Мередит Притчард - Heartbeat

“They never are. This world isn’t for people who break easily or must be carefully kept. Never was.”

“You should have warned me.”

The man blinks. Must not have a proper response programmed.

“Anyways. I did it. I fixed you.”

He frowns. “You were never meant to leave. Not until the time was right.”

“I got out and I got back in. But there were things I saw, things I’ve done.”

The man in the image, his eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

I demonstrate the gesture reserved for Mister, when the Sentinel was taking him away.

“Ah, Jessie, I raised you better than that.”

He did, raise me better than that, manners and all from the oldworld. Never had another soul to practice them on. When I left the mountain it seems the people out there wouldn’t know a manner if it slapped them.

The image flashes and he’s suddenly sitting in a high-backed leather chair. “You’re of age now,” he says. “You’re old enough. You’re people picked a timeframe.”

Strange, all I’ve known is Samson, Ginger, and him. They are my people. I don’t know the people he is talking about. Don’t remember them.

His face is placid, a lake before a storm.

“But—I lost fourteen months with you.”

“And you already went outside. You already saw. Now our time is done. The programming stops here.”

“But, I want more time with you. I worked so hard for more time!”

He is not real, I know this, but he is real to me—all I’ve ever known. He is all that matters. I want to say other things, things like you’re all I have, don’t leave me, and I — I love you .

“We can never go back. We have right now, though.” A pipe appears in his hand, and he puffs staccato rings of smoke that rise and disappear before reaching the border of the projection.

Better one night with a friend than a lifetime alone, my own words. My heart pounds in my chest. Aching, breaking. I want to throw something at him. Slap the stone that is nothing more than a projector screen at this moment. Wouldn’t be as satisfying as slapping human skin. He doesn’t have human skin.

“It’s too late, sweetheart.” He sips at a tumbler with dark liquid.

“Why?”

There is only silence as he puffs on his pipe, watching me.

My eyes burn. “Will you tell me about the world, at least? Teach me about the things I don’t know?”

“I can only tell you about the oldworld. The world from the books.”

The oldworld can’t help me. The oldworld can’t fix this part of me. This part is broken. More than just nuts and bolts and springs.

I grab a screwdriver from my toolbox and pop the stainless off of Ginger’s back, twist a bolt and shut down power to the projector. The image of the handsome man on the wall fades until there’s nothing but gray stone.

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The Phoenix Project

The Reformation

Revelation

Inception

Origins

Resurrection

The Phoenix Project Series, Books 1-3: The Phoenix Project, The Reformation, and Revelation

The Safest City on Earth

Muse

Midsummer Night’s Dream: A Game of Thrones

Heartbeat

M. R. Pritchard is a two-time Kindle Scout winning author and her short story “Glitch” has been featured in the 2017 winter edition of THE FIRST LINE literary journal. She holds degrees in Biochemistry and Nursing. She enjoys long walks on the beach and reading under the shade of palm trees. To receive updates on new releases sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/TXnkL

Visit her website MRPritchard.comor her blog http://secretlifeofatownie.blogspot.com/where she writes about all things books.

Read more at M. R. Pritchard’s site.

Published by Midnight Ledger, 2020.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

HEARTBEAT

First edition. January 31, 2020.

Copyright © 2020 M. R. Pritchard.

Written by M. R. Pritchard.