UNDERSTANDING

            We're close, but too afraid to count the units.  I almost feel ashamed thinking about it, and too dizzy to breathe.  I can't hide any more than I can run away from her, that is, if I wanted to.  But here she stands, in this den of wolves, innocently unwarned and unaccustomed to the situation.  It's too much, even for someone a master of the game, a cheater of death and a strict businessman.  Everyone has his or her own weaknesses, but as long as it's Dorothy… it's okay.

~

            I wonder sometimes, "Does she hate me?"  Having hired me to protect her she also joined the household.  But had she known this would happen, that I would come to love her, might she have chosen to fade into obscurity after the case with Dorothy I?  Occasionally she seems to enjoy my company, but has our becoming closer in fact pushed her away?  I seriously hope not, for even when awake I dream of her.  I feel no small amount of guilt for not ending the confusion and telling her how I feel.  But if she left, things would never be the same.  I can't imagine my house without her in it somewhere.  The only thing that keeps me from becoming scared about the whole concept is that she doesn't really have anywhere else to go.  With both of her "parents" dead there isn't anyone else, besides Norman and I, whom she can trust. 

And despite her choice to ignore me and present me with her backside, something is telling me now might be the time to tell her.  I chase her around the corner, and across the room she is gazing at and not really seeing one of the many shelves.

"Don't run away from me."  I say weakly.  And Dorothy listens to my request but refuses to turn around as if she knows how distracting it would be.  "I know what you meant earlier and you're right.  I need to express my feelings more."  I have to somehow make up for your lack of humanity.  "But I think that there's something else you wanted to tell me."

Like a master chess player, she sees through my play at prompting a confession of some sort from her.  She sighs; weary of the game we've been playing for what seems like so long.  Dorothy confirms the stalemate and turns to face me, "Of course not, I am only a machine, incapable of hiding or feeling anything.  Talking to me would be a waste of your time."  She starts off and away again, in search of distance to put between us.  "I am sure Norman is around here somewhere." 

I know she's lying, but this time I'm not sure if she knows it herself.  How carefully she hides her feelings and emotions.  I may be burying them away, but I have at least acknowledged them.  I'm not quite certain whether the last comment was borne out of jealously of some sort, or a kind of depression gained in the conversation.  Even though I don't know what her feelings are, I should be considerate of them.

"That's not true at all!  You're not just a machine and I really do want to tell you, but I'm afraid that you wouldn't understand."  I go from practically yelling at her to loosely throwing the words over my shoulder at her as I realize that I don't have any real reasons not to tell her.

"Of course I wouldn't…" She replies and I'm stuck at another dead end.  She definitely knows what I'm going through; not from personal experience though, merely from observation and a number of conversations with Norman does she know the words for it.

I lean against the wall adorned with the objects of her dusting and just watch as she tries to overlook my presence.  "Androids are so much more complicated than humans," I throw out, crossing my arms to think it over.

"That is only because you don't understand me.  In all these past months, I've been trying to understand humans, and now I know about you and why you're here right now.  On the other hand, your surveillance has yielded you nothing, for your part, we're almost as much strangers as when we met."  She says it like common knowledge, as something of printed fact.  Before she had even finished, I felt devastated, my mouth was open and my eyes were wide.  I can't believe she feels this way.  It's true that I don't know everything about her, but I, I couldn't call us strangers.

"Dorothy, is that really how you feel about me?  That I'm like a stranger to you?"  She can't possibly mean it…

We're close, but too afraid to count the units… 

"You don't think so Roger?  Are you even aware of how you feel about me?  Your feelings are unreasonable and unwarranted.  Based solely on things imprinted into your very existence." 

…I almost feel ashamed thinking about it, and too dizzy to breathe…

The way that she takes it all in stride with no change in attitude is remarkable even for an android.

"So you think that this is all biological and has nothing to do with you personally?  That essentially you could be anyone?"  I, of course, know that isn't true at all, but now I question when and how she came to these conclusions.  Just because I don't know all sorts of trivial things like her actual birthday, or her favorite color or musical piece doesn't make us strangers.  Even not knowing her origin doesn't make us strangers to me.  I know more personal things, like how she seems to drift away when playing the piano and the way the color black reflects even in her mechanical eyes.  I know how much wind it takes for her hair to bother her, or when she enters the room just by the sound and feeling she emanates. 

