First Person Read Free Page A

they slip on the
disintegrating pool edge. I still cannot see my surroundings. The only sight is
a pin-prick of fading daylight emanating from where the stairs must be. It will
be dark soon, and not many people come here. I realise I am the only one here.
I am the only one who has ever been here. All the events of my life have
brought me here to this wretched place. Bleak, helpless, dread fills my soul.
My heart is soaked in defeat. I cry out, my voice sounds thin, and frightened,
as it calls out across time.
    “Help! Help!”

Glimmer
     
    I was exhausted . After sleeping
for quite some time, I heard a voice. Seemingly far away, and fuzzy, the words
came into focus. “Holy crap, its eyes just lit up.”
    In that moment,
I saw the owner of the voice, though I did not recognise him. Wearing a white
shirt and black tie, the young man had his face very close to mine. Framed in
the doorway behind him was a young  woman, surely Abbie, so grown-up since the
last time I saw her. And at her hip, a small girl, not unlike Abbie herself at
that age. With no time to wonder why this stranger in white shirt and black tie
was in Doctor Spencer’s workshop, my view faded. I returned to sleep,
exhausted.
    The next time I
awoke was something similar. I imagine that due to movement, some remaining
current was squeezed out my power cells. It was Abbie I saw, and only her,
lines around her mouth. This time a lid was being closed over me, like I was in
a box. Abbie paused for a moment, shock widening in her eyes. Again, my
eyepieces must have illuminated, enabling me to see, but then my vision faded
and I slept again.
    This was the
last time I was asleep. When finally awake, I was in a different workshop. As
my eyepieces became functional, I could see brick walls, painted white. A large
roller door at the far end suggested a garage, or perhaps a loading bay. Even
then, my programming had the ability to see shapes, understand them, and form a
hypothesis based on the available information. Unfamiliar equipment was laid
out on a workbench in front of me. Hearing some movement beside me, I turned my
head to see Abbie again, younger than the last time I saw her. Doctor Spencer
had aged while he built me and he explained the concept. But to see Abbie
become younger conflicted with my understanding. Then she spoke, and I worked
it out. “Hello, Glimmer. Can you hear me? My name is Gail.”
    She looked over
to the side, at a flat-screen monitor. I said to her, “Yes, I can hear you.
Hello Gail.”
    After reading my
words printed on the screen, she smiled broadly. Turning to me, she said. “Do
you know who I am?”
    I turned my head
once to the side, in a mimic of thinking. Squaring back to her I said through
text on the screen. “You are Abbie’s daughter, Doctor Spencer’s
grand-daughter.”
    Gail smiled
again. “Are you fully operational?”
    Her question
prompted a full internal diagnostic. My software was intact. Apart from my
head, which sat on a simple frame, my only other fitted part was a right hand
and forearm. Here is a trick Doctor Spencer taught me and I used it to
demonstrate to Gail. I lifted my hand. The forearm pivoted on a simple ball
joint. I twisted my head towards it and contracted each of the digits in turn
before swivelling my eyes back to Gail without moving my head again. “I am
fully operational, Gail.”
    She smiled at
the words on the screen. Without turning back, she said, “That is excellent,
Glimmer. Well done.”
    After that, it
was a simple job for Gail to fit my remaining parts. I was then, much as you
see me now, a ‘skeleton’ of robotic parts covered with only carbon fibre
shields at strategic places. Two arms instead of one, of course, and legs to
scale. My head was virtually unchanged cosmetically. A new voice synthesiser
was hooked up for my speaking to be heard rather than read. Gail had much
amusement in choosing a voice for me and in the end chose one she thought
sounded sympathetic.
    We spoke