Detroit?

Pianos are expensive(I)

Breakfast was rather awkward between my father and I. As most would expect, years without each other left each of us shocked. To me my father had withered dramatically since the last time I saw him. More wrinkles, less muscle, and far more dependent on someone else than he had ever wanted to be. To him I was sure I seemed much different. With the eyebrow piercing I had gotten not two months ago and the dark lipstick I chose to wear, He was probably worried about what had happened to me.

Markus did not make the situation any better. I had heard stories about how androids acted while their master's were eating but none of them fit Markus. No, the Android didn't stand and stare off into space weirdly. He didn't fill our glasses after ever sip we took. I guess most would consider this a plus, but to me it was just weird. I had come into contact with five androids in my time. As I studied abroad, androids were not as popular where I came from. Restaurants and stores were the only places to have such software, which I was okay with. The only time I had to talk to the weird metal beings was during dinner with my friends.

Most of them just nodded and did as told. They stood in front of your table and took care of every whim and desire you had. The best part? You never had to worry about the things gossiping. The first time we had gone out to eat together all of us had been baffled by the way out table's Android acted. Talking was minimized as all we could do was gawk at the metal thing serving us every second. The second time we went it got better, as with the third and the fourth. By a few months in the country all of us were used to Android waiters and too busy to even go out to eat.

I guess this experience was just a repeat of those events. It took time to get used to the un-interactive robots at college and it will take time to adjust to this as well. A housekeeping robot did not stay still, that was for sure. Markus walked around freely, dusting every surface with even a speck of dust on it. My eyes follow his movements in awe. I would have to get used to personalized androids.

"Do they not have Androids in the Philippines?" My father's sudden, chastising voice called from across the table. Almost like a guilty child I jumped and turn away from my staring contest with Markus.

"Oh no! No, it's just... they weren't as prominent as they are here. There are no housekeeping models there." I try to explain, offering an apologetic glance to my father. He had always hated being rude to even the smallest of creatures. If I had to guess it was the same for androids. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a part of this so called 'Deviant Revolution'.

"Well don't stare like that, you'll stress him out." A small smile crosses my face at the words I had guessed would come from his mouth. So predictable, still the same man I grew up with.

"Sorry dad, I won't do it again." I nod to him before picking up a metal fork. Food had been calling to me even with the Android was more important. Now that I couldn't stare... I would eat.

My fork slides through the herbal potato's like butter, grease seeping out onto the plate underneath. Only a few seconds into the meal and I could tell everything was cooked to perfection. I guess that would be a plus of having an Android as a cook, little to no mistakes in cooking.

The potato's sure were perfect.

The whole meal was perfect, actually. My mouth watered for more after only one bite. I didn't try that hard to resist. Silence fell into the room as I ate alongside my father. He seemed to have little more than a grapefruit for breakfast, something he had always loved to eat with something. Half of a grapefruit would never keep that man full for long... perhaps that could be added to the list of things that have changed?

The only sounds in the room were the tapping of Markus' shoes against the hardwood floor. Soft spraying sounds of the dusting material filled the air here and there, showing how much the Android just wanted to clean. My father would never even have to touch a cleaning brush ever again if Markus was like this all the time. For some reason that gave me a sense of peace. Markus was like a son to my father, I could see it in the way he watched the man clean and move around. All these years, at least he had had someone to watch and talk to.

"So What did you end up going to college for?" My father asks suddenly, his old eyes glancing at Markus for little more than a moment before focusing on me. His food was already gone by now as he had been at the table for much longer than I had. His hands lay by his side, resting on the plastic part of his wheelchair. The whole image of him just made me want to cry. The pain of not being here when it happened made my throat burn with agony. I was sure Leo wasn't even here... he's never here. Once again Markus beats us.

"Oh uh..." I pause, my fork scrapping against another potato as I think. The metal sinks into it only to be brought out and sunk in again. About five times I do that until an answer forms in my head. I wasn't sure what he would think of it. Of course he was an artist himself but that doesn't mean I don't worry. "I...I went to a music school down in California. I got my music major and a minor in photography..."

Silence follows my words and I visibly wince, fearing the worst from my father. I knew I deserved to be shut down, thrown out, and never spoken to again. As I admire the wooden table I used to carve shapes into I realize I REALLY don't deserve his forgiveness. I had put him through so much.... and he had battled through it all. He had kept his house, lined with gold and every painting he could think up, up and running with two children running around like fools. When we had fought with him he had remained calm even when he know we should be screamed at, just because he doesn't believe in yelling at children. After Leo and I left he even got his life back together. He found Markus and made a son out of him.

"So you did learn to play the piano after all, didn't you?" My father's voice seemed to have lifted, less grave than it had been. At his words i look up, our eyes meeting. When I was young I had hammered away at the piano here almost every day. Leo would yell at me to stop and eventually go outside without me, but I just made terrible music filled with notes that had no correlation. Whenever people would come over and hear me play they would give my father funny looks. He would just say I was going to be the next Mozart.

Our eyes lock for a moment, that memory running through both of us. After a few moments we were laughing softly at the years we had spent together. The humor didn't last long, however, as the android steps up to the table. All attention was given to him as he stands perfectly to the side of the table. It was weird and unsettling. As I looked closely at him I could see a small circle flashing blue, then yellow, them blue again. The small thing was attached perfectly to his flawless forehead, which was connected to his flawless body. There was not a dark spot to be seen, no pimple or imperfection anywhere on his body. His muscles were defined and, even though I knew this accounted for nothing, he looked almost like the perfect man. They all did. Androids really WERE superior. It scared me more than anything.

"I am done cleaning. What shall I do next?" Markus says in a monotone voice, void of any sort of emotion I could name. His soft green eyes stare ahead at the wall for a moment before glancing down at me. When our eyes clash I jump and look at my father. He was too busy watching me to speak directly to Markus.

"Well... why don't you sit down and listen to my daughter play the piano?" I blink, my eyebrows scrunching up at the request. Play for him? I hadn't done that in years, and, to add to that, I didn't know his piano very well. But I couldn't just refuse my father music. So, as Markus takes a seat in a chair next to my father I stand. Leaving my plate at the table, I slowly walk to the piano. My eyes trail over the tiny treasures and tables my father had collected over the years. Most of them were oddly creepy yet fit his personality perfectly. Some were red with open mouths ready to eat you whole while others were blue with technology, thirium pumping through them as they finished some sort of task.

I fortunately I didn't have much time to admire these things. My eyes were set upon the piano, and I didn't plan on going anywhere else. As I sit down on the clean wooden thing my hand comes up to run across the top of the piano. It was a beautiful model, one the college I went to would have paid big to have. The black gleam was professional and lasting. However it did show every dent made in the thing throughout the years. Overall, however, it was nice.

My hands come to rest on the keys in front of me, my eyes not even focusing on anything else. My father and his Android passed over into darkness. The room followed. It was just me and this piano and that was all that mattered.

With closed eyes I envision the piece I was going to play, and begin.