The Robot

The Robot

    I woke up with my eyes closed, still practically dreaming of my escapades in Silicon Valley.  The computer boards and the mother chips whizzing by me like airplanes setting off on an important adventure.  The only reason I knew I was awake was by the sudden realization of my body.  I most definitely am heavier than I was, maybe I accidentally worked out without knowing it yesterday.  Actually to come to think about it, I can’t even recall my day before, the only thing that conjures up is fragments as if statistics were flashing between my synapses and the only thing being passed to my memories of yesterday are only specific numbers.  They seem relatively easy to decipher but foreign at the same moment in time.  The speed of these numbers, only ones and zeros, are trying to tell me a story.  My brain is going to fast to process all these fragments, ones leading to another, like they have some sort of meaning.  Yes.t.d.y I w..e .p t. my al..m cl..k an. w.nt t. wo.r. What does that even mean.

    Since my eyes are still closed as I lie on my bed in deep concentration, trying to solve this newly experienced mystery I come to realize that I am completely stiff.  But it never actually bothered me the leastest bit.  I got to try and get up or at least open my eyes.    There was weight on my eye lids making them feel encrusted and if they were stuck to his face for good.  I had to concentrate and I really wanted to use my arm to help pry these dry eyelids up but it seems like I have went into paralysis.  I don’t know how I am going to get up for my consultant job.  It doesn’t take to much effort but since it takes no effort, my boss is really on my ass when I literally put none in.  And, obviously knowing from experience, I believe, these sort of event happen frequently.  If you round up it comes to about, lets say, 3 days in a work week.  Just a minor slip up but there is a difference between no effort and effortless. 
    I tried to rattle myself, conjure up a motion, when I heard a garage door noise suddenly go off.  Lifting of metal, cranking of steel on iron, grinding into a pulse.  It was unbearable to hear, to witness.  This startle acting let me slowly open my eyelids.  The closer I came to acceptance of such knowledge, the more my body felt like revealing.  The ones and zeros, the sudden lack of emotion, the metal noises protruding from my very bedroom.  The view of my room which used to show a wide arrange of multi-colored fluorescent has turn to black and white, I was thinking in ones and zeros and the numbers became a language.  I think it is called binary code.  Yes and No’s, turn into statements which I, the robot can comprehend.  It all makes sense but how am I to move.  I am incapable, something has left me motionless.  I can look and watch reality but it seems like only a picture, never changing dimension as I try and hold onto old moments.  Numbers, continue to pass, instantaneously in my head but only a select few become actually processed, the others get looped around until I recognize them again or, you know, is un-used code.  Streams flowing, surging, throughout my metal incased body like a giant statue.  Like a transformer.  But I still fit in my bed quite normally so I guess this makes me the tin man.  What did he lose again?  I have not the slightest clue, wait...yeah it actually was his heart.  Something I have been missing the last couple of hours maybe even years.  It is something that keeps pounding away, pumping our blood throughout our body, people say act with it, your heart that is, but it’s just an organ.  It works on its own so how could I change it or believe in its premonition.
    While I lay on my sheets which are not as comfortable as the used to, the touch reminds me of wearing surgical gloves with that weird powder in them, the kind that agitate your hands the second you remove those suctioned cupped gloves.  My whole room had that hospital feel going on.  Me, the metal that shines your reflection back to while everyone, dozens of people, wait in small cubicles to be systematically diagnosed.  The walls, with every question barraging from the doctor, continually closing you in.  Locking out you from the inside out, putting you in absurd positions and becoming motionless, numb, and eventually forgotten.  That is this damn room.  I can see and think but hardly feel.  Feeling only comes back to me when I try to resume my day and suddenly realize that I am doomed.  I can’t yell for help and contact my room mates who are in the other room.  Robots don’t talk yet, all I can do is make some irritating whistles and beeps and boops like I was mouthing Braille.  I was fucking R2-D2 practically, stuck in a horizontal position, listening to my cell phones go off as I try to imagine a way out of this tomb.
