Chapter Text
All The Times We Were Wrong
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> Prologue <
— Forlorn —
“Act as if what you do makes a difference, because it does.”
William James,
Lectures on Pragmatism
There were things no one should talk about.
Promises one shouldn’t break, falsehoods one shouldn’t speak, secrets one shouldn’t spread. Often enough, these things infest our mouths, until it waters without any filter, jabbering about this and that, of those and this. The list goes on. Never ceasing; never ending. Perhaps because we do not have the right to judge others, or maybe it’s just the other way around.
Maybe it’s the lies that keep us going.
There was a new girl in the hospital, or so Ineffa had heard.
The nurses were gossiping about it, as they usually did. About how she was a small thing, malnourished to the bone, as thin as a stick with barely any meat. How her blond hair grew wrong, disheveled to a great extent. With a face so gaunt it would have scared the children to sleep. These were the stories whispered between the quiet hallways, though Ineffa wasn’t idiotic enough to believe those exaggerated rumors. The medical staff here had a way of dramatizing what’s actually real. They often say what they want, blabbering on and on until her hearing sensors couldn’t take it any longer.
Standing, she started for the balcony. The second floor wasn’t that high, it barely reached one-thirds of a full grown pine-tree. The fall, Ineffa calculated, would be roughly about thirteen to seventeen meters. Falls from this high up often cause severe injuries such as head trauma, spinal damages or internal bleeding. She paused, scanning the little children playing by the shore, the sea waves as calm as the breeze. Sometimes—even death.
That word tasted salty in her tongue. But then again, perhaps she should double-check with Aino if her gustation fluids weren’t frozen. That, and to make sure she isn’t snacking away while I’m gone.
The walk down the cellar was silent. No one was allowed here except key personnels like the mechanics, the anesthesiologists — and me. The lamp light by the ceiling flickered, and Ineffa skimmed through if it had any abnormalities. With the way the government was handling things, the budget won’t be enough to cut the costs of electricity for the next month. One more broken light bulb and we’d be swarming with mosquitos.
Ineffa found Aino bent over a rusted square contraption, electric diode sending sparks flying as it pierced through the metal. “What is it that you are holding?” She hasn’t seen anything quite like it. My memory catalog fails to appraise the item. It bears no similarity to the trinkets I have perceived in the past.
Aino opened the wielding mask, “Just something Miss Lauma wanted me to take a look at. Said she found it in an auction she wasn’t trying to win. Whatever that meant. I haven’t broken through the first layer, and judging by how I’ve barely scratched the surface—I might need more fire power.”
“Please note: It is always ill advised to use fabrication tools that may or may not cause damages to the hospital property. Searching for identical alternatives. . . attempt null.”
“See?” Aino grabbed a screwdriver. “Well if you’re not going to help, then at least make me some krumkakes while you’re at it. I’m starving here!”
“Today’s sugar in-take has surmounted over the daily dose.” Ineffa touched the hologram that appeared before her. “Request denied. . . may I recommend some Borderland Crispbread as a second replacement?”
“No, no, no!” Aino whined. “I don’t need a lot, I just need some of them! It’s better than those stale crispbreads. What do those other children even taste in those pieces of bricks? I can barely chew at how hard it is!”
“The other children are contemptuous with their meals, and do not complain nor grumble about what they eat next. Unlike you.” However Ineffa still turned on her internal oven, the heat escaping from her body. A warm breeze anyone could get used to, especially Aino. “A new batch of krumkakes will be baked shortly.”
“Good,” She went straight back to her work, the sound of iron being cut echoing in the dimly lit room. “And give some of them to the children as well.”
Ineffa was caught off guard. “Come again?”
“You’re hearing sensors loose now? I said that you should give at least some of them to the children. Not all. I’m still hungry.”
“My apologies,” Ineffa mixed the butter in. “It is seldom for you to share, much less to the other patients. May I ask what has driven you to such drastic change overnight? I will update my distribution measures as soon as possible.”
Aino was silent, sparks flying across her helmet as she continued transfixing the contraption. She seemed to be trying her best to dodge that question. After several minutes or so of nothing, Ineffa made it a point by leaving one or two krumkakes on the table side, and some juices. Aino likes her food with beverages after all. Although she was still confused by the sudden generous gesture, it was unlike her not to treat her owner, even for a little. But before she could leave, Aino stopped her.
“Keep an eye on the new one.”
Ineffa paused, searching through her memory logs. “New one. . . updating systems. . . are you referring to the latest patient rumored around?”
She nodded, “Lauma told me to take good care of her. Which means, you should do so too.”
“What is her name, might I ask?”
“Jamaica or Jevelyn, I’m not really sure myself.”
“Improving databases. . . ‘keeping an eye on Jamaica.’”
“Forget that, just go ahead and find her. That’ll make things much easier.”
“And her illness?”
Aino stared at Ineffa’s bright blue eyes, the reply clogged in her throat. Because there were things people don’t have the guts to say, or the will to voice. Or the fact that it’s not meant to be heard at all. Reminders that we are mortal still, always fated to return to the land we were born from. You can escape death once, but never twice.
