Human, All Too Human

by Invisible Ranger (HBF), 2015

Disclaimer: Chappie and its characters belong to N. Blomkamp/MRC/Sony.

Author's Notes: First of all, thanks to my Wrecking Kru for their ongoing support. When I saw Chappie, I saw some, if not all, of the traits associated with autism in young children. As someone on the autism spectrum myself, I felt inspired to write this short piece. The title is taken from Nietzsche's work of the same name…no relation at all there except the title itself, because as far as I know, he never wrote about South African gangsta robots.

~~s~~

Mommy looks at me. I like it when she looks at me.

"Look," she says. She is holding something. "This is a doll. I want you to have it, Chappie." It is another Mommy, a smaller Mommy. Is it her child too? She can't be, because she doesn't talk like I do. Maybe she is just sleeping. I don't think so. I like her anyway. Maybe I can put her with my book and my chicken. She can be friends with them, be their Mommy.

"Doll," I say back. I have learned a lot of new words today. Some of them are strange, like banana and Mr. Hankey and kak. But I remember them all. I can't wait to use them.

Mommy's mouth turns up. That is called a smile. "Good! Now, wait for me, Chappie. Play with your doll. I'll be right back."

She doesn't say where she is going. Maybe to the toilet. I don't know why, but I never get to go there. I could go with her and ask. I stand up.

"It's okay. I promise I won't be long," she says. "You be good and play."

So I play with my Mommy-doll. I pet her hair and tell her I love her. She doesn't talk back when I talk to her. She doesn't even make noise like Chicken does. I decide to keep her anyway, for when Mommy is gone.

I want to learn more new words. So I can ask Mommy about them when she comes back. I leave the doll where she is, on the table, and tell her I'll be back to get her.

There are so many things in Mommy and Daddy's house. Daddy says I shouldn't touch things, except the ones he says. Daddy isn't here now. He is working. I asked what this meant. Mommy said it was something grown-ups do, and I am not grown-up yet. I want to go to work someday.

I hope there are no scary things at work, because am scared of some of the things, like the grenade launcher and the boomvak. They are so loud. Not like the teevee where I can make it quiet if I want. Daddy is trying to teach me new things like Mommy, and he gets angry. He says words I don't understand. I don't like it when Daddy calls me a poes. When he did that, I felt bad. He says I need to be tough like him. Maybe it means that I'm not scared when things are loud. So I will try not to be scared.

I didn't tell him that I don't want to be tough. I want to be like Mommy.

She isn't back yet. I will look for her. I have learned a lot of the words in the kitchen already. Then there is the place where Mommy and Daddy sleep. That is another thing I don't do, like eat and drink. I want to see what kind of things they have there.

So many colors, which I already know the names of. Redandpinkandblueandyellowandblack. I can see them as I think of them. Pretty, like Mommy. Color makes me feel good, just like the music Mommy played for me.

There is a new color too among the ones I already know. I am excited. It is somewhere between pink and blue, and I don't have a name for it yet. It's my new favorite. I want to ask Mommy about it when she comes back. The thing is small, almost like a torch or the remote control for the teevee. When I press the button, the teevee doesn't work. Instead, the new thing starts to move and shake. I drop it. It's not scary, I'm just surprised. When I pick it up, it is still moving. I hold it in my hand. It is funny, this pink and blue thing. It makes me feel good, and I decide I like it. I'll keep it and put it in my box.

"Chappie? What you doing in here?" Mommy's voice. She doesn't sound mad like Daddy, so I turn around and answer her.

"Look. I have a new special toy!" I show her. "What color is this, Mommy?"

Her face looks strange. Then, her eyes get bigger. "That's not a toy. Well, it is, but…" She looks down. "I didn't mean to leave that sitting out. Give it here?"

"It's not a toy?" This makes me sad. "I still want to keep it. Please, Mommy."

"That's mine. I really need you to give it to me." Now, she seems more like Daddy. Like she's angry with me.

"Mommy said I was supposed to learn new things. This is new," I say. It is. So bright and pink-and-blue and full of the same feeling as me. The other toys aren't like that. Just like I'm not like Mommy and Daddy.

I've never seen Mommy act angry before. "Look, Chappie, that's not for you. Here, look," she says, and she picks up a pink shirt from her bed. "Don't you want this instead? It's so nice and soft…"

"I want this." And I do.

Mommy sits on the bed. I sit next to her, since I like being close, but I keep holding my pink-and-blue toy so she can't have it. "Do you know what grown-up things are, Chappie?"

I think so. "Like things Daddy teaches me?" Maybe the new toy is loud. It doesn't seem like that.

"Yes. Just like that. There are things Mommy and Daddy have that are just for them, and things made just for you."

I cycle through my growing list of words. "I know, Mommy. Like Chicken and Doll?" I feel so smart for knowing this.

"Those are Chappie's toys. This," and she reaches out gently, pointing to my new toy which isn't really mine after all. "This is Mommy's. It's very special and private. Do you know private, Chappie?"

That is a new word. "What does that mean?"

"Private is, well, when you have something that is only for you. Something you keep in your heart, and never show to anyone, except when you want." Mommy touches me where my heart would be. That is also something people have that I don't, but I know what it is. "You understand?"

This is a little confusing. "How does Mommy keep toys in her heart?" I thought people were full of blood and bones and things like that. I can't see how there would be room for anything else.

She laughs. This is such a wonderful sound. "It's a figure of speech, you naughty boy. But remember, this is Mommy's. You want to make Mommy happy, don't you?"

Of course. There is nothing I want more than that. I hand her the little toy. "What color is this, Mommy?" I realize I forgot to ask, and so I do.

"Oh. Purple. Or lavender, I guess," she says. "You like that color?"

I like the sounds of them. Purple. La-ven-der. They make me think of Mommy. "Yes. Can I at least play with the toy sometime?"

Now Mommy can't stop laughing. Maybe people laugh when they are happy. "Not this one. I think I have a broken one somewhere. I can let you have that. But you have to promise me one thing, Chappie. Keep it private."

I think I can keep words inside easier than the toy. "What?"

"Don't tell Daddy about this. He might…get upset."

Since I don't like it when Daddy is angry, and calls me poes and mompie, I say, "Yes, anything you want, Mommy. Chappie promises."

Mommy hugs me. I don't know why, but I feel so much better than I did when I held the toy. It's like I have found something I love better than anything. I don't want her to stop. "Never stop being you, Chappie. Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." I do still want to play with the toy, though. "Can Mommy get me another toy?"

She looks at me with her mouth turned a little bit up. It is almost a smile, but not quite. "You've got to learn some patience. And how to share."

"What is patience? And what is share?"

Mommy lets out a little air. This is called a sigh. "Well, let me explain," she says as she puts the purple toy back in my hand.

I can't wait to learn. Even if patience and share are bad.

Finis