Attacking Aggressively

Journal.txt(11)

I inspect my hand, which does not even resemble a hand anymore. It is more like a claw with melted plastic hanging between the fingers. I cannot feel any pain in this hand however, so this should be an improvement if anything.

- What now? It smells like burnt tires, I hear the dark, gentle voice of Sai complain.

- Quit nagging, we talked about this! Amara answers. She then tells her husband to read a magazine or listen to some music. For a short while, I did not even think about my former employer being on the same aeroplane as I. Sure, he and Amara said something about a vacation in my presence, but I could never have expected that they would go the same day as we go. As much as a part of me wants to greet the couple, another one fears their reaction. I rule out that they know I am the "Watrine Terrorist", it must still be weird the way a quiet stranger worked extremely well for two days before running away at pay day with officials after them. I may feel a matter of trust for Sam different than any other, but Rasheed and the others were my very first friends. In this projection of past days' scenes, I suddenly feel sentiment, a longing for what awaits only two rows in front of me, which I could never meet again. Sai and Amara may have appreicated my work, but the one I miss the most actually disliked it. Rasheed seemed unfriendly, but this behaviour was out of envy. Once he had a little understanding, and had drank a few "cocktails". we were compatible with each other. I wonder if other people would react the same way, what if Damian and I could be friends if he, too, knew how I felt... or that I felt? What if all people would would be nicer to robots if they were only informed that we actually feel all their hits and kicks? I also wonder if such information would be truthful, if Sam and the rest really feel things the way I do. Their consciousnesses, if they even are conscious, are not as advanced as mine. Anyhow, I must make people understand me. Eventually, the sanctuary which the Lily Temple hosts might not even be necessary. All sudden, I start thinking of Sam, but I wave this thought away and go on with the previous subject. How could I possibly spread my message? The thought of Sam returns, and I can no longer focus.

Sam was called PA-2321 before Fred removed the ID-number and replaced it with the nickname. I was never given such a name, though Shaun once called me "Pede". A unique alias, different from Sam, Eve or Adam. 'Cee' is an odd name, whose pronounciation could either be spelled the way I write it, or as the letter 'C'. Humans surely prefer to write 'Cee', because it contains vocals hence appears more as an ordinary name.

I now look at my travel companions, Adam and Eve seem rather passive, so do MB-344013. Sam and Cee are talking to each other.

- Hey, how long have we been on the flight? I ask them quietly, with regard to the Tamashan couple.

- Four hours and two minutes, Sam answers.

- Thank you, I say.

- You're welcome, Sam answers.

After a few minutes, a flight attendant who pulls a trolley gets closer. She hands out rations of food to the other passengers on the way, one row at a time. I am lucky to get my hand into the glove just before she gets close enough to see it. I hope that nobody else saw the hand while the glove was off, should probably be more careful.

- Here... you... go... Sai! says the attendant while reaching over Amara to give Sai his plastic box of food.

- About time, I'm starvin', Sai tells his wife as she receives her food.

- Remember when these meals used to have these small desserts? Amara asks her husband.

- I miss the chocolate pudding with that sweet, creamish sauce and those small pieces of toffee, Sai tells Amara.

- Me too, she answers. The attendant now reaches my row, and browses a list.

- Name, please. I'm trying to find you, but there's nothing in seat 38D, she says.