The Leaf

Past

Raymond

Despite being a compilation of multiple reports, pictures, videos, plotted charts, logs, and test results, the Claire Wesley folder was useless.

None of Raymond's contemporaries would've made him participate in something he had a way out of, no matter how badly they had it: it was considered unethical. To limit the other's suffering was an important goal for modern people. In lack of monetary gains or needs, the perceived purity of one's own soul was the most sought-after currency. To sleep better at night, as humans in 2019 would say.

In opposition, Claire held his gaze, not caring at all about being fair. It should've scared Raymond, but he liked her pettiness, it kept him guessing. He found himself understanding it.

He'd just have to try a more iterative approach.

"That's where I need to stand," he showed her the corner where a washing machine met the end of a four-legged tub. Coming from a world where everything was straight edges and full forms, modules blending seamlessly into each other, legs were striking to Raymond, even on people. Very few humans needed them, so they rarely developed properly.

"By that wall," he showed her.

Claire looked at it and then back to him, awaiting further instructions. She bit the inside of her cheek to hold herself straight under his investigation. Her tight dress should've limited her movement, but when she got out of his way to make room for him to take his place in their reenactment, she proved she liked the way it fit and felt on her skin. Even the uncomfortable shoes, tall enough to bring her hair to Raymond's eye level, moved like slippers on her feet despite their unnatural shape.

It looked like a defense mechanism to Raymond because species who weren't afraid of predators rarely adapted to others. They just existed. Like Wesley. Like Raymond.

He went to the wall and leaned against it, he'd seen Wesley do it so many times when rehearsing the scenario in his mind.

Claire was still focused where he used to be, by the door. As if gathering the courage to start. Not asking how or what, if she had to do anything to keep up with the script.

She surprised Raymond again when she got her attention back to him, blue lasers following a radar line that went over his black pants to his stiff white shirt, grey tie, to a face she knew well.

Just as Raymond admitted to himself that he didn't really dread her approaching him, her voice changed to a tone he'd never heard before, from anyone.

"It wasn't... our game," she said.

A quick search through an emotion database established that she sounded sad. Not rooted in melancholia or loss of someone dear, the results hinted, trying to be as helpful as possible.

"It was his game," Claire explained, her eyes matted like frost-covered lakes. Even though directly looking at him, it was like she didn't see him. Or anything else. "Tony's. I didn't really like it. I just gave up on defending my unwillingness to try. And it wasn't all that bad... sometimes it was good. I just feared getting caught, he said. It was easier just going along with it."

In all logs, there was no sign of sexual abuse, it would have propelled her to the top of the Leaf List. There was no way the Monitors left that unfixed.

"I don't think I can do this," she unnecessarily explained.

For the first time in his life, Raymond had no idea what to say.

Claire

"I'm sorry," Claire tried to keep her voice steady, floundering by the end. The way Raymond opened his mouth to say something, shocked, then closed it again, comforted her.

She regained some composure, ending up consoling him, "I hope I'm not tanking your mission."

"As I've said, I have a plan B," the robot had been reset to factory settings, amusing Claire because he was loosening his tie, reminding her of Tony when caught coming home too late. She wondered how long will she keep seeing his ghost in Raymond's behavior. At least her husband's memory didn't hurt or scare her anymore. Even if he came back, she was divorcing him and there was nothing he could do about it. She would take his house, half his money, generally make the proceedings as unpleasant as possible. There hadn't been a bitter divorce in her group of friends for quite some years. It was time to shake things up.

When said out loud, some things had a way of taking everything past the point of no return.

"I can install a therapist module, we have really good ones. I can instantiate one of the best in your time, make them understand and speak your language. Only have you as a patient."

Seeing Claire's less than impressed face, Raymond made everything even worse, "I, of course, won't be involved in any way." He underlined air with his hand, "Complete privacy."

Claire shook her head. Chess tiles went from her silver pumps to hide under Italian shoes. Black, like every pair he owned.

"I think you're gonna heal me in another way," she decided she was going to make him silent again, as it was better.

Claire straightened and stared at him like she would've done to signal Tony she was ready.

Understanding, Raymond waited for her to approach him, a statue. By the time she reached him, she could barely stop herself from laughing at his seriousness.

"Is an alarm gonna blast if I'm smiling?" she teased him. Tony would've never tolerated her laughing in his face.

"No, you're not recorded as unhappy so I guess it's fine."

Focusing on smaller steps made pushing through their game easier. Close to him now, Claire's hands felt the stiff fabric that made Tony confident he'd made it in life -- the white collar that choked him eight hours a day.

"You can't kiss me," Raymond said unexpectedly.

Claire had no intention to, it was a limitation she hated but always respected. What made her smile to herself was how badly the all-knowing entity known as Raymond interpreted her signals.

Thousand of years of evolution and men still didn't read women. Still thinking they did.

Or maybe it was because he wanted her to. Claire brushed his shoulders, stiff under the soft wool, both her hands busy.

"Just relax and let me handle this," she said.