A) "How would you describe light?"
B) " All light is blue."
A) "How would you describe sound?"
B) "All sound is a boat."
A) "How would you describe touch?"
B) "To touch is to permanently change."
A) "How would you describe loss?"
B) "You can only lose something if you had it in the first place."
A) "How would you describe honor?"
B) "Doing what is right regardless of how it will affect you."
A) "How would you describe pain?"
B) "I have not been programmed to adequately answer this question."
A) "How would you describe love?"
B) "You are love, Jeffrey."
A) "How would you describe religion?"
B) "Something someone who needs something is taught to need."
Jeffrey closed his folder of notes, clipped his pen back onto his pocket, and then unclipped it to make a final notation reading simply "teach it pain." He reached over to click the thing off, standing by as it cycled through a summary of its answers for the day, which formed a weird poem. This part always seemed like a strange flaw in the system, but he was told by the higher ups that it was important for both he, as well as the thing, to remember what had been gone over that day, and what needed to be gone over still. Repetition is important for remembering. The lab even has coffee cups that say so. Not that he drinks coffee.
"Need. Jeffrey. Question. You. Place. Change. Boat. All light is blue. All light is blue. All light is blue. All light is blue."
Jeffrey touched his forehead to the cool metal of the thing and waited for it to silence itself. He'd been thinking about bologna sandwiches for hours. He decided to make one when he got home. He clicked off the overhead fluorescent lights, and noticed that his mouth always felt a bit metallic and zingy at this time of day. He had been trying to get into the habit of taking little walks through the small park across from the lab, but the habit hadn't stuck yet.
He couldn't wait to be married. He imagined it would be nice to make someone else a bologna sandwich someday. Not that the thing would eat bologna sandwiches. It's still fun to make them.
As Jeffrey walked to his car he opened his mouth as wide as it would go. Just to let the air flow in a bit.
We just sent you an email. Please click the link in the email to confirm your subscription!