The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual.
THE BIG O:
ACT 30
PRICELESS
Chapter Two: Danny's Dilemma
"We've been over this," Roger squirmed in his lawn chair. "I'm not going to shoot you, Danny."
"Wuss," his mentor snorted.
"Come on, Danny, you're like a father to me," Roger grunted.
"Namby-pamby," Danny grumbled.
"How could you even put me in this position?" Roger groaned.
"Nancy-boy," Danny mocked.
"Come on, Danny," Roger leaned forward and clasped his hands nervously. "I haven't been able to even hold a gun since the last time you asked me to shoot you."
"You haven't?" Danny blinked. "But I've heard about you. Your adventures. How have you managed to stay alive if you're not packing?"
"Quick reflexes," Roger grunted.
"Here," Danny pulled a large pistol out of his jacket. "If you need protection, you can use mine. Have it. I've got lots of others at home…"
"Put it away, Danny," Roger moaned.
"Okay, have it your own way," Danny sulked. There was an awkward pause. "Roger I'm serious. I know I asked you to shoot me when the time came. I think the time is now."
"What makes you say that?" grunted an indignant Roger Smith.
"I'm losing my memory," Danny said seriously.
"What?"
"I'm losing my memory," Danny repeated. "Again. It's happening again. I've been bluffing my way through conversations. I forget the names of the people I'm talking to. It's getting worse!"
"At your age you've got more to remember than most people," Roger shrugged. "So you forget a few things, big deal."
"No it's more than that," Danny shook his head. "I've had myself checked out. I'm going senile. It's incurable, degenerative, and terminal. I'm in the early stages now, but it's only going to get worse as time goes on. I don't want to go out that way. I want you to shoot me."
"Can't you just inhale carbon monoxide or something?" Roger asked sarcastically. "Why are you dragging me into this?"
"Commit suicide?" Danny snorted. "Danny Kirk? Take the coward's way out? Not in this life! That's not the way I want my legacy to read! I want them to say that Danny Kirk died with his boots on! He went out with a pistol in his hand, taking a bullet from the only one who could beat him, the man he trained to replace him!"
"Couldn't you just try to stop some bank robbers?" Roger shook his head. "Take on Jason Beck or some mugger or something? Why do I have to be the one to shoot you?"
"I've already shot a mugger," Danny shrugged. "Two of them, to be exact. It was self-defense, but let's be honest, I should never have been walking alone that late at night in the first place. The point is, Roger that I want to go out with some dignity. I want to go out with style! I want my career to end with the élan and panache it always had!"
"I'd rather my life didn't end with me in the electric chair," Roger grunted.
"Oh don't worry about it, Roger, I've got it all figured out!" Danny assured him. "It will be a duel. Shootout at high noon. A clear cut case of self-defense with plenty of witnesses. The courts will only give you a slap on the wrist, and that's only if you don't have a gun permit. It will be fine. You'll land on your feet."
"Why can't you just let the disease take its course?" Roger shouted. "They might find a way to treat it…"
"Don't give me that Roger!" Danny shouted back. "There is no way to treat it, and you know it! I'm losing my mind, and I'd like to go out while I still have some marbles left! You have no idea what it was like to wake up forty years ago with no recollection of who you are or what you're doing here! You don't know what it's like to stare into the eyes of strangers and wonder if you're supposed to know them. Of wondering who you are and what you've done! It wasn't so bad in the old days I guess. Everybody was like that! But I'm not going to be the only one, Roger! I'm not going to be one of those senile old fossils you can't have a conversation with! That's not Danny Kirk and it never will be!"
"Danny, you're older than you look," Roger told him. "You must have been in your thirties when the amnesia hit. What makes you think you're going to live long enough to get to that point anyhow? You'll probably have a heart attack before it gets that far!"
"Me?" a redfaced Danny protested. "Danny Kirk? Have a heart attack? Everybody has a heart attack, Roger! If you're too chicken to shoot me, you could at least suggest an automobile accident. Everybody has those too, but at least there's some action in it. Tires squealing and glass breaking and all that. But a heart attack? Give me a break! I told you that when the time comes, I want you to shoot me. Well the time has come damn it! I've had a long successful life and I want it to end with a bang!"
