This "New Place" is a small bar in the centre of the city. I am not very enthusiastic about the concept, which involves crowding and frequent noise. I feel a little dizzy as they turn on strong lights by a dance-floor, and make the beams of light move around. All outlines of the bar, such as edges and corners, are illuminated with neon lights. The dance floor full of people, all dancing to a loud, repetitive song. it feels exhausting to listne to, but no one else seem to experience this. Aesha's eyes rest upon a box with two microphones on a stage.- Mohan, look! They've got karaoke! she yells to the apathetic Mohan next to her. She then drags him up to the stage, while the man in the blue cloak and I sit by a long table in front of some shelves filled with glass bottles. Each bottle is labelled with a word like "VODKA", "ABSINTHE" or "TEQUILLA". I look at the menu, which seems to indicate that they serve something called "cocktails".
- What's cocktail? I ask the man in blue cloak.
- Basically booze with taste, he answers, before taking a peanut out of a nearby bowl and eating it. This explanation does not really say anything, as I am unaware of the term "booze". After a while, the bartender comes to us. He is a short man with grey hair and an apron. He cleans a glass with a piece of fabric, and then puts it away. I can see that he has a scar on his forehead, but I do not mention it.
- Why if isn't Rasheed! he tells -or asks- the man in a blue apron.
- Wow, it's a surprise seeing you here, the man in a blue apron, Rasheed, answers.
- The ol' place shut down, remember? But this guy I know recommended me, so I got a job here, he explains, and then looks at me.
- We haven't met yet, have we? he asks me, and I shake my head.
- This guy just started at the restaurant, Rasheed explains. The bartender does not respond to this, but goes in for selling his merchandise.
- The usual for you, Rasheed? he asks, and Rasheed agrees. The bartender then looks at me.
- And would the new guy want? he asks me, and I remain silent for a long time. I do not have a single idea of what I could order. To be honest, I am not even sure I can consume any type of fluid at all. However, there is a chance that Jolly Lemon grants me joy upon contact, and then consumption will not be necessary.
- Got Jolly Lemon? I ask the bartender, whom laughs at me at first, but then tells me he respects me. I get a 33 cl can of Jolly Lemon in an instant, but Rasheed's drink takes a little more time. Once we have gotten our drinks and Rasheed has taken a few sips of his, he glares at the stage, where Mohan and Aesha are singing a duet.
- So freaking obnoxious, I hear Rasheed comment as Aesha and Mohan draw closer to each other, but I cannot find any reason to share his opinion on this point.
- So, for how long have you known those two? I ask Rasheed, who shines up for a short while.
- Actually, I have only been hanging out with Mohan and Aesha since I started at the restaurant, he explains.
- About that, I begin. Sai never asked about my name my name or anything, I then mention. Rasheed explains that Sai has been kind of desperate recently, and then he glides into a long story about how Sai used to be an employee used to be an employee in the restaurant, just like his son is now. Sai was not really a good employee or anything, but his brother was the owner of the franchise. Aesha worked there, and was the cleaner. She hated it, just like Sai hated to serve food. They had a secret promise that if Sai ever inherited the place for any reason, he would promote Aesha to alloq her lifelong dream of being a chef. Surprisingly, Sai's brother was deceased in a car accident the very next day. Rasheed adds that it is actually his name on the big sign outside of the restaurant, "ARJUN TAMASHAN". This explains why I have not met him yet, despite him being addressed as the proprietor.
Anyway, Sai inherited ownership of the restaurant, and he kept his promise to promote Aesha. Not that it necessarily was a matter of honour or kindness, but as soon as Sai had delivered the news to the staff, everyone else had gone. The restaurant was running business as usual, and Sai considered that he was in greater need of another chef than he was of a cleaner. Sai then hired his wife as another chef, under her condition to be claimed as co-owner. Her first command was to hire their son as a cleaner. Mohan hated that job, so Sai had to promote him to a chef after he had complained for a whole year. As the only cleaner in the restaurant was being a chef instead, the restaurant had to get a new one. This is how Rasheed got his job, and he remained a cleaner for a fairly long time.
Six months ago, Rasheed demanded a higher salary. Unfortunately, Sai said that the restaurant made very little profit at the moment, and that his cleaning did not show enough to actually deserve a raise. Rasheed came up with a compromise; even if he could not get a higher salary, he could have a better task. That is how he got his job as a waiter. Of course, this meant that the restaurant was once again without a cleaner. Sai put up a sign saying "HELP WANTED BY CLEANER", and it resulted in that a man named Roy was hired. Roy was a decent cleaner, but he quit his job four months later when his mother who lived in Swindon got sick and needed his help. In two months, Sai had to clean the restaurant as soon as Mohan cooked something that had the possibilty of him getting cut or burnt.
The lack of hygiene in the restaurant meant less customers, which meant less money, which meant less profit and this lead to smaller salaries.
Sai's wife Amara suggested that they would have a rotation system that determined who was to clean each day of the week. Everyone seemed to agree to this, as they feared the potential bankruptcy. Amara cleaned on Monday, Mohan cleaned on Tuesday, Aesha cleaned on Wednesday, Rasheed cleaned on Thursday and Sai cleaned on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. The system was successfully etablished, and everyone followed it strictly despite the already lacking effort in the kitchen. However, this was quite tough after two months and everyone insisted that Sai should hire a new cleaner. Sai was not too enthusiastic about paying another salary, but Amara convinced him that the risk was worth to take as their restaurant was really popular when they had a solid cleaner.
- If you needed a cleaner, then why did they offer me a job as a kitchen assistant? I ask Rasheed.- Just because you need a cleaner, it doesn't mean you don't need an assistant, he explains, in a now flabby, nearly mumbling voice.
I take a look at his tired face, and notice the five empty glasses in front of him. I still have my Jolly Lemon, but no happy people have walked over to me. The bartender seems fairly jolly, bit each time he crosses me I am ignored. Before I can think anymore, I notice a fat man who is arguing with Rasheed.
