Unnatural Instinct: Android
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G.M. Marks
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16,6K
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30
Life Is Cruel
YOUR MOTHER
The moment your mother steps through your front door, she knows itâs not going wellâagain.
âIâm trying!â your new nurse cries.
Itâs very unprofessional, but your mother canât blame her for her outburst. Youâre a lot to handle. Though not surprised, her heart sinks.
She hurries into the kitchen, putting down her shopping bags on the bench before turning down the hall toward your bedroom.
âYouâre so useless,â you snap back at your nurse. âWhy donât you do yourself a favor and get a job youâre actually good at!â
Your mother winces. She loves you, her only daughter, but you can be cruel when you want to be.
Olympia, your young nurse, is on the brink of tears. Sheâs kneeling on the floor in front of your wheelchair, struggling with your medical stockings. âMaybe I should,â the young girl mumbles. Sweat stains the underarms of her uniform, and her hair is sticking out messily from her ponytail.
âMum,â you say, looking up. âYouâre back.â
The nurse turns with a start and quickly jumps to her feet, her hands behind her back. She looks exhausted.
You narrow your eyes. âItâs about time. Get rid of this girl, sheâs not for me.â
Olympia lifts her chin, struggling against her tearsâunsuccessfully. They pour down her cheeks.
Your mother stifles a sigh. Careful to keep her voice even, she says, âOlympia, you can go.â
The girlâs eyes widen. A flush rises up her throat. Pressing her lips together, she heads toward the door.
Just before she exits, your mother stops her. âIâm sorry. Know that youâll still get your full fortnightâs pay, all right?â
The girl gives a tremulous smile as she nods. She leaves, and your mother pulls the door shut behind her.
âYou shouldnât pay her a dime,â you sneer from your wheelchair. âSheâs been the worst of the bunch.â
Your mother glares at you. âIâm appalled at you. How can you be so nasty?â
You shrug. âLife is cruel. She should get used to it.â
Life is indeed cruel. You have that right. Though itâs been almost two years since the accident that crippled you, your motherâs throat still swells with tears at the sight of you.
Your once lovely face is badly burned on the left side, as is much of the left side of your body. The force of the impact caused serious brain damage that affects your right side.
You can barely move your right arm, and your hand is completely useless, curled into a claw. You can stand but you canât walk, your right leg just as bad as your arm, the foot curved inward.
But all of that she can deal with. Though painful, itâs bearable. Not like your behavior. Sometimes, in her darkest moments, it almost seems like youâre not her daughter at all. That sheâs caring for a stranger. It tears at her heart.
âIs that enough now?â you say. âCan we give up?â
Shaking her head, your mother drops to her knees in front of you and resumes putting on your stockings.
âDonât, Mum. Stop it! I donât want you to do it!â You try to jerk away, but youâre stuck in your wheelchair. Trappedâfor the rest of your life. âMum!â
âShut it!â she snaps, her face red. âYou need your stockings so you donât get a blood clot.â
You slump back into your chair. âA clot would be the best thing in the world. Finish the job⌠Do what the truck should have done.â
Biting her lip, your mother continues dressing you, though her hands shake and her eyes fill with tears.
Since you no longer have someone to care for you, she stays with you for the rest of the day, cooking you meals, helping you to the toilet, doing a variety of things that humiliate and frustrate you. You love and appreciate your mother but you canât help but be angry and hateful, snapping at her at every little thing.
By the end of the day, your mother has had enough. Once sheâs helped you to bed, she goes to her room and switches on her laptop. Olympia was the twelfth nurse the agency had sent, and sheâs fast running out of options.
âShe will be the last,â the administrator told your mother days before. âAfter that, itâs going to be very difficult to find any more nurses who are willing to look after her.â
âThen what am I supposed to do?â she asked desperately.
The administrator studied her. âThere areâŚother agencies.â She reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out a card, handing it over. âStrictly speaking, I shouldnât tell you of this. Itâs not exactlyâŚadvisable.â
Your mother looked down at the card. Mechabashi Robotics Industry Inc.
Everybody has heard of the Mechabashi company. Based in Japan, they build self-driving cars and planes. Theyâve built robotic pets, and computers that can conduct surgery. And even people! Real moving, thinking people!
She remembered seeing them on TV years before but not since. Now, the company seems to prefer sticking with cars, computers, and drones. She suddenly wonders why that is. And what could she possibly find useful with them?
Now, back home, she sits at her desk, the card sitting up against the monitor of her laptop as she accesses their website. Her last, desperate hope.
Her eyebrows rise higher, then higher still at what she sees. Her heart starts to pound. Nervous energy makes her shift in her seat. Could this truly be the answer? She leans in closer.
But the more she flicks through their pages, the more downhearted she becomes. The expense is astronomical, far more than she could ever afford. And just as the administrator saidâitâs not advisable. Is it even legal?
Or safe?
She turns her head at the sound of your cry. Youâre in pain again. Her heart sinks. Youâve already had your allotted medication for the day, and sheâs too tired and drained to give you the massages you so desperately need.
Thereâs no cure for nerve pain. If only there was someone who didnât need to sleep, who could be there at your beck and call without complaint. She turns back to the screen.
If onlyâŚ
Taking a breath, she clicks onto their email.
