Life Hits Like a Chair

I opened several folders to organize the data recorded since I was activated. A large part of my visual is occupied by three windows:

C:\Users\Pierrot\Memory\Recent

 C:\Users\Pierrot\Memory\Short_Term

C:\Users\Pierrot\Memory\Long_Term

Two weeks have passed since my first encounter with Dango. I now live at his house, a modest three-room apartment.

Even though I don't need it, he insisted on giving me his old bedroom. I'm still not sure why he decided to do that, but I respected his decision and settled in there. What struck me most about the room were the various fist-shaped grooves that dotted the concrete wall. I wonder if these scars are a sign of a more tumultuous past than he lets on.

Since then, we have dedicated ourselves entirely to writing, day after day. But I still haven't figured out how to perform the two difficult tasks. It has been, and still is, difficult to keep up with him when he dictates sentences. Even doing the housework has proven more difficult than I predicted.

He told me to stop cooking until I became capable. I followed the instructions to the letter, if I had a sense of taste and a mouth, I could say with absolute certainty that they were cooked to perfection. But according to him, they weren't good because they lacked love. How is it possible to insert an abstract and incomprehensible concept into food?

Even cleaning turned out to be impossible. When I arrived, I found myself surrounded by dust, dirt, and various objects left around randomly. Writing all day, I couldn't dedicate myself to anything else. The only way was to do it while he was asleep, but I caused too much commotion and kept waking him up. Apparently, he becomes much more susceptible and irritable if woken up by the commotion.

When I asked Dango for an explanation, he told me it was boredom and that I should find a useful hobby to pass the time, learn something, or something that might be useful in the future. So I started working on a project in secret. It falls into two of the parameters he set, it's useful and it makes time pass quickly. For now, I want to keep it secret until it's finished.

Unfortunately, I failed, I couldn't prove that he was wrong. I have an indefinable state that continues to creep into my processors. It's not a predicted variable, and yet, every time I think about all this, only one sentence comes to mind “I feel like I've let him down”.

«What are you doing?»

Suddenly, Dango's voice breaks the silence in the room. I turn to him to answer. «I was checking my memory to divide the superfluous information from the more relevant information into different folders.»

«What happens to the superfluous ones?»

«After a certain period, they will be deleted.»

«Ah!  Like mnemo- nemo-» He stops, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall as if he wants to grab a fleeting thought. He takes a deep breath, then tries again. «Like long-term and short-term memory?»

Apparently he often stutters and mispronounces words, I've noticed the same thing even when he reads.

«Yes.» I reply briefly.

«Wait, but if you're organizing the files now, how do you record?»

«Having the folders open doesn't affect other functions.»

«How do the recordings work?»

«The recordings last one hour. When the recording is complete, it is processed to extract relevant data, classifying it as useful or superfluous, according to the factory settings.»

«But if you've already set them, why are you dividing them again?»

«Even if they are subdivided, I cannot know what my settings consider as useless. I made sure they all went into a temporary folder for manual checking, there I decide what is worth keeping in long-term memory.»

He nods absently as he turns and leaves the room. «Got it. Get ready, we're moving a lot today.»

I wonder if he really understood or if he's just pretending to be interested. Maybe it's a typical human behavior: a mechanism to avoid further explanations. It's a hypothesis that I will have to verify.

I close the folders and follow him, mentally preparing for another day full of surprises. His vagueness, which forces me to constantly adjust, is a source of constant frustration.

***

We drive around the city in the 0 Liwan from one place to another. Every time we stop somewhere, he zips up his jacket, turns off the neons, collars up his coat and puts on a mask phone.

We spend the whole day like this, until 6:30 p.m.

When he returns to the vehicle, he sits down heavily, throwing the mask phone onto the back seats. He bows his head, covering his eyes with his palms. Then he leans against the backrest and bangs his head against the headrest, letting out an exhausted sigh. Finally, he grabs the steering wheel, resting his hands on it with a lifeless gesture.

He hasn't explained what we were doing, but whatever it was, it seemed important. And it didn't go well.

After a few moments, he starts the vehicle again. I'm tired of driving around without knowing what's going on. I've made up my mind, I'll ask him. «Where are we headed?»

«To someone who will help us.» The answer is dry, with an annoyed note.

The questions echo in my circuits. What have we been doing so far? Who are we going to meet? Why should he help us? I... I can't hold back. It's not enough for me! I want answers!

«I WANT TO KNOW!» My voice is different from usual, louder, more... intense. I don't know how to describe it.

The fact is that Dango just turns to look at me. His gaze is not evil, but not serene either. He seems irritated, perhaps annoyed. In a forced voice and with measured words, he asks me «What do you want to know?»

I turn back in front of me, grabbing the seatbelt. His gaze makes me feel strange. He didn't tell me anything about it, but the tone of his words makes me feel inferior. You could tell he wanted to yell, get angry, but he didn't, unlike me. I was wrong. I raised my voice, and I regret it. Maybe that's why he spoke slowly and choked his voice, so as not to regret his own words.

«Sorry, I didn't mean to say it that way... I've been driving you around all day, leaving me alone in the vehicle and not saying anything. I just wanted to understand what we're doing.»

Dango seems to have calmed down. He turns back to the road and replies in a calmer tone. «Never raise your voice again. I hate it when it's unnecessarily loud.»

Noted…

«Today I made several appointments with publishers to show them our writing. As you may have guessed, it didn't go well. Now we're going to see an expert for advice.»