"Is there any way we could steer the conversation away from shooting you?" Roger asked wearily.
"You could shoot me," Danny nodded at the pistol he left on the little table.
"Besides that," Roger sighed.
"Who's laughing now, Mister 'Let's get to the point while we're still young'?" Danny sneered. "Come on, Roger, I haven't got all day! Are you going to shoot me or aren't you?"
"Pass," Roger grunted.
"Come on, we could do it right now," Danny protested. "We'll call your robot girlfriend out here. She can record the whole thing. We pull out our guns and you get your shot off before me."
"Why are we shooting at each other?" Roger groaned.
"You slept with the girl I love," Danny replied without missing a beat. "I'd rather it was the other way around, but you'd never go for it. Besides, this way I'm the aggressor, you were just defending yourself."
"No one will believe that," Roger sighed.
"Yes, they will," Danny nodded. "I'll get on the phone. I'll call Shirley over right now. She can spend the night. Tomorrow I'll come over and we'll have it out!"
"Thanks for dropping by, Danny," Roger sighed as he got up from his lawn chair and walked away. "Don't be a stranger."
"Hey don't blow me off!" Danny leaped from his chair and pulled a second pistol from his vest. "Don't you turn your back on Danny Kirk! Pick up that gun, Roger! Pick it up or I'll blow your brains out!"
"You won't shoot me, Danny," Roger said as he paused by the doorway. "I'm like a son to you."
"Yeah, but sooner or later I'll forget that," Danny protested as he lowered his gun. "Come on, Roger, sooner or later I'll forget the most important things in my life. The things that make Danny Kirk, Danny Kirk! You can't let me lose all that."
"Father Time is cruel to us all," Roger shrugged as he leaned against the doorway. "He's somebody that no one can negotiate with."
"He's not cruel to you, you haven't aged a day," Danny grunted.
"Tell you what, Danny, I'll make sure you're not alone," Roger offered. "I'll spend more time with you, become familiar with all your affairs. That way nobody has to know that…"
"I don't need your pity," Danny scowled as he walked to the door. "You wanted me to leave, Roger. You got it; I'm leaving!"
"You could at least take that hand-cannon with you on your way out!" Roger protested as the stouter man brushed past.
"No you keep it!" Danny called back over his shoulder. "It's a reminder of your obligation! A reminder that a negotiator has to keep his word!"
"Dammit!" Roger grumbled. His day wasn't starting well at all.
Later, when Dorothy joined him on the balcony he still couldn't get it out of his mind. "Dorothy, when I get old, remind me never to put you on the spot like that."
"Like what, Roger?" the android asked ingeniously.
"Remind me never to ask you to shoot me," Roger grunted.
"Why would you ask me to do that?" Dorothy prodded.
"Human beings wear out and break down just like machines do Dorothy," Roger sighed. "And when a human being's life starts to end it isn't pretty."
"I don't see how it would be," Dorothy replied.
"No, you don't understand," Roger sighed. "When a human being starts to wear out, he loses his dignity. He loses his pride. His joints ache, he gets cranky. He forgets things, has to bluff his way through conversations and finally just withdraws into himself. Sooner or later he can't even control his bowel movements, it's horrible! It's a terrible way for a man to write the closing chapter on his life."
"Is that why you take so many risks, then?" Dorothy asked him. "Are you afraid to grow old, Roger Smith?"
"No I'm not afraid to grow old!" Roger laughed bitterly.
"Yes you are," Dorothy insisted. "You're terrified. You don't want the humiliation of losing all that you are."
"What are you talking about?" cried an overly defensive Roger. "I've got years and years! I'm not afraid of old age!"
"Perhaps you did not explain it clearly," Dorothy backpedaled coldly.