    Cell phone keeps ringing, bring chirp bring,  no way of answering and I don’t think their is a way to check who is calling.  My model is way before blue tooth so the vast connectivity of our new technology doesn’t yet talk to the technology of the 19th century.  Hopefully I can get an update.  I feel like I am not going to be keeping this job for to long.   If only I could mobilize but this bed has trapped me in its stiffness.  Is it the bed or is it me?  On second thought it is probably my rusty metal joints.  As my room mates sit out there, enjoying their movie night, I sit in here waiting for them to come in and find me in my state of ridiculousness.  Maybe they can get a laugh out of my circumstance or better yet, get a laugh out of me.  My mouth feels very cemented and maybe it would help to just get something working properly.  Maybe some WD-40 would help me.  I would tell them to just lather it on, if I could.  Get those limbs limber and then I would get out of bed and try to recover my job. 
    Talking all day or maybe a few times or even some could end up being none.  That was my work, my job, my lively occupation in a walnut shell.  I worked with the Felco Corporation taking some customer service calls. Felco sells stainless steel vacuums, high end pieces of shit, and other household appliances that are the new “in” thing ranging from curtain steamers and carpet moisturizers to even a cushion inflator.  I am not to fond of the company I am employed with but I didn’t really have another choice.  Who does these days?  I really only took this job because it was one of my father’s friend , who I found out later was only a door to door salesman, and that I got to work from home.  Nothing is better than sitting around in your boxers, chit chatting with house wife's that love to just nit pick and complain.  They pick the smallest detail to nag about while I play with my balls.  Not a bad trade off.   And that I like to call the biggest drag of the job.  I get a lot of the same questions but they just end up on different days of the week.  Things ranging from why a vacuum won’t work which usually just ends up with their wrongful negligence on the product or a customer not liking a certain design of their model or why we GAVE them attachments they don’t even use.  I wish I could just say “You get what you pay for” but I have to usually hold my tongue and laugh and then filter out the actual, justifiable complaints.  If it is just someone hassling me for the bleakest superiority complex then I usually just divert their attention until I weasel my way out of situation and diffuse the tension.  But if it is justifiable then I just take down their name and address and email that information to the distributor so they can get a new whatever.  Same thing, different days apparently.
    The boss, Mister Gregory Snitch, could be a real prick as well.  He hardly calls on important duty, just when ever he is needed to influence his superiority on other underlings.  He did this task in the most mundane circumstances and with his consistent coughs, would drag on for quite a few minutes before he lost his train of thought and moved on to his next subject with ended up usually him just hanging up the phone mid way through a business meeting.  He always hovered over anyone which only happened during our bi-monthly meetings that usually ended up with him ranting and raving about some new device that is supposed to make “household living simpler” and then us learning the inner working on such device because no one but the engineers in Thailand knew how the mechanisms and processes worked on these things.  And I hardly think they knew either, just assembling together old, run-down memorabilia and inventions that they had laying around and trying to justify something else out of their lost importance to our society.  This hover reminded me of gnats in a field, never actually doing any harm until one landed between your eyelids, but just constantly pestering and irritating the inhabitants.  This is what my boss did especially well. Gregory knew how to shy up a room before his presence was perceived because his ego could be smelled upon contact.  I don’t know many people that liked that man, even his wife and kids seemed pissed whenever they were lugged to these inexplicable meetings.
    I bet he is getting really steamed and he isn’t even the robot.  I am and Gregory will somehow turn this situation to make himself the victim.  That is what I am sick of.  People turning the worst situations inwards like folding sheets to reveal the other side of the situation to use it as their misery.  Come on!  Can’t we just sympathize anymore for anyone else.  Do we just need this reverse sympathy so other people who are fortunate can seem unfortunate.  People now a days don’t want to have any admiration because you can’t sell it.  Ring Bring Chirp Ring Bring Chirp.  Probably Gregory again.  Beep Beep.  Phone is running out of batteries so I can forget about him and my job, the persistent stress like a born condition.  It would be better if I could just sit and think instead of lay prone and analyze.  Shit shit shit....Shania?
II.
