The Scryer ✔️

~Stage Three~

While I was working on putting something together for supper, I suggested that Alexander show Purson how to work his video games; he seemed okay with that. And Purson was eager to spend time with his son. To my surprise, it wasn't too long before I heard them both laughing and carrying on in the family room playing one of the race car games.

"Okay you two Marios, it's time for supper..." I called out. "Save your game and come on, please? Supper's on."

"Wrong game, Mam," Alexander said as he sat down at his place-setting.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay," he said as he dove into his plate of spaghetti...one of John's and Alexander's favorites.

Purson shook his head. "That looks really good and it smells wonderful..."

"It is," Alexander said. "Are you sure you can't eat?"

"Your mother said no."

"Only because I was told no," I offered, washing down my pasta with a gulp of water. "I honestly don't know what will happen."

"I am rather tempted, but I do not want to ruin the machinery in this body..."

"Good," Alexander giggled. "More for me!"

My jaw dropped with great exaggeration causing his giggles to quickly evolve into a massive giggle-fit; even Purson chuckled. "I'll be right back," I said as I got up from the table. Purson quickly took my hand.

"Where are you going?"

"To make a phone call."

"To whom?"

"To Chris," I replied.

"Chris! Who is Chris and why would you postpone your meal to talk a man..."

"Chris," I said again and tried to pull my hand away. "From the Posse?"

He shook his head. "So?"

"Chris made the machine," Alexander said bluntly. "You said that you'd be nice. Now, let her go," he warned.

"And you made it sound like you wanted to eat. I'm going to find out if you can...Now, kindly let go of my hand. You're hurting me." It was only a little, but still...I was pretty sure that he didn't know exactly how strong he really was with that mechanical body he was inhabiting.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the largest of my kitchen knives silently leave the wooding block that it was housed in. I coughed and looked toward my son and barely shook my head once. NO. In my peripheral vision, I watched the knife return to it's place.

Surprise overtook the android's face. "Oh..." He released my hand and lowered his head. "Forgive me."

"It's okay. I'm alright," I said.

I walked in the phone hanging on the kitchen wall and picked it up and dialed Chris' cell phone and ended up leaving a message asking for him to return my call at his earliest convenience.

Needless to say, Purson didn't get any of the yummy spaghetti and all too soon, Alexander was in his room getting ready for bed. Downstairs, Purson was fiddling with the stereo system, trying to remember how it worked.

"Mam," Alexander began, "did he really hurt you?"

"A little bit. I really am okay though. He has to learn to trust us. And you have to stop threatening him honey. He really doesn't know any better. James was born, if you want to call it that, with his strength in tact already. Purson has to get used to it. I really don't think he meant to hurt me."