Nihilist

Melville Melbourne Awoke Screaming

They say that when someone wakes from a coma, it’s gradual. A little flicker of consciousness here and there. Maybe a tap of the finger, a moan of pain, a sigh, or even a lick of the lips. That didn’t happen for her.

Melville Melbourne awoke screaming.

She didn’t stop either, not for anyone. She just screamed and screamed and screamed some more until her voice couldn’t take it and her programming went into override shutdown. That was the downside of her programming. If she displayed any self destructive tendencies it would stop her there and then. She wasn’t sure who programmed her like that, but he sure as Hell was going to be dealing with some very angry people.

“She’s broken, Fearly,” a gruff, male voice said in the hall outside of Mel’s room. “Fix her. You’re good at fixing. You made her this way. Fix it.” Melville’s father, Erasmus Melbourne, was a man with a moustache of great size and ill repute. Of course, he wasn’t her actual father. No one knows who Mel’s actual father was except for Wes Fearly, the man in question at the moment and the only other person occupying the narrow corridor.

“But sir, how can I help her if I don’t know if anything is wrong?” He asked in his smooth and silky voice. As he tilted his head back in order to face Mr. Melbourne a crop of oiled and combed  carroty ginger hair slipped out from underneath his midnight blue top hat and brass goggles, as if he was some kind of scientific dandy. Which he was, in fact. He was a great and particularly wealthy engineer from uptown, and Mr. Melbourne was probably the only person who knew that he could fix her for a fact.

Erasmus fought back the urge to batter the weasel’s head in or grab that green silk cravat and wring his skinny turkey neck. Instead, he pointed a scolding finger accusingly and settled on threatening him as a means of punishment and to express his anger. “You can fix this and I know it. Your engineering skills are unsurpassed. And, as much as I hate saying it, she needs you. We need you.” Erasmus paused. “She’s all I have, so you better not screw this up, Fearly.” Said moustache of great size and ill repute was practically living on Fearly’s own nose. As Erasmus threatened him, Wes stayed as polar as a penguin and said nothing in response except glance at the door for the quickest of seconds. But just the quickest of seconds

~*~

The automatic override shutdown had finished and Mel was waking, her mother by her bedside.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Her mum asked, worry lines contesting for space on her face as she stared down at her only daughter.

“.esaelp retaw emos ekil d'I ” Melville said then gasped and covered her mouth. “!?gnineppah s'tahW ” Her eyes grew wide, tears gathering at the corners. This wasn’t right. What was she even saying? Things made sense in her head, but they were coming out all wrong. “!ti xiF”  She screamed in frustration.

By this time, her mother had backed away to the door. “I-I…” She stuttered then fled to the relative safety of the hallway, talking in muted and clipped tones to Erasmus and Fearly.

~*~

“It’s not possible,” Fearly blanched. “She can’t be talking backwards! That’s not even in her programming!” He was getting angry now, worked up into a real tizzy. Better not get your bloomers in a twist Fearly…

“Then is it the Devil’s work?” Mrs. Melbourne asked, reverting to her predominantly religious nature.

“No you ignorant buffoon!” Wes Fearly burst and throwing his hands up to express his outrage. “The Devil has no jurisdiction over machines!” He fumed then calmed down momentarily and rubbed his temples with gloved fingers. “It has to be a glitch. It just has to be. The engineering can’t do that alone. It has to be glitching on her knowledge receptors. That’s it,” he barked out a little half crazed laugh. “Just a glitch. Haha, that’s all. It will all be solved.” Another crazed laugh. “I can fix it.”

He turned towards the door that held a thoroughly freaked out young cyborg and glared then whispered, “I can fix it.”

“What makes you think that this is all just some ‘trick’,” Ersamus did a flourish of the hands on the word ‘trick.’ “That her circuitry is playing on us? Can you truly fix it?” He looked hopeful, which was a bad thing. Wes Fearly was known to crush hopes much more often than dreams, although he was in the business of both.

“Aha!” Wes Fearly did his own flourish of the wrist and pointed his right finger skyward. “I know exactly what to do to temporarily mend the problem while I work on a more… permanent solution.” He flipped a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose with his left hand and took out a few of his tools. “Show me where you keep her fuel cells,” he commanded in an imperious tone and looked down at the parents over his spectacles but failed, being quite a bit shorter than both of them.

“This way,” Mrs. Melbourne led him to the ice box and opened it, revealing row after row of small, water-proof cells.

“Perfect!” Fearly delved into the box and pulled out one, opening the back with his tools then, after a few seconds, turned to the Melbournes. “Please, go tend to your daughter, I have this under control.” He spoke with a tight lipped smile, barely concealing his contempt. They did as he said, only just so for Erasmus, who’d much rather knock the ferret’s lights out.

Fearly returned to the fuel cell with hungry eyes, muttering to himself. “Now if I rearrange the way she processes the… And then if I can…” This went on for several minutes before he finally had the solution and he downloaded the information into the small fuel cell. With a sigh of relief he stopped his muttering and sat back in his chair and whispered to the small wire-filled piece.

“Don’t mock me so,” He scowled at it, replacing his tools among his person. “For I was the one who created her,” a small smile sat on his lips as he admired his handy work. “And I can fix her, too.”