She Had the World

[Santinka]

 

[Santinka]

She Had The World
By kappy-and-tea

Tinktinktinktinktink!. bzzt.
Slow-motion as usual. The gears take a moment to move, but I feel my eyes opening; light enters my system and solar power gives me warmth.
I like warmth. Heat. It is nice.
I register the room, my familiar room, with red walls that are covered in bookshelves and a large window that faces the front lawn. There was a bed beside me, and inside the sheets was the most beautiful thing I knew existed.
"Good morning, Oliver." I smiled as I did every day. Evvv --&er ..y-day. I lay very still on his white carpet.
Oliver groaned and rolled, his very deep and blue eyes opening like my grey ones did. Only his had life. Only his were real.
"Mornin', Lizzzz..." he yawned, ruffling his hair. His hair was very soft. His hair was black. His hair was like a lovely mop, and I thought his hair was nice. My hair was thick and layered and in a bob sort of thing and blonde and it barely stopped at the bottom of my neck.
His hair was real. My hair was not.
"Did you sleep well?" I asked him from the floor. He hopped out of bed, shrugging. "Suppose so. No dreams though, or at least, I don't remember them. I think there was one about us, though..?"
I felt my wires shockle with happycitement.
My smile became larger.
"I am glad."
He did his Morning Unplug. I enjoyed the Morning Unplug.
Oliver's hands were soft and pale and warm, so very warm, filled with heat and life, and he kneeled on the floor beside me, cradling me in his arms so close I could register his heartrate and 110,832 hairs on his head and the dabbled freckles in his eyes that flittled from periwinkle to cadet and skylights and how his lips were round and full and the color of watermelon flesh against his pale skin...
He reached behind my hair and unplugged the cord, and I automatically announced: "Elizabeth Pennson, 94.8% Charged."
My name was Elizabeth Pennson.
I am a robot.
Oliver is my owner, my life, my soul.
Oliver Trenton Pennson was My Love.
Rising from the floor, I walked automatonically to his dresser and lifted my white hairbrush from it ((asprogrammed))--&smiling, letting it detangle my platinum blonde hair.
I wanted Oliver to remember his dream about us badly...
"What time is it, Liz?" Oliver questioned me as I stared at the wall. Smiling. Oliver was 4.8 feet away from me, removing his clothes and putting on day ones. I was programmed to be modest. My frame did not move. My harddrive did not let me.
(b-b-butthatDIDN'TMEAN!that i d i d notWANTto..?)
My clothes did not need to be changed like his, but they could be, like my hair, for Special Occasions. My clothes were synthetic and repelled water, bacteria, and other things that could cause it to dirty; a special material he created himself. I looked the same [ev er y] s-si sin g le dddday. I wore my hair down unless it was a Special Occasion. But otherwise, it had a headband, white, with a plain white bow on a side. And my clothes were some jean, clamdigger shorts, and a white tank top. Not an undershirt tanktop, as an a-shirt would be, but a real tanktop with straps. And my black loafers. It was all normal. Comfortable. Familiar.
QUESTION: current time >> answer? Y; 9:02:45
"It is nine o'clock with two minutes and fourty-eight seconds," I responded to him.
But these were all memories.
these were all things from so long ago my harddrive could bb--b-barely restore the memoryy in my current state. To-day I lay on a floor and grime is beginning to cover my frame, because I am at 40.2% charge and I do not want to leave yet. I would like to talk about Oliver. Maybe from the beginning. Beginning.
Begin, v.: to proceed or perform the first or earliest part of some action; commence; start.
Oliver found me in a building in the beginning. An old, tall, tall building that only tall men in fine suits and leather briefcases went into with tall faces and tall ideas.
I was made in room two-oh!-three. There were no more like me. I was the only one who worked. The Only Me. The man who made me; I do not remember him anymore. I cannot see his face in my harddrive, and I do not remember his touch or his actions. Only that he made me. And he was no longer a human -- his soul had left his body. [[He had Died.]]
Oliver was much younger when I met him. He was my age. My frame had the ability to age using molecules, so we were coincidentally the same age. We were thirteen. Oliver was running away from people who had knives and wanted to make him Die as well, because of things his father had done in that building. And Oliver escaped into the building, and it was so late, no one noticed him. Because Oliver was just some boy. "just another Experiment."
So when Oliver found me on the floor, in My Room, he tripped and my plug unplugged and my systems started again.
"Please state your full name, first-last, and business," I was programmed to say. But I was also programmed to learn, and programmed to feel, and as I said this I put on a smile of welcoming that I hoped would make him feel "alright".
"Pennson, Oliver. Escapee." Oliver replied. I smiled and curtsied in my hospital scrubs. Oliver bowed back.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Escapee: Oliver Pennson. I am Elizabeth. How may I assist you?"
That night I helped Oliver leave The Tall Building and my GPS took him home. But in only a few minutes, it was Our Home and not His Home. It was no longer The Beginning, because Oliver had found me and activated me, and he told me that he had no more family so he could do as he pleased. And that was when Oliver said he would like Company.
It was difficult, but Oliver was extraordinarily intelligent and learned quickly and was what people would call 'sweet' and 'charming' and in two months Oliver Pennson told me I was not just Elizabeth, but Elizabeth Pennson, and he could reprogram my complex system.
I was Happy.
Happy.
Oliver taught me how the sky was not just air, but The Sky, and how it was big and wide and lovely. Oliver used this word aaaallo. alo. A lot. Oliver called many things Lovely.
Oliver told me I was Lovely sometimes. I whirred.
Oliver had no date for prom. He told me a night that the girls, they were Uninteresting and that many of them had asked him to go with them, but he declined their offers. I am programmed to offer both credible, helpful, and logical advice.
"Perhaps I could be your Date for the Prom?" I suggested. I had felt an odd feeling then. It was a stirring feeling of being out of control, being unsure. Oliver told me that such a feeling was called 'being nervous'.
I did not enjoy 'being nervous'.
But I did enjoy going to this Prom with him. I rewrote some movement coding that night, without his permission, unfortunately, and during the dances Oliver's eyes were... they were...
Oh God, Oliver's eyes were huge and radiant, looking at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. It turned out I had messed up the coding and when I stumbled and tripped because I'm nothing near adapt with Movement Symmetry, and he didn't care. In fact, he kneeled down and took off my heels, asking a friend of his to hold them for a while, and he lifted me onto his feet and my hands rested so perfectly on his shoulders and his long, heavy hands weighted my waist so wonderfully as we waltzed for what felt like beautiful, lovely hours...
(I!)
DON'TLOVE YOU
II'MJJUST
PASSINGtheTIME...
You
could love me
if i k n ewww how TO LIE
butWHOcouldLOVE--&ME?
[i am out of my mindd.]