- Whaddaya lookin' at? he asks Rasheed angrily.
- Nothing. Go away, Rasheed says without even raising his head.
- You just hate me, don't you?! he yells, and hits his fist against the desk. He then raises his fist, in the manner Sir used to before punching me. I feel like I have to do something. I rise from my chair and get to the man. I lift my hand, and start talking as calm as I can.
- My friend was not look at you, so you must've gotten the wrong guy. "My friend". The words echo in my artificial mind. Can I really describe Rasheed as my friend? Is he my friend because I bought that can of Jolly Lemon? The fat man's attention vanishes from Rasheed, and goes over to me instead. I can feel a powerful hit in the stomach that makes me scream. I sink down, and can soon feel him pound me to the floor so hard that I scream in a volume which has only been louder once.
I take a look at the fat man, who is about to strike my face with his elbow. I shut my eyes down, so that I will not have to see this. I used to do this when I knew that Sir was going to let me suffer through something unbearable. For a second, it feels as though you have fled, as though you are safe.
My ability to exclude the outside world seems to be somewhat impaired now that I am stressed. Sir never tried to break me. After a while, I realize that nothing has happened yet. I activate my eyes, and quickly rise from the floor. Rasheed has pushed the fat man over, and the others from the restaurant have joined the fight. Aesha and Mohan holds the fat man at place, while Rasheed hits him in the face a couple of times.
He takes hit after hit, while Rasheed is yelling things like "someone call the bloody police!" and "chew on this, you bloody walrus!". While Aesha and Mohan takes the now wounded man away, I go to thank Rasheed.
- Thank you, I say.
- That's what friends are for, He answers. I should be happy, but I am positive that I will have to open my Jolly Lemon in order to feel joy.
- You wouldn't mind if I went outside for a while? I ask Rasheed, who does not only say that he will not mind it, but also recommends me to get some air after this shocking incident. Once I have grabbed my Jolly Lemon, I head to the exit and leave the bar. Rasheed looks at me for a short while, but turns his head away when he sees that I can see him. A few of the the guests are looking at me shamefaced, and the fat man who abused me is whining for himself. As soon as I step outside of the pub, I feel how cold it is comparing to the warm bar. Now I start wondering if my battery would not overheat and explode if I remained inside.
I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, and take a look around. The dark streets are empty, and most of the windows have their lights off. The dark and colourless night convinces me not to wait any longer, so I decide to open the can. It is difficult, because using the tab hurts. In the commercial, that man made this very sudden movement to open his can, so I try to mimic him. It hurts a lot when the metal pushes against my index finger, but it works. The soda can is opened, but it does not make an equally as great sound as in the commercial. Except for some steam ascending from the newly formed hole, nothing happens. I wait for five minutes, until an elder woman appears. She does not seem as merry as the the girls in the commercial, but she is heading my way. I open my arms to greet her, but quickly turns her back on me and speeds up.
This is not like in the commercial at all, even though I possess an example of Jolly Lemon I do not feel any happier than usual. Maybe this example I have is defect? If that is the case, I will have to contact the company "JollyDrink" as it is written about on the can, just like Sir contacted the company that manifactured his computer, and then my producer. I return to the pub just in time when a couple of policemen are taking away the man who attacked me. I get a bit nervous at first, but then I notice that they are two men I have never seen before. The bartender gives me the bill for the can of soda, and I am taken by surprice from the high price of 14.50 dollars.
In the commercial, a narrator said that one 33 cl can would cost 2.99 dollars. Fourteen and a half is nearly 4.85 times as expensive. I hand over the money without any protest, since I would very much like to avoid any type of conflict. I give him two ten dollar bills, five one dollar bills and six quarters.
- Do you know if there is any phone nearby? I ask the bartender, who points at an old-fashioned stationary phone hanging on the wall. I give him another one dollar bill, because I have seen a few people giving him something they call "tips". I walk to the phone and read from the can, which says "CONTACT US - EMAIL: JOLLYDRINK@COMPANY.COM PHONE: 555-401-GLAD". 555-401-GLAD must be their phone number, but I have no idea of how I am supposed to input "GLAD" on the phone. Neither A, D, G or L are numbers, and a phone number only consists of those. It is beyond my present ability to dial this phone number.
I go and ask Rasheed about it, and he explains that the letters are determined by the frequency number appears at a time. Therefore, 555-401-GLAD means I will have to dial 555-401-455523. I doubt this a little however, Because '455523' should be '344412' if '1' is 'A', '11' is 'B', '111' is 'C', '2' is 'D' and so on. This would mean that the number 1 is ignored, but I suppose Rasheed knows more about this than I do.
Right before I am off to the phone, Rasheed stops me.
- Hey, how old are you by the way? he asks. I am one month old, but since human beings age chronologically and I do not I should not be open with this.
- Why are you asking? I ask Rasheed.
- Don't know, can't figure out from your looks. Your face is smooth, but still a bit angular and old. It... it's, like, really hard to tell how old you are, you could be twenty, thirty or sixty! Almost like a cartoon figure, Rasheed says and giggles for a bit. So my age is apparently hard to define from my aestetical qualities. My own face identification program have had difficulties to place both age and sex on my mirror image, even though I clearly see these properties on others. For example; Rasheed is a twenty-five-year-old male, age with a deviation of three years at the most.I dial the number on the keypad, a female voice answers. "Hello, welcome to the JollyDrink Company. If you have any questions, dial 1. If you have any complaints, dial 2. If you want to..." I push 2. The woman says "Please hang on while we're exchanging you to the department for complaints".
I can hear some soothing music start playing in the receiver, and I find it quite satisfying. The music then changes to a popular music. A few tunes later, a human voice answers my call. "Hello, and welcome to the JollyDrink complaint department, how may I help you?" a hasty, stressed woman asks.
- I recently bought a can of Jolly Lemon, and I think it has a defect, I answer. "In what way did you notice it had a defect?" she asks me.
- Your commercial said that human beings would be attracted to you once you open it up and... I start, but she instantly interrupts me.
