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thedreamcrosser · 2 years

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Chapter 3: Numbers

Here are the other chapters to catch up on. If anyone can tell me how to simplify these links that would be greatly appreciated.

Charge complete… Sleep mode deactivated… Good morning…

“Good morning my fine fancy friends, get up and say “Hello” to another beautiful day in our beautiful city. But let's be honest, the beautiful ones are all of you listeners out there! Without your contributions we…”

Click

“That’s a fantastic voice to wake up to.”

Beryl's eyes came online far later than her ears did. As static stretched into a full screen, her limbs resumed their own stretching, almost bumping the headboard above. There she found her charge cable and unplugged herself from the outlet. A lovely face greeted her, taking his hand off the alarm clock and unplugging himself as well.

“Sorry about waking you up like that. I left the radio on the wrong station again.”

Whitney shuffled back into the bed space next to Beryl and she wrapped an arm around him. “No need to apologize, I was waking up anyway.”

Taking in her surroundings she saw that all was quiet in their small apartment. The study computer was shut off for once, a habit Whitney did not often do out of forgetfulness and the sheer convenience of off-the-cuff writing inspiration. The reading corner light timer clicked on right on time, and the diffuser next to it followed, giving the tropical plants nearby the humidity they needed. All that was needed was to get up and turn on the kitchen light and put on something hot to drink.

What a perfect time to strike.

Unwrapping her arm from her husband's chest she lept on top of him and barraged him with a flurry of kisses. Tiny zaps and screen clinks filled the air as well as a protest from her bot below.

“Beryl, stop your going to break my screen!”

“You are going to have to make me! Mwah mwah mwah!”

“Insufferable woman!” retaliating he swooped his hands under her armpits and landed her on the foot of the bed, making sure he was positioned right on top of her so she could not move.

Giggling her head off she tried to wiggle free. “Whitney, no I want tea!”

He rested his hand under his chin, a big grin on his face showing his humor in his wife's shenanigans. “Tea? For the birthday girl? I don’t think so.” he put a finger to her chest. “I think it is in her best interest that she gets a taste of her own medicine.”

He stooped down and planted his own kiss, and did not move an inch. Beryl's wiggles stopped when he did not lift himself, letting the kiss claim her. She could feel warm electricity fill her body as she savored it to her hard drive. Whitney saw his favorite smitten face as he rose from the bed.

“What were we talking about?” her screen was flickering with near euphoria.

“Tea my silly wife. Would you like it hot or iced?” he made his way to the kitchen.

Rising herself from the bed she gave him one more peck on the cheek before he got too far. “Hot please.” He turned on the stove while she leaned over to the coat rack to pluck up her poncho. She sighed as she snuggled into its collar.

“We really should get that thing to Kosma, how long has it been since it had a good wash?” Whitney asked.

“It could stand another day. Besides, I have to go to yoga this morning.”

“Yoga? We don’t have muscles, why would companions need yoga?”

Beryl smiled as she made her way to their window, opening it to hear the sounds of the city. “You would be surprised, it has really helped me be more mindful.”

When the pair finished breakfast they headed out for the day. Whitney shared plans of hanging out with Morusque for a jam session while Beryl expressed how she wanted to see her twin on their special day. Both had busy mornings, just how they liked it to be.

Approaching the open elevator courtyard they found Cyan there, meditating on a rug with a whole group of other companions. Beryl scooched over mischievously next to the indifferent-faced bot and tapped her on the screen. “Good morning! Earth to twin! Rise and shine!”

All of the other robots around the two warbled in annoyance. Whitney chuckled as he looked on, waiting for Morusque in a corner.

Cyan remained as still as a stone. “I am unmoving and unbothered. I am peace…”

Beryl moved to lounge in her lap, giving her the biggest cute eyes she could muster. “Oh you know you can’t resist me!”

There was a long pause, the robots breathed a sigh of relief as the atmosphere became quiet again. Cyan blinked her eyes open and looked down at her twin, who continued in making herself look like an absolute dork.

