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

THE BIG O:

ACT 36

WHAT WE REALLY WANTED

Chapter Six: Dorothy's Diner

Six hundred and sixty six floors beneath the city, Jason Beck sat in front of a bank of television screens. Sitting next to him was a bound and gagged Angel.

"Let's see," Beck muttered. "I haven't checked in on Crow-boy for a while. Wonder what he's doing?"

He entered a sequence on the control console and one of the TV screens displayed an image of Roger in a hospital corridor talking to his valet Norman Burg.

"We've got to find Dorothy," Roger was saying. "There's no telling what trouble she's in. I've lost track of what day it is. How long has she been gone now?"

"I haven't seen her since the day you left for retraining," the old man replied. "I think she left home before you did Master Roger."

"We've got to find her," Roger sighed. "Stay with the girl and see if you can get any more out of her, including where she lives and how she met Dorothy. I'm going back on the street."

"Happy hunting sir," Norman nodded.

Back in the Repository of Lost Memories, Beck laughed like a hyena. "You're out lookin' for Dorothy Crow-boy? You've just found her! I was going to let you wait 'til later but you just moved to the front of the line! Oh Dorothy!" he called to the silent girl standing by the elevator. "I've got another job for you!"

When Roger got back to his car, he sat behind the wheel and thought about Dorothy. Had he been hallucinating and just thought he'd seen her? Both Louise Jameson and the bellboy had recognized her from her picture so that meant she had been in Lynch's room, didn't it? What had she been doing there? Using herself as bait so she could kill Jeremiah Lynch? Was it because she wanted to eliminate the corrupt Paradigm board members so Roger and Angel wouldn't have to worry about them anymore? Did Lester Young hire Beck to take Lynch out and did Beck use his technical knowledge to turn Dorothy into an assassin? He had to find out or he'd never get to sleep tonight.

As Roger was driving home, his stomach began to growl. No wonder he didn't have any energy. When was the last time he ate? He would have to eat something if he wanted to stay awake. Since Norman had agreed to stay with Miss Jameson at the hospital there was no one at home to fix dinner right now. He'd have to find a diner and get something there.

It was starting to rain again when he turned off the freeway. It figured. It might as well rain because if it didn't visibility might be good enough for him to actually see where he was going and he might actually find a place to eat! Wait. There was a diner now. Open 24 hours. He turned into the parking lot, waited for a lull in the rain and then jogged into the diner before it started up again. Luck was with him and he managed to remain dry.

Inside his eyes were assaulted by white walls covered in memorabilia, bright red chairs and stools, a black and white checkerboard floor, and a crowded counter that separated the narrow dining room from the kitchen that had so much stuff on it that it was hard to find the cash register.

A single waitress was there to greet him. "May I take your order?"

"Yes, I'd like… Dorothy! What are you doing here?"

Incredibly, the petite teenage waitress standing before him was R Dorothy Wayneright. He almost didn't recognize her in that outfit. A sky blue dress with a knee-high skirt, short poofy sleeves, white frills, collar, and trim, and a white apron covered her slender form with a matching hat and a name tag that read 'R Dorothy' pinned to her breast. The girl held a notepad and a pencil. Was it really her? Or was he hallucinating again?

"Dorothy?" Roger whispered before he found his voice. "Is it really you? What are you doing in his place?"

"I work here Roger Smith," she said with a hint of indignation.

"Since when?"

"Since I moved out," the girl replied as if that explained anything. "I need the rent money. I don't have any place to live."

"Yes you do!" Roger insisted. "You live with me! What are you talking about?"

"I am only in the way," Dorothy insisted. "Now that you don't have Big O my presence will only endanger you and it's not worth the tiny repayment I can offer. You'd be better off with Angel."

"Like Angel wouldn't put me in danger?" Roger snorted. "Half the city is after her y'know. Mystery and mayhem follow her every move."

"She could reward you properly and I cannot," the girl explained. "She is a real woman and I am an android. If things work out she could be the mother of your children. There is no point being tied down by the memory of a ghost Roger. The only decent thing I can do for you is walk away. In the meantime, you look tired. When did you last eat something? Can I interest you in a hamburger?"

"What kind of nonsense is this?" Roger roared. He pointed out the door. "Get in the car right now! You're going home!"

"I'm afraid I can't," Dorothy said quietly. "My shift is not yet over."

"Unh," Roger grunted as he rubbed his eyes and slumped in defeat. "Do I have to carry you?" he threatened in a calmer voice.

"You may try but until you eat something it's doubtful you will have the strength," she told him in a voice drier than a martini. "If you want to talk about it you should stay and eat something. Unless you'd prefer to go out in this downpour?"

Roger looked behind him. The rain was coming down in buckets now. "Fine," he muttered as he staggered in and collapsed in a booth. "Get me something to eat. I don't care what."

"How about a bowl of soup and a hot roast beef sandwich?" the girl suggested. "It takes very little time to prepare. The soup of the day is clam chowder. I can get you a pot of coffee. You look like you're about to drop."