The coding briefly flickered in my head -- it was a verse from a song Oliver and I enjoyed. He liked to sing it when he was Daydreaming about Things. He did that often. If he offered, then I would sing along with him. He did that with a lot of songs. There was a small part of my Memory dedicated to Songs and Lyrics. When I entered Sleep Mode, I often resided in that area, because I would hear music all through the charging and it was comforting. Oliver's Music.
I wish that I could see Oliver now.
Oliver was 34.6 feet away from me, on the floor, his breath intake shallow and short. His bullet wounds were going to be fatal if he did not have immediate assistance. I tried very hard to reach Oliver, but my wiring had been damaged by a short that happened when Their magnetic tasers altered my system.
They Did It. The Tall Men Found Oliver After Six Years.
They had damaged Oliver and I was able to end two of them. People bones are very soft, I realized as their heads became limp from my hands snapping many areas of their spinal cords in succession. Foam exited their mouths. Only one was able to avoid me, but Oliver was able to retrieve one of their weapons and make him Die as well. Oliver lifted me into his arms, and Oliver walked slowly, very slowly, carefully, into the warehouse we were beside, and lay us against a wall. They were outside now. And we were inside.
Oliver detached my plug from the back of my neck, and moved to plug it into the w-w-wall...--X
(I used 10% of my energy on apologizing to Oliver.)
I used this very precious 10% because, since my system was altered, I began to violently thrash. Oliver had used so much of his energy carrying me inside to be Safe, so close to plugging me in, only to spasm and lurch and tumble back across the warehouse floor. Oliver had been so close, so very close. And I had ruined his opportunity.
"Au-lee-vurrhh," I cried across the room, my Communications system adding the original French accent that annoyed him. Oliver let out a garbled, "Y-yeah, Liz?"
"I Am So Sorry!"
"D..dd.. d-don't be sorry, sweetheart... Don't be sorry..."
"I am sorry for getting injured!"
"Nn-not your.. fault..."
"I am sorry for not alerting you sooner!"
"I sh-should've changed the pro.. programming, Liz..."
"I am sorry for not protecting you!"
"You c-couldn't have, L.. Liz... those bullets would have d-d.. destroyed you..."
This conversation went on until it registered that using words would make Oliver weaker, and thusfore lose enery faster. Energy to Oliver was precious. I apologized one last time for making him use his energy and stayed quiet. It was hard to think, because of the damage done to me, but I managed to connect thoughts into possible plans.
My censors alerted my that Oliver's heartrate was now turning to a dangerous point of shallowness.
And then I cried. I sobbed. Battery fluid leaked from my eyes and I choked and throbbed against the ground, hitting it desperately with my fists. I whispered his name, over and over and over, pleading for him to stay alive, to live, to stay with me. I couldn't believe that he was ******** dying only 34.6 feet away from me and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I was so ******** useless, going haywire at the worst time. Everything was going wrong. Wrong. This wasn't supposed to be happening.
A thought registered. From scanning thousands of medical pages, I had stored to memory that many patients who were close to death or coma were often spoken to by a close friend or family member, typically about happy memories or important upcoming events that gave them incentive to wake up. Occasionally sexual stimulation would help, but I knew that Oliver would not appreciate such things (from me?).
I recalled the last song Oliver and I listened to. It was a song that was so horribly appropriate that I cried harder, and I searched the internet silently for lyrics to it. I didn't quite like the melody of the song, but I enjoyed the lyrics very much. And Oliver downloaded the song as soon as it ended. He liked this song.
I sang that song to Oliver.
"I've been trying to reach you... but my extension cord doesn't reach that far. I've been patiently waiting; my indicator light is flashing on, flashing on..."
