By David C. Daoust
Suzanne Otomo pushed her face down into the bunched-up pillow as she shifted her body around into a new position on the long mattress. She’d managed to secure herself the most comfortable mattress she could find. And why shouldn’t she? Without her, the ‘bots’ would’ve drained days ago, their leaders would still be imprisoned by their own tech, and the humans would still be being used as brain cells in Ergo’s ‘Uber-brain’- or whatever Dakota liked calling it, ‘wouldn’t be sleeping in any kind of bed, anyway…
She sighed as she let her body relax, truly relished her reward.
It had been a long day.
A long day of securing more of the city and collecting more of her lost people.
Just as her mind felt as though it was drifting down into the soft, soft fabric of her bed, the bleep came up through her communicator.
Her eyes snapped open. She knew who it was. It was Dakota. No one else would be stupid enough to disturb her. Not to mention, her dear sister had been calling her, over and over again, All DAY! Calling with ridiculous questions about how Suzanne had managed this or how she solved that, or whatever popped into Dakota’s brain, about how they got to their current situation.
First, Dakota wanted to know about her part in it; how she managed to find Suzanne, lost and alone, in the dark empty corridors of the city-station. Something Suzanne had no interest in reliving, even in conversation.
Suzanne had explained, plain and simple, ‘faith’. An answer which, Suzanne should have known, would be maddening to the overly analytical and pragmatic Dakota Sun. Someone like Dakota could never truly grasp the idea, just dismiss faith like a magic spell, without a drop of credence; ‘too many religions trying to sideline the masses with their own version.
It was pretty clear Dakota wasn’t going to rest on such a curt, one-word answer.
Ultimately, Suzanne had to explain about the signals she’d detected throughout the corridors, the sudden ghostly images of Dakota that she’d followed blindly through the barren city, ’til she ran smack dab into the Wraith’s ‘front’. Finally, Dakota had enough, and, finally, Suzanne got back to her day of liberating.
Or so she had thought… wasn’t long ‘til Dakota was calling back for more details about the ‘front’. This was where Dakota got really irritating. She wanted to know all about the siege. It was so long ago at this point. Dakota kept calling back though, again and again. Something about ‘hints’. Why this sudden interest? SUzanne finally just broke down and gave detailed recounts of how she managed to break the siege and gain control of the situation. Dakota finally hung up. Whatever that was about.
The communicator bleeped again.
Suzanne was dead-set on just letting it bleep all night. She’d been answering Dakota’s inane questions all day. A very busy day, she might add as she sternly forced her face deeper into the pillow still bunched in her arm.
Suzanne felt like she was entitled to a good night’s sleep. What more could she possibly have to tell Dakota, really? How many more ways could she explain the same stuff that happened already. Some of Dakota’s questions really puzzled her. How is it Dakota was so surprised that she had to come up with a way to keep the bots from draining energy?
“I did that?” Dakota asked, startled at the implication.
Duh.
Suzanne didn’t know how that worked. She still didn’t. Dakota’s pestering vanished for several hours at that point.
The communicator bleeped again, and Suzanne shifted onto her back. Sleep wasn’t coming, she stared at the ceiling and stubbornly waited for the next bleep. Finally, she snatched it up off the bed stand and, finally, pressed it to one ear.
“Suzanne, you’re still awake! Sorry, I know it’s late,” Dakota could be heard, apologetically, on the other end, “It’s just so much easier to ask. I don’t know, its like addictive… just one more quick cheat…”
Discussion ¬