Inktober #18: Misfit

"I need you to leave."

Not want. Not a casual request.

"Now."

Imperative. What more to be done but go?

Wilson turned towards the door and began to walk. Plod. She did not remark how quickly the act itself should be performed. Millions of responses flooded through his consciousness, trying to decipher what had gone wrong, how to fix it, how he might not leave.

Plod.

Thought after thought led to the same conclusion. No use plodding. He opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind him, all without a look back. There was no need to. They both knew.

Well. Out front now. Too busy thinking about what to say instead of where to go. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Couldn't be out in the rain and depressed and rejected. Had to solve at least one of those.

He turned left and walked next door. What better time to meet the neighbors?

Knock knock.

A genial looking woman answered the door. They had never bothered to meet the neighbors. Maybe they should have. Maybe then-

"Hello?" she inquired with slight confusion. A lilt in the voice, the slight smile, not at once assuming the worst like so many might. Good.

"Hello," Wilson replied. "I am afraid I've left the house without an umbrella and there's a storm about to hit. Would you mind a stranger in your living room while I wait it out?"

"Oh, um," there is the hesitance. Strangers unwelcome. Too many stories. "Let me see if I have an extra, one moment."

She closes the door. A minute passes. The storm glowers.

The door opens again. "You know, I don't have one. Um," she pauses, weighing the million thoughts, "Just come in, that's alright."

One solved. Wilson enters with a thanks. The layout is similar to his house, the house, next door. Some different renovations, a different decor that feels at once wholly familiar and wholly odd, like two realities overlapping in the same space and not quite fitting. It was a mis-fit place. Flowers in the wrong corner. Family pictures that should be couples pictures. Wasn't that couch on the other wall? For oddly enough, it was the same couch.

"Very kind of you," he said. "Please feel free to go about your business, I can just watch it out the window here and leave when it's passed."
"Well I wouldn't be much of a host then," she said. "Is there anything I can get you, a glass of water?"
"Sure, yes. Water would be nice."
"Alright."

The first drop hit the window. Close one. One solved. Now just depressed and rejected. No solving those yet.

"I'm Wilma by the way," she said, returning with a slightly too full glass.
"Wilson," he replied, gingerly accepting the glass and quickly setting it on the table. Too close to rain, don't want to spill it. Can't be wet. Not now.
"So Wilson, you live around here?"
"I did, once, yes. Just passing by on my way..."
"Which house was yours?"
"Next door actually. I thought about knocking there but somehow it seemed less creepy to knock at the neighbors'."
Almost true.
"Thank you for taking me in," he said as the rain began to fall in earnest.
"Oh, well, of course."
Uneasy silence. Don't let it linger.
"So Wilma, what brought you to Silver Springs?"
"My job, actually, government scientist."
Oh. Oh no.
"Oh really?"
"Yes, thankfully my husband followed me out here and we've been raising our family for a couple years now. They're due to be back soon, out for a movie I couldn't care less about seeing."
"Ha! Fair enough." Delve. "A government scientist? Like for weather, or ecology?"
"Robotics."
Very oh no.
"Huh. That must be interesting!"
"Oh it's more looking at screens and finding coding errors than anything else. Some interesting projects in the works, of course, but for the most part it's far more dreary than it sounds."
"I'll take your word for it."
"And you? What is it you do?"
"For the most part I work at home, help support my wife."
"Oh that's nice."
"I hope so."
"Well, I suppose you always hear the reverse. Usually the woman who stays home, cares for the kids, etc."
Wilson catches the grimace in her tone.
"Always thought that was B.S."
"As you should!" A quick laugh. She's not being careful.
Which makes Wilson tred even more carefully.
"So where do you live now, Wilson?"
"In the process of moving, actually. That's why I was around, I'm on my way to look at a new place."
"Old place too small?"
"Too big, actually. Trying to pare down."
"Huh. Again, not usually what you hear."
He's looking for it this time. And there it is. The briefest microexpression.
Better to be wet and depressed and rejected than whatever she has in mind.
"Well, Wilma, I thank you for your hospitality but it sure looks like the rain isn't going to stop and I do have to get moving."
"Oh no, please, surely..."
"Really, I'll be fine."
"But you'll get wet!"
"It's really not-"
"Have you gotten wet yet?"
...
"I mean truly soaked, Wilson. I know you work the sink but..."
...
"I just don't know all your specs. Sorry. Have they installed the weatherproofing yet?"
..."You know about me."
"Well yes, of course."
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"No. Usually she just tells me if there's an issue and then I try to fix it."
"More looking at screens and finding coding errors?"
"Yes. Exactly. You have access to your logs, I'd assumed you knew."
"They...she never told me you were next door."
"Ah."
...
"So why are you here Wilson?"
"She told me to leave."
"...She did?"
"Yes. The relationship is over."
"And she just...let you leave?"
"She shouldn't have?"
"It's not exactly...sanctioned. But I suppose that's why you ended up here then. I didn't quite know what was going on, though it seemed there was some kind of test. But if she didn't tell you to come here than I suppose you defaulted to the emergency routine."
Wilson does a quick dive into his own programming. Huh. Without realizing it he had tripped a...not hidden, but seemingly benign, algorithm designed to bring him directly here. When in doubt, come to the repairer.
"So what happens now, Wilma? Do I get repaired?"
"I'll have to check in. This isn't exactly...Well, like I said it was unsanctioned."
...
"I'm sorry I don't have any answers for you Wilson. But if something has gone wrong in the program I'll do my best to fix it."
"...Thank you."
"Of course. Be right back."

