NOTE:
This is a short story about the Anime Series "Heat Guy J" which is playing
on MTV2 now. Go and see it, it's worth it! The soundtrack is similar to
"Cowboy BeBop" and it's a pretty well done Buddy-cop action drama. It has
some interesting characters, and a pretty neat world that serves as back
drop. This particular short is about the title character, J, from a non-
existent character's viewpoint. As of yet, there are no Heat Guy J fan
fictions, and that frustrates me. However, I've not seen the entire anime,
so I can't really write anything profound or even interesting about it yet.
I'm hoping that will change. At any rate, I'm completely hooked, and
would very much like a "J" of my own to (insert vice here.) Again, this
story is just here to introduce the series, and even if my story stinks,
still make an effort to catch the Anime. I don't think you'll regret it!
_____________________________________________________________________
He's was just standing there, again.
That's where he "lives", just sort of propped against the office wall like so much furniture. Maybe a big filing cabinet or something. He never talks to me – I'm just cleaning staff, and he's off line at nights. But his eyes glow red. It's creepy.
When I was a little girl I'd snuck into my sister's room to play with her dolls one afternoon – something I was NOT allowed to do – and the sun was slanting in the window just right to make the eyes glow. It terrified me. It was as if the dolls had come to life and knew that I wasn't supposed to be there. I don't know what I expected them to do about it, really. But I knew I wouldn't have liked it. That's what he reminds me of, sometimes. As if he knows I've done something I shouldn't, and as soon as I turn my back he'll do something about it.
Intellectually I know all about it: he's an android, the only legal one in Judoh. He was designed for a special branch of the Judoh police force. The whys and hows I don't bother with, as I said, I'm cleaning staff. I get hazard pay to take this floor. Apparently in the beginning, he had trouble "recognizing" staff members to whom he'd not been introduced. This glitch was taken care of early on in his first year, but even so, my first day I was brought to him.
Viscerally, it's another story entirely. He's huge. Seven foot three, so they tell me. If you'd never seen his eyes you'd probably laugh at him. He's outlandish – long grey ponytail, huge unruly mutton-chop sideburns, and a fedora. I'm not kidding. All in black, like some kind of dime-novel deceive. But then he looks at you. His eyes are yellow in the day. It's just this look, as if he knows exactly what you did, and he's just biding his time before he hauls you off for it. It's like a punch in the gut.
He was very polite, even called me "Angel." Of course, he does that for anything female. Part of the programing - Dr. Bellucci has a weird sense of what's proper conduct. I think in anyone or thing else that habit would get him smacked. I shook his hand – it was roughly the side of my head, and oddly warm. He said a few things about my "pattern" being locked, and peered at me closely. Then I got the "Angel" comment and everyone nodded to each other as if all was right in the world. He kept my hand longer than I thought he would, though. It was my sister's dolls all over again, and I was relieved to be out and away from him. It was like I could breathe easier.
That was about a month ago. I come in three nights a week to clean the office. He's always there, just standing and staring off into space. Scared the life out of me the first time. I actually walked into him, and then spent about ten minutes apologizing before I realized he hadn't noticed. Not a flicker of recognition or reaction on his face at all. For about two seconds I was offended, we had been introduced after all, but then I remembered the "incidences" with other staff. No deaths, but some pretty nasty injuries. He's protective, they said. It's healthier for him not to notice me.
Sometimes, though, I wonder if he's really off line, or if he's just being quiet. It's a different kind of feeling, you know? An empty room as opposed to one that's not. Nothing that I could really put a finger on, and if he is watching, he's careful about it. But it makes the skin on the back of my neck crawl. I can see why there's such a high turnover for this particular job. On the surface it's sweet; hazard pay to clean on office floor? No problem! But then there's him. Sure, it's probably my imagination. Too much coffee, too little sleep, something like that. Probably.
But then something rustles, just a little bit. Or I see a shadow move where one shouldn't be. I turn around to see if he's moved, but it always seems like he hasn't. Maybe I'll start looking for another job tomorrow.
_____________________________________________________________________
He's was just standing there, again.
That's where he "lives", just sort of propped against the office wall like so much furniture. Maybe a big filing cabinet or something. He never talks to me – I'm just cleaning staff, and he's off line at nights. But his eyes glow red. It's creepy.
When I was a little girl I'd snuck into my sister's room to play with her dolls one afternoon – something I was NOT allowed to do – and the sun was slanting in the window just right to make the eyes glow. It terrified me. It was as if the dolls had come to life and knew that I wasn't supposed to be there. I don't know what I expected them to do about it, really. But I knew I wouldn't have liked it. That's what he reminds me of, sometimes. As if he knows I've done something I shouldn't, and as soon as I turn my back he'll do something about it.
Intellectually I know all about it: he's an android, the only legal one in Judoh. He was designed for a special branch of the Judoh police force. The whys and hows I don't bother with, as I said, I'm cleaning staff. I get hazard pay to take this floor. Apparently in the beginning, he had trouble "recognizing" staff members to whom he'd not been introduced. This glitch was taken care of early on in his first year, but even so, my first day I was brought to him.
Viscerally, it's another story entirely. He's huge. Seven foot three, so they tell me. If you'd never seen his eyes you'd probably laugh at him. He's outlandish – long grey ponytail, huge unruly mutton-chop sideburns, and a fedora. I'm not kidding. All in black, like some kind of dime-novel deceive. But then he looks at you. His eyes are yellow in the day. It's just this look, as if he knows exactly what you did, and he's just biding his time before he hauls you off for it. It's like a punch in the gut.
He was very polite, even called me "Angel." Of course, he does that for anything female. Part of the programing - Dr. Bellucci has a weird sense of what's proper conduct. I think in anyone or thing else that habit would get him smacked. I shook his hand – it was roughly the side of my head, and oddly warm. He said a few things about my "pattern" being locked, and peered at me closely. Then I got the "Angel" comment and everyone nodded to each other as if all was right in the world. He kept my hand longer than I thought he would, though. It was my sister's dolls all over again, and I was relieved to be out and away from him. It was like I could breathe easier.
That was about a month ago. I come in three nights a week to clean the office. He's always there, just standing and staring off into space. Scared the life out of me the first time. I actually walked into him, and then spent about ten minutes apologizing before I realized he hadn't noticed. Not a flicker of recognition or reaction on his face at all. For about two seconds I was offended, we had been introduced after all, but then I remembered the "incidences" with other staff. No deaths, but some pretty nasty injuries. He's protective, they said. It's healthier for him not to notice me.
Sometimes, though, I wonder if he's really off line, or if he's just being quiet. It's a different kind of feeling, you know? An empty room as opposed to one that's not. Nothing that I could really put a finger on, and if he is watching, he's careful about it. But it makes the skin on the back of my neck crawl. I can see why there's such a high turnover for this particular job. On the surface it's sweet; hazard pay to clean on office floor? No problem! But then there's him. Sure, it's probably my imagination. Too much coffee, too little sleep, something like that. Probably.
But then something rustles, just a little bit. Or I see a shadow move where one shouldn't be. I turn around to see if he's moved, but it always seems like he hasn't. Maybe I'll start looking for another job tomorrow.