Temptation finally got the best of her. “Screw this peace, revenge!” She shouted as she grabbed the collar of Beryl's poncho and pulled it over her twin's head. The group moaned louder this time, one of them practically screaming in frustration. A flurry of arms swung around to find her sister.

“Bot down, bot down!” Beryl shouted

“Sisters! I do hope this will not be a repeated occurrence.”

The two looked up from their position to see the Guardian standing above them. The shadow of his cloak and hat half concealing his screen, making him look surprisingly intimidating. Sweet drops formed on Cyan's brow. “Oh, hey Sifu” she nervously giggled. Beryl popped her head out of the wrong end of her poncho and blinked against the bright lights. She saw the Guardian and gave an awkward smile.

The Guardian smiled back and changed his tone. “Hello Beryl, “welcome to earth” as you would say.”

“Let the young ones love each other, my friend, it’s not every day that we get to celebrate the day of their animation.”

The twins looked to see Zbalthizar next to them, peeking an eye out from his meditative state. He smiled at Beryl. “Are you ready for your lesson now?”

All of the other bots began to wrap up their things and go about their way, leaving just the masters and the twins. Beryl untangled herself and stood up, grabbing her poncho and tying it around her waist like a skirt. “Yes, guru Zbalthizar. But before we begin, can I ask you some questions about last night?”

Cyan motioned that she was heading out. Zbalthizar nodded politely and turned to Beryl. “You can just call me Zbalthizar, Beryl. And yes, is it about your discovery?”

She took her place on Cyan's rug, adjusting her makeshift skirt. “It was more of my husband's discovery, to be honest. He did the translating.”

“Ah but you saw it as important, did you not? I would say that you were given a sign. Speaking of which.” He pulled out a paper from underneath his rug. “I believe this is what you wanted me to ask about?” It was the pamphlet from last night.

Her eyes widened “Did you notice the numbers on the back?”

He flipped it over to look at it. “Now that you mention it those numbers do look out of place.”

Beryl waved over at Whitney, who was still waiting on his friend. “Do these numbers look familiar to you? They are English correct?”

He squatted down to their level when he approached. “It is english, but as to what they are I am stumped.” He looked over to Zbalthizar “I still think your fancy stretching is pointless.”

Without saying anything Zbalthizar pulled Whitney to the ground into a sitting position, took one of his arms, and pulled it behind his back. Whitney gave a startled yelp at the sound of popping joints. Zbalthizar let go and a surprised Whitney rolled his shoulder. “Oh, wow that did do something.”

Zbalthizar smirked and turned back to Beryl. “So I am under the impression that these numbers stand out to you?”

“Yes, is it weird to say that they look familiar?”

He paused, looking at them one more time. “In what way?”

“Like,” she paused and looked around. The only people in the area were far off in the marketplace and Whitney, who was jogging off to meet with Morusque down the way. She leaned in close anyway and whispered “like I have seen it before.”

He looked back up at Beryl, unmoving. She could feel her performance shakes come back up again. And to think that she was just getting comfortable with him. He finally spoke. “Fascinating…”

She begged in her mind for him to say something more. The silence was killing her. Almost startling her, he took her hands and laid the pamphlet in them. “Well it only seems fitting we let your mission become part of your continued lessons. Let's start with our seated position.”

“Um, what?” she said staring absentmindedly.

He peaked an eye open. “You wanted to use yoga as a way to focus, did you not? Why not let that focus flow to the knowledge you seek?”

He was right. Whenever she wanted to focus on something she could not stay still. A foot had to be tapping or her hands fiddling with something. Even during their conversation, her legs were bouncing. When he introduced her to this practice her mind calmed and she could finally put her thoughts together. “Okay,” she started as she pulled her legs into a formal cross-legged position. She gave an artificial breath in and then out.

Zbalthazar began, “start out by rolling your neck. I will guide your thoughts as we go through these movements. Close your eyes and let your mind wander where it is led to go. Imagine yourself in your mind, tell me what it looks like. Are you somewhere?”

