Chapter Three: An Offer
Doan was not having a good day.
Twice already, he'd had to repair a eye servo spasm on a servant 'droid. The same 'droid that had been in a week ago, but with a different ailment. That time, it had been an arm spasm. And the week before it had been a leg spasm…
He was beginning to wonder Sif either the owner or her children weren't causing the damage themselves. From what Will had told him, this could have very well been the case – some of the more well-off families of down-town Manhattan Island had been known to purposely damage their robotic servants, just for fun. Doan thought it was sick. He was just glad it hadn't happened to a repiloid – yet.
As he was busy tracking down the source of the problem, Amy came in with a glass of lemonade, and knocked on the door. Doan didn't look up – he was too busy trying to isolate the command path that had fried. She waited, and coughed. Doan finally looked up in annoyance, and relaxed when he saw that it wasn't the annoying customer he had grown to despise.
"Oh, Amy – I thought it was that stupid customer again…" Amy laughed, and leaned against the doorframe. "No, just me. I brought you some lemonade – it's like an oven in here!"
And it was. It was hot, even for March – the sun had been beating down on the Bronx for over a week now, and had nearly baked the tar out of the asphalt. And the forecast for the rest of the week was equally as bad.
"No, I don't need anything – I'm not human." Amy wrinkled her nose at the response.
"I know – but, well, it's hard to forget sometimes, especially when you aren't wearing your armor."
And she was right. With out his armor, Doan could pass for human everywhere he went, barring an up-close inspection. He had noticed this himself when he had taken his armor off for the first time, as well as his body suit. His upper torso had a ribcage, but it was unlike a human's. There were no indentations where you could see the actual ribs – instead, there was just what looked like a solid piece of skeleton.
His hair was odd, too. He had hair only on his head, and only on the top of his head. This may have seemed inconsequential, but when Doan noticed that humans had hair elsewhere (he had been nearly shocked to discover that they shaved it off, or had it removed totally), he felt strangely out of place .
His feet, too, were slightly larger than a human's would be – only by about a shoe size or so, but for someone human his size, it would be unusual.
"Well, that is the advantage of being a repiloid – we look human, but don't have to eat as often." Amy just laughed quietly and walked out the door. Doan turned back to his work, and continued to seek out just what it was that was making the robotic butler twitch.
Doan was adjusting to life well, thought Will Scott. It had been only a few months, and he had acquired so much human personality that it seemed hard to believe that he wasn't just another AI robot, tailor-made for a family. Of course, if he had mentioned it to Doan, the silver-armored repiloid would have probably walked out of the room with a severe twinge of annoyance. He had become very sensitive to the issue, and after dealing with so many of the customers that came to service their robots lately, Will could understand why.
Right now, though, Doan was sleeping in the small section of the workshop that had been converted to allow for some private space for the apparently now permanent guest. And he was doing something that he had never done before.
"Where am I?" Doan asked the black void that surrounded him. There was no answer. He repeated, "Where am I?" Still no answer. A feeling of concern grew within him, and he began to walk forward – and stopped, suddenly, as another sound grew louder, drowning out the faint sound of him breathing. Doan felt a chill, and looked down – his armor was gone; he wore only his light body suit.
Before he could fathom what was happening, a strong hand gripped his neck and heaved him into the air. Doan gasped, and clawed desperately at the hand that was crushing his throat. Terror begin to take hold; his vision dimmed; he was loosing consciousness…
"Ack! Wha-?! NO! NO!" The hand that held him closed tighter. As Doan's sight began to give way to darkness, he gazed at his assailant, and he screamed.
The figure holding him was himself.
"NOO! NOOOOOO!!" He screamed with a horrible recognition. The dark figure of his doppelganger said nothing; he merely tightened his grip. And then he let go. Doan collapsed to the floor, choking for air. The standing figure looked down contemptuously at his double. "You."
Doan looked up, into his own face – no… not his face… it was wrong, somehow…
"You will kill us both. Don't trust them." Doan gazed upon his double in confusion. "They? Who is they?"
"You will kill us both. I will not allow that. Do not trust them." Doan was still confused. "Who is 'they?' Tell me!"
"Do not trust them." The standing figure gripped Doan in his cold hand, and once again lifted him into the air. "Do not follow them or I will kill you." And he began to do so.
"No… NO! NOOOOOO!"
"AUUGH!" The terrified repiloid awoke from his cot with a jump, and nearly fell out doing so. Small lines of cold sweat had formed on his brow – Doan wiped them off, and looked at his palm. How could I sweat? His thoughts returned to the dream – he was sure it was a dream – and the twisted figure of himself, girded for battle. It seemed so real… His mind racing, he settled back into an uneasy sleep.
Doan awoke the next day, on time as usual – a little trick that was thanks to his internal clock. He felt a little sorry for humans who had to rely on noisy external alarms. His thoughts turned again to his dream… he shuddered involuntarily, remembering his other self; dark, and ready to fight – no, he corrected himself: to kill. He shuddered again; the dream had seemed so… ominous. Almost prophetic…
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of someone talking in the next room. Dr. Scott seemed to be having a rather in-depth conversation with someone; he spoke with a serious tone, but he also seemed… excited? The sound of a click told Doan that the vid-phone had been turned off, and he rose to put on his armor for the day and prepare for work in the shop.
The entire day, Dr. Scott seemed distracted by some thing. He walked with his posture better than what it normally was; his reactions to typically annoying problems (like the customers) was much more amiable; and he talked to his wife whenever possible. Mrs. Scott thought her husband had been working too hard; he just grinned and walked away whistling whenever she mentioned it.
That night at dinner, he finally let it be known what was going on. He stood suddenly during dinner, just as everyone was having a second helping of pasta. Melissa and Jeremy looked up at their father with looks of surprise, and nearly choked on their food with laughter when they saw the look on William Scott's face. He was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes showing the faintest glint of laughter.
"Everyone, I have an announcement to make." Well, that seemed obvious enough, thought Doan in slight annoyance. "This morning," the doctor continued, "I had an interesting chat with a mister Takegawa of the Japanese Institute of Robotics – he's visiting in New York – and well: He's offered me a job in Japan!"
The stunned silence in the room was deafening.
Everyone stared at the thirty-something man as though his head had been replaced by a frog. Finally, Mrs. Scott spoke up.
"Ahh, dear – can I talk to you for a moment?" she rose, and grabbed his arm as she took him into the living room.
"Scott, honey, have you been around the soldering fumes for too long? I mean, Japan? We can't really…" her husband cut her off as she spoke, "Don't worry: Mr. Takegawa says he'll help take care of us – our house and such, and he's offered to set up classes for learning Japanese…" Mrs. Scott dismissed this with a wave of her hand.
"Will, what are we going to do with the children? They'd be strangers in a strange land." William gave his wife the most assuring look he could manage. "He says that there are some schools set up for foreign kids until thy get a handle on the language and such. And the kids are bright; they'll learn faster than we will, I expect." Amy Scott was not convinced. "Well… I'm still not entirely convinced." Will took her hand and gave her another assuring look.
"Look – just trust me, okay? We'll be fine. I mean, it'll be better than the Bronx. Within a month, we'll be better off than we are now. And Japan is one of the safest countries on the world; I mean, what could go wrong?"