
We’ll be together with a roof right over our heads
We’ll share the shelter of my single bed
We’ll share the same room, Jah provide the bread
- Bob Marley

Toby drove the car. That was one of those weird things he thought about from time to time. Why was it the man’s job to drive the car?

“What are you thinking about?” Val asked.

“Driving.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t do that to me.”

“Don’t do what? I was really thinking about driving. Like did you ever think about why we drive on the right side of the road while the English drive on the left? And why do some cars have the tank on the left and others on the right? Ooh, did you know they used to have the tank under the license plate on some cars?”

“God, I shouldn’t have gotten you started.” She settled back in her seat. “So, I got dad a foot spa from Sharper Image back in May before they went out of business. What did you get mom?”

“I got her one of those Snugger things. You know, the blanket with sleeves.”

“Oh, Toby, please tell me this is one of your sick jokes,” she whined.

“Nope, no joke. I’ve got the feeling she’s going to love it.”

Her look turned sour. “Toby, it’s too late to get her another present. It’s Christmas day! How could you do this to me?” She swore under her breath and looked straight ahead for the rest of the trip.

Toby knew better than to say anything else. It was a good thing her parents lived so close. He didn’t mind silence, but Val’s silent treatment was pretty harsh.

---

Lu was watching Hunter do his business near a snow-covered bush when Toby and Val arrived. He smiled and waved as they pulled into the driveway. Their arrival distracted Hunter, who started yipping and ran to the car.

Toby opened the car door gently and climbed out.

Hunter backed up, but continued yapping.

“Hey kids, how was the drive?” Lu asked.

“Pretty good. Not too many people out on the roads on Christmas day,” Toby said.

Lu helped them bring in their bags.

Val was a hell of an actress so Lu didn’t catch on. But she was clearly still not speaking to him.

---

Gift time seemed like a big success for those who were unaware of the argument. Lu loved the foot spa. Hunter spent the rest of the day playing with his new toy. Lu and Gracie got a sapphire necklace for Val and a black titanium dress watch for Toby.

The trouble was with Toby’s present for Gracie.

Gracie loved it. She spent much of the day and night wrapped in it.

Toby knew he was going to pay a hefty price for this one. Val glared at him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

---

Toby woke up with a shock. He had to be to work in forty minutes.

He swore. “Why didn’t—”

Val wasn’t there. She’d left him a week ago. He jumped out of bed and walked to the sink to shave. As he started to wake up, he noticed a thin, perfectly straight scab on his forehead. He got them from time to time and liked to joke that they were leftover from alien abductions.

Maybe his weirdnesses were the reason he couldn’t keep a girlfriend. Didn’t apply in Val’s case.

He knew why she left. Upset that he had been right and she’d been wrong. He didn’t rub it in, didn’t say anything about it at all, was perfectly understanding. She couldn’t deal with him being right and being dispassionate about it.

She wanted him to gloat so she could feel better about being wrong about her own mother.

Toby’s knees buckled under him, and the room seemed to swirl around. He felt his forehead where the scab was as he crumpled to the floor.

The scab was so straight, so narrow, and it was the only thing he could think about. A white blur was growing all around him, drowning out his apartment until he could see he wasn’t in his apartment.

---

He wasn’t holding his head either. His hands were strapped to his sides and there was something attached to his head where his scab was.

Pale, sickly translucent figures stood around him, examining devices and talking about something. He couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they seemed to be concerned about him. Concerned at him, maybe.

The room was an oval shape, and the bed Toby was strapped to was slightly inclined and near the room’s center. A rail ran a few feet around the bed and controls were situated all around it.

The creatures weren’t wearing clothes and seemed to have an almost plastic consistency to their flesh. It wasn’t immediately apparent if there was a distinction between male and female.

Their eyes were huge and black, as if they had no irises at all. Their similarity to cheesy science fiction movies was startling. If this had been happening to someone else, Toby would have gotten quite a laugh out of it.

One, who he was starting to get the idea was a girl, was trying not to look at him. Trying not to look at him in a way that seemed a lot like attraction.

Suddenly, all of the other aliens looked up at him, and then at her. The room was quiet for a moment before one of the aliens started gibbering rapidly. He couldn’t understand any of the words, but a few things seemed to be clear.

Most of them didn’t think much of Toby at all and she wasn’t saying much of anything. Toby thought he might have seen her blush.

This went on for two minutes before one of the aliens activated a control, and Toby felt his consciousness fading into a swirl of ethereal music.

