Behind closed lids, in a pitch black void, a binary code filled the space in lime green numbers. Voices of the past reverberated in Joliet's head as she remained unconscious. Some memories she remembered clear as day, while others were a bit fuzzy. They were playing back to her after many days of being trapped in darkness and static.
Kkkrrzzztttt
Bzzzzrkkktttzzzttt
System reboot in progress. Do not power off.
Progress: 1%
Which country would you like to visit, Jojo? her father had asked, showing her a globe. Name it, and I promise to take you there.
Really?! young Joliet replied with excitement in her voice.
Jean-Marc laughed. Oui, cherie.
How about the future?
The future?
Yeah! Uncle Stroheim can build a time machine, and you and me can go to the future together.
Zrrrkkkttttzzzkkkt
System Rebooting. . .
Progress : 15%
By the age of ten, Joliet developed ataxia as well as other symptoms such as: dilated pupils, dry skin, and recurring heart problems. No matter what medications the doctors prescribed her — no matter the dosages — the problems persisted, rendering her to be confined in a wheelchair for the remainder of her life.
Though she had few friends that cared for her, Joliet couldn't help but have dark thoughts. They're only my friends because they feel sorry for me. Seeing them be capable of going anywhere they pleased with whomever they pleased always made her envious. They never ask me if I want to go…am I that big of an inconvenience?
Rrrkkkzzztttt
Darkness engulfed Joliet's chambers, where she lay in bed hooked to machines, incapable of moving or speaking.
Jean-Marc, I'm sorry, but none of the new medications are taking effect. The doctors working with Speedwagon Enterprises confirmed that they all had positive results. Speedwagon sighed heavily. We've done all we can to treat her tachycardia. At this rate, I have my suspicions that the cause of her debilitation may be outside of…physical means.
Jean-Marc's breath quavered, his voice cracking. No, you don't mean…
Her symptoms are only getting worse with age. Speedwagon placed a hand to his shoulder. If she does have a stand, and it's causing this, then I fear there's nothing you nor I can —
Jean-Marc jerked away. Don't you say it. I lost everyone I've ever loved — everyone — I can't lose my daughter. She's all I have left! He gripped Speedwagon by his suit collar, desperation enveloping his being. Please. Let me use Dream Theater to save her life!
Though she was unable to open her eyes, or move, there were still moments - much like this one - where Joliet could faintly hear their voices.
You would do that without her consent? Speedwagon said, his voice welling with sadness.
I…! But…! The unmistakable, distant sound of her father weeping as his knees collapsed to the floor shook her spirit to the core.
And so it came to be. At the age of twenty, Joliet Jousset passed away in her sleep. Jean-Marc stayed by her side, witnessing her passing with an ailing heart. A sliver of orange burned on the horizon as he unclipped one of her barrettes from her hair. Tightly clenched in his hand was the only symbol of hope he had left.
The only means of getting his daughter back.
Bbbbrrrbbbkkkttzz
Somewhere in the deepest reaches of her mind, she perceived the distant, echoing of the song Forever Young by Alphaville. The music was transposed to be one full tone higher than the original. Was this a recording she was hearing? When did she record it into her memories, though?
KKkkkttzzzzzttt
Jean-Marc! Tell me you didn't! Stroheim searched his face for an answer.
I had to, he responded in a croaky voice as he wiped his eyes and sniffed, I couldn't let her go.
Stroheim closed his eyes and let out a sigh of grief. Just what do you intend to do with her soul? I thought we made a promise never to use Dream Theater in this way again.
To hell with promises! Jean-Marc snarled. She's my daughter, and I decide where her soul goes. Do you hear me?! I decide! I have that power!
Stroheim's breath shuddered.
For the first time in my life, I finally understand what my stand's power means; what I was born to do. Why you and I crossed paths!
Jean-Marc—
Don't you see? With technology, the human race can overcome death. Think of it, Stroheim! Diseases and viruses phased out of existence. All the dying children of the world can be saved and live a long, happy life. The life Celina and Joliet couldn't have. But now...now... Jean-Marc's laughter began soft, then gradually got louder, ...now my daughter can get her second chance.