"I said I didn't care," he grumbled.

"Yes I know. You never do."

Now that he had found her, he could feel just how tired he really was. Dorothy was right. He better not try to say anything until he had eaten something or he'd sound like a child who stayed up past his bedtime. He must have dozed off because it seemed that Dorothy was back with his soup and sandwich in seconds.

The girl set his food before him and sat at his table opposite him. She was much closer than she normally was when they sat at the table in Roger's dining room back home but even close up he couldn't see any imperfection.

He tried to talk with his mouth full once or twice but every time he did he realized he didn't know what he was going to say. He just ate his meal allowing Dorothy to watch him with her unbelievably dark purple unblinking eyes. She was as still as a statue and Roger could hear the rain pattering against the windows of the diner even over the hum of the refrigeration units hidden in the back.

When he was finished she spoke again. "Would you like some dessert Roger? We have fresh apple pie if you're interested."

"Knock yourself out."

"Just a minute," she nodded as she rose with her jarringly fluid movements and disappeared into the back.

Roger wasn't really interested in dessert but he needed to think, and it was impossible to do while staring into the girl's impossibly purplish-black eyes. He missed her so much it hurt, and he didn't want to start bawling like a baby in front of her. She might really lose herself then.

Okay Smith, he told himself, calm down. You aren't some groom chasing a runaway bride you're a captain in the military police and you saw her leaving a crime scene. The child found at the scene corroborated your suspicions so there's no doubt now. You better question Dorothy before somebody else finds out she was there.

When Dorothy returned with a slice of apple pie and a heated pot of coffee she sat opposite to him again. This time he was ready for her.

"Why were you at the Paradigm Hotel this evening Dorothy?" he asked her.

"I wasn't," she replied. "I was here. My shift begins at five."

"You got any proof of that?"

"The cook was here," she nodded to the employee working in the back. "So was the manager, the cashier and two other waitresses. They all went home at ten. I work the register until one. And, of course, we had customers. Some of them wrote checks. Two used a diner's card."

Roger frowned. This didn't wash. He had seen her outside the Paradigm Hotel a little after sundown. How could that be possible if she was handling the dinner crowd? Not only that but when he had called to her on the street she disappeared without saying a word. Now she was using the rain and Roger's malnourished state as excuses to get him to stay. It was like he was dealing with two different androids. "Have you… been having any blackouts lately?" he asked carefully.

"None that I can recall, I'll have to check my memory." She was quiet as her memory drive hummed in her head. "There have been no gaps in my memory for the last month. Do you wish me to go back further than that?"

"No, it's fine," Roger assured her uneasily. He decided to try a different approach. "Uh… Dorothy, why did you leave? You didn't even say goodbye."

"I've already told you my reasons," the girl declared flatly. "Now that you don't have Big O, I am a liability that outweighs my usefulness. I left without informing you because if I told you I was leaving you would try to stop me."

"Damn right I would!" Roger snapped. Apparently he hadn't eaten enough to be civil so he took a bite of the apple pie. "What the devil were you thinking running away while my life was in turmoil like that? I was worried sick about you! Didn't you think about anybody but yourself?"

"I was thinking of you," the girl explained. "Before you met me you made it a rule to never question your Memories. Now you are haunted by Memories you can't recall. It is obvious that I have disrupted the ritual you use to keep the insecurities concerning your identity at bay."

"What are you talking about?" Roger barked between bites. "What ritual?"

"The ritual of womanizing," the girl replied matter-of-factly. "I have it on good authority that you pursued and entertained a great number of women before I forced myself into your life. You even acquired the nickname 'Roger the Negotiator', not from your profession but from your reputation for talking to women. When I moved in you abandoned your philandering ways. Without that distraction, you noted inconsistencies with your life and started fixating on your Memories. At first you only had nightmares but then you experienced episodes during the day."

"Dorothy!" Roger sputtered. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that without my interference you can lose yourself in the pleasures of the flesh again," the girl said without batting an eyelash. "You can engage in witty repartee, the game of cat and mouse. Who knows? Perhaps one day you will finally meet someone with whom you can be happy and raise a family. But as long as I am in the way you can do none of these things. I am a reminder of a Memory you lost and can only hold you back."

"A Memory I lost? What Memory?"

"You know what I'm talking about Roger Smith."

Typical woman, Roger thought. If you really loved me, you'd know what I was talking about. What he wanted to know is why he saw her in a white cloak and…

White. Dorothy was in white. Dorothy was dangling over the edge of Big O's open cockpit, clinging to Roger's hand for dear life. As she reached up with her free hand, her dainty fingers slipped out of his. Roger couldn't even hear himself screaming as he saw the terrified girl falling down to the malevolent ooze below, her white dress fluttering like a billowing ghost.

Roger gasped and shuddered. The healthy color the meal had put on his face was gone. He took a nervous gulp of his coffee.