"Yes.  This situation has been created by my female appearance and your natural response to it."

"That's preposterous and implies that I'm in love with every woman I know!"

"So you really believe that you are in love?"  In all my daydreams I'd never imagined such a tense and frightening way for my confession to come about.  I hadn't chosen my words carefully enough to leave myself an escape route from what I now realize does sound suspiciously like admittance. 

…I can't hide any more than I can run away from her, that is, if I wanted to…

"Well… I… am…" I couldn't help it.  Even if I just laid three flowers on my grave, I couldn't get any deeper.  "It's true that the way you look caught my attention first, but I feel really close to you.  I hate to bring her up, but if Dorothy Wayneright were to walk in here with the same features and likeness, I would choose you.  You have your own personality and your own unique way of doing things."

Her feet lifted, one after the other, trailing out of the room, but she looked at me in a way that asked for me to follow her; so I did.  It was frightening to be led down the halls of my own house that created a maze to her room.  I'd given Dorothy a room just so that she might have her own physical place of claim in the household.  What was she going to show me?  The possibilities seemed limitless, and their very being of limitless number made them horrifying.  The room was as it had been before she occupied it, save for a spot above the dresser.  There had been a mirror there before, and now there hung that portrait of Dorothy that I created myself.  It was a disproportionate mock of something I'd seen before that hadn't really resembled her until I blotted in the eyes.  I suddenly realized that the painting had disappeared in a quiet and Dorothy-like way.  Once I had finished it, the painting and all of the materials of its creation had simply vanished without a trace. 

"I kept it."  She said simply, drawing my attention away from the crude imitation.  "Do you remember when it was that I asked you to paint it?  After seeing the house of Mr. Wise, I thought that it would be ultimately ironic.  Seeing as the portrait above his fireplace was made out of Mr. Wise's love for his wife.  And whether or not you understood it at the time, you accepted.  I took it because I realized after you had finished, that I did not want you to have it.  I now know that I was wrong to ask you to do that.  I didn't want you to have something that would remind you of me.  Especially when I think of the look in Mr. Wise's eyes.  And I didn't want to think of Paradigm City's top negotiator as some sentimentalist who could fall in love simply because he had no past with the person like Mr. Wise did.  So now Roger, I ask you, what is love?"

…But here she stands, in this den of wolves, innocently unwarned and uneducated to the situation… 

"Dorothy, it's not the same for everybody, it—" I raise my hands to convey the space between them as similar to my loss for words, but I'm interrupted with no concern for how hard this is.

…It's too much, even for someone a master of the game, a cheater of death and a strict businessman…

"For you…"

She could see my hesitation.  "It's not really something you can explain, it's this feeling that makes me want to be near you, and think and worry about you.  And I want to protect you, not just because you asked me to."

"But you know that I am not made for you in any way.  I am not human and I am not like you at all.  I was created to nurture the memories of an old man."

"But you're still here Dorothy!  He's not and you are!  If that was your entire purpose in life, then there would have been no point to your existence past his!"  After I'd said it, I kind of regretted it.  I'm not sure it needed to be said, or who benefited from it.  But the way she stood there, unblinking, completely frozen, gripped me.  She looked no different than any other time, but it really hurt me, the way it should have hurt her, and I looked away.

…Everyone has his or her own weaknesses…

"Is there a point to this?  Some reason to want life after my creator's, and my purpose is gone?"

"You should want to live, because there is less point in death."

"It is normal for living things to want to continue their survival.  It is wholly natural for them to live past their predecessors.  I think that you are forgetting at will that I only resemble a human."

"I'm sure you wouldn't let me forget in a million years.  But just because you're an android doesn't mean that I'm going to give up or treat you like a machine.  Why is it that you can't accept my feelings?"

"Because you won't be happy with me, just like he wasn't.  Father created me to fill an almost similar gap in his life to the one that you feel.  He was happy on the surface, but he really knew all the limitations of my being and that it would never be the same as it was with his real daughter.  So, I am sure that you would be happier with a real person."

I quickly wrapped my arms around her, haphazardly at first, only to quiet her.  Soon my arms locked and my head dropped down to hers.  She was still standing there, as unmovable as ever, looking at me, knowing that what I said next would be irrevocable.  "Funny, I've never felt this way about a 'real person'."

…but as long as it's Dorothy…

The tiny pads of her fingers stretched across my back as she gave in to the small gesture.

…it's okay…