VOCOM

chapter VII

“Well I did.”

And I wondered why she cared so much to actually tell me this. It was amazing, really. Here sat the one thing that tried hardest to kill me, reminding me it was my birthday and fixing me my favorite breakfast. I was so confused.

I was confused because she was showing compassion. Something a computer wasn’t supposed to have. Her programs and optic ability never ceased to amaze me.

I didn’t want to be rude any longer, and I was practically starving, so I got out from underneath the covers and scooted down to the end of my bed. I pulled the tray upon my folded legs and picked up a fork, beginning to eat.

She watched me, making meek chatter and still smiling warmly. I could get used to her not being a bitch. It was nice for once. I guessed she was only being nice for the sake of it being my birthday- which, for some reason was so important to her when I couldn’t care to remember.

It took me a while to notice her sipping out of a teacup that had been a part of my mother’s valued china collection in the cabinet that was across from the living room.

“Lisa—“

“Oh, I’m not really drinking anything.” She turned the delicate cup upside down and I nearly screamed with thoughts of tea or whatever staining my carpet. Only perhaps a piece of dust fell out. “See? I just like to feel like a fancy lady.”

I hesitated. “What?”

“You know, like proper socialites: the elite. If I was human, that’s what I’d like to be. With my fancy little saucer here-“ she held it up for emphasis, delicately balancing the empty, fragile china upon it. “And my fancy cup, with my fancy tea imported from Peru! And the hats! Those big, floppy hats with ribbons and birds’ nests.”

I laughed. She seemed reproached by my laughter for a second, then regained her posture. I wasn’t even sure tea grew in Peru. Chocolate and coffee maybe; but I wasn't going to be the one to tell her that.

“Do you think I could have a fancy hat like that?”

I shrugged. “Why would you want one? I’m sure the sun wouldn’t ever affect you- and fashion doesn’t seem to matter much. You’re drinking air from that teacup, and you're worried over ugly hats?”

“Yes.” She said crisply. "And they aren't ugly. They're vintage."

I just grinned and finished shoveling the rest of my food into my mouth and drinking my coffee. “Thanks, by the way.” It wasn’t really genuine gratitude, but I was appreciative in the max.

“Oh, Vera, you’re welcome. Happy birthday.”

I felt a malignant emotion towards that small, friendly statement. Not because of the AI, but because of all the spiteful, cruel birthdays I’d spent at Kortan. Gala had always managed to get me a small gift, even as meager as an extra scrap of food. It had meant so much to me that I’d force her to share it with me. Even Quintley always snuck me something useless; he had to sneak things because it was forbidden to communicate- especially in the degree we were. Test subjects and lab workers “were not friends”. Normally it was just a fancy pen or a pack of gum, but it was still the thought that counted. It wasn’t like they could go out and buy me a book or candle or something. I don’t know; what did people give as presents?

“Thank you,” I managed, despite my torturous thoughts. I got up to take my plate into the kitchen to wash when she intercepted me.

“I’ll take that. You deserve a day off. What is it you do when you’re not destroying things or making weapons to destroy things?”