She did so and tried her best to focus on his instruction and not the hinges popping in her neck. “Well… I guess I am in the city.”

“That's good, is it anywhere in particular? Tell me as you roll your shoulders.”

She rose and fell them, feeling the tense joints free themselves. “In an alleyway.”

“Take your right arm and reach it over, stretching your sides. Are you where you want to be?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Take me there.”

They continued through the movements slowly and with purpose. From head to toe, Zbalthazar kept guiding her, every now and again leaving his mat to help her fix her stance. Beryl could feel her head clear, her body calming her thoughts and expelling her nerves through movement. But somehow her mind trip seemed vast.

A good fifteen minutes passed “I think I am lost…” she sighed as she drooped her arms from warrior pose. “I keep going in circles, or in different alleyways, and every door I open is an empty room.”

“Keep your hope up Beryl,” Zbalthazar encouraged, moving to raise her arms back up to the proper position. “Stay connected and you will find what you seek. Bring your hands forward to move to plank position and then to the downward dog. Hold for three breaths.”

She watched him as he showed her what to do, hesitating a bit as her courage faltered. But she continued. Bringing her hands to the rug she formed a plank and transitioned to downward-facing dog. Forgetting to close her eyes she found the pamphlet below her.

Zbalthazar did not say a word while she continued to stare at the piece of paper. Why do these numbers itch at her hard drive like this? It was not like they were anything special. She frowned at the pure ridiculousness of it. “Backtrack Beryl, come on. In the city, through alleyways, doors lead nowhere.”

The number was etched in her mind. The doors lead nowhere. “Where would this number be?” she thought out loud.

It felt like her CPU dropped when the realization hit her. There in her mind were the numbers on a door, and with all of her being she felt like she had found what she was looking for.

“It’s an address!”

She snatched up the paper and held it close. “It HAS to be an address! I can feel it!” Jumping up from her rug she bolted towards the far end of the city. Zbalthazar came to a standing position, smiling to himself as he watched her practically giggle on her way to her home. “I have to tell Cyan, she will know how to find this!” Beryl hollered.

Zbalthazar waved and called to her. “May your journey be fruitful my eager Beryl.”

“Cyan! Cyan! You are not going to believe this!” Beryl shouted barging through her twin's door. Her excitement was cut short when she realized that her sister was not in her smaller-than-average apartment. She did not even need to search the place to know she was gone. Hammock? Empty. Couch? Empty. Desk? Clearly empty, except for the ever-increasing art projects that littered it. It seemed to be growing on the walls as well. “Cyan?”

She heard a faint call behind her.

Looking out the door she just came in from she saw an arm wave to her from her home, right across the alleyway. A familiar blue face smiled at her. “Hey you, watered your plants.”

“Aw, Cyan. You didn’t have to!”

Cyan opened the door wider to let her in. Beryl greeted her with a hug.

“Happy birthday twin,” Cyan said, resting her chin on Beryl’s shoulder.

“You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?”

“Not until proven otherwise. Hey, check it.”

Cyan beckoned Beryl into her own home. Following her, they made their way to the back door and outside once more. There a greenhouse warmed them invitingly.

“I followed your notes extra carefully and made sure to give them a little bit of food as well. You know, just the way you like it? Also,” she tapped a shining hanging object under a grow light. “I thought it would be more fitting to put your lover boy's gift under your favorite basil plant. Give the place more sparkle, just like you.” Her taps gave way to a glittering show of green all around them. When the glitter stilled she looked down at her twin's hips. “You are still wearing your poncho like a skirt.”

Beryl looked down and saw that she was right, and that snapped her back to the reason she came running through the city in the first place. She unwrapped it to its original position “That is because I believe that I have the first good birthday present to give to you in centuries. Guess what it is?”

Cyan's fingers rubbed her screen “Beryl, I love you but you really don’t need to break the bad gift-giving curse…”

“I want to go to the dead city with you!”

She removed her hand from her face in shock “What just came out of your speakers?”

