Artificial Heart
8

Prisha felt the heat rush up her neck. A robot, for God’s sakes. He must think her a fool.

Prisha swept up the blanket and wrapped it around herself. The alien tilted his head. He went quiet and still. Did he think her an idiot? Had she insulted him? Was he angry? That damn helmet!

The hairs pricked up on her arms and she shivered. ‘I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘I am a satellite drone. Alive and unalive. 62.2561% metal alloy, 35.065% organic, 2.6789% supplementary. Built to withstand alien environments—and alien organisms.’ His visor gazed at her eerily. His head was still tilted, in a very puppy-like manner.

Shocked, crazy laughter bubbled in Prisha’s throat. ’So, you are a robot. Mostly, anyway. Wow. I did not expect that. So … uh … do you feel anything? Which parts of you are organic?’ She suddenly realised what she said and laughed nervously. ‘I mean … can you die, for instance?’

‘I can die.’

She attempted to readjust her blanket but the robot/alien reached out and took her wrist. ‘Data collection.’ More gently this time, he pulled her through the door and into the little room with the bench.

It was freezing and Prisha gripped onto herself, shivering. The robot swiped something on the wall and warm air started to fill the room.

‘Thank you,’ she said. Then her eyes fell upon the hard, cold-looking bench. She looked up at the ceiling and the coiled tubes and shining, metallic instruments. She tried to remember anything of the four days she was here. Four days. Prisha swallowed.

‘It won’t take four days this time, will it?’

The robot gazed at her without answer. Prisha swallowed again as she stared at the bench. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make herself go over there. Who would?

‘What if I said no?’

The robot was silent, waiting. He was too tall and she had to crane her neck to look into his visor. His sculpted muscles bulged under his suit, altogether too obvious against the light. Prisha released a shuddering breath. ‘Don’t really have a choice, do I?’ That nervous laughter again.

Prisha felt the blood rush to her cheeks. The room was warm now but she couldn’t seem to unclamp her arms from around herself. Her feet were as heavy as bricks.

The robot was fast. She shouted as he caught her up in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull away from the bench as he lowered her onto it.

‘Not yet!’

Prisha tightened her grip as she resisted but he untangled her arms with phenomenal strength, a strength that was somehow firm, yet gentle.

Prisha tried to sit up but he pushed her back down.

The bindings snaked out from the bench, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, flattening her to the metal. Prisha thrashed. She screamed, and screamed and screamed until the robot reached out one of his big hands and firmly gripped her throat. Prisha silenced.

His hand shot back, as though he’d burned himself. ‘I will put you to sleep.’

‘No.’ A tear rolled down her cheek as she rocked her body about. ‘Let me go. I made a mistake. I want to go back.’

He turned away and approached the wall where a bunch of lights twinkled in multiple different colours. He swiped something again and Prisha’s eyes widened as the tubes and tools attached to the ceiling began to move.

‘Please, I have a family. Brothers and sisters. Friends. People who love me. People who rely on me.’

But the equipment kept moving, eerily, like tentacles and pincers and claws, everything that could rip and tear and bite. Everything she could ever imagine in a nightmare. Right here. In reality. Was this reality? It couldn’t be!

‘Please.’

‘You will feel no pain,’ came his deep monotone voice.

‘You’re scaring me. I’m scared.’ She squirmed harder. She thrashed her head. Her hands tried to grasp for the “tools” helplessly in their restraints.

She shouted when one of the tubes slithered down like a python. She screamed when one of the “pincers” clicked its sharp tips. ‘Stop!’

He was standing over her, visor shining like a huge eye.

‘Please,’ Prisha begged.

He didn’t move for several moments. Prisha jumped as the tube slithered down her thigh. A pincer clicked around her forearm. She sucked in a breath as it prodded her like a finger, uncomfortable but not painful. The robot/alien reached over. Prisha closed her eyes as he placed his gloved hand upon her forehead. It was warm.

‘Tell me about your world,’ he said. ‘Tell me about you.’

‘I can’t.’ Her teeth started to chatter. She twisted her shaking hands in their bindings.

’Prisha.’

She snapped open her eyes. She’d forgotten she’d told him her name. He remembered.

‘Tell me about your world,’ he repeated. ‘Tell me about you.’

‘Why?’

‘Data collection.’

‘Tell me your name,’ she gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut as a tear rolled down her cheek. ‘Give me something! Give me something that makes you more than just a soulless robot.’

‘My serial number is alpha sin 2.1625.’

Prisha blinked as she stared hard at his visor, doing her best to ignore the instruments swarming all over her. Name. Give him a name. Sin, Sinba, Alphgam, Phasin, Alphga. Alpha. Alph.

Prisha laughed crazily, even as the tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘No, I can’t! I can’t call you that.’ Then she burst into wild laughter that echoed loudly around the little room. The robot cocked his head. His hand remained upon her forehead. ‘Alpha. Alph! Alf 2.0!’

She continued with her crazy laughter, eyes pinned to his visor as the instruments poked and prodded and pinched. They weren’t all quiet either, some whining and whizzing and rumbling, others making bone-rattling noises that made her want to shriek. Her teeth chattered.

‘Show me your face, Alf! Do you have a big nose? Are you furry under those gloves? Show me your face!’ More wild laughter. Prisha choked on her tears.