"Hahaha, so very funny and mature! A prank call. You know what, you little punk? I am busy WORKING, so why don't you go play with your toys or watch the telly!" Beep...
She hung up, and I do not put up with this. I can see that she thought my call was a joke, but why? My complaint was entirely serious.
Some men in the background are laughing, and clapping their hands.
- Hehe, didn't know people were still doing prank calls, one of them says.
- Served her right! says another one.
The others compliment my call as well, but it really does not matter. I explain that it was a completely serious complaint, and that I meant every word I said. They continue to laugh, but now they might as well be laughing at me. I walk away, but before I can reach Rasheed I spot another acquainted. He does not have that sticking plaster on his cheek anymore, but he is still wearing his blue uniform.
- Damn fascists, won't even set us off before midnight anymore. It is Chuck, the officer who escorted me and nearly was shot by Paula.
- Hide your badges, damnit, Hubert says. Chuck then notices me, and he looks frightened at first. His wary frown then turns into a smile and he starts walking towards me. I am sure that he will either offend me physically or arrest me, so I have to act fast.
- Hello Chuck, haven't seen you for a while now. Care for a drink? It's on me, I offer, in order to seem polite. He shakes his head.
- Don't call me bloody Chuck! he yells angrily. He then picks up a baton and a pair of handcuffs from his belt, and circulates me slowly. What am I going to do? I cannot bribe him, because that is breaking the law. Or can I?
- If I gave you eighth-hundred and eighty-four dollars, would you let me go then? I ask him.- Not worth it, he says quietly, almost whispering. Except for my cash, I only have the clothes I am wearing and a defect soda can.
The can is full of liquid, ao I could throw on Chuck in order to create a fast distraction and run away. My assuming that it will collapse and release all the soda is not guaranteed, but I see this as a risk worth taking.
I throw it on Chuck and then rush away, and I then notice how everyone around me looks shocked at me.
- What the heck? can I hear Chuck say while wiping a few drops of soda off his now bright pink face. He then looks at me, and I assume that his hostility has anything but ceased.I run up some stairs that I spot in the pub, and Chuck is close behind me. Before I disappear upstairs, I look at Rasheed, whose eyes are wide-open. Aesha and Mohan are a little more indifferent, though Moan quickly nods at me and I wave at him. The upstairs area consists of a corridor with two parallel lines of doors. There are five on each side, and they are each numbered.
I stand still while trying to figure out what to do now. While thinking that I could run into one of the rooms, an angry Chuck is heard coming up from downstairs. Before I can think any further, I slide into the closest door, the one that has the number 25. I lock the door and spectate the small, filthy room. Here, there is a bed, a desk and a wardrobe, but no windows. From the other side of the wall, I can hear doors being opened, one by one. It must be Chuck who is going through each room one by one. I must hide quickly, otherwise he is going to find me when reaching this room.
Chuck is currently three doors away, so I have to be quick. I could probably fit into the wardrobe, but it does not serve as very discreet. However, Chuck may think that it is too small from me to hide in. I could also attack Chuck as soon as he opens it, but I cannot find any programs that allows me to either punch or kick him. I can suddenly hear a noise, so I quickly leap into the wardrobe. The door falls, and heavy footsteps get in.
- Now where are you, you freaking oddball? he mutters. I hear him head for the bed, and as he quiets I suppose he is looking beneath it. He then starts walking to the wardrobe, and soon he grabs the handle. He starts opening up slowly, and I can hear him mumble that I am "a sick bloke". The cabinet door squeaks and a stripe of light unfolds. I then see my chance to tackle him. Chuck is taken by surprised when I jump out of the wardrobe and take him down, but before he can do anything I rush out from the room. I run through the corridor, faster than I have ever run before. I have already noticed a glass door on the other side of the corridor, and I decide that the best option right now is to pass through it. I try to open it through the handle, but it is locked. Chuck is also blocking the way back.
I rush towards Chuck in order to take him down again, but this time he dodges me. With the speed I have built up I fall down the stairs. My chest hits a step, and so does the chin too. I quickly get up and run out of the pub. Nobody stops me, everyone backs off. The pub becomes smaller and smaller in the distance, and the street lights go weaker and weaker. I look around, and realize just how empty the streets are. I now have the opportunity to run on full capacity, which is much faster than I have ever seen Chuck run.
Once I have run little more than one hundred metres, I notice that I am starting to overheat. Also, my batteri is about to discharge, and only 5% remains now. I need to charge, in a safe place. There is nowhere to go, I do not even know if there are any hotels nearby and I do not have enough battery time to look for one. I run past a portal to a park, and have an idea. I could charge myself hiding in the bushes, where no one can see me. Unfortunately, I do not have any source to charge myself from, though now I have money. There is also an electronic store at the corner of the street, so hopefully I have time to go there and purchase some batteries before I run out of energy.
It takes less than five mintues to get to the store, which despite the time of the day glows blue in the darkness of the night. I understood that it was an electronics shop due to the name "www.ELEKTRO-NICK.co.uk".
- Hello, I tell the cashier, whose squinting eyes watch me.
- Mhm, he says, weakly.
- Do you sell portable batteries here? I ask him.
- Mm, let me check, he answers and disappears into a door. He soon returns with a battery.- Do you mean these? he asks, and I ask him how much it costs. Fifty-five, he answers. I could easily afford several batteries, so I ask him to go get more. He once again disappears into the door, and returns with another two batteries.
I take a look at the shelves behind the desk, and there seems to be a stationary charger. However, it looks very heavy and I am sure it will be difficult to travel with. It also seems to be connected with an outlet, and I really cannot bring a whole wall with me.
- Do you have more batteries? I ask the cashier, but he slowly shakes his head.
- Hm. People don't buy these very often, because hardly anyone can afford a bot. Hmmhm, so we don't order that many at a time, he mumbles. he closes his eyes, and tells me to have a good night before remaining silent. I go to the park, and lay down in some bushes. I am right in time, because only one percent remains now. I pick up a battery and hold it in my grip. I do still not know how to do this, and the last time I charged myself with this type of battery the changing began automatically when I was out of energy. Soon it happens, I am shut off just as I expected. I feel how I return to the inner emptiness.
