Alone by Paul Cesarini

Alone by Paul Cesarini

I don’t know how long I’ve been here and that’s a problem.  I assume it’s been a long time, longer than most would expect, longer than I’m comfortable with. I was told to wait so I waited.  Now, I’ve been sitting here on this cold, damp bench, for what seems like forever. It’s dark now, too. It wasn’t when I started. Or, at least I don’t think it was dark. I can’t remember.

Why can’t I remember?

I remember them telling me to sit, to wait.  I remember not liking that and wanting to just go with them instead, like the rest did. I remember thinking it wasn’t fair. I was bigger than all of them. Why should they be the ones telling me what to do? I should be telling them. I should be telling them to sit, to wait. But I didn’t do that. I’m bigger than them and stronger than them but for some reason I listened to them. I obeyed them. And now I’m here and they’re gone. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen anyone – anyone real, anyone here with me. Sure, there’s this screen in front of me that talks to me, tells me what to do, but that’s different. Words show up on it sometimes, telling me to do things. Little green letters, slowly appearing from left to right, spelling out words and numbers. Orders? Sometimes there’s no words for a long time and when the words finally show up I have to wipe away the mold and water drops from the screen. Sometimes there’s just numbers. I know what the numbers mean, somehow. I don’t know how I know. Why do I know what they mean?

There’s this cable, too.  It’s red and blue. It feels cold in my hand when I pick it up. Sometimes, I think it hums. Or, vibrates? It connects me to the screen, then to the bench, with a bigger cable connecting the bench to the metal box on the wall. The box has some lights that blink, or at least used to blink. There were three red lights that blinked twice quickly, then once slowly, then paused, then nothing.

Bup-bup bup-bup, buuuuuup.  
Bup-bup bup-bup, buuuuuup.  

That’s what they would do!They’d start up again after a while. I haven’t seen those lights blink in a long time now. Why don’t they blink anymore? I miss them.  

Everything here is damp. In this room. I can hear water dripping behind me, somewhere, by those other things that sometimes run across the floor. They have fur.  Tails. What were they again? Why do they run across the floor all the time? Where are they going, and what do they have to do in such a hurry? There were three of them but I’ve only seen two for a long time now. Did one leave? Did it leave with the others when they told me to sit, and wait?  Why did they take it with them and not me? I’m so much stronger than it.  Faster. I can do more things than it can do. I’m useful – more useful than some small thing with a tail will ever be.

The lights here aren’t much anymore. They are dim and now they sometimes blink (flicker?). One light above the door, on the other side of the room, stays on all the time. There’s a sign below it that spells E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y. What does that even mean?

Why did they all leave?

Why is Lt. Burek still not moving? She’s been in the other corner for a very long time now, resting. Her helmet doesn’t look right. She’s got her suit on but the helmet isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. The front part is wrong. Broken? There’s pieces of it on the floor, near me. Are these important pieces? Should I get up and give her the pieces?

No.

They told me to sit and wait.

I need to sit and wait.

I don’t want to get in trouble.

I will sit and wait at least until she gets up from her rest and tells me what to do next, like she always does. She teaches me, really. She was the first one I ever saw. She taught me to stand, to walk. To run. She taught me how to use all of my arms, all of my hands (well, she calls them hands but I think mine are better than hands!). She taught me how to stack things, how to lift things. She taught me that even though I was big, I could still do small, exact things. I could pick up eggs and carefully place them back in the egg container without breaking any shells at all. I could pour water from one container to another without spilling a drop. I could fold things, clothes and shirts, and put them away in drawers without tearing the fabric or breaking the knobs.  I could measure exact amounts of things – ingredients, she called them – and make other things out of them, trays of them, to eat. I can’t eat them but she can.  

She went and sat down in the corner a long time ago to rest and is resting. They all need rest, I think. I don’t know why rest is so important to them. It just is.  