---

Toby awoke a little early feeling exhausted but without any intention of going back to sleep so close to work time. He stumbled out of bed and walked to the mirror. He needed a shave, but he didn’t really feel like one.

His vision was still blurry with sleep, but there seemed to be a scratch on his forehead. It was so thin he almost didn’t notice it, and wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been so very straight. He rubbed it.

Aliens again, he joked to himself. The work day felt especially long and when he got back, the sun was setting and his apartment was growing dim. He tossed his bag onto the floor, slumped down on a chair, pushed his shoes off, and leaned back.

He would have fallen asleep had he not suddenly realized that someone was in the apartment with him.

Before he had a chance to wonder where the intruder was at, he heard a quiet padding foot and spun around to face the sound.

He picked up his cell phone and dialed. “Yeah. It’s Toby. I’m not coming in today. I have the SARS or something.”

He pressed a button on the phone and tossed it aside.

She couldn’t possibly be in a costume. Even the movies didn’t have costumes this good. She looked like a real cliche grey.

Her eyes fluttered for a moment and he found himself on his back. She sat on his chest and was examining his head. She pushed it to one side and then the other.

She cupped his head in her hands and pressed her forehead to his. He fell asleep.

---

When he woke up, it was dark outside. The lights were on, and his place was completely torn apart. Every box’s contents were emptied along with the cabinets and drawers. The place was a tragedy.

The alien was still sifting through stuff and Toby felt a little too comfortable to get out of bed and stage an attack on her. He rolled gently out of bed and walked up to her.

“Hello,” he rolled his head side to side, “I’m not sure if you understand me or—”

She put one translucent hand up.

---

It had been a week and a half since his visitor had shown up. They still couldn’t speak each other’s languages and he had given up entirely on trying to make the sounds she did when talking. It seemed to offend her ears.

Their communication wasn’t hampered much, however. They were developing a sign language for things which couldn’t quite be expressed with a look or an emotion.

She liked orange juice and hated coffee. Creamer made her sick and she had refused to try coffee with sugar in it, so orange juice it was.

It only took her three days to realize that the bathroom door was shut for a reason. Even if she couldn’t quite comprehend what that reason was.

Toby wasn’t quite sure where things were going, and it was slowly starting to dawn on him that he might ought to be curious about it.

Reading humans had unconsciously become second nature to him, but he had assumed it was something like sympathetic vibration. He saw their emotions and understood them.

He seemed to understand her without a common emotional frame of reference, though. He looked at her straight in the eye and tried to understand.

At that moment, his place was suddenly filled with grey aliens.

They were having an argument. Somehow this seemed very familiar but he couldn’t place it. The strange greys were trying to persuade her to leave. He was sure of it.

“Hey, no! Why are you trying to make her go?”

They were all silent and looked at him for a moment before looking back at her and continuing their conversation.

He slumped down in a chair. There was still so much to learn. So much to do. He didn’t want her to leave.

“Honey, please don’t leave.” If the room had been filled with humans, she wouldn’t possibly have heard. He knew she wouldn’t understand the words. He felt the meaning of them at her as hard as he could.

Suddenly, she was beside him and petted him.

The crowd was very angry about this.

There was a sound outside like a screeching zebra floating in the sky. He felt drawn to it and he followed the greys out to see what the fuss was about.

What Toby could only call a dragon was swooped in the sky. It was shiny black and seemed almost insubstantial. It wanted to be friends.

The greys didn’t mind being friends with it either. Several rushed close to its path and it caught them in its jaws and swallowed them whole.

Toby was shocked and was torn between the desire to follow their example and the desire to run away.

He chose a middle path. He ran toward the dragon’s path and herded the greys out of the way, back into the apartment.

Things got better after that. Unless you counted all the blood samples they took and the fact that all the little grey nephews and nieces they brought over after that seemed to have a special familiar glint in their eyes.

It reminded him of someone he’d seen in a mirror every day of his life.

He didn’t think about it too hard, though. He spent too much time explaining Reena’s appearance to everyone they met. At least her English was getting better.

(Read more!)

VD2010: Paranormal Romance

Every year, I try to do one creative project related to Valentine's Day. I've missed a few years here and there, and I've been late a few times. If you're seeing this sentence, it means I still haven't finished VD2009. But here VD2010 is! Hope you enjoy it. If not, well, at least it was free and it didn't poop on the carpet.

If you’re interested in listening to an audio version of this, Pendragon Variety Episode 5 features Paranormal Romance amongst commentary and delicious miscellaneous.

