Gage shot upright in bed. It wasn't his recurring nightmare that woke him. Its constant terror ceased many months back; the same night it snowed for the first time in 2050. What woke him was sounds of clatter and bustle in his kitchen, the aroma of heated butter, the sizzle of raw egg splashing in a pan.
It was well into morning. Rays of golden light permeated the slatted vinyl blinds on his bedroom window creating a pattern of long yellow stripes along the carpet. Gage pulled back the comforter and rubbed his eyes. He slid on his house slippers, pushed his arms through his robe, and stood.
He instinctively reached for his left knee. It no longer ached and twanged but it was a habit he couldn't break. Instead of rough skin surrounding a long slick scar, his hands traced over smooth gray gel. Inside, a black polycarbonate replica knee cap and wire tendons.
He paced to the kitchen and found a plate of steaming fried eggs and crispy hash browns. He sat and shoveled in a forkful of egg. Oozy yolk dripped down his stubbled chin.
"Let me get that for you," a feminine voice said. It was a pleasant voice despite the odd cadence of the words. A replica hand reached a napkin to Gage's chin and dabbed the yellow smears.
"Thank you, my love," Gage grunted. He looked up at the copper wire strands and camera lens eyes gazing down at him. The face leaned in and Gage pressed his cracked lips against the rectangular flap of metal that hung below them. Tara glided off to resume cleaning dishes. Gage shoveled in a mouthful of crispy hash browns and sighed.
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YOU ARE READING
The Man with the Robot Wife
Science FictionGage Barman, a hermit and neighborhood curiosity, owns a junk shop in a crumbling building. In an era where electronics are inexpensive enough to use and repurchase months later and Modified Biological Organisms are commonplace, customers are a ra...