Stroheim shook his head in utter disbelief at what he was listening to. You're a madman…
Slamming his daughter's barrette on the lab table, Jean-Marc chuckled maniacally. The future's in our hands, Stroheim. I will never lose my daughter again. In fact, no one will have to worry about losing anyone by the time we're done here. You… he pointed his finger at Stroheim, making him flinch, … you did it for Speedwagon, now do it for Joliet.
System rebooting . . .
Progress : 37%
Joliet awoke three years later, lying on her back just as she did the night she had taken her last breaths. The room was in exactly the same state as it was the night her soul left her human body. She gasped, inhaling deeply as if she'd been swimming and finally came up for air. Sitting in a chair by the bedside asleep, Jean-Marc was hunched forward. His head slipping from his palm jerked him awake. Two seafoam green eyes, framed by long dark lashes, looked over at him.
Father?
Tears of joy streamed down his face. Joliet! His sudden tight hug startled her, causing bewilderment to settle in.
Umm… are you okay?
He sucked back air, weeping into her shoulder. More than I've ever been.
Kkkkzzrrrrttttbbbbttt
System rebooting . . .
Progress : 60%
With Stroheim's help, he'd given her the greatest gift a father could ever give their child. The ailments that had taken her life were no longer present. Joliet could walk, the coordination of her arms and legs in full control. There was no more slurred speech, nor any irregular heart rhythms. The light didn't hurt her eyes anymore. She could finally step into the sunlight without aching pain, and objects in her vision were the most clear they'd ever been. But the moment words typed themselves across her corneas, displaying information and allowing her to scan the contents of other objects, Joliet's suspicions were raised.
Bbkkkkrrrrrzzzzt
System rebooting. . .
Progress : 88%
A ceiling fan slowly turned as Stroheim, Speedwagon, and Jean-Marc held a meeting with Joliet in the living quarters of the imperial palace. Jean-Marc hung his head as he leaned forward on his knees and stared at the carpet fibers. A shuddering sigh left him as the hand brought up to his brow slid away and he looked into his daughter's eyes. Joliet couldn't quite place the grievous feeling his gaze was giving her. If she could compare the feeling to anything, it'd be a sinking dread that someone was about to deliver bad news. At that moment, it was the only thing weighing on her.
Go on, Jean-Marc. Speedwagon said. Tell her the truth.
He went to speak, but only took a breath. He held it for a few seconds, then released it. Joliet, I understand if what I'm about to tell you makes you angry. I take full responsibility.
The lead in her stomach sank further. For what? I don't understand.
You see, he explained, it's been nearly three years now since the day… There was a long pause. Jean-Marc took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. … the day that…you died.
Joliet's mouth turned up in a slight smile. He had to be joking. She let out an awkward laugh, brushing her hair over her shoulder with her hand. What are you talking about? I'm not dead, I'm right here.
Jean-Marc winced, covering his hand over his eyes. Hearing his breathy sobs, Joliet's smile quickly turned downward. Wait, he was serious? Speedwagon sauntered over and sat beside him, offering a consoling hand for comfort as he rubbed Jean-Marc's back. Joliet, he spoke softly, what your father says is the truth.
What?
Three years ago, you went comatose. Your father and I did everything we could to ensure that you were getting the proper care and medicine. But as time went by, our efforts only proved to be futile.
Joliet clasped her fingers around the hem of her dress. So I'm just a robot?
Not exactly. Stroheim interposed. Adjusting his mechanical visor's settings, the telescopic oculars retracted back into the headset. This man and his needs to inspect microorganisms on the couch fibers. Ah, that's better. Apologies. What I mean, your highness, is that you may or may not have noticed your ability to manifest a stand.
Joliet creased a brow. A what?
A stand. Speedwagon answered. A physical manifestation of one's spirit. It's what we believe was the cause of your illness. Stands in nature have fascinating and, in some cases, terrifying abilities. What we know about them is that anyone has the potential to awaken one of their own, though not everyone does.