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    The rooms scent was in abuse with the staleness of endless cigarette smoke with layers of that passive smog being intervened by the drough smoke being exhaled by Sam’s room mates.  They sit like monks on thrift store couches watching nineties cartoons on their communal 41 inch flat screen LCD, 5.1 Dolby surround sound, and Sony blu-ray player.  They usually watched shows such as Gargoyles, Pinky and The Brain, and Exosquad and this afternoon was not any different. 
    It was all of their days off which they planned way before they even had this place.  It was a ritual since their sophomore year at University of Alabama.  It all started with Sam and Trevor but eventually when word spread, others soon joined their shananigans and that is how they eventually found Stan and Daniel and the weekly ritual stuck for the last 3 years. 
    They called it room mate bonding time but it was quite the contrary, no one did much talking anymore, ever since Sam has been barricaded in his room which was the only room on the 2nd floor.  The rumor being passed around the room mates was that Sam had a fight with his girlfriend Shania but no one actually knew.  Sam went in these weird fits every few months that usually ended with him staying in his room for a few days, working in the dark.  They all, after the few attempts failing, know respect the Man Bylaws and now just let him be until he settles whatever is going on through his head and comes out on his own. 
    As the television radiates fluorescent lights and catch phrases while everyone laughs on cue causing a delicate ruckus throughout the house.  Before the slip in Doug season 1, Trevor opens up their personal mini fridge that lies right in between their 3 seat couch and their love seat and he starts passing out some Coors.  Psssst, Craccckkk.  It was only two in the afternoon but these days usually end by sunset because if the they all decided to past that point in time, they would probably miss their engagements the next day which between the three was either work or their job.  Stan was the worst because he raised by Catholics.  Even though all of his relatives all drank including his extremely high alcohol tolerant parents but extremely was against under age kids having fun as well. He even lived this way when he left home for the University life until he met up with his current room mates.  They all thought he was an uptight prick at first until Trevor, the skinniest one, occupation: drug dealer, introduced him to Stan’s new favorite substance Cannabis Sativa.  Trevor and Daniel waited for him to pass out one night back at their old dorm room and exhaled in his face.  He was  instantaneously addicted by its halcyon and harmony which passed his wall on conscious sobriety into treacherous water known as drug induced reality.  Stan also was the only one that didn’t work, he only went to the university because his parents were stacked, so this gave him more reason, due to time, to get “crunked up” as the room mates come to recognize it as.
    The cartoons were still blaring as their eyes watching dominantly on the 2-D images, completely static because of the consistent scratches on all their DVD’s which happened to cause on fit by Sam.  All the technology, even know they call it “theirs”, was actually all courtesy from their room mate Daniel.  Danny, as he was more appreciative to, was a tech savvy musician who dropped out a while ago, before everyone knew him, making his living by music productions which he sold “exclusively” on the Internet.  He seemed to be always up, basling electro-funk and pop-techno becoming inspired at various times of the day and then he would recreate them on his own do it yourself studio which he kept in the living room, so they could all “collaborate” with him. 
    Danny just started tracking a beat, his bass buzzing the window open as his synthesizer let off some screeches that resonated as an echo, mocking the bass, as it trailed off but continually looping, so right when it ended it would start up again.  It was most definitely catchy, but the sound level matched perfectly with the cartoons as if he planned it.  A mix of mediums.
    Sam was still laying on his bed, trying to block out the noises happening around him, wishing he was invited.  But while he finally heard no commotion happening downstairs only faint giggles, blasting bass and a trembling television set, Sam wanted to complain.  Sam tried to lunge himself up from his sleep like state and start a scene.  Sam was thinking about yelling, storming around the house, demanding reasons why they didn't come up and invite him, why they just let him sit in this monochrome, metal shell.  He wondered why they never listened to him in the first place.  He let out something, maybe a snippet from his own binary code being unleashed from his motherboard but to anyone else it sounded like a dial-up connecting to the Internet.  Beeeerrooooppppschrreeezzzzzzzz.  The noise continually struck through the apartment, Daniel being the first to jerk from it's obstruction then the rest of the room mates following suit.  They were scared just as much confused by such a absurd noise coming from Sam's room and decided to examine its source.  Trevor led the way with a flashlight in hand either waiting to strike or blind.
