Prototype R

Chapter two

Robot trainers industry. Serving robot kind since 2050 and beyond.

The companies' sign; a man grasping a cyborgs hand, in a manner that breathes welcome, looms above your body as you walk outside. Although robots cannot show emotion, the android was drawn with its head down. You will always be afraid of your creators.

The clean kept lawn, never lonely, is gifted with sculptures fellow trainers have built with spare parts of machinery. You declare yourself artistically challenged, so your masterpiece is believed to be a pointy mountain. A slow, dramatic inhale courses up to your mouth to be freed by a huff. I could have done better. To cover disappointment, you look at what is underneath the transparent sidewalk: wirings strung through misshapen cogs and gears. Pleased with the aesthetic, you smile warmly.

The automatic doors open with haste and the lobby is right in front of your eager eyes. Clients, stock still and patient, waited with newspapers open far too wide, font upside down. Iron grips clutched at the edges. Their clean clothes, awkwardly loose, confirmed what career they were matched to.

Power stations line up against walls for those who need energy before lessons. Their tall structures built with an opaque door to give privacy while they slumber. You try and pierce the cloudiness away with a narrow glance but the wall won't break. I must see how they sleep! Your eyes squint further, peripheral vision decreasing, until a faint outline of a sleeper emerges, bright and unaware.

"Are you really peeping at our clients again, Demetrious?" The receptionist squawked.

Her shrill voice makes you wince and shudder as you approach the desk. Nails filed into points, sharp and deadly, tap on granite. The message is clear: You have been caught...again. The satisfaction is too much to contain so a grin spreads across your face. A roll of the eyes is the reply back, "Honestly, you wouldn't want someone walking into your room while you sleep right?"

"No, I wouldn't." You reply, "But that's why people lock their doors or even put a "do not disturb sign."

She spreads her palm to support the right side of her jaw. What is she thinking about now? Her face disappears under the desk and you hear a drawer open up. Several noises, harsh and soft, mix together while her fingers roam for the desired item and your curiosity peaks. A small note pad with the company's logo is slammed lightly on the desk.

"You are right, Dmitri, "She says with a click of a pen, "Here is what is going to happen. We are going to put "do not disturb" signs on all their power stations to prevent people like you from disturbing them. Even though we all know they don't care because-"

"They are robots, androids, etc," you finish and earn yourself a glare.

You watch her write with ferocity, turning the note into crooked and cluttered words, and smile to yourself. Look at that sloppy mess. Her message is done, signaled by another click. She scooted her chair to the cabinets behind the desk, in a lazy manner, and reached for the folder with your name.

"Let's see who Ethan paired you up with today shall we?" Her shrill voice reaches you from afar.

You watch her open up the folder and you fight the strong urge to jump over the desk and snatch it away. GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE! To contain the struggle your feet shuffle from side to side, both childish and impatient. A vibration touches your hip and you are thankful for the distraction as you look at the message.

Are you here yet? Not sure what impatient feels like but...I don't know how to explain this.

The phone is placed back in your pocket and a laugh escapes but you try and stifle it.