Displaced

Chapter 39

"Just say it."

"I don't wanna."

"Come on, Sam. I don't have all day. Just say 'Next stop'."

"Why do I have to say it?"

Blake Myers massaged his forehead and fought back an aggravated groan. Kids. Always a headache. "Because I said so, that's why. Just say what I need you to say and I'll let you go eat dinner."

"...next stop."

"Now say 'Please stand clear of the closing doors'."

"This is stupid!"

"Hey, I didn't make the rules for how this shit works."

"Just say it yourself!"

"You think it's easy to just learn a whole other fucking language? When the hell am I supposed to find the time for that, huh? Is it after I work on the border security system? Or before I finish fixing all the problems with the sewers? Or should I do it instead of running the fucking country?! HUH!? Tell me, Sam, if you think it's so fucking easy!"

Samanta seemed to shrivel under the heat of his sudden tirade. Her eyes grew wide with fear and her body began to tremble. Blake gave himself a mental slap. He'd gone too far. Again.

"Go eat," he said, waving her towards the door, willing it to open. "We can do this some other time."

Without a word, Samanta sprinted out of the room. Blake shut the door again and put his head in his hands, letting out an exhausted sigh. Sam reminded him of his grandmother's chihuahua, who'd been beaten by its previous owner. She'd spoiled the heck out of that dog, loving it, giving it attention, and feeding it the best food, but one loud noise and...

On the outside, Sam had improved immensely since he'd first set up shop in Wroetin. No longer a sullen robot, the now ten-year-old child was more... child-like, for lack of a better term. She argued, she whined, she made sarcastic comments, and just overall acted like the selfish pre-teen pushing against boundaries that ten-year-olds were supposed to be. But it was all just on the outside. Underneath lurked the same terrified child that she'd been back in the early days. All it took was one outburst to pierce that outer coating and bring out that core of fear, and, as much as he didn't want to admit it, there'd been a lot more outbursts recently.

Exhaustion was a way of life for Blake now. He slept only a few hours a day and pushed himself with little rest while awake. Only his superhuman body allowed such behavior, but there were limits to everything. His brain hurt. His body hurt more. The 'episodes' now came as many as three times a day, and their intensity was now more terrible than ever. And with all that pain came his frayed self control. He'd erupt over the tiniest of things, and his own awareness of the problem only helped so much. Blake didn't know how much longer he could keep this up.

But what choice did he have? There was so much to be done every single day and only he could do it. Nobody else was going to build the robots needed to fully lock down the border with Eterium and keep any unwanted visitors from sneaking in to the country. Nobody else could overhaul Otharia's transportation infrastructure like he could, building new bridges, fixing roads, and installing railroads. Nobody else could drag this sad excuse for a nation into the modern era. The list went on and on, and every day, as he watched his to-do list grow and grow, Blake felt that he was being pulled under by the tide of responsibility. A responsibility that he'd put on his own shoulders.

Sure, he wasn't entirely alone in his endeavors. Leo continued to be the steady, reliable workaholic administrator that he always was, while the various ministers had all proved to be at least adequately competent and obedient so far. But how much could he really trust any of these people? They were Otharians and he was not. If given the opportunity to overthrow his regime, there was a gallingly high chance that some, if not all, would take it. Except for Simona. Unless her back story and personality was just an act. But Leo had verified her past. But what if he'd lied to get her into her position? He had nothing to go on but the man's word.