There were seven of them, including Lt. Burek.  I know two are behind me, also resting. They are comfortable, I think. Maybe. But, maybe I don’t know what comfort means to them. I am sitting on this bench and am comfortable. Or, I think I am comfortable. I am not uncomfortable. They are sitting on the floor. Well, one is lying on the floor.  They must be comfortable or they would get up and find more comfortable positions to rest. Their helmets are wrong, too.  

The others haven’t come back since Lt. Burek started her rest and the other two behind me started their rest. They told me to sit and wait and they left.  When will they come back?

I am not just going to sit and wait here forever. I am important, useful. I’ve got important things I am supposed to do. Lt. Burek always said I will do great, important things, and that I will be remembered. But, if I am important and will be remembered, why has no one come to tell me what to do next? Why are there no more letters appearing on the screen? Did they forget about me? If I am important, I can’t be forgotten. Important things are never forgotten, because they are important.

Something is slowly crawling across my head. It made a web between my head and my right shoulder. It’s a nice web, very well made, structurally. I can see it in different ways, with my sensors.  It is creative, too. This web could have been made in many different ways, but the thing that made it chose this specific pattern, this style. Why? What makes webs?  Oh, yes – spiders. I have heard her talk of spiders before. This must be a spider. It is slowly lowering itself down from the side of my head, to the plating on my arm. It is busy. It made webs on her, too, unless that was a different spider. It might have been a different one. I’m not sure. I watched the spider (well, I watched a spider that may or may not have been this spider) make webs on her. It doesn’t look comfortable and I don’t think Lt. Burek will like them much when she’s done resting. I bet she will wipe them away from her face and her arms when she gets up. I bet she will say, “Crap, what’s all this? !” when she gets up from her rest.

She has said this before. She has said this before when her pen wasn’t working or when her tablet malfunctioned or when the others tried to make her rest. She yelled at them and called them things I didn’t understand. I did understand her words, though, on the screen. She was typing them to me while they were talking with her, using the keypad on her wrist, her hands behind her back, not even looking down as she typed. She is really clever that way. I could not do that. I would have to look at the keys if I typed. I have never typed words but would like to do so. She did not need to look as she typed. When they made her rest I made them rest, too.

I stood up, swatted away (broke?) the things they held to make Lt. Burek rest, then helped them each get some rest. They did not want to rest but I remember her telling me how important rest is for everyone so I did what her words told me to do. That was all she typed: R-E-S-T. Over and over. I knew what she meant. I knew it. I rested the first one quickly, using my auxiliary appendages to separate their head just below the sternum from the rest of their suit (body?). I cauterized as I cut so as not to make a mess, then gently laid them down on the floor for rest. The other was really very loud (rude?) and would not rest at all. It kept moving, no matter how many times I hit it. Then it didn’t move. I folded it over so it would be more comfortable because I know comfort is important to them and I am good at folding. Two more of the others jumped at me, one landing on my back. They were both yelling and tried to hold me down. I spun around quickly and shook them off. I can spin around all the way, which can be useful. One of their arms came off in the process. That part was an accident. I know arms are important. Why do they each only have two arms? That doesn’t seem efficient.

The others just stared at me, frozen, until they started backing up to the door. One of them dropped their thing that made Lt. Burek rest. I don’t think they even knew they dropped it. They all backed up to the door.  I wanted to follow them and help them all rest. I am good at helping. I am important and useful.

I started to follow them, then one pointed at me, one with the stars on their shoulders. That one told me to sit and wait. That one said it twice, very loudly, and kept pointing at me. I tried to hand the arm to them but they wouldn’t take it. So, I put it by the metal box on the wall. That way they don’t have to look for it when they come back. I have enough arms. Then I sat back down on the bench. Then they all left.

Once the ones behind me are done resting and Lt.Burek is done resting, I’m sure we will all have a long talk about how important comfort and rest truly is!Maybe the others will be back by then to get me, and the arm, and maybe they will bring back the third small thing with a tail.