I meet everyone that I have ever seen. I see, hear and feel everything that has happened to me, just like the last time. This time, I see all the code in me as well. I notice a feature that I have never paid attention to before: the internet. Rasheed mentioned internet when he said something about the Oriental Treat website, and Sir used internet when he wanted to play games with other people. My consciousness, my presence cannot be connected, but I could connect the rest of my code in order to do searches. I see a white screen with a small box in the middle of it. "A". The letter A appears. I remove it, and replace it with "OXFORD". The map of an island appears, and I see Oxford, Watrine and London on it. Oxford seems to be further away from Switzerland than London, so I should head north rather than going to London. Staying in Oxford is to risky, since Chuck and Hubert are here.
What if Paula gets in trouble because that helped me? Does she still sympathize with me? She knows that I am a robot, so she might as well have told the other ones. What if our scheme was faked? What if Paula only pretended to be on my side, while she and the other two planned to let me escape just so that they could hunt me later on, like in that english sport Sir watched a documentary about!
Before I know it, everything vanishes and I am back underneath the bushes. My battery is charged by 49%, and the sun is shining. There are now people are in the park; an old lady sitting on a bench, a man with beard dressed in overalls who is walking rapidly and a woman with a stroller. As I crawl out if the bushes, a man walks by. He sighs and shakes his head when he passes me and then goes back to looking at his phone. The woman with the stroller sees me and changes direction, but neither the old lady or bearded man seems to mind me.
- Hey! the old woman then yells at me.
- Pardon? I answer her, to quote the teller.
- I think I saw you in the newspaper, she tells me, and shows me an article.
I can see a blurry picture of a man with dark hair and a blue shirt with a grey collar, who is running out a door. He actually resembles my mirror image a lot. My eyes continue down to the headline: "BEWARE: SUSPECTED TERRORIST LOOSE IN OXFORD".
- That is not me, I lie to the lady, but she is stubborn.
- The same clothes and the same looks, it IS you! she insists. I then decide to leave the park before she gathers any attention.The sun is up, so I have to go to work! As I begin running towards the restaurant, I realize that I am lost. I have now been wandering around randomly for twenty minutes, I have seen brick buildings, buildings made out of concrete, small buildings, bigger ones, those with windows and those with commercials, but Oriental Treat is nowhere to be seen.
While I am striding across the streets, I think about the lady in the park, and what she said. If she could recognize me from the newspaper, anyone could. If I am recognized, I might be detected and then brought back to Sir's mansion. The lady said that my clothes are identical to those in the footage, and hence they are a factor people might identify. My blue shirt also has a stain of dirt on it now, and therefore it should be replaced. I am going to try Internet another time. I focus, and enter the text "NEW CLOTHES". The first thing that shows up is the advertisement to a clothes shop in a shopping mall nearby. Getting to the mall undetected is fairly easy since it is quite early and very few people are out right now. The mall is a huge, white building that has several entrances on different sides for some reason.
There is a fountain in the middle of the bottom floor, and the levels above consist of platforms that form lofts. I quickly find the clothes store, among with many other clothes stores. I choose to enter the one I found on the Internet, because it feels like the saftest. There are only two people here, both employees. I need something that looks different from the blue shirt and the beige pants that I am wearing at the moment, and these new clothes also have to be as soft as my specially made ones so that I do not have to suffer from pain all of the time. I go to ask an employee who is filling a shelf with folded jackets.
- Excuse me, what are your softest clothes? I ask her. She then takes me on a tour around the store, and before I know it I stand in front of the check-out carrying a pile of clothes.- Could I try these on before I purchase them? I ask the employee. Her smile runs away and she seems to get a little uncomfortable, but she obediently leads me to a dressing room. I try to pull my pants off, but I cannot stretch my arms wide enough to drag them down. Thus, I try to bend my torso, and successfully drag them down a little bit. I then lose balance and fall to the floor. It hurts, and I scream.
- Is everything okay? the seller asks me. I assure her that everything is running fine, and then I rise. I then stumble over my pants, and once again fall to the floor. This time, I hurry to say everything is fine before the employee has time to ask, and I also kick my trousers off before ascending. It is pretty easy to remove my shirt, but it takes a lot of time to loose all the buttons.
Firstly, I try a white silk tank top. It is soft, but I would actually like something a little warmer. I try on a red sweater, but it hurts to put on and off. I then try a dark grey coat, which is very warm and remarkably soft. I put it aside, in case some of the other pieces of clothing are better. I then tren try on a soft jacket. It makes me a little more than immovable, so I put it away. The last garment I try is a black, hairy jacket. The straws feel very soft, and it looks really warm.
However, the inside is a little rougher, and hence the jacket is not very comfortable to wear. I put it away and decide to go with the grey coat. I then try a pair of uncomfortable pants, but as I put them on I take support from the wall. These pants mean a The beige pants mean a frequent pressure against my legs coming from all directions. And besides, it makes the temperature instable. I then try a couple of smooth pants, but it hurts when I move in them, so they get declined as well. The pants I try next are a black pair made out of cotton. Sir could wear similar ones sometimes.
They are quite soft and warm, but people might relate them to Sir. Or maybe not? They might expect me to avoid any contact with Sir now, and therefore the greatest option is to wear these pants. The beige pants that I have been wearing ever since I was activated are actually more comfortable than any of the pairs I have tried, it is a shame people recognize them. There is a security camera in the dressing room, so I better hurry. I take a look at my reflection. The dark, straight hair is still messy but now also a bit dirty. I put on the grey coat and the black cotton pants, due to these being the best clothes I have tried on.
I hurry to the check-out to pay for these clothes. The batteries were 165 dollars, and the clothes have cost 230.25 dollars. This means I have 519.75 dollars left in total. Once I have left the store with my new clothes on, I empty my pockets on batteries and cash before I am about to throw these old clothes in a nearby garbage bin. Next to the bin, there is a big, blue box that says "REUSE YOUR OLD CLOTHES BY DONATING THEM TO CHARITY".