    They went in a offensive position, Trevor in front with his baggy pants and throwback T-shirt with Daniel hunching Trevor's right shoulder and Stan taking the far back, as they stepped up the wooden staircase to inspect Sam.  Trevor knocked the metal casing of the flash light on the door.
Knock.
Knock.
    They stood their waiting for some sort of recognition from the other side of the door, even if he was just sitting in their Sam would say something right?  Well that is what the room mates assumed would happen  but they just stood their for a minute, knocking a few more times every so often just to see if Sam got the message and then they said to themselves "Well, we can wait until he wants to come out on his own terms."
    The room mates waited for weeks for Sam to come out.  They continued on with their lives, un-affected by his lack of presence until his unavoidable's starting showing up.  First, it was Sam's girlfriend Shania.  She practically had her own room at the house because she was in Sam's, usually, more than he was.  She walked through the house like she was paying any of the 400 dollar rent that the rest of them were forking over monthly and demanded answers.  She tried calling Sam's phone for the last day like she couldn't come if she wasn't cordially invited but no one picked up and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.  Shania first went up to Daniel, after spiralling around the house quite a few times, and persistently started pestering him for some answers. 
"Where is Sam?"
"Umm I think he is still up in his room."
"Well what is he doing up there, shouldn't he be down here."
"We all thought you two got in a fight or you know, something like that happened."  Trevor said, trying not to crack a smile.
"Why would you think that?"  Shania was getting steamed.
"Well either Sam gets pissed off at you, or us, or something with his boss and usually ends up sulking about it up there, it's nothing that new."
"I don't think it was my fault." Shania trying to piece together the last few days as if he slipped up somewhere.  She didn't mean to if that was the case.  She needed Sam but most importantly she needed this place.  She absolutely hated living at her mother's house.  A 23 year old still living with her only surviving parent.  Shania was just embarrassed.
"Why don't you just go up there?" Trevor said.
"Why don't you?" She quickly lashed back.
"We all tried to go up there yesterday, you know, knocked on the door a few times with a flashlight, but he still wasn't having it.  Something is a matter with him.
"Well what am I supposed to do about that?"
"I don't know, cheer him up."
"Well I actually have to go to school, I will try later." 
"Jeez your awful" Stan murmured right when she was closing the front door.  They could here her touch the door handle again and tug on it for a little more emphasis on her exit.  One down.
    After a week of absence from Sam’s job, Gregory decided he needed to make a few phone calls.  He first called Sam’s father, asking if he had any news on the subject matter of Sam’s departure which he didn’t.  This panic led to more phone calls to Sam’s phone, swarming his missed calls and storing countless, long voice mails that would never be heard.  Gregory then decided to call the house which Sam lived.  He never did this before so he had to search through his Roll-A-Deck, which was clumsily cluttered with former and present employees.  Gregory dialed the number on his cell phone and quickly Daniel picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Yes, who am I speaking to, Sam..?
“No this is his room mate Daniel, Sam hasn’t come out in days.”
“Come out of where?”
“His room, he is just laying in their.  He seems pretty upset about something.” Daniel did not know what to say to this person.
“Do you know what is wrong with him, what brought him there?”
“Umm no, we are living by the Man Bylaws so we can’t deal with him until he is ready to come out.”
    All Gregory could think was stupid fucking young adults but he wanted to know what happened and also he didn’t want to have to rehire another smuck and teach him for the next 6 months.  All corporations look for is long-term employees.  They are already trained so you can keep on stacking up new and “interesting” way to do things on their occupational resume and not pay them a cent more since they are already grateful they have a job. 
“Well can you tell him I am going to be coming over.”
“Just come on over.”
    Gregory decided, after many contemplations, to drive over there even though it was an hour out of his way.  He rather go bowling with his league then come over to this kids house and try to get him motivated to come out of his smelly room back into his shitty job.  As he walked in, the room mates just pointed to where Sam was located and let Gregory, the boss, take control.  He walked up the stairs, knocked on the door and tried to wake up Sam just with pure noise.  Nothing work so he decided to speak up, hopefully catch him off guard.