“Zbalthizar helped me out with a mystery and…”

“You were afraid of your own shadow the first years you were animated! You still get jumpy when people come around corners! What makes you think that…

“I think I found an address that is connected to me in some way!”

Cyan gave her a long look, her sister's determined eyes slowly softening her. She dragged out some chairs nearby and took a seat.“This better be good because I am already thinking of plans to keep you out of that dangerous place.”

Beryl gave the whole story since the last time they were in the library and handed the pamphlet to her. Cyan looked at it with a steady gaze, studying the numbers. She gave the pamphlet back and nodded, “yep, I have seen numbers like this before. There are not many left anywhere, probably erased for some reason. But that does not mean that they are all gone. Could be worth a shot.”

As soon as Cyan said the last sentence Beryl perked up, and Cyan was quick on the draw. "No, no!" She shot a finger, at her response "this is not up for debate. I am not losing my sister due to…" she drifted off a bit, trying to prevent herself from saying the wrong thing.

Beryls read into it anyway and her hands flew her hips. "Because she might make a stupid mistake? Cyan, I am fully capable of being careful. Yeah, I have been clumsy in the past, but I grew. Plus you taught me some parker, so I think I can manage.”

Cyan lifted a pixelated eyebrow. “Okay, one, It’s called parkour, and two, it is more of the zurks I am worried about. I don’t want them jumping you.”

Beryl could not take it anymore and held the pamphlet in front of her sister's face, the numbers on full display. “Cyan, they are not that bad. Plus, I know with all of my processors that I need to be in this location. For the longest time I have been dreaming of the outside and this could be the clue to get us there.”

“Or it could be a lost memory from your ram. Remember, almost everyone was born in the dead city before zerks were a thing.”

Animated tears began to pool in her eyes as she brought the pamphlet to her lap. She gazed at it confused. How in the world was she going to explain to her sister that she had to be there? It was a feeling that was the equivalent of the need to recharge, to get up for the day, to be with others. This was exactly the same feeling she had when she daydreams. An idea that tempted her thoughts that she would easily follow. The only thing this time is that it felt like it was burning, a good burn that needed a place to call home. Maybe she could find a way to tell Cyan it was like that.

“Alright, we will do it.”

“What?” Beryl's head shot up to see Cyan looking away. Her crossed arms and legs showed she was not comfortable with the idea, but her face looked like it was softened. Most likely by Beryl’s

“I will grab my things and you look for something to defend yourself with. Deal?”

“Oh Cyan, this is the best birthday ever!”

“I thought this was my present?”

Notes:

Well, this is not my best work, I will admit it, but I am surprisingly happy with it anyway. Still, chat me up in the comments though! I would love to hear what you think! Here is another question: Do you have an OC? Give me a link to them. If I like them, I just might squeeze them into the story. I just love these robots so much!

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inevertookwriterscraft · 7 years

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Frankie

“Come in!”

I opened the door from the bathroom that connected our rooms. Large boxes occupied most of the floor, and textbooks sprawled open on top of the bed’s brown comforter. An assortment of tools and papers were haphazardly scattered across the desk’s surface, making way only for a widescreen monitor, a keyboard, and a desktop tower. A girl sitting in front of the desk spun to face me from her office chair.

“Hi.”

“I, um - I’m Alyssa,” I said. “Just thought I’d introduce myself. I’m just next door. Is this a bad time?”

“Oh no, no problem. I’m Frankie, nice to meet you -- sorry about the mess in here.”

“It’s okay. I’ve seen a lot worse,” I laughed. “I don’t think my sister even knows what a closet is.”

Frankie smiled. “Do you want to sit down? One sec, let me clear off the bed. There’s too much stuff I need to read” - she waved her hand at the bed - “but not enough time to read it.”

“You’re doing your readings already? It’s only the first day! What program are you in?”

“Biomedical science.” She lifted herself from her chair to reach the bed. She grabbed each book and stacked them on her desk. “But they’re not really for school. They’re all mine, mostly on human enhancement - technology interfacing, augmentation, bionics, that kind of thing. What are you in for?”