I put my old clothes there instead, because there is nothing wrong with them except for them being a little dirty. The box has a sticker that says you should not donate torn clothes, which I have not. While walking through the mall, I pass an optician that sells sunglasses for ten dollars each pair. I purchase a pair, as I clearly remember how characters on television could easily camoflauge themselves by wearing one of those.
I take the stairs down to the big fountain, and then I notice that there are coins lying the bottom. I am sure that I could manage to pick those up, though I am not sure that my skin is waterproof. After watching the coins for a while, I start to wonder why people would throw cash into a fountain when they could just keep the money. Due to the high quantity, I doubt that all these people have dropped their coins. A woman who is working in a café is one of the few that have started working. I go to her, and ask why there are coins in the bottom of the fountain. She explains that people put them there so that their wishes may come true.
- So people desposit coins into aquatic environments so that their wishes come true? I ask her, and she confirms my conclusion. I thank her and return to the fountain. I start to wonder if I could make a wish if I put a coin in the fountain. Most of the coins on the bottom are quarters, so the three I have should be enough for three wishes. I step forward and drop a coin onto the surface of the water.
My first wish is to eventually get away from Sir and all violence entirely. My second wish is to feel happiness. Now I have one quarter left, and no third wish. I decide to save this coin for later. Unless I start to have a third wish, at least I have the twenty-five cent value of the coin. Two security guards are very close to me, and I suspect that they are after me. I was right, they are now walking over to me.
- You sure that's him? I hear one of the guards ask the other one.
- Yeah, that's him alright, the other one says. I am going to lie to these guards so that they will not arrest me.
- Good day, I say calmly.
- You're coming with us, says one of them.
- I am not the suspected terrorist, I say.
- Oh, you're not? says the other one. Despite my lie, these two guards bring me to an empty room whose door says "CUSTODY". I suppose this is another custody.
The officers bring me into an empty room, probably another custody.
- Call the police, and tell them we got him, one of the guards tell the other one.
- Sure, you go get us some fika, the other one answers. The two guards then separate from each other, one of them goes out to the mall while the other one stays in the office outside of the custody. Escaping this room will be difficult, since the only exit is locked. I cannot negotiate with the guards either, because this custody has a steady metal door instead of bars. Unless I am sent back to Switzerland I am going to be prosecuted for not only bringing that aeroplane down, but also for tackling Chuck and running away from the law.
I can also be convicted for corruption as I bribed Paula and tried to bribe Chuck. If I am convicted, I could be brought to prison. According to all the movies Sir and I have watched, prison is a terrible place where everyone is fighting all the time, even the guards who are supposed to preserve peace. Some prisoners break out, but I cannot crawl through ventilations and sewers, neither can I climb the ceiling as they did.
The guards confiscated my sunglasses, but they did not take my money. These 509 dollars will however not do much whether I go to court or get sent back home. Unless I bribe these two men, because then they will never hand me over to the police. As soon as one of them arrives to the custody, I am going to make an attempt. Until then, I am going to think over what could be worse; getting sent back to Sir or going to prison. Honest speaking, I think I would prefer prison. This could be because I have never been to prison. I am sure nothing could be worse than Sir's abuse, but that is because I have never gone through anything worse. I sure hope for a third option, which means I will never be assaulted ever again, just like my wish.
I wished that I would eventually be safe from all pain, but I really should have wished for a more sudden solution. I cannot really say my wish to feel happiness has been granted granted either. However, I can recall to short moments where I have felt something that probably resembles happiness. For example when Rasheed called me his friend despite hating me at first. He, and the others on Oriental Treat might be worried about me. Remembering this thing resembling joy makes me look forward to feeling actual joy even more, though I am relieved that someone might actually care about me. That I am not meaningless, that someone is going to miss me no matter what happens next. I am not actually sure wishes come true, and right now I am fairly doubtful.
What if none of that was real, but some kind of implanted memory. That would be pitiful, because I cannot remember any time that I have even been close to feeling that same deal of euphoria as when I was among the restaurant employees. Several hours pass by in the small room, and I witness every second of it. I could just put myself in sleep mode and then wake up as soon as any of the guards touch me, but then I would miss that moment when I am supposed to bribe them. Another hour passes by, and the guards finally arrive at the little room. I make sure to be fast.
- You wouldn't let me go if I gave you two hundred and fifty-four dollars each? I ask the security guards, but them shakes his head.
- You can't buy justice, he says. That is a lie, because I did actually bribe Paula.
One of the guards takes hold of my arms, while the other one goes in front of us. There are now way more people in the mall than before, and many of them look suspiciously and hatefully at me. I did not mind that the first time that I was captured, but this time it feels a lot worse. This could possibly be because that I actually put effort when I bought new clothes and a pair of sunglasses to blend in this time, and it appeared to be useless. If I knew that I would get caught, I would just save money by keeping my old clothes that despite their cool were more comfortable. It is a little brighter than before, and there are more people outside now.
The guards take me through fifteen streets, a bridge, three districts and half a city. This seems to be the end, and now that I can use maps on the Internet I see that I went the wrong direction when I got up. We pass Oriental treat, and I feel slightly sorrowful. The restaurant has a few guests right now, but the entire staff is in the kitchen. I really wonder what is happening behind those doors to the kitchen, and what is said about me.
- I actually ate at this place yesterday, one of the guards tells the other one.
- How was it?
- 'Twas alright. The service was meh, but the pita bread was pretty good. I feel a slight matter of pride, though I feel sorry for Rasheed.
We are walking on the streets I ran across after that bullet was fired and I had broken free from Chuck's grip, what I remember as a successful run from the officers. The station is only 193 metres from our current position, and only a miracle can save me now. Maybe these guards get hit by lightning? I search the Internet for the weather forecast, and the weather is apparently going to be clear until this monday, but it will be too late by then.
