The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Bandai Visual, Sunrise, and Cartoon Network.

THE BIG O:

ACT 32

SEIZE THE DAY

Chapter Four: Standing In the Rain

Someone threw a sheet over Roger and he couldn't see. No, somebody threw a blanket over him! He tore himself free and spotted the other Roger charging at him in the darkness. With an animal grunt he struck at the apparition…

In the parlor on the top floor of the Smith mansion, Dorothy Wayneright sat down at the piano bench but before she could begin playing she heard a guttural cry and the breaking of glass. Without hesitation she rose from the bench, went to the door and let the light of day into the darkened bedroom. "Are you all right Roger?"

Roger was in his pajamas, holding his bleeding fist, hyperventilating as he stared at the broken full length mirror he was standing in front of. He looked down to see his reflection staring back at him from multiple pieces of broken glass.

Breakfast was tense. He hid behind his newspaper almost immediately and barely touched his plate.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Dorothy asked.

Roger grunted in reply without looking up from his newspaper.

"It's rude to read the newspaper at the table," she said in her calm voice.

Roger started laughing, at first quietly and soon uncontrollably as he threw the newspaper on the floor. It was difficult for Dorothy to tell if he was laughing or crying, but he seemed maniacal, almost hysterical.

"You should see a doctor," she said calmly.

"I don't need doctors!" Roger chuckled. "I never get sick!"

"Roger you're not well," Dorothy said.

"I don't need a doctor," Roger smiled as he pointed at his hand. "Look my hand isn't even injured! I…" he stopped and stared at his right hand. It was true. There was no break on the skin where he injured it earlier when he broke his mirror. "I'm… not even injured…" he whispered. "How is this possible? Dorothy, look at my hand! It was bleeding earlier, but now it's perfectly fine! I'm not hurt!"

"You're not awake yet," Dorothy said.

"I'm perfectly awake!" Roger insisted. "I… I broke my mirror. I'm sure of it." He got up and jogged back to his bedroom.

"Roger you haven't eaten breakfast," Dorothy called after him.

Roger entered his bedroom and went straight to the mirror. "I broke my mirror and I…" His voice trailed off. His full length mirror was perfectly intact, his reflection staring back at him in disbelief. "I broke my mirror…"

Somehow Roger Smith got dressed. Somehow he got his hair combed and his teeth brushed. He wasn't sure how that happened but he hoped that neither Norman nor Dorothy was involved. He was sitting at his desk staring at his cup of coffee when R Dorothy Wayneright walked over to him and added a tablespoon of sugar into it.

"Hey!" Roger was jolted awake. "No cream or sugar in my coffee!"

"Having black coffee all the time isn't good for you," Dorothy said.

"I don't like anything in my coffee," Roger insisted.

"You didn't eat your breakfast today," the android girl told him.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he frowned.

"Just as you are studying robotics I am studying medicine," Dorothy explained. "Humans derive their energy from sugars. Caffeine causes humans to use up their sugars more quickly. If you don't add sugar to your coffee you will use up all your fuel. It really is that simple."

Against his better judgment, Roger took a swallow. "Ugh!" he sputtered. "It tastes like syrup!"

"If you want to drink so much coffee, perhaps you shouldn't skip meals," Dorothy suggested. "If you don't add any food down there I'll have to make it with lots of sugar and cream."

"You're ruthless," he muttered as he rose to his feet. "I'm going out on the patio."

"What for?" Dorothy asked.

"To jump!" he shouted over his shoulder.

When Roger stepped out on his rooftop patio, it was raining. Perfect. He didn't care. He didn't have a hat. He wasn't wearing a raincoat. He didn't even have an umbrella. "Some people choose to stand in the rain without an umbrella," he muttered to himself, "that's what it means to be a free human being." He looked up into the sky and it felt like someone was pouring a bucket of water in his face. The rain chose that moment to really roar down before going back to the gentle sprinkle it was earlier. He looked at the wall where Dorothy always stood. He was tempted to stand there himself, but he was feeling dizzy and didn't want to chance it, even if it wasn't raining. He really needed more sleep.

After standing in the rain a few minutes he turned and saw a bedraggled R Dorothy Wayneright standing behind him. Her red hair was now matted against her head, her reddish black dress clinging to her slender body. Roger ran a hand over his forehead in a vain attempt to wipe the moisture away. "How long have you been standing there?" he sighed.