I felt a moment of control over my frame and began to crawl across the floor like an infant. The floor was cold. The thought of Oliver being on that floor, so very warm, and that warmth being taken from him by that floor... the audacity it had. I growled, more battery acid tears dripping from my face.
"In this coma, sleepless dancing; we've been treading air..."
My censors indicated that Oliver's heartrate was irregular, but stronger. I continued.
"I've been trying to reach you... but your extension cord doesn't reach that far."
My frame gave a sudden lurch and I was frozen for a moment, but was able to regain control. Only 14.3 feet.
Numbers flashed in my head; an warning from the harddrive. 25% charged. I ignored it, focusing on Oliver's pale body on the floor, surrounded by a crimson liquid I identified as his blood. His life. Like my draining battery fluid...
"I've.. I-I've bbbb-b-been papapa... patiently waiting.. patiently... patiently waiting... m-my.. mm.."
"Liz...!" I heard him rasp softly, and I shook my head viciously in effort to quiet him.
"...My indicator light is flashing on, flashing on..."
6.2 feet.
"Liz..."
"Oliver, please d-d--dooo... Au-lee-vurrh, please do not speak," I begged softly. "It it it will... damage y-you further."
2.1 feet.
20%
I reached out, wobbling, and collapsed beside him in his blood. My head rested barely against Oliver's shoulder. More alarms went off in my head. Electrical Circut Located: 3.49 feet at 89.2 degrees South.
"Liz... Liz, lovely, please plug in... Please..."
I trembled madly, soaking in the word Lovely, systems starting to break in altogether as I shook my head.
"I-I can can cannot do that, Au-lee-vurrhh, I need to t-t-t-t-take care. I need. I need. I need t-to take care of youu."
I nearly short circuted again as I felt heat on my hand.
Oliver's hand was on mine, soft and gentle, squeezing it as much as he could, and I cried harder, if it was possible. I sputtered his name out in that silly French accent again, all over again, and I saw his smile flutter against his lips. His flawless, sweet smile that I would kill to kiss...
...kiss...
perhapsicouldbelikethedyingprincessinthosestorybookswhocouldsavetheprincewithadyingbreath.
I set my Usage Control to Emergency, and my fuel starting draining at double speed, but gave me better control. 15%.
I worked quickly. Radar and Radio signals were sent out in a ten mile radius, along with a Morse Code of S.O.S.
"You will be j-just fine, Oliver," I reassured him, smiling as I was programmed to. But his face looked pained.
"Li... Liz... please..."
"Don't worry."
I used my shirt to clean up the blood, being cautious around the wounds. He would make it. He would make it. He would make it. H-h-h-h-hee would mmmmaaakkeee. it. he. ...would. .. ...
10%.
I leaned close to my Oliver, lightly touching his face, tracing his jawline airily. And in a chaste kiss, my lips pressed momentarily to his cheek.
"Stay awake, Oliver Pennson. Stay wide awake. Would you like me to play a song for you?"
His breathing was shaky now, but he shook his head and I felt Disappointment. But he spoke.
"Sing," he requested in a whisper. The Disappointment left.
I sang to Oliver little bits of things that I liked. Little sayings and words and doings. Poems, some lyrics, everything. 5%. Ambulance was a block away. I've been trying to reach you, I've been trying to reach you so far, but my extension cord isn't nearly long enough, and my plug doesn't quite fit anymore...
4%
Oliver's breathing shortened and I gave a sudden sideways jerk; my systems were failing.
3%
The ambulance pulled up, the police catching up with them.
2%
Everything was losing focus and alarms and warnings and EMERGENCY!!! kept beeping and screaming and buzzing inside of my head. An outlet was a mere three and half feet away from me. Three and a half feet. And yet I could not plug in, for if I did, I would enter sleep mode until nine o'clock the next morning when I was programmed to wake up and awaken Oliver.
1%.
The doors opened and I gave a last smile and jolt.
"Goodnight, Oliver," I mechanically announced, just as I was programmed to.
As I closed my eyes, I saw tears leave Oliver's, and suddenly I wanted to stay awake and crush my lips against his before I slept. Just one moment of pleasure. D-d-doing something I wanted to do!
"Don't go, Elizabeth..!"
...but elizabeth who...?
---
&&when your on your way down
(THROUGHtheCLOUDS!!)
and you're[waiting]forYOURBODY'S --re-entry-- again...