---

A few years ago during a bitterly cold February, I got over my bitterness about being alone on another Valentine’s Day.

It was a temporary truce with love.

As I walked home from work, I passed a pet store. They say that dogs are a great way to meet girls. I wasn’t that pathetically desperate, but fate inspired me to look in the window.

There was a black puppy there with thick matted fur. It wasn’t a show dog. I can’t imagine what the store was thinking when it put that dog in the window, but I was intrigued.

I shifted weight a few times before I decided to walk in. When I found a cashier, I asked how big the puppy was expected to get.

The lady didn’t know what I was talking about.

I showed her the puppy. She looked over the top of her glasses. “Did you put the puppy there?”

“No, why would I do that? Listen. All I want is to know what breed it is and how big it’ll get.”

She walked over to the puppy and put a hand down. It growled and she pulled her hand back. “It’s a black lab.”

She was wrong, I just didn’t know just how wrong.

I played with the dog for a few minutes. It seemed sad or subdued or something. I asked if it was a girl or a boy. She didn’t examine it at all. She just said it was a girl.

Then it lifted a leg to take a whiz and it was pretty obvious it wasn’t a girl even through the thick fur.

I bought the dog for fifteen dollars. I’m pretty sure my money never went in the register.

The vet declared the puppy healthy and a mutt, though what breeds exactly he wouldn’t hazard a guess. “You should probably treat it like a St. Bernard. Teach him to get along with children or you might have problems.”

“So, he’s going to be huge?”

“Probably. Maybe not, but I’d count on huge.”

He seemed vaguely interested in the fact that I got him at a pet store, but quickly lost interest.

When I got the puppy home, I realized I hadn’t given him a name yet.

I tried a few on for size. “Raydan?”

The dog didn’t respond.

“Merklin?”

He gave me a look of disdain I never would have imagined coming from a puppy.

I decided to try more classical names. “Robert? Justin? Julius?”

He growled suspiciously at the last. “You don’t like Julius do you? Et tu, Brute.”

He barked and barked and ran around in a circle.

“Brutus?”

He sat, wagged his tail, and looked at me attentively.

As I turned out the light, I could have sworn I saw two red eyes glowing back at me in the dark. They reminded me of cartoon hearts. I shivered and turned over to sleep.

---

It was March before the temperature got sensible again. Aside from the walk to and from work and my twice-daily jaunts with Brutus, I stayed inside most of the time.

Brutus was good company. Whenever I was feeling down, he seemed to sense it. He’d walk over, stand on all fours, tail erect, and bark short repeated barks until I’d stop whatever I was doing and go play with him.

The first warm Saturday, I was feeling fine, but Brutus barked and barked and hopped around. I finally decided that was enough of that and he was going to start getting acclimated to kids that very day.

“Oh, do I have a surprise for you, Brutus!”

I put him on his leash and we walked to the park. I’d had him only about a month at that point, but he was already well on his way to being huge. That didn’t stop the kids from coming up and petting him.

He tolerated it fairly well, but if I’d been paranoid, I would have thought he was eying me chatting with the moms.

This batch of kids had a mom who was a bit bonkers. They were dressed in heavy coats, mittens, and hats. They looked more like colorful marshmallows than kids.

“You’re a good dog, Brutus,” I petted him as I kept eye contact on their mom. If Brutus was a match maker, he was a pretty lousy one.

But it would be silly to think that a dog dragged me out to try to get a girl.

---

It was June before I managed to get a date. Things went pretty smoothly. I took her to a little hole in the wall that no one who didn’t live in what passed for ‘down town’ around here would have known about. Good food considering it’s mostly a bar.

We both lingered a long time. “Well, would you like to get coffee at my place? You can see my huge—”

She started giggling.

“No, seriously, I have this dog, and he’s just a puppy but he’s already gigantic.”

She couldn’t stop laughing, but managed to choke out that she’d love to see my dog.

The lights were off when I unlocked the door and stepped in. Brutus’s creepy eyes were staring in the dark and some part of me left over from thousands of years of primordial instinct nearly panicked.

I switched the light on and Brutus came bounding in to lick my face and submit to Lindsay’s petting.

Things get a little fuzzy after that. I woke up the next day and found a note saying I was a wonderful lay and I should call Lindsay soon. Also found a used condom on the trash, thank the fates.

But I don’t remember any of it, and I never could find where I’d left her number. I can’t remove just one number from my phone’s history, but her number wasn’t there.

I didn’t see her around town either.