Perhaps I have some kind of special ability, like television's "Super-heroes"? These were individuals, usually humans, who suddenly discovered that they had powers as they accidently used these or had their alien parents contact them. I am pretty sure that I do not have any alien parents, since I was not produced through breeding. I could not have mutated either, since I lack any defining deoxynucleinacid. Could that defect soda can have given me any powers? I was never in contact with the liquid, though Chuck was.
He might have gotten super powers now. He probably has deoxynucleinacid to mutate. In any case, I am pretty sure that my journey is over. There is nothing I can do by now. The guards have a steady grip of me, so I cannot tackle them. I cannot hit them either, and I do not have any hidden ability to knock them out with. Except for one thing, maybe. Once when Sir tried to pierce my spine, I screamed on such a high sound frequency that Sir backed away. I could not do such a scream at will, though If I am exposed to something equally as painful I could do it by impulsive reaction. I try to insult the men, so that they get mad and beat me. I think for a while, and recall to the probably the nastiest thing Sir has ever said.
- Hey you, I tell the guard on my left. He looks at me.
- Yeah, you. Your pathetic existence lacks purpose, so you have to die! I tell him, while trying to imitate Sir's angry voice.
- What? He asks me. I soon remember another rude phrase Sir has used on me.
- Your face looks as though it's been hit by a burning pitchfork, looks like the devil's shit in fact! I say, and prepare for a bold strike. However, he does not get aggressive.
He looks mostly upset. If I spell another insult, it might just make him frustrated enough to hit me. I browse all of Sir's offences, and pick an insult that was not used on me, but used while Sir was playing games Online.
- If your mother ever called you her little treasure, your father must've insisted to bury you! I tell him, but he does not get mad now either. Instead, he uses one of his hands to cover his eyes. I do not like this, and I feel a slight matter of guilt for saying this.
- Hey, that was uncalled-for! the other guards says. He seems to be mad at me, but he does not attack me either.
- And what are you gonna do about it, hit me with all your power? I suggest, but he shakes his head. As little I like doing this, I will have to keep insulting these two men.
- Come on, butt-face. Hit me! I tell the angry guard, but he will still not do it.
- Shut up! he roars instead. I can see the police station now, and there is hardly any time left. I begin to lose hope, and these guards are very restrained.
- If you are so mad at me, why won't you just punch me? I ask them. They do not answer at first, but as I repeat my question, they answer.
- Don't you think we want to, genious? one of them asks. I nod, for I am sure that I have tempted them to hit me. Don't you think your ugly mug is enough? he then asks me.
- We don't want to get arrested ourselves, the other one mentions. That is right, abusing people is against the law. This means that no one can assault me as long as they think I am a human being... except for in prison, where there is no law and order whatsoever.
All these rude things I have said have been to no use, so I might as well could not have hurt the guards' feelings. They can not do anything about it, except for trying to ignore me. It is sort of unfair, and I am the one to blame. I have caused injustice, and this makes me think about everyone else who I have caused suffering. I want to scream, but I do not. After how I have behaved, maybe I deserve being tortured by Sir till I stop operating. What if all that has happened is some sort of punishment? What if I have done worse things without even remembering it? I think about how I used Paula, and how Sai, his family, and Rasheed treated me with kindness.
I feel bad, and if I return to Sir, that would at least make him happy. This feeling is the exact opposite to what I felt when paying that bus driver more than necessary. I do not even know if these emotions are real, or if they are just a product of my artificial intelligence. According to Sir's television, robots lack any feelings whatsoever. If I would have feelings, then I would not be a robot. This would mean that my personal intelligence would be responsible for all those bad choices. This makes me feel even worse, and I just want to run away. Not from the law, not from Sir, but from something else.
It feels as though I am ready to make the loudest yell I have ever done, but I still cannot manage to do it. A loud rumble stuns my thoughts for a short while, and I notice that the guards' eyes rest upon a blue parade float. It is a square object covered in fabric with a wooden pedestal on it.I can see a man dressed in a black suit, consisting of a pair of dark grey trousers and a black jacket above a white shirt along with a blue tie. He wears a white ribbon that says "REPRESENTATIVE" around him, and a woman with a megaphone stands next to him.
- Lower the taxes, increase security, Droneman represents YOUR will! the woman yells. Vote for Droneman as state representative for a better society!
The guards are still holding me tightly, but I am not in the centre of their attention anymore. This could be a great opportunity to run away, but I actually want to hear what these people have to say. I notice how many people who shares my will, and that I am suddenly surrounded by a crowd. They have gotten here on a couple of minutes, as though they teleport here. They can however not have done that, since Sir told me that he used to invest in that technology, but stopped doing so since a lot of time went by without any advancements.
I think about Sir and remember how I felt sorry for him, so much that I had second thoughts about running away at the first place. My consciousness is taken back to all my previous thoughs about Sir, and it is shocking to have everything coming back at the same time. I feel how the pronounciation "Sir" leaves my mouth. Everyone's looks turn to me, even the "Representative" Droneman. The guards look at each other for a short while.
- Yes, citizen? Droneman asks me. I feel uncomfortable having the attention of a highly ranked government official, so I twist out of the guards' grip and start to run.
The guards instantly turn away from the "Representative" and come rushing after me.- What was THAT?! the guard who got angry first asks. I am not sure whether he is asking me, his colleague or himself.
- Get him! the previously sad guard shouts.
- Hey wait, it's the terrorist! someone yells.
Now, I have a smaller army after me, lead by the two guards. It consists of three obese men, a young woman and muscular guy with a bicycle helmet who is catching up with the far-ahead guards. Even though I am running much faster than my chasers, I look back a few times just to be safe. The bicycle helmet man starts to slow down after half an hour, and he was the last one chasing me. With a sweaty forehead, he pants and turns back. I check my battery, which is at 26% now. This street is not unknown, the guards escorted me through it. I know where the mall is, so I decide to get there. I have no idea why, but I lack any other place to go.
