Broken Things (21 page)

“Josh,” her voice was barely louder than a whisper, “I will
if you want me too. But I want to present you with one other option. What if…
what if I could be your mother?”

He shook his head. “That’s impossible. They’re imprinted in
me. It’s why I can’t stop loving them, even now. And what if Kidsmith decides
that they have to find me? I don’t want reset.”

Angel held up a tablet with the Kidsmith logo across it. “I
don’t have to reset you. I know a really good hacker that knows kids. I can
erase the impression.
I could be your mother…

“…if you would have me.”

 Her words sunk in slowly. He saw her anew, but this
time clearly. She wasn’t a scared little girl, but she was scared for him. And
he saw her fear born in anticipation, that he would tell her no and reject her
offer.

“I’ve done it to myself already,” she continued, “I’ve
erased all tracking data. I’ve removed my imprints but I’ve kept everything
else the same. I have all of my memories. I can’t promise what you had, but I
can be your mother. I can give you love. I can fix you when you break. I will
never leave you or throw you away. We can figure out this world together, you
and me.

“But it’s your choice. I won’t force it upon you. You’ll
remember everything, but you’ll be able to move on. I won’t force you to love
me. I won’t change your personality. You’ll still be Josh.”

A loose strand of hair fell across her face and she reached
up and brushed it back behind her ear. He didn’t know what to say to her, or if
he could even trust her. Every time he felt anything akin to hope it fell
apart. Everyone either lied to him or hurt him with truth. Now, this woman,
another robot, offered him hope again.

But he wanted to believe her.

She sniffed and turned away, blinking back tears. “I know,”
she said, “It’s stupid. What do I know about being a mother? I’ve always known
what I was supposed to do, now that it’s gone… I guess it was foolish for me to
dream.”

“Let’s do it.”

She looked back at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“If you still want to, we could try. I think I’d very much
like to have you as my mom.”

She scooped him into a hug. Her warm tears ran down his neck
but he didn’t care. He hugged her back. She let him go and entered his
registration number into the tablet with shaky hands. Ten seconds later she
said “Done.”

“I don’t feel any different.” But didn’t he? What did he
expect? He thought about his parents… his ex-parents. And felt love, but now
with a bit of anger and disappointment. What did he feel for Angel now? He
didn’t feel unconditional love, but should he? Was that how it was supposed to
work? “What do we do now?”

“Well,” she said, “I think we should get to know each other.
We start a life together. We look out for one another. Let’s start there.”

“I don’t want to live with Cody,” he said.

“Neither do I. But you know what? I think I can fake a
pretty good human. I’ve got some good computer skills. I think we could make it
on our own, as long as I have you with me.”

“I think we can too.” He knew it would take a while to think
of her as mom, but he intended to call her that until it came easily. He would
allow himself to hope one more time. 

Epilogue

Lance liked to break things. He had a special room for it,
where he could take the children and play with them at his leisure, where no
one could hear. They were so fragile, but if he played with them right they
would last for days, even weeks.

He’d found a new kid yesterday, a little girl. She’d cried
for her mommy and daddy all night, but he hadn’t wanted to get started until
after work on Friday. It had been such a long day, he could barely concentrate
thinking about all of the fun things he planned to do.

He arrived home to a quiet house. She no longer cried, but
that wasn’t unusual. She’d probably fallen asleep, poor little thing. He walked
through the house humming the last tune he’d heard on the radio. He’d stopped
by a convenience store and bought a new pack of cigarettes. He didn’t smoke,
except when he had a child in the house.

His walked down the hall and stopped outside the spare room
and reached for the knob. He started to turn the handle when his cell rang. The
screen read Gloria, and he answered it hardly trying to hide the irritation in
his voice.

“I have the weekend free,” Gloria said, “I thought we could
get together at your place, watch a movie and cuddle on the couch.”

“Oh I’d love to,” he lied, “But we’re really busy at work.
It’s so bad that I even had to bring it home with me. Maybe once we finish this
project and things slow down again.”

“You’re that busy? I could stay out of your way while you
worked.”

“I’ve really got to focus, Gloria. In fact how about I call
you later? Maybe in the morning?”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, just fine. I really got to go.”

“Sometimes I think you don’t want to see me,” she said with
a huff, “Call me when you decide you’ll have time for me.”

She hung up on him. He closed his eyes and took a deep
breath. He didn’t want to chase her away, but it did help keep her from asking
to move in. She wanted to be less of a booty call, and he wanted less of a
relationship. They hadn’t found a middle ground yet. Regardless, right now it
didn’t matter. He just needed his focus back, if he got too distracted this
wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

He opened the door and foul, stale air greeted him. The
light was out, and he’d boarded up the windows to prevent any escape attempts.
He tried to turn the lights on, but the room remained dark. Maybe the bulbs
were burnt out.

“Hey kid, wake up.”

She didn’t reply. If she’d hurt herself, it would ruin his
entire weekend. He propped the door open wide to let as much light in from the hallway
as possible. The other doors in the house were locked if she tried to run. He
could catch her before she would be able to get them open. He dragged a chair
over beneath the ceiling light and grabbed a new bulb from the hallway closet.
Her dark shadow hid in the furthest corner from him, cowering.

But the room smelled so foul. She’d probably messed herself.
He’d deal with that next. He climbed up on the chair and removed the cover to
the light. The bulb had been removed. Could the girl be that clever?

“You like the dark or something?” he asked, not really
expecting an answer. He screwed the new bulb in. He heard her move from her
corner.
This could still be fun
, he thought,
maybe she’s going to run
now
. The light came on, almost blindingly. He never looked away in time
when he changed bulbs.

He looked down expecting to see the girl. Instead he stared
into the horrid, rotting visage of someone that looked dead and dug up. It
startled him so bad he lost his balance. With his arms flailing the chair tipped
to the side and he fell hard to the floor.

The thing stared down at him and said, “I prefer the dark.”
It kicked the door closed and turned out the lights.

Lance scrambled backward, a horrible pain emanating from his
hip from how he’d landed. He tried to listen for the thing, to tell where it
was, but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of blood in his ears. “Who
are you?” he shrieked.

He felt hot moist breath against his cheek. “I let the girl
out,” the thing said with a voice like loose gravel, “I thought we should be
alone.”

Lance did not quite last a week.

About the Author

G.S. Wright
is an author in Southern Idaho. His debut
novel is Broken Things. He writes. A lot. All the time. Sometimes he watches
movies, plays guitar, or sleeps. He has a beautiful wife (that keeps him from
starving) and three children that he is failing to raise as ninjas. He also has
a zombie survival plan.
 
 

Connect with G.S.
Wright Online:

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