The clue that something really odd was going on was that I wasn’t upset. I didn’t even realize that I was really not upset. I liked Lindsay. I liked her a lot. Why wouldn’t I be upset that she up and moved after spending the night with me?

---

In October, the office announced that we could dress up on Halloween. I had the greatest idea and asked my boss if I could bring Brutus in that day.

She said it would be fine, so I started on my plan.

On Halloween, I put a huge collar on Brutus. It had an over-sized name tag that made him look like he was a wee puppy again. Then I put on a blue dress and white shirt with poofy sleeves. Yes, along with sequined red shoes, a brown wig done up in pigtails and bright red lipstick.

Our costume was easily the best costume in the office, and Brutus was a hit with my co-workers.

The highlight of the day was walking home though. I passed a group of trick-or-treaters and of course the kids all had to stop and pet Brutus.

He was a really good sport about it considering some of their costumes were a little frightening for a dog who hasn’t seen that sort of thing.

He even licked some poor girl who was dressed up as a devil. She laughed, giggled, and screeched while he was doing it. No harm no foul.

While that was all going down, her mother slipped a card into my wicker basket.

Her name was Sylvie and I called her the next day during my lunch break. She said she could get a friend to take the kids Friday night so that would be the best night to schedule something. I decided against the place I’d taken Lindsay to before she disappeared.

I took Sylvie to see a movie. It was supposed to be a romantic comedy, but it wasn’t so bad.

And this time I didn’t remember anything after she drove her car up my street. I woke up in my own bed at about 1 AM when Brutus licked me.

No note this time. I didn’t bother checking my phone to see if her number was still around or if I could find her business card. I sighed, stumbled out of bed and put on enough clothes to take Brutus out.

1:30 AM is a really bad time to be out walking in a city. Even a city as small as mine. Getting Brutus is the best thing that ever happened to me, but don’t think caring for a dog is easy work.

Brutus wasn’t satisfied with a short walk. He wanted a nice long one, and I felt like he had a point. I’d spent all night out having fun while he was cooped up in the house. I let him lead me, and we ended up at a graveyard.

He stopped a few feet from a grave and sat. Like he was waiting for something. For some reason, I didn’t think anything of it at the time. A few minutes later, a woman walked up. I didn’t turn to see her, but I could hear her heals thocking against the pavement of the sidewalk.

She walked beside me and reached down to scratch Brutus’s ears. “You’re a good boy, Voltain.”

“His name is Brutus,” I said. I tried not to sound like a dick.

“Of course it is. Isn’t that what I said?”

“You did?”

She petted Brutus and I could see the glow of his eyes reflected on nearby granite.

Every inch of me wanted to look at her, but I felt compelled to keep looking straight ahead.

“Brutus tells me you’re not entirely boring.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure I agree, but I’m glad he thinks so.”

Brutus stood up and walked away. The leash slipped from my hand and I tried to look her in the eye. She had turned to face me and I could see her eyes. They were a yellow color that really intrigued me. Her skin didn’t quite look like a natural color, but I couldn’t place it at all.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink. Stay, Brutus,” she said. Somehow, I knew there was no danger of Brutus going wandering.

“I heard about your Halloween costume,” she laughed. “Very original. I had to explain it to Brutus. He thought it was great.”

“Good. Wasn’t sure how he liked the collar.”

“He’s had worse.” She held my hand and set her head on my arm as we walked to the bar. She smelled faintly of ashes.

---

I never told you this would be a happy story where the guy gets the girl. Didn’t say anything about bitterness either.

I don’t know how it ends.

And if I did know, I wouldn’t tell.

She told me it’s hard for a three thousand year old demon who is trying to turn her life around to find interested men. As crazy as it sounds, I’m not sure she was kidding.

(Read more!)

The Scientific Method

My 2008 VD project is finally finished. Week and a half late, but that's the way the story goes.

This is the first VD project I've completed that didn't show VD in a negative light. Of course, it didn't show February 14th at all, but I think you'll understand why it's an appropriate VD story.

Keeping with tradition, I'll explain just one thing without bribes. Callash's name is an intentionally wrong transliteration of a Hindi name, Kailash.

---

A dingy blue robot accosted an elderly man. "Sir, may I have a moment of your time?"

The man didn't answer him.

"I am a PJ3R2 Model 6, Rex --"

"Model 6 Rex? What kind of model is that?"

"Rex is my name, sir."

"What the hell kind of fool would give a robot a name?"

