Signal got lost to the satellite
Got lost in the
Rideup to the
Plungedown;
Man sends the ray of the electric light
Sends the impulse
Through the air
Down to home
And you can stand
On the arms
Of the Williamsburg Bridge
Crying
Hey man, well this is Babylon
And you can fire out on a bus
To the outside world
Down to Louisiana
You can take her with you
I've seen the
Rains of the real world
Come forward on the plain
I've seen the Kansas of your sweet little myth
You've never seen it, no,
I'm half sick on the drinks you mixed
Through your
True dreams
Of Wichita
They sat at counter, she nursing a black coffee, he reading the latest news. Neither spoke to each other, but it was easy to tell they were together, possible in more ways than one. Their body language was a conversation in itself, arguing, apologizing, caring, and more in small shifts of their hips, legs, shoulders and hands. His was more subdued than hers, while hers obviously dominated, but even still hers was incomplete without his. But such language is invisible to most, particularly those who speak it. So they kept drinking and reading, oblivious to the sordid love story they themselves told.
"Zee, could you pass the sugar? The waitress forgot to put some in again." Ro motioned to her refilled cup.
Zee nodded and handed her the dispenser. "Maybe you should tell her that she forgot." He put down the reader leaned into in his hand, looking at her. He didn't need coffee, or anything else for that matter, but he enjoying drinking in the sights of the world, not in least being Ro.
"It's too early in the morning to arguing. Plus, it's just easier to do it myself." She looked away from his gaze to pour an exorbitant amount of sugar into the black depths of her house blend. It was unnerving to match his gaze, when she knew it was false. A comforting dishonesty, but a dishonesty nonetheless, which upset her. Even now, she cursed her hand in the creation in front of her. Why had she put her own desires for a male in her suggestions, allowing him to come up with an Adonis she was forced never to have?
She swirled the coffee in front of her, pushing away her thoughts for now. She remembered the metal that was truly him, and the feelings of impossible longing faded from her mind.
But not in her body language, which displayed her discomfort in her hunched shoulders.
He, too, had problems with his thoughts of her. They popped up on his sensor array, substituting themselves for others in his stream of data. He even went as far to delete them from his memory, knowing the taboo they offered. But they returned, reconstructing themselves with the number value of the color of her eyes, the mathematical equation of the curves of her hips, the volume of her lips. It was a virus in his OS, threatening to crash both his mind and his relationship with her. With a silent mechanical sigh, he instituted the repression program and turned back to the reader.
But it was unrepressed his curved neck, his crossed ankles, and the grip of his hand.
Brooklyn like a sea in the asphalt stalks
Push out dead air from a parking garage
Where you stand with the keys and your cool hat of silence
Where you grip her love like a driver's liscense
I've seen you
Fire up the gas in the engine valves
I've seen your hand turn saintly on the radio dial
I've seen the airwaves
Pull your eyes towards heaven
Outside Topeka in the phone lines
Her good teeth smile was winding down
Engine sputters ghosts out of gasoline fumes
They say You had it, but you sold it
You didn't want it, no
I'm half drunk on static you transmit
Through your
True dreams
Of Wichita
Zee keyed the ignition, cutting into the silence between them. Ro settled into her seat, trying not to have to deal with Zee or her thoughts. The stale air of the garage was stifling, but it wasn't what weighed her down. She attempted to focus on the scenery, but there wasn't much as they pulled out onto the magway. She flipped on the radio, but there really wasn't anything of interest playing.
Finally, without facing him, she voiced a question that had been on her mind for a while.
"Zee, what would you do if you got your freedom?"
Zee blinked, looking up to the radio towers that dotted along sides of the road. "I haven't really postulated that. Now with Dr. Selig gone, I don't see the point." They lapsed into silence again.
It wasn't until they were passing over the Williamsburg Bridge she turned to face him. "Just because it's impossible doesn't mean you can't dream."
"Huh?"
"You said there was no point to dream about life after you get your freedom. Why not? We all need dreams. It's what makes life worth living."
"Ro, I'm a synthoid. I don't dream."
"Now that was a lie, tin man, and both you and I know it. You dream about getting your freedom, so why not dream about after it?" She smiled at a private joke. He, in turn, cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning her laughter. "I'm sorry, but I just had a vision of you, living in a house with a white picket fence, with 1.5 kids and a dog."
Zeta frowned, obviously confused. "I don't think you can have a living half of a child, Ro. And I'm a synthiod-"
"-You can't have children. Yeah, yeah. But you can always dream, Zee. It's what makes us alive."
They continued on, occasionally coming up with absurd futures for the other. But each kept into their minds the dream of a house with a white picket fence, 2 children, and each other.
For that was their true dream of Wichita.
------
Authoress Notes: My very first songfic. Song is "True Dreams of Wichita" by Soul Coughing. I had a fun time figuring out how an AI would handle love. Reviews are loved and appreciated. flames are usedc to heat my room. Critiques are used to wrtie better stories. The reason for the typing mistakes is that I cannot feel my left hand (pinched nerve). I own nothing.