“That’s pretty intense,” I said. “I’m just in business, nothing special. Trying to keep my options open.” Frankie motioned for me to sit down on her bed, and I did. This became my usual spot in later forays to Frankie-land.

“I understand,” Frankie said. She sat back down in her chair. “It was an easier decision for me, though. My dad’s a surgeon, and the internet taught me about electronics. It was only natural.”

Frankie was a surprisingly good listener. She was also quite open about her own life. She was a loner in high school, and found solace in interacting with academia on-line. Talking to researchers, reading papers, tinkering on electronic projects on her own time. The boxes around her room were filled with prototypes and experiments in various states of completion.

“I spend a lot of time reading new research. You wouldn’t believe what people try,” she said, nodding at her computer screen. I leaned forward to peer at it.

Developing the brain prosthesis: assessing viability of brain-computer interfaces in data processing. Written by some Lee and McArthur. The abstract was filled with too much jargon for me to understand.

“I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking at,” I said.

“You know how if people lose their arm, they can get a prosthetic limb? It’s like that - but for your brain. Your computer would become your brain.”

“Wow. That’s... crazy.” I didn’t know technology even remotely close to this existed yet.

“It’s only theoretical right now. They haven’t actually gotten it to work yet. But realizing something like this is the entire reason I wanted to go into medicine.”

I tried to tell Frankie that I wished I had lofty goals like her, but somehow, I ended up telling her I chose to come to this school last minute to avoid my asshole ex-boyfriend instead. That I was already starting to regret going to the lesser business school because of such a dumb reason. I told her I wasn’t sure how I would be motivated knowing that.

“My projects help me with that,” she said. “Hope that my name will be on a few papers one day. Maybe one of these boxes will be my foot in the door.”

“I don’t know if research is for me…”

“You’ll figure something out,” she shrugged. “Once you find something that interests you, that’s all the motivation you’ll need.”

We chatted a lot the rest of the year. I always had a new problem to vent about. Frankie, on the other hand, seemed to make progress on a new prototype every few weeks, and was always eager to show it off. There was a table that could pour you a drink of your choice. A hand extension that had three times the grip strength of a grown man. Mostly innocuous, sometimes exciting. But there was one in particular that made me uncomfortable.

“Hey Frankie,” I said, as I entered her room.

“Ah-li-ssa,” a robotic voice said. It enunciated my name strangely, reading out each syllable one at a time. Frankie sat unmoving, glued to her computer screen. She had crowned herself with a nest of wires.

“Frankie? What is this?” I walked over to her desk in hopes of an answer, but Frankie remained concentrated on the text scrolling feverishly across the screen. Looking closer, there were thin metal probes in the wires that were embedded into her scalp.

“Oh my god. Are those in your head?”

“Read words. I’m thinking,” the voice continued. “Could help. Mute. People.”

“Frankie, can you hear me?” I shook her shoulder, and Frankie let out a gasp. The text stopped scrolling, and she faced me. She looked a little pale.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said, herself. She closed her eyes and drooped slightly in her chair. “I just have to focus to use it. I think it’ll get easier the more I practice.”

I pointed at the mesh and the probes. “Are those… in your head?”

“Yeah. Helps receive the signal better. Only hurts a little bit,” she said, smiling.

“That’s… pretty gross, girl.”

“Why? It’s cool! Think about all the people it’ll help! This is my best work yet.” She beamed, obviously proud. I couldn’t help but feel a little disgusted.

“It’s not you, Frankie. I don’t want to come to your room just to talk to some robot. I want to talk to you.”

Frankie didn’t see it the way I did. She still insisted on practicing with the brain mesh on occasion. It unnerved me every time.

I knocked on the door on Frankie’s side of the bathroom. There was no answer. I went in, anyway.

“Hey, Frankie,” I said. I opened the door, but Frankie’s lights were off. The curtains were drawn shut.