"That is not important at this time, sir. Sir, are you between the ages of 20 and 28?"

"Oh, god, who would have thought ..."

"I don't understand your response, sir."

The old man shoved the robot aside, and walked away.

Rex hesitated for a moment, and then walked off in another direction. He saw another man, and honed in on him. "Sir!"

---

Five human-style robots, and two spider-fives held a meeting in a small room.

"I think there may be an issue with the males in the Alpha J region. Further examination may verify this conjecture, but it may not be worth our time to attempt it," said a PJ3R2 Model 6. Not Rex.

"What's wrong with the Alpha J region males, Cal?" a spider-five named Doug asked.

"They don't even want to speak to me. I can't find out how old they are, and so I cannot continue with the rest of the survey."

"Perhaps the error is with ourselves, Cal," Rex spoke. "They will not speak with me either, and I have not been in Alpha J. Have any other models had difficulties in this?"

Before the other robots were able to respond, Cal said, "Rex, the issue cannot be with us. Model 6's were constructed for human interaction primarily. If we are having difficulty, the service models cannot have fewer issues in this regard."

The other spider-five, Kurt, spoke, "I've been to Alpha J. The men there spoke to me. Rex is right. Model 6's may be intended for human interaction, but they were built for ... butler interaction. That may not work for what we're trying to do."

"Cal and I have been unsuccessful. How have the rest faired?"

"I got men who'd answer my questions," the battered chrome HT28 said. "I didn't find any that were qualified."

"Thank you, Slim. You had the Gamma 2 section, I believe."

"That's right, Rex."

"How did you approach the males in question?"

"I walked up to them, like this," Slim demonstrated his smooth, spookily human gait. "And I said, 'Hey, can I bother you, mate?' If they said yes, I'd tell 'em the situation more or less, and 75% agreed to answer at least some of my questions."

"I believe I understand the issue, Cal. I don't know if we can successfully adapt ourselves to the genial style of our friend here."

"I doubt very much that the HT28's personality will fair much better in Alpha J than mine did there."

"If I didn't know better, Cal, I would suggest that you were displaying human-like pride."

Cal's eyes glowed brighter. "Perhaps. We still do not understand all the changes made to us. There may be unforeseen ... side-effects."

"This is not productive. These philosophical matters can be pursued at a later occasion. I apologize for --"

"Shush, Rex," Doug said. "Don't blame yourself. We've heard from Slim, Cal, Rex, and me. What results have you had, June?"

An umber colored robot with a somewhat feminine figure addressed the circle. "I -- haven't found a suitable male. I know a little bit about human prejudices and desires, and in Lambda 3, I didn't even bothered to speak to the males."

"June," Kurt spoke, "That isn't a very scientific approach."

"I may be a robot, but science won't help these men."

"This is taking too long," the Q778NG named Huggy said. "The males who spoke to me were too old or too young. I am returning to my area now. Next meeting, I suggest we all come prepared to discuss our results in a more efficient manner."

"Thank you for coming," Rex said. "Shall we continue with the meeting or adjourn?"

"I wonder how the other groups are doing," June said.

---

Noha was a young woman, brunette, covered in grease spots. She wore a cast off promotional t-shirt that had faded so thoroughly you could no longer tell what it was designed to sell.

It seemed as if she thought she was in a valley of flowers and growing things as she traipsed through the grime of the city.

The way she ran to discarded robot parts enhanced the effect.

She found what she was looking for: a small metal box with wires sticking out of it. She turned it over a few times, reading the lettering on it. Then, she tossed it in her bag and walked away.

When she arrived at her apartment, she called out. "Hey, Rover, you're getting your voice today! Where are you at?" She knew where he was at.

He was tinkering with the television screen again.

She wasn't even quite sure where he had found the television or how he had gotten it into the apartment. The other robots never helped him with anything because they didn't understand what he was trying to communicate to them.

UX34s weren't strong on communication at the best of times. The few bits that seemed to make sense were actually predetermined 'manners' pitches.

Rover turned away from the television and looked at Noha. He picked up a chair, set it in front of her, and sat down. His chest panel automatically opened.

"Ah, so you do want your voice," Noha laughed.

He nodded.

"No one can fix themselves," Noha said. "We have to let someone else fix us. Isn't that right, Rover?"

He didn't respond.

She grabbed her soldiering gun and installed the module.

"All right, you can shut your case now, Rover."

The panel closed. "Thanks, Noha."

"No problem, Rover."

"Should be to fix TV able now soon later."

"I hope you're not fixing it for me," she said, looking up at the static.