Got lost in the
Rideup to the
Plungedown;
Man sends the ray of the electric light
Sends the impulse
Through the air
Down to home
And you can stand
On the arms
Of the Williamsburg Bridge
Crying
Hey man, well this is Babylon
And you can fire out on a bus
To the outside world
Down to Louisiana
You can take her with you
I've seen the
Rains of the real world
Come forward on the plain
I've seen the Kansas of your sweet little myth
You've never seen it, no,
I'm half sick on the drinks you mixed
Through your
True dreams
Of Wichita
They sat at counter, she nursing a black coffee, he reading the latest news. Neither spoke to each other, but it was easy to tell they were together, possible in more ways than one. Their body language was a conversation in itself, arguing, apologizing, caring, and more in small shifts of their hips, legs, shoulders and hands. His was more subdued than hers, while hers obviously dominated, but even still hers was incomplete without his. But such language is invisible to most, particularly those who speak it. So they kept drinking and reading, oblivious to the sordid love story they themselves told.
"Zee, could you pass the sugar? The waitress forgot to put some in again." Ro motioned to her refilled cup.
Zee nodded and handed her the dispenser. "Maybe you should tell her that she forgot." He put down the reader leaned into in his hand, looking at her. He didn't need coffee, or anything else for that matter, but he enjoying drinking in the sights of the world, not in least being Ro.
"It's too early in the morning to arguing. Plus, it's just easier to do it myself." She looked away from his gaze to pour an exorbitant amount of sugar into the black depths of her house blend. It was unnerving to match his gaze, when she knew it was false. A comforting dishonesty, but a dishonesty nonetheless, which upset her. Even now, she cursed her hand in the creation in front of her. Why had she put her own desires for a male in her suggestions, allowing him to come up with an Adonis she was forced never to have?
She swirled the coffee in front of her, pushing away her thoughts for now. She remembered the metal that was truly him, and the feelings of impossible longing faded from her mind.
But not in her body language, which displayed her discomfort in her hunched shoulders.
He, too, had problems with his thoughts of her. They popped up on his sensor array, substituting themselves for others in his stream of data. He even went as far to delete them from his memory, knowing the taboo they offered. But they returned, reconstructing themselves with the number value of the color of her eyes, the mathematical equation of the curves of her hips, the volume of her lips. It was a virus in his OS, threatening to crash both his mind and his relationship with her. With a silent mechanical sigh, he instituted the repression program and turned back to the reader.
But it was unrepressed his curved neck, his crossed ankles, and the grip of his hand.
Brooklyn like a sea in the asphalt stalks
Push out dead air from a parking garage
Where you stand with the keys and your cool hat of silence
Where you grip her love like a driver's liscense
I've seen you
Fire up the gas in the engine valves
I've seen your hand turn saintly on the radio dial
I've seen the airwaves
Pull your eyes towards heaven
Outside Topeka in the phone lines
Her good teeth smile was winding down
Engine sputters ghosts out of gasoline fumes
They say You had it, but you sold it
You didn't want it, no
I'm half drunk on static you transmit
Through your
True dreams
Of Wichita
Zee keyed the ignition, cutting into the silence between them. Ro settled into her seat, trying not to have to deal with Zee or her thoughts. The stale air of the garage was stifling, but it wasn't what weighed her down. She attempted to focus on the scenery, but there wasn't much as they pulled out onto the magway. She flipped on the radio, but there really wasn't anything of interest playing.
Finally, without facing him, she voiced a question that had been on her mind for a while.
"Zee, what would you do if you got your freedom?"
Zee blinked, looking up to the radio towers that dotted along sides of the road. "I haven't really postulated that. Now with Dr. Selig gone, I don't see the point." They lapsed into silence again.
It wasn't until they were passing over the Williamsburg Bridge she turned to face him. "Just because it's impossible doesn't mean you can't dream."
"Huh?"
"You said there was no point to dream about life after you get your freedom. Why not? We all need dreams. It's what makes life worth living."
"Ro, I'm a synthoid. I don't dream."
"Now that was a lie, tin man, and both you and I know it. You dream about getting your freedom, so why not dream about after it?" She smiled at a private joke. He, in turn, cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning her laughter. "I'm sorry, but I just had a vision of you, living in a house with a white picket fence, with 1.5 kids and a dog."
Zeta frowned, obviously confused. "I don't think you can have a living half of a child, Ro. And I'm a synthiod-"
"-You can't have children. Yeah, yeah. But you can always dream, Zee. It's what makes us alive."
They continued on, occasionally coming up with absurd futures for the other. But each kept into their minds the dream of a house with a white picket fence, 2 children, and each other.
For that was their true dream of Wichita.
------
Authoress Notes: My very first songfic. Song is "True Dreams of Wichita" by Soul Coughing. I had a fun time figuring out how an AI would handle love. Reviews are loved and appreciated. flames are usedc to heat my room. Critiques are used to wrtie better stories. The reason for the typing mistakes is that I cannot feel my left hand (pinched nerve). I own nothing.