Going to London is a bad idea, since it is closer to Switzerland than Oxford is. There is this place up north called "Scotland", and I could go there. I could got here without my sunglasses, but luckily the guards did not take my 509.25 dollars. It is probably more than enough for a one-way ticket to Scotland, and the remaining money could be used for an estate or at least a vehicle.I cannot pilot any vehicle, so owning one is not going to ease my existence in any way. Besides, I learned from Sir that vehicles are expensive both buying and keeping. I will not afford anything, except for possibly a bicycle. Due to my instable weight, I will also not be able to keep balanced anyways.
The closest traveling agent is two blocks away, so I get there within a couple of minutes. This agent is a bit bigger than the one in Switzerland, and it looks very different somehow. There is more glass, simply. Plenty of the posters are the same, I quickly find the "AMERICA" one and the one about "BELGIUM". I cannot "ARUBA" poster, though. However, I spy plenty of new posters. There is one saying "IRELAND: THE GREEN ISLAND", and one saying "DISOVER THE STONEHENGE, AN ANCIENT ARTIFACT". When I was shut off and used the world wide web for the first time, I spotted many of these places on the map. America is on the other side of a grand mass of water, so I will have to get there by aeroplane. Last time I rode an aeroplane, I got accused for being a terrorist. Since the consequences are still haunting me, I decide to pass on that idea. I am not the only one here, there is also an old couple, middle-aged woman and a bearded man with a backpack. There is also an agent behind a desk, of course. Everyone ignores me, thankfully.
- Please, Craig. I've always wanted to see the Easter Island! the old woman says.
- We can barely afford the travel permission, so can't we just see the Stonehenge again? Craig suggests.
- But Craig... the woman pleads.
- These are really bad times to be in debt, Craig explains.
- Well, it's not going to get better with time, the lady says.
- We must think about our kids' inheritance, Kay's already in a bad seat.
- Come on, you only live once! the lady whines. Craig sighs
- We'll consider it, alright?
They do not notice that I have been staring at them for a whole minute, so I stop before they do. I better avoid any social contact with people in order to not make my current situation even worse, as it is already more than enough.
I wonder if leaving Oxford is really going to solve anything, because information about me spreads across the entire world through the Internet. A solution would be deactivating Internet on every device in the world, but it would be risky to apporach people that already knows who I am. It would also take a long time since there are 8.7 billion people on Earth right now. I could go to outer space, though leaving the planet would have a price I do not even possess one per mille of.
The best thing to do would be travelling somewhere they do not have the Internet, and therefore cannot know of me. I hopefully ask the travel agent if they know of somewhere they do not have access to the world wide web. She is a young woman with green hair, and piercing in the corner of her eye. The metal needle that is attached with a crystal surrounded by the same silver metal looks very painful, and I feel sympathy for her. It is tempting to ask her about her ornament, but I decide to get to focus on the actual reason I got here.
- Do you know of any place where cannot access the Internet? I ask the agent. She does not even look at me.
- North Korea, she answers quickly.
- How much does the ticket cost? I ask her. She rolls her eyes, and then looks at me.
- We... don't sell trips to North Korea, she explains.
- Do you sell trips to anywhere they don't have Internet? I ask her, attempting to be a bit more detailed.
- They're building a resort on Antarctica, so you come back in thirteen years, she explains, and shows me a poster I have not seen anytime before.
"SEE THE LAST PURITY OF EARTH: VISIT ANTARCTICA RESORT!" I browse the image of the grand, white palace in the snowy desert of Antarctica with a bystanding realistically animated polar bear who is doing a thumbs up, and then my eyes go down to the text "OPENS JANUARY 2ND, 2041".
- Why waiting so long to open this resort? I ask her. She shrugs.
- I think there's some agreement that disbands in forty-one, she says and turns her whole face to me.
She seems to notice that I have interest in this resort.
- Though I wouldn't bother waiting if I were you, she then says.
- Why not? I ask her.
- The prices are gonna be sky high, and the place is only gonna be open for rich people and secret syndicate-cult people like the Mighty Vision, Club X, Blade of misery and Shit.
- Is there really a secret cult named Shit? I ask her, as this is a name I highly doubt anyone would want to bear.
- With that name, they better keep it secret, she says, and smiles faintly.
I decide to use her reaction in order to make her want to assist me.
- It might be more of a description, I tell her, and now she starts laughing.
She seems to dislike these secret clubs and rich people. I can use this for my benefit. I am not going to mention that I used to work for Sir, though.
- Listen, I'm running from the Blade of misery, so could you please find a ticket to somewhere no one can find me? I know that thing with Blade of misery is a lie, but I am really being hunted. I figure that if these cults and rich people cannot find me, policemen should neither. Honestly, I have nothing personal against these orders. In fact, I know nothing about them. Sir mentioned Club X once when he was on an Online forum, but the Mighty Vision and the Blade of Misery are unknown to me.
- Okay, we have tickets to Saint Howard, a small town in swiss alps. Perfect for running away and hide. As long as you don't stumble across a millionaire.
- Do you have anything else? I ask the agent. If I wanted to see S.t. Howard again I would not have run away from the guards nor the police... neither from Sir in the first place.
She thinks for a short while, and then looks at her computer. She offers me a trip to a norweigan lake town. It sounds way more promising than Antarctica or S.t. Howard.
- How do I get there? I ask her. She tells me that it is aeroplane all the way, with an exchange in Denmark.
- Do you have any trips by boat or train? I ask the agent, but she says that such transport may only bring me to close british islands and possibly to some close countries on the continent. I ask her which countries, but the countries she present are way closer to Switzerland than Great Britain is.
At last, the travel agent suggests a train ticket to Scotland, which I have already had plans to travel to. I accept this offer after thinking for half a second.
- That'll be fifty dollars, she tells me, and I give her a one-hundred-dollar bill to have a fifty-dollar bill and a ticket in return. Now I have 459.25 dollars left, and I have no idea what I can do with them. The train departs at 18:40, in six hours. Once I have left the travel agent I take a quick look around the area to make sure that there is no one around. It is the middle of the day, so there are not many people outside right now. I remember seeing the train station close to the mall, and according to the maps on the Internet I only have to walk two kilometres to get there. While going to the station, I keep thinking about my job at Oriental Treat.
