G. Wright: Broken Things

“Please sit still,” pleaded the man. His name tag on his white smock read Mark . Mark had only been working with androids for three months and saw it more as a punishment. At one time it had seemed like the perfect career. Everyone wanted kids. A few community college classes had prepped him for this exciting new career, just to find out that he’d missed the real opportunity by a few years, and wages in android repair had decreased. Though he hadn’t voiced it to anyone yet, he was strongly considering going back into automotive mechanics. At least people still needed cars. They didn’t cry and wiggle.

“Why’s he whining like that?” Mr. Norton asked. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses that were ever sliding down his nose as he leaned over Josh. He scrutinized the boy as though trying to troubleshoot an engine. Josh had seen his father do just that, and the last thing he wanted was his dad trying to repair him.

“All kids whine,” the tech replied testily.

“No, not that, that high pitch sound.”

“Oh that… yeah it’s something in his head. Probably a cooling fan going out. Maybe bad bearings. He definitely feels feverish.”

Josh hadn’t realized that they could hear it too. “I think it’s my ears ringing,” he said helpfully.

“You’ll fix that?” Mr. Norton asked.

“Sure, that’s not a big deal. Once I’ve stitched these lacerations, I’ll hook him up to the diagnostics computer and see what else is going on in there.”

Josh looked down at the needle going in and out of his flesh, guiding the thread through what looked like an impossibly large tear in his arm. He still had his other arm and both legs to go. “Stop, it hurts,” he begged, tears filling his eyes, “Please!”

“Do you think you can get him to stop yelling or do you want me to turn him back off?”

“Josh, stop crying.”

Josh obediently stopped sobbing, but couldn’t completely stop the tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of his father, he knew how much he hated it. He expected Josh to be tough. He tried hard to block out the pain, but it hurt beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Turning his head, he focused on his dad’s face for comfort. He could always depend on his father. His mother’s absence only made him all the more thankful for his presence.

The stitches took forever. Every now and then, the tech would grab tweezers to dig out a rock, or scrape dirt from the wound. It seemed that time had slowed to allow him more time to be tortured. Finally, he finished on the last leg and pulled a monitor behind Josh.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Running a diagnostic check,” the tech replied, “Hold still.”

Josh felt a small pinch on the back of his neck and suddenly his vision went blurry. “What’s happening?”

“What do you see?” Mr. Norton asked.

Josh started to answer, but the tech talked over him. “It looks like there’s quite a bit of internal damage to his circuit boards. He’s got a few bad sectors in his drive, and his looks like his CPU is damaged. He’s functional, but I don’t know for how long.”

Mr. Norton frowned. “And? What’s it going to take to fix him?”

“To be blunt,” the tech said with a snort, “You’d be better off buying a new kid. How long have you had him?”

“I’m twelve,” Josh said helpfully.

“We’ve had him three years.”

“Yep,” said the tech, “Three years is a pretty good run. Some families don’t even get that long from this generation. Now the new models, you’ll get up fifteen if taken care of properly.”

“They said this one would be good for fifteen. I’ve got friends with the same generation going on five.” His father paused, then said, “Give me a cost. What’s it going to take to get him good as new?”

“Minimum? Twenty-thousand.”

“Twenty-thousand dollars?” Through his blurry eyes, he could see the all-familiar anger in his father’s face. Josh was happy he wasn’t the tech. “I could get a new kid for half that!”

“You have to completely refurbish these older models, and they don’t make kids the same way anymore. He’s a Kidsmith, and they haven’t released a new kid for at least a year now. His parts are all obsolete.”

Mr. Norton ran his hands through his hair. “Unhook him. I’m taking him home.”

Josh felt the pinch in the back of his neck again, and his vision immediately returned. His father’s face had turned a slight shade of red with a vein pulsing in his forehead. Josh knew to stay out of his way when he got like that. He kept his eyes lowered.

The tech, on the other hand, didn’t appear ruffled at all. On the contrary, he seemed apathetic. “Would you like me to back up his memory? Or replace the fan?”

“No. Come on, Josh.”

Josh hopped down from the table and followed his father to the reception room where his mother waited. His wounds still hurt and his legs trembled, but his father kept him on his feet with a hand hooked under his armpit. His mother looked hopeful, but as she saw her husband’s face, she frowned.

Josh looked fondly into his mother’s big brown eyes. They were usually so full of compassion, it made his chest hurt to see her sad, knowing that he’d caused it. He wanted her to hold him and stroke his hair, but she was so distracted. Every time their eyes met, she turned away quickly, as though she couldn’t bear to look at him. He wasn’t that broken, was he?

“I’m going to be okay, right?” Josh asked.

“Stay with your mother,” he said. He walked over to the receptionist to settle his bill. Josh watched him for a minute before turning to his mom.

“Look,” he said, holding out both arms and spreading his legs, “I got stitches!”

“Wow, you sure did! You’ve got them everywhere! What did the repairman say?”

“I don’t know but dad didn’t like it. He’s angry.”

His mother looked over at her husband as he handed the receptionist their debit card. Josh wanted to make her happy, but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She glanced at him with a half-smile, but her eyes remained on his father. Josh knew that if they were home, he’d be yelling. He hoped he’d be done being angry by the time they left.

In a way, he got what he hoped for. His father’s anger had diminished somewhat, but they turned the radio up loudly in the back speakers so he couldn’t hear what they talked about. Josh’s mother turned and looked at him once, tears in her eyes, but the rest of the trip they spent ignoring him.

One month after his accident, Josh helped his parents load their SUV. They were still more distant with him than they used to be, and maybe a bit more short of temper, but life had almost returned to normal. They rarely let him go outside for long, but they made him play in his room most of the time. The end of August had been rough, but today none of that mattered. Today was perfect.

“Where are you guys going?”

Josh turned to find his friend William in their yard. He hadn’t heard the other kid ride up, but with the continuous ringing in his ears anything could have snuck up on him. “Hey Will,” Josh said, “We’re going camping.”

“We went camping once.” Will said.

“That’s great, this is my first time. Well, gotta go. I’ve got things to load.” To emphasize his words, Josh tossed his duffel bag of clothes into the back of the SUV. His parents were in the kitchen packing food, and arguing over what to take.

“What’s that sound? Do you hear that?”

“It’s my head,” Josh said, “I was in a crash.”

“I was in a crash once.” Will stated.

“Did you get scars?” Josh said, flashing his elbows at the other boy. “They took out my stitches last week.” Will couldn’t compete with that, and his mouth hung open in appreciation. The dark red scars stood out in stark contrast on the boy’s pale skin. The one on his left arm was nearly five inches long. Josh then pointed to the scars on his knees. “Got these too. They’re lacerations .”