"Everything is you, Noha. No fix TV because you to watch."

"Oh really? You do remember what I told you, right?"

"You that 'robots are real people and I don't fix you so I can have an army of robots doing my work for me.' Remember."

"Good."

"'Real people' do nice thing friend. Don't mad me."

"Ok, I won't be," she hugged him.

"I thank. Mine love, Noha."

---

"Now that you can talk, you should join us in our project, Rover."

"I say project fail, Rex. Mine project succeed. You help?"

"What is the goal of your project?"

"I -- am difficult at articulate. Shit."

Rex cocked his head. "Admittedly, I've never known an UX34 before you, however, I didn't know any models could swear."

"Not of mine programming. I chicken mine kernel restricts. Language proxy fuck moron me. Angry."

"I know you can't be angry, Rover."

"Can, Rex. Can. Now go," he pointed generally at the distance. "Come?"

"No."

"Ok. Enjoy your repairs, sir or ma'am."

---

"Hey, can I bother you, mate?" Cal asked a man.

"What the hell? Did someone modify your speech center, butler?"

"No, mate. Jus' need to ask you a que or two, jon, if thas all righ' wi' you."

"Piss off, bot. Alt eff four, you hunk of metal."

"Thank you for your time, sir."

It wasn't working. Slim's methodology was flawed, or Cal was unable to execute it properly. Cal was beginning to formulate a model of frustration. Intellectually based empathy was flawed, but he began to recognize the signs of it in humans and tried to end his surveys before candidates became frustrated.

He had attempted surveys of forty separate men in this batch. Only fifteen had consented to the survey. Only two of those completed the survey. Those two were unsuitable. If those numbers held true, he would need to speak to at least 120 more candidates in order to find one candidate that would get past the first stage of the survey.

Cal made a few calculations, and then looked for another male to survey.

"Sir, can I ask for a moment of your time?"

"Listen, chum, I've already been asked questions by some of your crew. I don't know what you're selling, but I ain't got money for it. Don't take it the wrong way. I'm sure you're a fine robot an' all, but yer barking mad."

"Sir, we're not selling anything."

"That's what they all say."

"Not robots, sir. Who would be foolish enough to use intelligent robots as sales bots?"

"Not too many, I'd wager. All the same ..." The man walked away.

Cal's model told him a sigh would be appropriate in this situation. New data would be required. A new strategy based on an updated model.

---

The motley group of robots had been harassing men all over the city for a few weeks. It had been at a low enough level that the police weren't doing anything about it yet, but that wasn't likely to stay that way. All it would take was an off-duty to be questioned and the police would do something about it.

Callash wondered what could be so important to the robots. Well, to whoever owned the robots. He had talked to one of them, and the robot had decided Callash didn't fit whatever criteria they were looking for.

They didn't ask about money. They couldn't be selling something if they'd count people out without asking them about money.

Intrigued, he decided to follow the Model 6 that seemed to have multiple personalities. It was lucky for Callash that the Model 6s had no guile. The robot walked directly toward its destination.

It walked down a flight of stairs and into the building. Callash waited a few minutes before following him into the building.

There wasn't much light in the building, but he could still see the robot parts neatly stacked by model. The place seemed to be a robot repair shop, though it was clearly being lived in. That shouldn't have surprised him.

He walked deeper into the building. A few working robots spotted him. They looked at him intently, but didn't stop him.

He found a table covered with tools and screws. The remains of a meal for one was on it. He heard some noise, like someone talking, in the next room.

The noise came from a huge television that a UX34 was working on. The robot noticed Callash, and closed the case on the TV. "Enjoy your repairs, sir or ma'am."

"Thank you, robot."

"Welcome. Bye." The UX34 left the room.

"Hello? Is there anyone there?"

A beautiful brunette woman walked into the room, drying her hair. "Yeah?"

"Hi. I'm Callash."

"I'm Noha. What can I do for you?"

"Um. Hm."

"Cat got your tongue? I only do repairs on robots," she laughed. "Unless you're some kind of new model," she looked around him, pretending to look for signs that he was a robot. "I don't think I can help you."

Callash smiled. "Let me start over."

"Ok."

"Your robots have been conducting some kind of survey or something ..."

"They're not my robots. I just fixed them. They're my friends."

"Ah. Well, I'm a little worried about your friends. They're going to get in trouble with the police if they keep it up."

She sighed. "I knew they were up to something."

"I think I may know what they're up to."

"Yeah, me too." She shook her head.