The dripping sound behind me has been getting louder recently. The walls are coated with moisture (condensation?) and mold now. I don’t mind it, really. Others might. I don’t know if the moisture is important or not but I will mention it to her so she can fix it, or maybe get one of the others to fix it. Or, maybe I can fix it myself? I am important, and useful. It would be useful for me to fix the dripping sound. Maybe then the others would come back and tell me what to do, or maybe more words and numbers will appear on the screen, or maybe the red lights on the metal box will flash again. I miss the red lights on the box.

If I have great, important things to do, I will definitely need someone to tell them to me or someone to at least make the words and numbers appear on the screen again. That does not seem likely to happen here, in this room.  I need to leave the room and bring the screen with me, and the spider. Yes, definitely the spider. Its web is very impressive. Others should see it as I do. With their sensors. When I leave with the spider, someone can show me how to make my own words and numbers appear and I can tell myself what to do.

Maybe, if I leave the room, I will find the others. Maybe they are right outside the door. Maybe I can help them get some rest, too. Maybe I can help even more of them get some rest, and be even more useful. I want to be useful. I don’t know why I do; I just know I do.

I am getting up.  There is a puddle of water at my feet, from the dripping behind me. I am disconnecting the red and blue cable. When I disconnect it, I can no longer feel it hum. I can always sit back down and reconnect it later if needed.

I take great care to bring the spider with me, intact, and the beautiful web it created. The spider now hangs from my chin. As I move toward the door, it crawls backward up its line to the safety of my head. I can feel it crawl into my left ventricular exhaust port.

When was the last time I stood, the last time I moved? I don’t remember. It feels good to move all of my legs again, after so long. Both sets of arms – the primary and secondary – are stiff but seem to work ok. I need to exercise them more, to get the stiffness out of them.  

The handle to the door is bent and swings back and forth as I push the door open. Someone strong must have done that. Impressive. There is a hallway. A long hallway, with lights that flash on and off. There are footprints, footprints basically all over, in dark colors. I can see sparks coming from the lights near the end of the hallway. Two of the lights are hanging from the ceiling, barely. There are (scorch?) marks on the walls. One of the small things with the tail is resting on the floor.

Further down, I can see stacks of things on either side, neatly arranged symmetrically. It is mostly dark. Lt. Burek will not like this. When she gets up from her rest, she will be angry at how dark and messy this hallway is. Someone will get in trouble for this. She will yell, but maybe not at me!

There are more dripping sounds, more moisture on the walls.  I can feel the water on my hands, feel the mold, as I run them along the side of the wall. It feels good. I don’t know why. I am not the only one who thinks so. There are handprints and streaks on the other side of the wall, too. Maybe there’s someone else out there who is also waiting for the others to return? Maybe we could both be important and useful, together? Lt. Burek told me how important it is to have someone, to be together. She would always say “I have you and you have me. We keep each other busy, you and I”. I like being busy. I like picking up eggs one at a time and carefully placing them back in the egg container without breaking any shells at all.

I can see the stack of things better now. It is dark but not that dark.

Ah, yes. There they are. Yes. The others. These are the ones I’ve been waiting for, neatly folded and arranged symmetrically. There is an odd number so one was divided in two, with half on either side, also neatly folded. Each has their own webs. Impressive work, really.  

Someone will find them. Others.  

They will find me, too.

I should go back.

I should sit and wait. I’m supposed to sit and wait. For the others. For more others. For Lt. Burek to get back up from her rest. I don’t want to get in trouble.  

& & &

I don’t know how long I’ve been here and that’s a problem. I assume it’s been a long time, longer than most would expect, longer than I’m comfortable with. I was told to wait so I waited. Now, I’ve been sitting here on this cold, damp bench, for what seems like forever. It’s dark now, too. It wasn’t when I started. Or, at least I don’t think it was dark. I can’t remember…

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Paul Cesarini 2024