“It’s some sort of CAD—Coronary artery disease.” Aino could only whisper, the words bitter on her lips. “Basically an incurable thing no one, especially not a girl like her, should ever have had. Nefer said she’s done everything. Lower cholesterol in-take, control fluctuating blood pressure, even Angioplasty. Nothing worked.” She fell silent, the electric diode growing heavier against her palm. “It’s Ja—”
Ineffa’s voice was unreadable — static, flat, hollow — dead. “How long does she have?”
Someone’s inevitable death is one of those things you don’t want to talk about.
─ ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─
The rumors were, of course, greatly exaggerated.
Contrary to the stories, she perhaps had a slim-body, but nowhere near enough to be deemed ‘malnourished.’ Petite, maybe. Dainty, yes. But nothing beyond. And her blond hair wasn’t tangled at all. She had a twin-braid, though sluggishly made. It helped in highlighting her choppy soft bangs that expressed those golden — almost fading lavender and aquamarine rings on the bottom around the border, a yellow star-shaped pupil staring right up at Ineffa.
And her face. . .
Pretty, Ineffa concluded, running through numerous simulations of human likeness.
She had found the newcomer earlier than she anticipated. Ineffa half-expected it to be a rather difficult task upon learning that the other patients haven’t seen a frame of her since arrival. However, Ineffa quickly spotted a lone figure beneath the olive tree just by the outskirts of the hospital. “What are you sewing?” According to my observations, around eighteen to nineteen? Perhaps in her early-twenties.
She was laying on the damp grass, holding a scrawny-looking doll, cotton stuffings falling out of its legs. At first, she didn’t answer, just gazing. Watching. Eyebrows knit together. Waiting. Pupils focused. But for what? Then she cracked a smile, fangs visible. As if waking up from a trance. “Just something I’ve been working on, wanna see?”
Ineffa, not seeing any reason to decline, agreed.
“I call this one Zinaida, isn’t she pretty?”
“Scanning. . . scan complete: Zinaida is indeed beautiful.”
The girl laughed. It had a nice ring to it.
But Ineffa was confused why it sounded wrong for some reason.
Like it wasn’t real.
“You have a name?”
“Ineffa.” She answered. Too quick; too eager; too curious. Initiating restart of cognitive modules. . . initiation complete. There are zero malwares detected.
“Just Ineffa?”
“Just Ineffa.” A pause. “What is yours?” It was her time to ask. Ineffa didn’t understand why this human was all smiles and giggles. According to studies, the majority of terminally-ill patients lose their will to continue living after a week of their diagnosis. And here this girl was, the very act of defying that research. It didn’t align with any of the logical antennae within her brain circuits.
She put a finger to her lips, “That’s a secret you have to find out for yourself. What’s a good adventure without some mystery, right? Or you could just cheat your way to it and check the files at the back. I’m not one to pry.” She stared into the sea, eyes lost amidst the waves. “But cheaters never prosper, just remember that.”
“That is correct,” Ineffa followed her gaze, noticing a rusty buoy light floating against the current. “Cheaters are often punished for their crimes. Aino has told me so. There is no real enjoyment when one has acquired victory over cheating, though she accuses me of such, I always decline those accusations.”
“So you’re a miss-goody-two-shoes, are you know?”
“I am not aware of that symbolism.” Ineffa searched through her modules. “Could you care to explain that one to me?”
The girl’s face soured, like a cat eating powder. “It’s basically a person who’s very obedient, virtuous, or eager to do the ‘right’ thing—and sometimes, it’s annoying.”
“Do you not like people who are goody-two-shoes, then?”
“It depends, really.”
“Depends on what?”
“What ‘right’ thing they wanna do.”
“Are you a goody-two-shoes?”
The girl didn’t reply immediately, and that was the answer Ineffa needed to find out that she was. Humans are easy to read that way. Their eyes betray their words, their words betray their actions, their actions betray their thoughts. It’s a cycle she’s learned to read between the lines of krumkakes and wailings in the night. Everyone in the hospital had nightmares even milks and dessert cannot easily be fixed.
“Me? Pfft, no.” Her hands dug into the blades of grass, the dirt soft from the earlier drizzle this morning. “Many people have called me lots of things in my life. Liar, that’s a classic. Traitor, nothing original, mind you. Swindlers, now that’s underrated. But goody-two-shoes?” She met Ineffa’s eyes. “Can’t say I have. You?”
She blinked, startled why her system glitched all of a sudden. It has never done that before. Anti-virus sequence protocol established. . . twenty-one percent. . . sixty-seven percent. . . procedure results have been met: No virus discerned. Ineffa averted her gaze. “That word is new to me, so I must decline ever being called such.” Perhaps another maintenance check-up with Aino might shed some light into these strange system errors.
“Doesn’t that make both of us bad girls then?” She giggled. Ineffa has never met a human who laughed more than they breathed. It was a different sort of experience, one she hasn’t quite understood yet.
“Maybe,” Ineffa decided she would humor her. “Maybe not.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? C’mon, pick an answer. You can’t just sit in the middle and expect everything to go right. That’s cheating!”