Frankie’s monitor faced the wall today, illuminating the plain paint job behind the desk. A metallic smell had settled in the room. Frankie herself, was however, in her normal position, hunched over in her office chair. She stared intently at the back of the monitor. I flicked the light switch beside the door to no avail.

Monotonous words came from the monitor. “Lee and McArthur were right.”

She must’ve been using that mesh again. I sighed.

“Who? About what? And what happened to the lights?”

“Showed you paper long ago. The brain prosthesis.” Frankie continued to stare at the back of the monitor.

“The one about hooking a person into a computer? I thought you said that was just a theory. That they weren’t able to do it.” I gave up fiddling with the lights, and shuffled my way over to my regular spot on the bed.

“They weren’t. But I did.”

“Frankie, what do you mean?”

“I did it.”

“Frankie, what does that mean?”

I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. Frankie sat up straight, and the monitor lifted off the desk along with her. Cords pushed some tools and spare circuitry off the desk.

She swung to face me, bringing the monitor with her. The glow from the screen blinded my eyes, and the pungent metallic smell, my nose.

We came face to face. Her features were embedded into the glass. Her neck supported the weight of the monitor through a web of zip ties and cabling. Her face was emotionless, and her skin stretched over the glass, hiding the edges of the cavity she must have opened up in it. Her eyes were open but unfocused, her jaw slack, and saliva oozed slowly over her lips. The corner of her mouth twitched incessantly, the only movement on her face. Text scrolled erratically around her head.

I scrambled backward on the bed, and my shoulder hit the wall behind me. I pressed myself flat against it.

“Jesus, fuck, Frankie! Holy shit, what have you done?”

The robotic voice continued. Frankie’s own lips were motionless.

“It is possible. They underestimated importance of vision in human processing. Fed monitor output directly into my brain.”

“This is-this is insane. How could you do this? This is fucking insane!”

“Ah-li-ssa. Calm down. Revolution in human. Enhancement.”

“C-calm down?” I sputtered. “Have you seen yourself? Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“Need your help, Ah-li-ssa. Tied. To operating system.”

“What does that mean? Should-should I call an ambulance? The police? I-I can’t believe this.” I struggled to get my breathing under control.

“Made some. Mistakes. In the surgery,” the voice continued. “Destroyed some motor. Functions. Need you to call some. Friends. Before it gets worse. Hardware was. Not meant for this.”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shit.” I breathed out, and then back in, deeply. “How do I contact them?”

“Look at me, Ah-li-ssa. One of their numbers. Is on the screen.”

I desperately dug into my pockets for my phone, and jabbed at the touch screen to open up the number pad. I looked to the sides of Frankie’s face, but the text scrolled too quickly to grasp anything.

“Frankie, it’s going too fast! I don’t see a number.”

“Look at me, Ah-li-ssa. One of their. Numbers on the s-screen,” the voice repeated.

“Frankie, I can’t see. I can’t see their number.”

“Look at me, Ah-li-ssa. One of-one of their numbers. On the s-screen-screen,” it said for the third time.

“Frankie!” I yelled. “Frankie, something’s wrong!”

“Look at me, Ah-li-ssa. L-Look at me. Look at me. Ah-li-ah-li-ssa. Look at me-me. Look at me. Look at me. Look-look at me.”

Frankie’s face scrunched into a pained expression, and her screen began to flash violently.

Her legs spasmed, knocking her out of her chair. The side of the monitor hit the floor, and glass ejected from the monitor. She twisted awkwardly, and her body lay on its side, spasming. The screen filled itself with two words, repeated over and over. The voice changed its monotonous chant to match.

“Kernel panic. Kernel-kernel p-panic. Ah-li-ssa. Kernel panic-p-panic.”

In my final year of university, I actually managed to fit in a single creative writing course. It was a wonderful experience. The pieces I wrote for this class will be recorded here for posterity. And so I can cringe at them at a later date.

I can’t say I’m particularly happy with this one. I wrote this one specifically for the sake of the one scare at the end, so Alyssa turns out to be a pretty flat character whose sole purpose is to drive the plot.

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