---

Unfamiliar coding. An Emergency Awakening Code. This one was new and was set to slow my systems down to extend energy usage while leaving me conscious. No speaking. No sudden movements.
CODE VALID: THANK YOU, OLIVER! :]
...Oliver...
Oliver...
...Oliver!
My eyes shot open and I moved to sit up, but it was if I was filled with syrup. I could barely move. Barely think. Act.
"Hey, Liz. I'm glad you're awake," a soft voice said with such sincerity I was slightly surprised. My head turned slowly, sluggishly, only to be stopped by warm, thin hands, with fingertips on one cheek and under my chin, tilting it up.
The boy in front of me was smiling, smiling in such a lovely way I felt my wiring burn in areas. His eyes were glassy, as if he was going to cry.
"Hello, sir, my name is Elizabeth... E-elizzz-abeth... Pennson?" Pennson? Was I Elizabeth Pennson? "Please state your name, last-first, and business," I asked him as programmed. He grinned. A grin, a huge grin, crooked and gorgeous. I was stunned.
"Pennson, Oliver. Caretaker of Elizabeth Pennson," he spoke carefully, and suddenly my hard drive lurched and I threw myself at him. Our lips crashed just like I had dreamt of and I had never felt such unimaginable heat in my life span.
Oliver Pennson was kissing me.
For a muddled moment in between his short breathes I registered that I had last woken up more than a month ago, that Oliver was perfectly healthy again, and that we were home again. Home. I had never felt so happy to be home and so close to Oliver. It was like being... human. Happy.
No, wait. I didn't need to be human to be happy.
(! didn't need to be human at all.)  

[Santinka]

About the Author

Well hi there! My name is kappy-and-tea. I'm fifteen and I write stuff a lot. I think I started when I was eleven for no reason whatsoever, but nowadays I think I have ink for blood. My favorite thing is probably paranormal romance, and that's really all you can get out of me :[
I live in Flooorida and I would like to be a sea monster when I grow up! (But since that won't happen, I'm majoring in Clinical Psychology). I love you.