VOCOM

chapter VII

“Good morning, Master!”

VOCOM’s cheery voice drifted into my semi-conscious mind and relieved me from the horrid dream. Although I was somewhat thankful for the interruption, it was odd; she never greeted me, especially that kindly, until I was already up.

I forced open my eyes, letting the last remnant images of the poor blue-eyed girl lying in her pool of blood and sickness from my mind. My tired eyes took in the simple blandness of my room and the android standing in my doorway with a tray in her hands.

“I made breakfast!”

That made me pause. I had gotten used to her strange antics- the things she did to amuse herself since she basically had nothing to do here at my home compared to what she did daily, twenty-four/seven at Kortan. Things like Googling different species of alligators or cake recipes that I’d never make and occasionally browsing through illegal files of various corporations. But this . . . was breakfast. She never cooked.

I narrowed my eyes at her small smile and the bacon, omelet and orange slices on a bright, yellow ceramic plate. I was pretty sure I didn’t own any yellow china. I could smell the strong, bold scent of my favorite coffee steaming from my favorite oversized mug.

She smiled warmly- very unlike her- and reached over just enough to place the tray on the end of my bed. She hadn’t had that much reach before, even with the android, so I assumed she had been busying herself by upgrading her limits on how far about she could move around the house.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked, deciding not to question her extended reach. Besides, she was still hooked up to all the wires and tubes leading from VOCOM’s mainframe. I stared a bit, noticing the Nutella spread on toast with a small bowl of honey on the side, trying to fight off thoughts of the food being filled with neurotoxin.

She laughed a bit, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how, for once, it wasn’t cynical, sarcastic, dark or malicious. I was surprised. Seriously, what the hell?

“You don’t know?” she grinned at me, silver eyes burning beautifully.

I froze, thinking this was some deadly trick of hers. So she had finally taken the advantage to kill me? If that were true, she wouldn’t toy with me; our past was too treacherous for her to waste time like that. She was tired of messing around like that- she would’ve just gotten straight to the point.

She stopped laughing, her smile fading to a slight grin. “You poor girl. You didn’t even remember that today is your birthday.”

I stared at her for a moment, and then whipped my head around to the automatic scenic calendar panel tacked to the wall beside my bed. Sure enough, it was June 5th. My twenty-seventh birthday.

I turned my head back around slowly to stare at the picturesque tray of food. I had never received a birthday like this, not even when my parents were alive. Or maybe they did throw me parties but I just didn’t remember. Wouldn’t surprise me.

I swallowed nervously, fighting off the urge to break down and cry. Something told me she wanted to see me cry—and crying over a tray of food would fill her vile need of devastating me. Only Gala and Quintley had somehow managed to remember my birthday, year after year, even though Quintley had lost track of his own. Gala had told me once, but I couldn’t remember to save my life (and I didn’t see how that mattered anyways).

“Your coffee is getting cold.” VOCOM pulled my desk chair to where she was facing me and still sitting in the doorway.

“But it isn’t anything to celebrate.” I mumbled.

“Sure it is. Aren’t you happy someone remembered?”

“I didn’t even remember.” I pointed out. Honestly, my birthday held no significance to me. It was almost an insult back in Kortan, except it was coming from compassion within Gala and Quintley’s hearts, because it meant I had spent another year of my life trapped as a lab rat.