Awake

Chapter One

Chapter One

Sometimes, when it rains, I don't run for cover the way everyone else does. They scurry like ants to seek out someplace dry, but I have no inclination to do so. Instead, I take one of the few spare moments I have to pause and tilt my face towards the sky, so that I can feel the light drops falling on my skin. There is no logical reason for me to do this.

I derive no enjoyment from it, there's nothing to be gained and it benefits no-one. But for whatever reason, I find myself doing this often, and only once I am peppered with dots of water do I continue on with my routine. Today is no different. Arms full with bags of groceries, I stand still beneath the light drizzle, peering up at the overcast sky. Whatever I'm doing, it lasts less than a minute, and then I'm off again, walking down the crowded streets, trying not to bump into anyone.

The city is always busy. If I was given the choice I would go grocery shopping in one of the many town divisions of the country. They're smaller and generally quieter, but I've been told not to shop for anything in those divisions. Apparently the quality of their produce is inferior compared to what is sold in the city. And if a family can afford the best, then they will take the best – no exceptions.

As a result, I am made to take a 40 minute tram ride into the city everyday. It's an inconvenience, but I can't complain. As in, I literally can't complain. The people who designed me were generous enough to include thoughts and opinions in my software, but they neglected to add any conceivable way of expressing them. I wonder if I'm the only android with this feature. I would ask, but since that question does not involve my duties, I am incapable of doing so. Who would I ask anyway?

The throng of people around me parts slightly and through the gap in their bodies I find my answer. He's on the other side of the street, where he always is, sitting on a bench outside the library and watching people as they go by. Oscar. My neighbour and fellow android. If I could, I would ask him if he thinks and has opinions too, or if it's just me and I'm defective. I'm sure he would have a lot to say about the matter. He always looks deep in thought. Even now, sitting on his bench, brown eyes hidden behind tangles of messy, dark hair, you would think he's contemplating something profound. And maybe he is, but for the most part I know he's just watching all the people who walk past.

I stand in the rain. He sits and watches people. We both have our quirks. Together we make a good pair. Whenever I have a spare moment between errands (which I usually do because I am almost always ahead of schedule), I will sit and watch people with him. There is no logical reason for me to do this either.

We'll exchange pleasantries, but for the most part we both prefer to sit in silence. Oscar is probably the closest equivalent I have to a friend. But since neither of us are built for socializing, our conversations are usually brief and our meet-ups are rare. This suits us both just fine. We have no desire to see each other.

This isn't because we're heartless. Like how we're incapable of expressing our thoughts, we're also incapable of feeling the emotions that accompany them. Our features and capabilities have changed drastically since the first line of androids were designed, but the inability to experience emotions is one of the few things that have stayed the same. It's vastly agreed upon that we are more efficient without them. A surgeon without a slither of anxiety, whose hands don't shake or hesitate, is considered invaluable.

We can guess which emotions would best suit a situation, but at the end of the day that's all we'd be doing. Guessing. For instance, I'm fairly certain that if I were human I would feel a sense of joy at seeing Oscar and anguish at having to say goodbye. Or, perhaps anguish is too strong a word. Misery maybe? No, I don't think that's right either. This is why it isn't a good idea to guess sometimes. We don't always get things right.