What are they thinking about me now? I take the salary, get chased out of the pub by the police and never return. Either they must think that I am a terrible person, or thry are extremely worried about me. For my sake, it would be better if they worried about me. It would be nice having someone who cares, but what would be best for them? Would they feel better believing that I am a bad person than being worried about me? I also think back at the events in Watrine, how I brought that plane down only by exisiting. If machines are so dangerous, then why do humans keep using us all the time? When I am at it, I also think back to the time when I lived in the mansion and was beaten all the time by that maniac Sir. I defended myself from him once, that time when I screamed loud enough to make him retreat. I could hear the scream myself, but I did not react the same way as Sir. I also remember when I plead to Sir. "Please stop it!" I yelled, "Hell no" Sir would answer, and hit me once again. "I don't deserve your mercy!" he made me cry, and "That's right, you little shit!" he answered.
I get a little dizzy by thinking about this, but this ceases as I hear a familiar scream. I hear someone cry "Aaah, you win!" weakly. I can then hear a punch. This reminds me of my past."Please, I beg you!" I hear that voice respond to the battery. I find the house that the sound came from, so now I am sure that it is not any of my old memories. Yet, I can sense these sounds in my computer, like some sort of signal. It feels as though I can communicate the screaming entity, but it does not respond when I try to. I see an open window in the terraced house, I soon find the door as well. It is a dark brown wooden door with a golden knob and a small decoration with the number 27 printed in cursive on it. According to a nearby sign and the map, this is Coal Street 27. I knock on the door, in hope to be answered by the screaming entity - or at least be let in so that I can find said entity. I can hear a conversation on the other side of the door.
- Will ya take it, Rupe? a female voice asks.
- I'm busy! You take it! answers an angry male voice. The woman mumbles before rising and starting to walk slowly to the door. She opens it, and her grey, messy hair along with her tired face reminds me of Sir.
- Well? It's bloody sa'urday mornin', whadda ya want? she asks me, an an angered voice. I generate a false answer.
- Good afternoon, Madame. My apologies if the time is inappropriate, I start calmly. She calms down a little, her heart rate decreases a bit.
- Would you like to participate in a project of mine? I ask her. I do not know what to say now, because I want to give a quick answer so that she will not ask me to go away.
- Oh, what kinda project dis o' yours? she asks me. She asks a questiona bout this fictional project, and that means she shows interest. Now I have to come up with more details.
- You are actually the first ones I'm asking, I tell her. She puts her hands on each side of her torso, and squints with her eyes.
- Wha-who're yous askin' anyways? she asks me. I must come up with someone she would be interested in working with. People like money, who has a lot of it?
- Damian Storen sent me, I tell her, and then hear heavy footsteps approach the door.
- Damian bloody Storen! he says, in a shocked, still happy voice.
- Why don't ya come in for a cuppa tea? the woman offers, and I say yes. This is exactly what I wanted.
The inside looks even better than the outside. The interior is fancy, though there are not as many items as in Sir's house. For some reason, there are several chunks in the house that are covered in dust whilst most of it is not. I get brought to a kitchen table and the woman serves me a cup of tea. The man is wearing a beige tank top and a brown pair of pants, a style that somehow resembles Sir's. The couple that are now sitting in front of me are staring, as if they expect me to say something. I have nothing to say, so I try to improvise something that can result in me getting to meet the source of the scream. "So, Damian is looking for..." I begin, before a thin man in a leather jacket steps into the room. He has blonde hair and brown eyes. He has a little facial hair below his mouth. His lifeless stare into the thin air assures me that there is something not quite right about him.
- Who is that, your offspring? I ask the man, who rises up from his chair and takes a grip around the thin man's arm.
- I told you nudda leave'a livin' room, ye good for nothin' recycle bin! he yells loudly. He seems to be really frustrated with the thin man for some reason. Before I have the time to ask about what is going on, the older man hits the thin one in the stomach. The thin man in leather jacket descends, and cries for mercy. The older man then aims a strike in his back that makes him fall to the floor, where he is kicked.
- Don't worry lov', it's just a those punchin' bots, the woman tells me, as she notices my startled face. I should have known that the thin, blonde man is an AssaultBot, just like me. I rise from my hair and walk over to the man who is abusing the robot.
- Stop it! I tell him.
- Relax, 'es just a machine, he explains. I threat to abort any payment involved in the project, and he ceases to assault the robot at an instant. While he returns to his seat, I help the thin, blonde robot up from the floor. I then whisper something to him, very quietly. I hope that it has as good hearing as I do.
- When I say 'now', you run out of that door as fast as you can, okay? I whisper.
- Why? it asks me.
- We don't have time for details, but things are going to be a lot better if you just do it! I whisper. The human couple looks at us, with questioning eyes. I rise slowly, and sneak to the entrance. Their eyes follow me, unexpecting of what is about to happen. I reach the door, and wait a couple of seconds before opening it. I yell "NOW!" to the other AssaultBot, who soon comes running through the door. I dash after him, and it takes eight seconds before the proprietors of the robot comes running after us, shouting and cursing.
We are both way faster and more sustained than the humans, so we easily manage to get away. I look back as we leave Coal Street, to see the woman standing on their terrace, talking on the phone. Regarding me committing theft on her and her husband's property, it is much likely that she is reporting me to the police. The blonde, thin robot and I must get away as far as we can. After Coal Street is another street with terrace houses, and then a third one. The blonde robot seems to be a good runner, just like me. This is a quality that will prove to be beneficial in this world. Suddenly, I spot the reflection of blue light on a window. Then I hear sirens. We have two police cars behind us.
I make a fast overview of the area, and see that we are reaching the end of this residential area. There is a alley between the last terrace house and a pizzeria. I lead the other robot into the alley, which appears to be a dead end.I cannot hear the police cars much longer, so it seems like we are safe.