It explained why as a small child, she could see remarkable beings — why she'd seen something hovering over her father's shoulder now and again. Come to think of it, that had to be how he made the birthday decorations dance on their own when she was little. It was like they were alive, in a way. Could that have been the kind of abilities Speedwagon was referring to?
But that doesn't explain why I'm not entirely a robot… she sounded calm, even looked it. But inside, she was tumbling and twisting in turmoil. Processing the information being handed to her was proving to be more and more overwhelming by the minute. …what am I?
Stroheim took a seat next to her on the couch. Jean-Marc, she needs to hear it from you.
He didn't bother to look up; he just sat there in silence and sighed. It was my stand, Dream Theater, that made this possible. Taking a moment, he allowed the welling in his throat and chest to subside so that he could speak more clearly. You are the only family I have left. Everyone I ever loved that died, always died in my absence. Including your mother. I couldn't save them. But…with you, it was different. I finally had that chance. So, as you passed away, Dream Theater contained your soul in one of your hair clips. Stroheim replicated your likeness to fit an android fully equipped with a positronic brain, the likes of which… he glanced up at her with puffy eyes. …is where your soul resides right now.
Ttttzzzzbbbbtttt
System rebooting . . .
Progress: 96%
Uncle Stroheim told me that because of the positronic brain's ability to mimic thought and emotions, I'd still be able to experience the human condition. At first, I was happy. I accepted what my father and Uncle Speedwagon told me. And it's funny…for a while, I didn't mind living my life as an android. What mattered to me the most was that my father was happy. He could watch me live the life he felt I deserved. My stand wouldn't make me sick anymore. But…there was one, major thing I didn't consider.
Joliet held the hands of a son to a wealthy corporation, a person she'd dated since he was 28. She was searching his eyes in desperation for an answer. I thought you liked me despite me being an android! Didn't you mean that at all when you said it?!
He withdrew his hand from hers, grimacing. Look, I've had time to think. And…it wouldn't look right marrying a girl that looks this much younger than me. Besides, I'm turning 43. I want a family, and an android can't give me that. I'm sorry.
Throughout the centuries, hate groups against working AI's were on the rise. The working class rioted through the streets of Paris, demanding that the Empereur give them back their jobs and lower the taxes. Soon, exposing one's self as an android to the public almost always resulted in heinous murders. And Joliet couldn't bear the thought of that. She'd befriended many groups of people in the past, all of them turning their backs on her in some form or another.
Bot. The very word itself packed a punch to the gut. It wasn't long until the A.I.s rose up and began to lash back against hate groups. Eventually, the words robot and bot had universally become acknowledged as a slur. It was around this time that Empereur Jousset grew ill of watching the chaos and destruction, and declared that all lower class citizens were to dwell outside the capital's walls, segregating the rich from the poor. This was due to the fact that the working class were hit hard by the economy's swift change to replace them with working A.I.s. This included the music industry, medical industry, and small businesses. In some parts of the world, A.I.s were already being given their human rights, even opening their own bank accounts. The very thing in and of itself sparked outrage. Now, in the year 3099, A.I.s could practically run their own businesses, though not without a human presiding over the establishment. This is because A.I. minds are unpredictable, and an A.I.s capability to learn new things is far more complex. Given the proper time to learn to function like the everyday human-being, A.I.s most certainly could be capable of handling expenses, and running a business without supervision.
Having adjusted to the discrimination she faced throughout the years, Joliet felt that the only means of protecting herself would be to push people out of her life for good. Even if that meant being mean. At first, she was consumed with guilt, but in time, her actions towards others became no more than a mere after-thought. Yes, she valued people's feelings. But she could never, ever place herself in a position where she was vulnerable. As long as she avoided friendships and dating, no one could ever get close and hurt her again.
No matter who I fall in love with, they'll never feel the same about me. For once, I just wish my father would listen to me when I tell him…no more upgrades. No more maintenance. I want to be like Uncle Speedwagon and cease to function on my own. He got his wish, why can't I? Joliet looked up at her family portrait, at her father's face in particular, with hate surging through her circuits. Why couldn't you just let me die? How can I ever enjoy life again…when I am this?
Kkkkkzzzzzrrrrkkkktttbbbttt
System reboot complete.