"About five minutes," she replied.

"What are you doing sneaking around behind me like that?" he asked.

"You said you were going to jump," she said.

Roger started laughing. "I was being sarcastic!" he assured her.

"You haven't been yourself," she said.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I haven't have I?"

"You should see a doctor," she said.

"I don't need one," he muttered.

"You need to come inside and get out of your wet clothes," she said.

"R Dorothy Wayneright," Roger smiled grimly. "Are you flirting with me?"

"If it will keep you from catching pneumonia," she said.

"Don't worry about me," his smile was warmer now. "I haven't been sick a day in my life as far as I can remember."

"Come with me to the bedroom and take off your clothes," she said.

Roger tried to stifle a laugh. She had to be saying these things on purpose.

Soon Roger was back in his pajamas and bathrobe, drinking another cup of coffee while sitting at the dining table. Dorothy entered carrying a serving tray and wearing an apron over her usual outfit. "Start with the salad," she said as she placed the greens before him. "I'll be back with some hot soup."

Roger chuckled and decided to let Dorothy baby him. He stuck his fork into the salad and noticed it was decorated with tiny cherry tomatoes. Tomatoes…

He was at old man Rosewater's farm looking at his reflection on a bunch of tomatoes. He saw a barcode and an eye. Shelves of books burned as a squadron of Big Duos buzzed through a smoky sky. Big Duo, Big O and Big Fau marched through a city systematically destroying what man had built. A factory created androids that looked like Roger Smith, right down to his black suit. Old Gordon Rosewater gazed down at Roger, his portly frame covered by a bloodstained apron.

The plate shattered when it hit the floor, the greens scattered, and cherry tomatoes rolled to the far corners of the room. Roger was hyperventilating as he clutched the tablecloth. He was leaning forward in his chair so much that he had to scoot the chair back to avoid having his face hit the table.

He felt small hands pull on his shoulders and sit him up straight. "Perhaps we'll skip the salad," Dorothy said as she straightened the tablecloth and pushed Roger's chair in. She pushed the silver serving cart up to the table and gave him a bowl of soup. "Be careful, it's hot," she instructed as she placed a new set of silverware near the bowl. "If you need help eating I'll be right back." She said as she pushed the serving tray away.

"Sorry about the mess," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," she said as she came back with a broom and dustpan.

Roger tried to ignore her sweeping, but the mess was right at his feet. He looked into the bowl of soup. It was filled with dark broth, chopped meat, tangy spices, chopped vegetables and… tomatoes. Tiny sliced fragments of tomatoes. All chopped up and cooked and seasoned.

"You've got to harvest when the time is right," Gordon Rosewater had said.

A horde of bald children stared at him. A barcode danced before his eyes.

A delicate white hand held his chin as a spoonful of tangy hot soup was put in his mouth. He struggled free and glowered at Dorothy who was audaciously spoon-feeding him like he was a baby! "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Feeding you," the girl replied. "It is important that you keep your strength up."

"I'm not sick!" he shouted.

"That is for a doctor to determine," Dorothy replied. "Look at yourself Roger Smith. You can't even feed yourself. You haven't had breakfast and you threw your salad on the floor."

"I've had a lot on my mind lately," Roger grumbled.

"Like what?"

"Like… well…" Roger's eyes rolled up at the ceiling as he searched for an answer that wasn't totally pathetic.

"You keep thinking about it," Dorothy suggested. "In the meantime I'll keep feeding you. Unless you'd rather use an IV drip?"

"Give me that spoon!" he snatched it out of her hand. "I'll eat! I'll eat! Give me a break Dorothy! I'm not a child!"

"In that case I will give you the opportunity to prove it," Dorothy said as she wheeled away the serving tray.

Roger's cheeks burned in embarrassment. She was right. He wasn't himself. He was acting like a child. He should probably see a doctor. If a giant monster came out of the desert Paradigm City was doomed. Right now he was useless.

"You don't know what sort of being you are and that's why you're frustrated," Alex Rosewater had said during the only meal that was more humiliating than this one.