“Sam! Hey Sam! It’s me, Gregory, you know... your boss fffrom work.  Can you give me a second to talk to you.  I just want to sort some things out.”
    No reply.  Gregory waits a moment for some sort of action to occur. 
“It’s not like you are fired yet, I have the say on this Gregory and if you come out here right now and talk it over with me, I’ll see what I can do.  Maybe a pay cut but, you know, at least you’ll still have the job.”
    Still nothing.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn yah!”  Gregory was getting pissed off and uncivil every time he got ignored.
“Well there you have it, you lost it, your job and probably this run down shit hole.  You could of had it all Sam.  Three cell phones, and your own place if you stuck with Felco.  Now you and this place are probably going to be vacant like always, huh Sam.”
    The room mates overheard this and quite honestly, it was the first time they even ever thought about it.  Without Sam’s forty percent payment on the rent, how would they be able to afford this place.  It’s not like Stan is going to get a job, his parents are already paying for this place and he didn’t want to pick up any more hours.  And the other two already worked.  This was a very weird circumstance for all of them.
“Well fuck you Sam.  Always did and will always hate you, you lowlife piece of cocking sucking shit.  Hopefully your dead.” Gregory ended his meeting with Sam on a very high note.  He was pleased with himself and decided it was the best time to split so he just walked downstairs, nodded to the fellow room mates, and got on with his day, one less employee.
    The room mates just waited.  They never were really good at long-term decisions so they just let things happen and let time take over.  Days went by, no sign of Sam making any improvement, and they knew that rent was going to be due any day and if they didn’t pay, they would have to either find another place on such short notice or move in with their parents.  Their was no possible way they would take the latter so Daniel took the lead and decided to take the lead and start searching. 
    Shania hung around still but it seemed like she completely forgot about her former boyfriend Sam and was currently all over Stan and Sam was just trying to remember the day before the last but he couldn’t piece it all together.  His life was coming in as fragments like if he was missing lines of code in his program.  He just sat up and stared, closing his eyes, and trying to readjust from his awkward positioning.  His life was in the awkward position. 

III.
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    I heard a knock on the door. 
    “Hello?”
    A small head peaks through the door and looks worried.  If I could tilt my head just a little more her frame would be in my frame of vision.  I guess robots don’t have the best peripheral vision.  It’s walking closer to me and when it gets nearly a half foot from my head and she eventually tilted mine to gaze into hers.  It was my girlfriend Shania.  She must of just gotten off work.  Soft, precious skin and blonde wavy hair that reaches the small of her back.  Thinly chiseled and superbly modest.  I usually don’t add her to the room mate list because she doesn’t technically live here but Shania is here enough to be considered as an honorable mention.  She whispers an inaudible language in my side microphones, supposedly ears, but I don’t pick up any of the delicacy in her voice.  All I hear is static and then, all I remember, after that moment was staring into her eyes, finally be conscious after this delay in my day, and then the lights turn out. 
    Now I sit here alone like I was before I met anyone in college.  Completely surrounded by these darks walls, closing in on my metal frame, as I patiently stay, cemented into the bed.  I can’t stay here anymore, I can’t resolve this issue.  I wish everyone was still here but I am abandoned as usual on my own island of self despair and eagerness. 
    Now Sam must lay here for good.  His friends and loved ones left him to rust under his very own roof.  Shania was the only one that saw him for who he truly was at those last moments in his life before he changed completely into a robot, forgetting all past and only living in the second to second present.  The room mates moved on, finding another town home not to far from their last one.  While traveling back to their new place, no one ever took the route to see if the house was still there, check up if Sam ever got around to leaving, even though it was a short cut.  Shania moved in with them which helped them all afford the new place.  There was no upstairs.  They wondered if the old tenant ever found Sam’s body, dead on arrival, as he would try and sell the place.  They wondered it everyday but never actually followed up on their insight.  They just left the events whirl around like a mystery.
    The old tenant, Mr. Flask, didn’t find Sam in his room.  Just a children’s toy of The Tin Man resting on the bed.