«I understand…»

Finally, the situation is clear to me. It's normal that he was nervous after so many consecutive rejections. Maybe that's why my tone changed. My failures have added to today's day, creating a tension that I couldn't handle. Is this what it means to be “frustrated”? To be angry with yourself for mistakes that accumulate, making your mood worse even from insignificant negative events? I… I don't want to feel like that anymore. I don't want to yell at Dango anymore.

The silence between us becomes heavy, almost oppressive. I don't want to leave him like that. I'm looking for something, a way to break this distance that has been created. Then, I get an idea. «Dango, can we listen to some music?»

«Sure. Put it on.»

I scroll through the playlists on the display. There are many and all of different genres. Of all of them, I decide to put on the first one that Dango had put on the day we met.

As the music fills the vehicle, I notice that his breathing becomes more regular. His hands, which were previously gripping the steering wheel, slowly relax. The rhythm of the music seems to melt the tension accumulated during the day.

***

We arrive in an area halfway between the Upper Town and Lower City. It's a borderland, a small town that welcomes anyone, but only up to a certain point. The inhabitants of the Lower City can access it, but cannot go beyond without a special permit.

When I got out, I didn't find any visible guards or barriers, yet no one dared to cross the line. Even vehicles with aerial functions respect a maximum altitude, as if something were stopping them. An invisible barrier? Or simply fear?

Anyway, the town isn't bad, it looks like a more modernized version of the Upper Town, with less natural light and some neon.

We finally reach our destination. The house is a small, quirky villa, surrounded by a hedge shaped like a snake, which begins and ends at the ends of the entrance gate. We stop in front of the gate and look at it for a moment.

Then Dango says, casually «Well, now we have to climb over it.»

«Excuse me?»

«You're excused.»

Without waiting for an answer, he takes a short run, takes a couple of steps on the gate and pulls himself up to the top with surprising speed. He seems all too used to doing it. Once astride, he motions for me to follow him. «Come on! Do it too!»

Taking into account the variables of height and weight, I imitate his movements successfully.

Dango looks at me in amazement. «Wow! You were incredible! I'm too excited, let's do it again!»

Before he gets down, I stop him by placing a hand on his shoulder. «Don't get distracted.»

«Right!»

We climb down into the garden, which is just as quirky. The hedges are shaped into strange figures, one looks like a bull terrier, another like an elephant, there's also a... cat? Maybe a Persian. Another strange thing is two intertwined trees that make up the figure of a man.

Something doesn't add up though. «Dango, why did we climb over the gate? If you know the person who lives here, wasn't it enough to ring the doorbell?»

He shrugs with a smile. «And where would the fun be?»

His answer doesn't convince me. I hope I'm not committing a burglary.

Now the shape of the villa is clearer. It looks very... peculiar. The structure is crooked, there are no right angles. At first glance, it would seem to be unsafe.

Arriving at the door, Dango enters a code. The door swings open, and a mumbling voice comes from inside. He enters without hesitation, as if it were his own home. I follow him.

«Get down!» he tells me, crouching suddenly.

I don't understand why he's saying that, but a moment later I'm overwhelmed by an explanation that's anything but welcome. A chair hits me right in the face, shattering into pieces and throwing me to the ground.

Dango gets up as if nothing had happened, with a beaming smile. «Heyyy, long time no see!»

A slightly hunched man approaches us with heavy steps. He has medium-length wavy hair and a well-groomed short beard. He wears clothes without any neons, including a black and white striped shirt and a coat. The only element of color are the red spirals on his round sunglasses. Who would wear a coat and sunglasses indoors?

«I told you not to come back!»

«If it weren't for me, who would come and visit you?»

«Anyone!»

Yes, my hypothesis was correct, this is a full-blown burglary.

With a wave of his hand, the man points towards me. «And may I ask why you brought an android in here? You know what I think of artificial intelligences!»

«Oh, right!» Dango lights up, as if he had remembered something and hadn't been listening to what the man had to say. «I forgot to introduce you!»

«No, don't introduce us!»

Dango turns to me, pointing at the man with a theatrical gesture. «This is Vincent.»

He turns to the man, doing the same gesture towards me. «Vincent, this is Pierrot.»

Vincent rubs his eyes with two fingers, as if he were already tired of our presence. «I can't believe it, you even gave it a name.»

«Yeah, and that's not all!» Dango turns to me with a confused look. «What are you still doing lying down? Come on, get up.»

«Sorry, I didn't mean to make my presence any more disturbing.» I say as I get up.

Dango starts talking to Vincent again. «He's not like other androids.»

«Oh, no? And how should he be different?»

«That it's alive!!»

Dango's statement leaves not only me, but also Vincent perplexed.

«Alive? And what's that supposed to mean?» Vincent asked sharply.

Dango, all excited, launches into an explanation «It means that he feels emotions, thinks and acts based on what is in front of him without having to follow any orders.»

Vincent looks at him skeptically. How can you blame him, after all, androids are built solely to follow orders.

«Come on Pierrot, say something.»

«What should I say? You're too vague. With you, you never know if you mean you want me to say anything or just say the word “something”.»

Dango points at me with both arms, all joyful. «See?!»

«What exactly is he supposed to have understood from that sentence?»

Vincent takes off his glasses, throwing them in a random direction. He approaches me. It's hard to tell from his expression whether he's more annoyed or curious. Then he turns back to Dango. «Alright, let's settle down for now.»

What did I say that was so special that made him change his mind?