Her eyes darted towards the instruments. She shut her eyes and began to speak. She spoke from the beginning. About her origins. Adopted from Bangladesh into a family in the “west”.

‘I don’t remember it. I was only a baby,’ she said. ‘I’m still not even sure it was legal.’

There was no real pain but there was certainly a lot of discomfort. Her body was so tense, braced for every new and terrifying sensation, that her back was arched up from the bench. There was more pinching, scraping. Something like a needle pierced just under her bellybutton. It made her jerk. She lifted her voice, almost shouting, as she spoke about her difficulties growing up. About how different she was to her brother and sister.

’Such a silly thing shouldn’t be so hard. They said things. Nasty things. Erk!’ Something hard pressed a little too heavily against her hipbone. ‘Are you teased, Alf?’ she gasped. ‘For being part-robot? Or is it normal?’

But her parents weren’t nasty. Nor were her siblings. She missed her brother, living so far up north. She hadn’t seen him and his family in over a year. Her father was dead. Her mother was withering away, body and mind, in a nursing home.

Another tear rolled down her cheek. The alien brushed it away. Alf brushed it away.

Alf.

‘Will that happen to you, Alf?’ she shouted as something hard and cold pushed into her ear. ‘Will you wither and die?’ She squeezed her eyes shut as she raised her voice, bracing herself for more violation. ‘You said it was hard. How old are you?’

He didn’t respond and Prisha kept speaking and asking questions, knowing she wouldn’t receive an answer, just to keep her mind busy, to keep the pain and fear at bay. She spoke about the world, politics, science, art. Rattling off facts and figures and opinions in no rational order. They probably weren’t even accurate.

She shouted again, squeezing her eyes closed as something heavy and cold pressed down upon her chest. It seemed to sink into her, making it hard to breathe. Something like static electricity zapped its way through tissue and muscle, making her buck in her restraints.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. That was hardly the worst of it. Another slim tube was sliding its way down her abdomen towards her groin. She bucked again as it slid over her most sensitive area.

She screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘Stop!’

And it stopped. Just like that.

Prisha opened her eyes, watching as the instruments gathered back towards the ceiling, pulling up like spiders folding themselves into a web. Prisha was panting. Her face was soaked with tears. She tried to look down at herself to see what he’d done but her eyes were blurry and her neck ached too much to lift her head.

‘Get me off this fucking thing,’ she gasped.

The restraints pulled away. Prisha sat up and leapt from the bench. She staggered as her feet hit the floor. A red hot needle of pain shot up her back as she pushed herself up against the wall, sidling away from Alf. There didn’t seem to be any injuries. Not as far as she could tell. She wasn’t even all that sore. Though her body was tingling strangely and her back was aching from the hardness of the bench.

‘I did not hurt you,’ he said.

‘That’s what you think! Did you get what you wanted, huh? You fucking jerk! Where’s my clothes? I want my clothes!’

‘They are wet.’

‘I don’t care!’ She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth. ’Stop looking at me! You’re not a robot, are you? You’re perverted. You like this!’

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! She needed to shut up! But hot, enraged tears were rolling down her cheeks. They wouldn’t stop.

’Does it make you feel good to keep me like this? Does it give you funny feelings, Alf? Huh? Does it? Does it? Does it? Fuck you!’

Prisha grabbed her face with a sob. Then she wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly very self-conscious. She’d never felt so violated in all her life—and so angry.

‘You can’t just do shit to me without my consent! If you can’t give me my clothes, then give me something to cover myself!’

He took up her space blanket. He approached.

‘Just leave it on the bench,’ she said. ‘Don’t come near me.’

He left the blanket on the bench and backed away. Prisha went over and wrapped it around herself, then backed up against the wall.

’Did you get what you needed, Alf? Did you get all you fucking needed?’

‘No.’

Prisha blinked. ‘What?’

‘I need more data.’

‘Well, you’re not getting it from me!’

‘I stopped.’

‘Too late!’ Her lungs felt tight and Prisha took several gasping breaths as she tried to calm herself down. ‘I need to get out of this room.’

She couldn’t look at the bench anymore. It made her sick. It made her cold. It was sending unpleasant prickly feelings up her spine. The room was too small and it was getting smaller and smaller by the moment.

Alf stepped outside. Once he was safely away, Prisha followed. The door closed shut behind her.

Now that she was out of that room, she suddenly felt better. It was cooler out here and she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her hand was trembling. She suddenly felt foolish. Foolish about her reaction. Foolish about coming back. Where was her bravery? Where was her intelligence? She was stupid, stupid, stupid.

‘Are you taking me home now?’

‘I should have sedated you,’ he said, studying her as she trembled.

‘That’s not the issue! Don’t you understand? You can’t just treat me like an object. How would you feel if I ripped off your clothes and started poking and prodding you?’

‘It would not happen,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘I would defend myself. Or end myself.’

‘You don’t think you could ever be captured?’

‘Not by your kind.’ And he said it in such a way that Prisha bristled.

‘You don’t think much of us, do you?’

He turned and sat back at the controls. Prisha froze. Her guts did a little somersault. Earth. It was right there in front of them. Right through the window. Astronomical. Unbelievable. Impossible. Prisha’s knees buckled.

She sank to the floor with a gasp.

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