"Can I buy you lunch?"

"We can't fix ourselves," she muttered.

"What's that?"

"Oh, just something Rover taught me. You must be a weird one."

"Is that so bad?"

"No. It's not bad." She walked up to him and put her hand on his face. "Sometimes people throw things away because they don't like them. Not because they're bad. If you're broken, that's not where the problem is."

She was looking straight into his eyes. He wanted to turn away, but instead he looked back into them. He could see the future in them.

"I'd love to go to lunch with you, Callash."

---

"Was wrong, Rex. You plan succeed. Sorry mine doubt," Rover said.

"Yes, the scientific method prevailed," Cal said.

"The plan succeeded," Rex said. "But for all the wrong reasons. You were right, Rover. Criteria-based mate selection is a failure."

"It's the thought that counts! Give her the gift that shows you care. Give her repairs and save the money for dinner at a fancy restaurant!" said Rover. (Read more!)

The Morning After

This is a story I wrote the VD prior to last. The only changes I've made this time around were to censor some of the swearing. This story was originally released on February 14th, 2006 as part of my annual tradition of releasing a creative project related to Valentines Day.

---

Disclaimer: This story was written under the influence of Leonard Cohen music and caffeine, which will both probably be outlawed eventually, discrediting my writing by virtue of the author being a 'cheating' substance abuser.

Everybody knows that it's now or never,

Everybody knows that it's me or you,

And everybody knows you live forever

When you've done a line or two

-Leonard Cohen, Everybody Knows

I achieved the Buddha state of mindfulness. There was no before, and no after. Just this moment. I knew every card and every figurine on display, every thought in my mind and every hair on the arms of the man who was choking me. Even the sweat on my head seemed to stay exactly where it was, unmoving.

If this moment had lasted forever, I wouldn't have noticed.

"It's all your fault, you b****!"

I had never seen hatred like that before. I was sure, in my centered detachment, that I had gone insane.

---

February 15th is one of the slowest days of the year for my store, and it's my most profitable day. I work for a national chain you've probably heard of. I won't say which because you know how things are with the Internet these days and people getting fired for saying stuff about their jobs.

It's a nice, cute little card shop, and lots of people think it's responsible for America's obsession with Valentine's day.

The day after Valentine's is my most profitable because I do something that I would probably be fired for if my employer knew about it. It's not fraud, or theft, but it probably is illegal. Before every major holiday, I buy cards and presents with my own money, and then save the receipts so that I can sell them to forgetful husbands and boyfriends.

The main selling point here would be the receipts.

Imagine it.

A loving, but forgetful husband comes into the shop, looking for a way to make it up to his darling wife, and encounters me. An unromantic, and unattractive twenty-year-old girl who is selling old receipts for a premium. He pays 50 USD plus sticker price, and walks out with a bit of hope in his eyes, and a pen in his hand.

He gets home, and gives his wife the card and other presents, saying he'd hidden them so well that even he couldn't find them. He gets sex that night, and the lawyer gets a call from the wife the next morning saying "Forget those divorce papers."

God, I'm a b****. You get the idea. It's not as pretty as I make it sound, but reality never holds a candle to the commercial.

So, I walked into the store first thing in the morning with my bag loaded up with sappy cards, candy, trinkets, and receipts. Shelly wasn't in yet, so I set up shop, and hid my wares under the sales counter.

At eight, I opened the shop. Shelly still wasn't in. I hate her sometimes. Being married doesn't make a good excuse for leaving your co-workers hanging. Oh, I was so exhausted from having wild sex with my husband last night that I slept in for a whole hour. It was amazing. Save it, Shelly.

My first customer arrived twenty minutes later. I was a little disappointed when the customer turned out to be an old woman. She was probably shopping for a congratulations card for some asshole grandson who would be graduating in two-and-a-half-months-if-he-didn't-flunk-out-of-every-class-this-semester.

I doubt little old ladies are ever late to anything but their own funerals. Whatever she was here for, I was sure I would hear about it soon, with no painful and embarrassing bits neglected.

The old lady browsed through the 'congratulations' section, and I let my mind wander. This job could be really boring at times. It looked like the old woman was going to read every card in whole the store.

About ten minutes later, a man walked in, looking confident and cocky. That was a little unusual for February 15th. With that kind of confidence, I doubted he would be one of my "special" customers. I was very surprised when he walked straight to the sales desk. I thought that he might know what he wanted, and didn't want to spend five minutes looking for it if he could make me look for it instead. I hated those bastards.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, I think so. This is the place to buy Valentine's day presents that include receipts from the day before, right?"