It was true. He didn't. He didn't even know how he got Big O. What had happened between the time he quit the Military Police and the time he first started piloting it was a mystery. His earliest memory of it was when he was fighting a giant octopus robot that had come out of JFK Mark.

For a while it didn't matter. He called Big O and it came. Roger Smith had the ultimate weapon that no one could beat. No point rocking the boat.

Now he wanted to know: How did he get a hold of the Big O and why didn't he remember how he got it? How was it that he never got sick and healed physical injuries in record time? What did these strange Memories mean and were they even his? Was he a human being or was he grown in a lab? Were his Memories his own or were they implanted in him? And what was the deal with his eyebrows?

He envied Dorothy Wayneright as she came back in with a hot roast beef sandwich for him. She knew who she was. She knew what she was. If there were Memories or feelings that didn't make sense she knew where they came from. Life was simple for an android.

"Dorothy," he gestured to her. "Sit down. I've got some questions for you."

Dorothy paused and gave him one of her blank looks before she sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"Dorothy, how do you handle having Memories that aren't your own?" Roger asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.

"It's a challenge," Dorothy admitted. "I never know if my inclinations are my own or belong to the dead girl that I was modeled after."

Roger nodded while he chewed, encouraging her to continue. He hadn't realized how hungry he was before now.

"It's like being a stranger to yourself," Dorothy continued. "Sometimes you find yourself missing things you aren't even sure that you had in the first place. You wonder if you like the things you think you like and wonder if you're the person you think you are. You second guess yourself, wondering what your motives are."

"I can relate," Roger muttered. "Experience has taught me to leave memories alone when they pop up but my instinctive reaction is to start digging."

"Perhaps you're just nosy," Dorothy offered. "You like to solve a mystery. You see it as just another challenge to overcome."

"A while ago Angel asked me why I pilot the megadeus, why Big O comes when I call," Roger sighed. "I didn't have an answer for her. Why do I pilot the Big O? Why do I feel compelled to protect the city?"

"Protecting the helpless is in your nature Roger," Dorothy told him.

"Is it?" Roger frowned. "How come? What makes me arrogant enough to think I can solve the city's problems by driving a giant robot? Why do I think that it has to be me who pilots it?"

"I assumed it was some kind of male dominance thing," Dorothy said.

Roger stared at her. "'Male dominance thing'? Where did you get that?"

"Men have to prove their superiority in order to feel comfortable," Dorothy said. "They have to be dominant. The problem is that there are few socially acceptable avenues to do so. A dominant male is aggressive. Aggression is a negative characteristic that promotes conflict and stifles cooperation. Therefore it was necessary for you to find a new way to establish your dominance. You protect those who cannot protect themselves. In this way you reinforce your self-importance without becoming someone you despise."

"I sound pathetic," Roger groaned. "It's got to be more than that…"

"Actually it is quite admirable," Dorothy retorted. "By finding a positive way to exercise your masculinity, you don't have to justify yourself. You're capable of thinking clearly and controlling your decisions. You should be commended. You found something that works that makes you a positive influence on those around you. How many people can say that?"

"You're making me blush," Roger smiled. "How about you? Have you found a way to balance being a woman and being an android?"

"It's been challenge," Dorothy admitted. "I don't know what it means to be either one. I just have to experiment and hope for the best."

"Any experiments running now?" Roger asked in a flippant tone.

"Yes," She said. "Am I capable of love? Despite having the hardware, do I have the software? Do I have the… soul that is required to be a good lover or am I just a toy? Do I have feelings?"

"Did you say you have the hardware?" Roger blinked.

"You are such a louse Roger Smith." Dorothy's calm monotone was perfect for conveying disgust. "But I might as well take advantage of it. Would you kiss me?"

"Kiss you?" Roger asked. "What for?"

"To see if it awakens any feelings in me," Dorothy replied. "Even embarrassment would tell me something."

"Well, I don't know…" Roger stammered before Dorothy embraced him and seized his mouth with hers.

"Roger!" A woman's voice cried. Roger tore himself away from Dorothy to see Angel in his dining room pointing an automatic pistol at him. "So it is true!" she snarled. "You turned me down for a machine! I'll show you!"

"Angel! Wait…!" his protest was silenced by a gunshot.

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

Next: Tomato in the Mirror