"Yes, that's what I'm talking about," Dorothy said. "As long as I live with you I will remind you of something you're trying to forget. Something you need to forget."

"Dorothy! I…" Roger squinted as he searched for the right words. "… thought I lost you. You were in white, and you were falling."

"That wasn't me. That was the girl who died forty years ago. You are reliving a forty year old memory that is injuring you even though you can't remember it."

"But, I'm not…"

"You don't love me Roger," Dorothy said. "You love her memory. The man whose Memories you possess loved the real Dorothy Wayneright. I was designed to replace her, but I can't. I'm not her. I wish I was, but I'm not. You don't need to be tied down by her anymore."

"What?" Roger shook his head. "You're saying that the reason I like you is because the person whose Memories are in my head loved the original Dorothy Wayneright?"

"You love the girl in your Memories," Dorothy said. "I'm not her, and there's no point pretending. As long as I am with you, you will never move beyond her death and get on with your life. Aren't you the one who said that people aren't ruled by their Memories?"

"Now wait a minute," Roger protested. "You're entirely off base. First, Memories can provide us useful information when we're making decisions, but they don't rule us. Second, I don't love that Dorothy Wayneright; I don't even know her. If the original's had any effect on my decisions, all she did was influence me enough to give you a chance. You did the rest yourself. Thirdly, what were you thinking choosing now of all times to wander off while Beck's on the loose? How long do you think you'll last without protection? And fourth, thanks for thinking about my feelings, but what about yours? Don't you matter Dorothy? Shouldn't your needs be taken care of too?"

"My needs don't matter Roger. I'm an android. I'm just a machine."

"No you're not!" He slammed his fist on the table. "You're more than a machine, a lot more! How can you say something like that?"

"It's the truth," she insisted. "I am what I am. I am not like you. I will always have the same body and the same heart but as a human you can embrace change."

"Can I?" Roger snorted. "Can I really? It looks to me like you're the one who's embracing change around here."

"I said that you can," the girl clarified. "The problem is you won't. You're stuck in a past you can't even remember and if you don't let go of it you won't have a future. What the man whose memories you share and the original Dorothy Wayneright had was beautiful, but it's over. Pretending that you can recapture something that you can't recall is eroding your sanity. It's the loose thread that you're pulling on to unravel your identity. I wish I was the one to hold you together, but I've recently discovered that I'm the one pulling you apart."

"But Dorothy… what about you? What about your life? Don't you matter?"

"This isn't easy for me," the girl admitted. "How do you think I feel? My very purpose, my reason for being is flawed in concept. I was created to be that dead girl. I am Doctor Wayneright's attempt to bring back his dead daughter. My entire reason for existing is to ensure that some part of the original Dorothy Wayneright lives on, but it seems that you would have been better off if she had remained dead and buried."

"Don't talk like that!" Roger snapped. "You're not just a machine! You're a girl!"

"I'm just a machine," Dorothy said flatly. "All I can do is cause you pain by reminding you what the man who originally possessed your Memories has lost. The best thing you can do is walk out that door and pretend you never heard of me."

"Fine!" Roger snarled as he got up from the table. "If you're not really a person, if you're not really a girl, if there isn't a human heart beating somewhere in there that can know love and actually care about a person, I'm going to walk out that door and out of your life! Is that what you want Dorothy? Huh? Is that what you want?"

"It's not a matter of what I want. It's a matter of what's best for you."

"If you're right and I'm wrong I'm going to walk out that door and never come back!" Roger yelled as he pointed at the exit. "I'll go and I won't give this place a second glance! Maybe you're right and I really have been living in a past I can't remember! Serves me right for falling in love with a machine!" he sneered as he turned and walked to the door.

He stopped just before he got there. His arm was being pulled back and when he turned he saw that a tiny white hand had ahold of his sleeve. Dorothy was holding onto his cuff using only her thumb and forefinger. For a moment he could hear only the rain outside, the humming of the refrigeration machines, and the beating of his own heart.

"Roger." Dorothy's voice was deathly quiet, but sounded as loud as a shout. "Wait. You can't just leave."

He choked back a sob before coughing out a nervous laugh. "Thank God," he sniffed as he wiped his eyes. "You've finally come to your senses!"

"You haven't paid your bill," the girl said as she handed him a slip of paper.

Roger held his breath as his face turned a bright crimson. After letting his eyes bug out he closed them and tried not to imagine seizing the cash register and throwing it out a window. "Dammit Dorothy, get in the car!" he thundered as he melodramatically pointed out the door. "Get that suitcase you packed, 'cause you're going home! I'm not taking no for an answer! I'm taking you home with me, even if I have to call a tow truck!"

"There's no need to raise your voice Roger Smith," the girl said stiffly as she walked behind the counter to operate the cash register. "I just need to ring you up and clock out. My things are in the break room." From a certain angle she almost appeared to be smiling.

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

Next: Shadows of Our Forebears