Further North

Who am I?

Her work was mundane, lacking focus, lacking interest—happiness was unattainable for her. All she did all day, every day, was manage Dr. Shawl's schedule. . .

His footsteps echoed softly against the walls.

She couldn't know happiness for she was indoctrinated to never feel any emotion.

His shadow slowly rose against the counter.

Racheal saw his dark form creep across her table before he even lifted his hand. She stood up and made an effort to address the android.

Droid-545 grabbed her by the shoulder and raked his knife across her abdomen. A loud grunt sounded and echoed from her mouth before she fell to the ground in a fit of distress. Her breathing accelerated, and her eyes became distant...Droid-545, without another glance, walked outside to the barren street with his package in hand.

The strip went as far as the eye could see with towers higher than the clouds, reaching out towards a peak at the blue sky. They said the sky was blue, but Droid-545 has only seen small pictures on the backs of postcards. The city had lights, streetlights, flashing colors from holographic advertisements, and yet, the lifeless lightless areas were constantly dark at the same time.

Just out of the corner of his eye, he found a cigarette butt in a little puddle of water. Bending down, he picked it up, marveling over its simplicity. He collected old cigarettes just for a chance to experience a world unlike his own. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed a dry cigarette and proceeded to try and light it. In the cold rain, his lighter wouldn't work; it clicked and clicked, but there was no flame.

"Here, let me help you with that," a tall, beautiful woman with a head full of orange hair, walked up and lit the cigarette with her finger.

Droid-545 nodded, "an Android?" The woman looked offended.

"Don't you know a real girl when you see one?" She teased, strutting slowly away, "I bet you can't feel love, real love. The love from real passion!" Laughter, mockery. He felt it all...if only they knew, they would praise him. They would worship him. He was labeled as a droid despite his human characteristics. The woman laughed again, "I'm a cyborg," she smiled, giving him a sultry look. A white light from a skyward vehicle engulfed the lady as she spun around in the rain—her arms extended along with four extra metallic limbs.

Droid-545 tried to hide his look of amazement.

The woman laughed one more time before finally leaving, walking away to someone somewhere else. Her silhouette became hazy as she went, blending in with the pale neon lights.

The type of lights that floated on their own, apart of distant futures and distant lives—a life droid-545 could only dream about. A bright future—a future to be willing to live for at all...

With the cigarette in his mouth, the droid casually strolled down the street just like any other vagabond or even movie star. His movements were calculated, yet also very human. The streets on the ground were always sad and empty: no one ever walked down them, or no middle or upper-class person that is. Everyone down here was forced to live by its socioeconomic ways. Soon, he found the upper city, finally seeing what a well-manicured life looked like: bedazzling yellowed Christmas lights strung everywhere in the plaza, children dancing in the rain, rich, extravagant people in excessively expensive fur dresses and coats calling out to their children, maid and butler robots waiting on people sitting cooly under umbrellas having dinner at fine restaurants, white pristine malls, and cybernetics stores lining the perimeters of the garden.