"R. Dorothy Wayneright…" the girl said, from the middle of nowhere. Dressed all in black, you couldn't tell her from the rest of the darkened room. "R. Dorothy Wayneright. Why…? Why do I have to be an android..?"
Her face never left the expression of indifference- her question remained at a monotone. She would have sighed, had she the capability to do so.
She didn't. And so she simply listened… listened to the quiet sounds of night in his mansion. Mostly quiet anyhow- his occasional snoring disrupted the peace.
She waited for morning to come, for the first shaft of artificial light to peer through the window of her bedroom. She knew that, truly, the light would never really come.
He moaned- it seemed that he was having a nightmare again.
"Is it R.D?" she wondered, but inside she knew it was not true.
It was the memories.
Her feet padded slowly, making no sound. She creaked open the door.
He was trembling again. He shivered.
She wanted to help him- to chase away the brutal memory that drove him near insane. However, being an android and incapable of emotion, she wasn't sure how to make him feel any better. She had no idea how he could possibly feel.
All she felt was indifference. ALWAYS indifference.
And so she would just sit by his bed, wondering how she could possibly make him feel any better- how she could ever identify with the elusive memories and emotions entitled to humans.
HUMANS.
Not androids. Never androids.
Most certainly she resembled a human… spoke like one… had the same skills as one. But she had no emotion.
How could she ever make any difference in his life?
He said it himself- he didn't need anyone.
…but he looked so afraid…
Being careful not to wake him, she gently sat by his side. His hair was a mess- a far cry from the normal gelled smoothness. His face showed fear… danger… hatred..?
What IS fear?
Contemplating the foreign emotions that humans had the gift to behold, she unknowingly ran her hand through his matted hair.
He sighed, and his face calmed.
Noticing the tension leave his body, Dorothy glanced at him. Lying there, he looked almost like an innocent child whose mother had just sung him a lullaby… chased away the monsters.
…serene? Is that the word?
She climbed back off the bed and sat in the corner nearest the door, glancing at the alarm clock he never listened to.
6:05.
In only fifty-five minutes, she would have to play some loud piano concerto to wake him up.
Until then, however, she was content to just watch him sleep, to see the calm expression on his face and hear his heavy breath fill the room.
Roger…