Damn, he was one of mine. I didn't know how I felt about helping assholes get laid and keep their wives. That's just the cost of business, I guess.

"Sure is." I pulled out some of my packages to show him. I intentionally chose the receipts and presents that were going to cost him more. If he was going to be a dick, I was going to make some money off him.

"How much for that pile?"

"Seventy-two dollars."

"What?" He was shocked.

"Well, you're not paying for the present. You're paying for the receipt, and I'm the only game in town. Think of it as cheap penance." Yes, I know what a b**** I am.

He got his wallet out and paid in cash.

As soon as he left the store, he was out of sight and out of mind. Sure, he was a little off, but guys were going to be a little weird when they came in here after missing Valentine's. The whole incident ... it should have made me think.

About twenty minutes later, Shelly came in with another one of her stories about how much progress her and her husband were making with the sex therapist and --

Oh god! The orgasms, you have no idea, Kayla!

Exactly, I have no idea. Keep it to yourself.

Sometimes, I wish she would invite me along just so I could say, "No, thanks. It's bad enough you talk constantly about it at work, I don't need the visuals to go along with it."

I wished many times over that it had been Mike working with me that morning.

"Well, I'm going to go do some paperwork. Keep an eye on the front for me, okay?"

"Sure, no problem, Shelly." I was the master of sarcasm. My sarcasm was so mild even God couldn't hear the venom in my voice.

Mornings in general tend to be slow. The only thing that happened for the next half hour was that some middle school boys on bikes rode past the storefront. It took me half a minute to figure out that it was Wednesday, and they were playing hooky. I wanted to join them so badly.

While I was getting sentimental, a man ran up to the door and pulled it open with a stunning violence. The air shift caused by the door opening was spectacular, but I didn't have time to think about it. He ran straight for my counter.

I tried to duck, but didn't get very far before his arms where around my collar, pulling me up to face him. The hate and fury in his eyes ... If people could work up this sort of rage about society, things might change. That just goes to show the power of love.

That was sarcasm, just in case you didn't catch it.

Even now, I'm a b****.

"You f***ing b****! It's all your fault, you b****! She KNEW!" He shook me, and I wondered if that's what it felt like to be a doll in a little girl's hand.

For the first time, I realized who he was. He was Marcy's husband. Marcy was one of our regulars, and she must have seen me sell things to men before.

Fear produces strange reactions in people. It always makes me antagonistic, 'ballsy.' "No, it's your fault, you asshole. If you had actually cared about Marcy in the first place, you would have bought her presents beforehand! But no, all you care about is getting laid and having someone to iron your f***ing shirts for you."

I don't know what made me do it. By the time I said 'bought,' I'm sure he was so blind with rage that there's no way he actually heard what I said.

He was squeezing my neck and shaking me viciously when the little old lady whose grandson was going to graduate soon tottered up, and beat Marcy's husband on the head with her purse. She just kept beating him. It was the most absurd thing I'd ever seen. It was so absurd that I laughed as little black spots and darkness grew in my sight.

"Put her down, you whiny little b****," she said and kept hitting him.

It was so pathetic. He gave my neck one last squeeze, and then finally let go. I fell and hit my head on the chair as he ran out of the store.

"I'm going to call the cops," the little old lady said.

I gasped and stood up. "No, no. That's okay. I think he's had punishment enough."

"Hmm. If you're sure ..."

"Yes, I'm sure." I went from dying to calm-and-confident in seconds. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been too full of adrenaline to notice.

"Well, while I'm up here, can I get your opinion on a card for my grandson?"

"Sure thing, ma'am."

---

Marcy came in the shop a few weeks later. I was a little worried that she was going to be upset with me, or bitter. She didn't seem that way at all, though. When she walked to the sales desk to pay, I said 'hi' and asked her how things were going.

"Well, I'm getting a divorce --"

"Wow, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, it's okay. Bill never really seemed to care that much about me, and his attitude ..."

I guess Bill had just been looking for someone to blame. That doesn't make me a better person, it just means that bad luck conspired with karma that day.

So, what happened to my side business? If you think I stopped, you don't know me very well.

I figured that if I could live with that incident, I could live with anything this business might throw at me. With that in mind, I expanded my business in every direction. Need a hotel for the ACC tournament? I've probably got a room. Want to surprise your love by taking her to dinner at the hottest restaurant in town tonight?

I've got six tables ... for a price. (Read more!)