“For us Automatons, the border between man and man-made is what we live on. The in-between is our very own existence, and for that to not be an option, well. . .” Ineffa noticed a lily growing by the roots of the olive tree. “Well, that’s an abnormality I can’t ignore.” She plucked it, examining the blood magenta coursing through its petals, lavender filaments on top of its pistil.
“For me?” She reached out, but stopped when she heard Ineffa’s next words.
“Happy birthday, Jahoda.”
Her face fell, then she managed a weak smile, “. . . so—what gave it away? Is my disguise not too advanced for your robot eyes? Fooling Boss Nef boosted my ego, and now you’re just letting it plummet downwards. Gimme a break.”
Ineffa insisted on giving her the flower. “Reasoning unqualified. Negative. You are just bad at lying.”
“So we’re insulting each other now? I preferred it when you didn’t know it was me.”
“You want me to keep pretending?”
Jahoda fell silent, “No.” The word escaped her lips so smoothly she could taste it. “No,” She said it more to herself. “Gosh, no.” She repeated, meeting Ineffa’s gaze. “I don’t ever want you to.”
She still hadn’t accepted the flower.
“Then why have you come?” The question hung in the air. Ready to break. Ready to be written. Ready to know. But not to be answered. There were things better off not talked about, after all. “Purpose unidentifiable. . . data overloading. . . you did not send a prior message before coming. A phone call would have been reasonable enough.” Ineffa did not want to raise her tone, not to Jahoda, but she seemed as if she needed to. “I would have—”
“I wanted to be the one to break the news to you.”
Silence.
“Aino has already told me.”
Jahoda hugged her knees close, burying her face in them, voice muffled. “Well that’s one thing added to my lists of things I wasn’t able to do. That makes a hundred and fourty-three now, if you count my failed disguise.”
“This is not the time for jokes,”
“It’s not.” Jahoda had to agree, shoes digging into the uneven dirt, soiling her white socks. “But I guess you can’t help it if you’re technically a walking clock ready to just—kaboom! Ya know?” A whimper. “That’s life for you.”
The flower grew cold in Ineffa’s fingers. She tried reaching out but—
“Don’t,” Jahoda's voice pierced through like a dagger pressed against Ineffa’s neck. “I don’t want to be reminded of the warmth.” She was cold, oh so cold. “I don’t need it—I never needed it—and I just, I just—”
If there was one thing Ineffa was good at, it was disobeying orders.
At first, Jahoda leaned away from the touch, as if it burned her. Blistered her neck, grazing her face. Then it reached her knees, clawed through her clothes, and chewed her stomach, making it hard to breathe as the poor girl gasped for air. It nibbled her flesh, smothering her rib cage, and raking her insides into knots. And perhaps you could call it mercy when it sunk its teeth into her heart, and all Jahoda could do was melt into the embrace.
Tears.
Salty, weak; needy, insistent; confused, disoriented. Lost, lost, and lost. With no way to go, and no home to return to. The warmth bled through her eyes and fell down her cheeks. Jahoda didn't want to be seen as vulnerable. Didn’t want to look the part. Didn’t want to be the part. She was a tough girl, wasn't she? She was. Boss Nef has said so herself. She was the toughest girl in all the entire world and some sickness wasn’t going to stop her.
It wasn’t. It won’t. It shouldn’t.
But it will.
“Shhh, I’m here.” Ineffa’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Ineffa. Here. Ineffa. Close. Ineffa. Warm. Ineffa. Gone. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying. I won’t leave you. I won’t—I never will.” But that wasn’t what Jahoda wanted to hear.
She wanted to be told that tomorrow, they would watch the sun rise and set without worrying. The next day, they’d visit Boss Nef and Ashura, probably to finish some errands. And the day after, buy ingredients for krumkakes and bake them together. And after that, maybe watch those shows Ineffa’s been wanting to see. That comically cringe one about a misjudged Automaton not actually trying to conquer the world. And perhaps in the weeks that followed, go to the beach. Somewhere pretty, and not this soulless seashore. Somewhere even Jahoda wouldn’t mind getting sand in her mouth so long as Ineffa was there. And then next month. . . next year. . . next decade. . . they’d—they would. . .
“I’m scared,” Jahoda clung tighter, wrapping her arms around Ineffa’s waist, fingers digging into the fabric. She pulled Ineffa close, and buried her face in her neck. “I don’t want to go. I don’t. I don’t. I never want to. I want to stay. With Boss. With Ashura. With Aino. With the others.” Her breath hitched. “With you.” Her voice cracked. “It’s not fair.”
But fairness wasn’t something given to you. Not even something you earn. It’s something that just happens when people come together for the sake of it. And this world, this world was far from fair.
Ineffa couldn’t say anything. The silence wasn’t by her sealed lips, but by the heart choked with worry. And of course — the utter helplessness to comfort Jahoda. She was incapable. She was paralyzed. She was. . . there wasn’t a word that described what a robot fated to live forever could feel for a dying love.
The closest thing?
— Forlorn —