DAUGHTER OF ROBOT MONSTER (short story)

DAUGHTER OF ROBOT MONSTER

by Nathan Goldschot

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EARTH 20XX A.D.: THE BIZARRE FATE OF ALICE ABERNATHY

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1

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Alice dragged herself out of her room and looked at the clock on the microwave with a sigh. "Mom, it's Saturday! It's kind of hard to sleep-in with you charging around like a rhino."

"So sorry, princess!" said Alice's mother, Pauline, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm working the weekend because we need the extra cash. Deal with it."

Alice sipped past her mother and grabbed her favorite chipped bowl out of the cabinet. "Mom, all I do is deal these days. I'm dealing."

"I know, I just--" Pauline's train of thought derailed as she searched the kitchen. "Where the hell is my purse?" she said with an exasperated gasp, throwing her arms in the air.

"It's hanging on the edge of the chair, mom...like always." Alice shivered and zipped up her hoodie. "Ugh, it's freezing in here." Her bald head left her perpetually cold. It didn't help that their single-wide trailer blocked wind worse than a picket fence. She plopped herself at the kitchen table and poured cereal and skim milk into her bowl.

Pauline took a deep breath and sat beside Alice, watching her push Toasty Os around with her spoon. "At some point we need to talk about all of this."

"Let's not, Mom," said Alice, shoving her bowl away. Her appetite was somewhere else.

"Do you always have to be so stubborn?" Pauline wiped away her tears away with her rayon scarf. A thick stack of paperwork they had brought back from the hospital loomed on the far-side of the table. She had scanned each page dozens of times, hoping the Oncologist's report would say something different. Her daughter was running out of options and time. The doctors seemed more concerned with absolving themselves of their failures than treating the tumor. "Sweetheart, I admire your bravery, but we have to face facts."

"I know we're broke, but do we have to get the generic cheerios?" asked Alice. "They have sharp edges, I like the smooth edges."

"Alice, don't change the subject." Pauline was late, but she couldn't ignore the budding fear beneath her daughter's prickly exterior. Work could wait.

"This matters, mom. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

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2

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Pauline was doing her best to hold herself together. All she could see when she looked at her daughter was the surgery scar running like a Mohawk across the top of her head. "Baby, your tumor's still growing. The surgery didn't work and you're too weak for another operation—we'll have to try radiation again."

"Does General Mills own the patent on smooth edges? I can't believe it's THAT hard to get a smooth edge on a toasted oat ring."

"Alice, I get it. You're 16 and stubborn and think you can do this alone. I don't blame you for being in denial but I--"

"Mom," interrupted Alice, looking up from her bowl, denial is all I have! Radiation didn't work, chemo didn't work, surgery didn't work. I can either dwell on my impending death, or complain about these goddamn fake Cheerios." A tear rolled down Alice's cheek as she turned away from her mother and resumed stabbing at the cereal. "They don't float right, either. Look at that. I poke it, and it shimmies. It shouldn't shimmy, just bob, you know?"