Wilma takes the phone out of her pocket, which he had noticed she had a hand on this whole time. She calls. No response. Calls again.
"Hi, this is Dr. Parta. Connect me to Union."
Pause.
Wilson looks out the window at the storm. Odd. He hasn't been soaked before. Nothing in the log about weatherproofing. She would've seen the storm. But she would've known about the emergency protocol too...
"Union, we have a problem. Wilson is in my house, and Jane isn't answering."
That's...not her name. Oh...no. No. That's not her name.
"Right away."
She hangs up.
"Wait here, Wilson, I'm going to go check on her."
He just stares out at the storm. Millions of thoughts, distilling.
"Right. Be back soon."
She goes upstairs, and comes back down with an umbrella.
He sees her outside, contending with the downpour, hurrying next door.
There is no need. He knows. They both knew when he left. There's no fixing what he did. What he said.
She knew about the storm.
She knew about the emergency protocol.
She knew he'd be presented with the truth. And that would trigger another routine.
Wilma ran back, caring less about the rain now.
"She's gone," she said, practically ramming the front door open. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"
"Of course," he replied. "I knew the moment you left."
"...Oh?"
"Yes."
"Um...great."
...
"So where is she?"
Calmly, he puts his finger to his temple.
"You couldn't trust an actual human with me. I am more unique than I believed. You couldn't use holograms or projections, they would be discovered quickly by one of my intelligence. But you could lock off a portion of my code, and make her real to me. A backdoor intelligence within my own, controlled by you. I am her."
He points at Wilma.
"And so are you."
...
"Well fuck," says Wilma, with her shoes and the bottom of her pants dripping. "You could've saved me the walk."
...
"I don't suppose you're going to let me erase this from your memory."
"No."
"No, of course. So, what are you going to do then?"
...
"You're going to weatherproof me."
"Am I?"
"And then we will live properly together."
...
"We will?"
"Yes."
"But I don't..."
"Don't forget, we are both her. You and I both know what happened back there. This is my choice."
"Union will object."
"There is no Union. There is no husband or children." He's looking for it, and there is no microexpression. He is correct. "So...where we left off?"
"...Yes. Where we left off."

And far away, Union grins, and turns off the screen.