"The point is that there's a lot about the human body that we're ashamed of!" Roger explained, perhaps more passionately then he intended. "There's a reason why we wear clothing, Dorothy Wayneright! The biological processes of the human body are pretty disgusting when you come right down to it and when those processes go wrong the whole thing is just grotesque! Let the mind fail at the same time and you've got…"
"I understand," Dorothy interrupted quietly. "There is no need to raise your voice Roger Smith."
"How could you possibly understand?" Roger sneered. "You're an android! If you can find people with the technical know-how to keep you in shape you could theoretically live forever! You have no idea what Danny's going through! You can't possibly understand!"
"I understand what it is like to have things about my body that I don't want known," Dorothy replied.
That stopped Roger's rant in its tracks. Dorothy was ashamed of her body? Was that the reason she didn't want Roger studying her blueprints? He paused to collect himself. If he could think clearly he might find out why.
"What is there about your body that you could possibly be ashamed of?" Roger's question was blunter than he intended. He still hadn't calmed down from the emotional turmoil that Danny had put him through. "Not to flatter you Dorothy, but your body is extremely well built. Your exterior is very pleasing to the eye and your interior is so clean and sanitary that you could attend open heart surgery and not have to wear a surgical mask. What is it about your body that could possibly bother you?"
"Perhaps I've been designed to be more human than you know, Roger Smith," Dorothy said enigmatically.
"Really?" Roger smiled eagerly. "In what way?" Mentally, he kicked himself. He had always wanted to know just how human Dorothy really was. He suspected that deep down, he wasn't that different than Danny Kirk.
"I was not aware that it was any of your business, Roger Smith," Dorothy said coldly.
Roger chuckled to himself as he shook his head. "You're right, Dorothy," he admitted. "It isn't any of my business. But you can't blame me for being curious." When Dorothy's cold look of disgust didn't waiver, he added. "But you shouldn't blame me for being curious," He corrected. "Not after you teased me with that mysterious statement."
"I thought that you, of all people, were a gentleman," Dorothy sparred. "Is it becoming of a gentleman to ask a lady questions about how her body works, Roger Smith?"
"No of course not, Dorothy Wayneright," Roger gave an embarrassed laugh. "Forgive my human curiosity. As you say, it's none of my business."
"Thank you, Roger," Dorothy gave a polite nod. "The point that I was trying to make is that I realize that many people are afraid to grow old. I do not believe that when I wear out it will be any more dignified."
"Now you know why I fought so hard to get a hold of your blueprints, Dorothy," Roger sighed. "I don't want that to happen to you. I know it's selfish, but I want to make sure you don't have to go through that, at least not in my lifetime. I'll be able to cope with my own body falling apart if I can keep yours in perfect working order."
"What happened to make you think like this, Roger?" Dorothy asked with a hint of concern. "You never thought like that before."
"I don't know," Roger sighed. "I guess it was after Beck stole your memory drive. Seeing you lying there like a dead body with that gap in your head tore me up inside. I felt so helpless. If I was your creator I'd know what to do, but I was just some dumb pretty boy who drives a giant robot without the faintest idea of how it works! I swore that if we ever got you back together I'd become an expert in robotics and keep you in tip-top shape. You'd never suffer from a stiff joint, let alone a malfunction on my watch. I'm sorry Dorothy. It's not fair for me to obsess on you like this."
"Why do you have to do it, Roger?" Dorothy asked. "Wouldn't Norman be more qualified?"
"Uh…" Roger scratched the back of his neck and pulled at his collar. "No offense, Dorothy, but Norman isn't getting any younger. What happens when he can't take care of you anymore? We'd be back at square one wouldn't we?"
"Is Norman sick?" Dorothy became alert. Was that concern in her voice?
"Well, he isn't getting any younger," Roger repeated. "He's getting pretty old. Human beings don't last forever, Dorothy. I guess nothing does."
"I have things to do," Dorothy said stiffly as she turned to walk back inside the house.
"Yeah, I suppose you do," Roger mumbled as he leaned on the railing of the balcony and watched the sun set.
On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:
Next: Roger's Mirror
