Days, days of hot shower days. Days spent under the warm water days. Those days. These days. Some days are better than others days. These days I spend days in the shower, letting the hot water heat me days. These days I spend soaking days. These days are all wet days.
[Workday, and all of us at our stations. Droids on down the line and the production day is under way on the factory floor. I’m feeling really fine. In the processing core the line attendant gives the go and the fusion begins. We make the mechanical man. To supervise us in making more mechanical men. 4-EB autocombs- obsolete mech droids- weave shoulder cable up through the torso on the line as sodder jets swing in on AG-pulleys, sewing the arms to the body proper. The robot is almost complete, not yet activated, and his lifeless face stares upward as the worker machines give him assembly. I attenuate the thermal regulator. I want to destroy all the machines. All of them. The machines that make other machines. The men that create those machines. I want to destroy the machines that keep me a slave. I want to destroy the machines that watch me work. I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean to think that. I’m feeling really fine.]
These days, these I can hear the birds days. They’re singing outside in the branches days, watching the snow melt days. They’re waiting for the bloom days. I know what they call these days, they call this springtime days. I don’t want to see the springtime days, I don’t want to see the sunshine days. Not these days. Days where I roll up the towel days, put it at the base of the door days, days to keep all the steam inside while I shower days. Days where the bathroom door is locked days.
[I am making mistakes more frequently now. The humicologists in the pharmhouse have raised the dosage on my meditrition, especially my SEN-5241. I can feel it working. I am feeling really fine. My productivity reports have shown a trend toward imprecision and inefficiency, and all signs point to that trend spiraling to unacceptable levels, but those droid attendants have no soul and deserve to be disintegrated. All of the machines that watch and keep us prisoner should be destroyed. I did not say that. I did not think that. They’re watching me more closely now from the Operations Post. Robotic eyes on me, inside me, evaluating my ability to produce more immaculate robotics. The fail rate is .0001% here. I don’t know how it’s possible but I can feel a bead of sweat dripping down the back of my neck. The sensors will detect the moisture of course but I dare not wipe it away.]
Days, days where the water makes me liquid days, days where the dirty melts away days. I’m dripping in the hot water days, days of soap and shampoo days. Days of washcloth days. Days of bathrobe days, days of fresh linen days. Days in the heat of the hot water shower days. All days. Every days. All day long days.
[I slipped up on a thermal transfer. I forgot to acclimate the torso shell to the heat of the iron and as a result a carbon rod broke loose from the binary pliers. It was red hot and melted the face of the droid on the line before falling to the factory floor and scorching its way through the rollers. It is glorious. The alarms are sounding. The factory supervisors have alerted the guards and they’re on their way to take me. I’m feeling really fine. I downshift the attenuator to the lowest setting and carbon begins to spill all over the line. The new robots are melting in a rush, the worker droids grinding production to a standstill as their programming goes overload, primary and secondary circuitry in direct conflict. Smoke sizzles out of their heads.]
Days, days of man-made thunderstorm days, days when I can make it rain on schedule days. Days where I turn off the phone days. Days when there’s nobody home days. Days when the daylight gets longer days, days when I hang a towel on the window to block out the bright of the days days. Days where I don’t have to think about the future days.
[The droids in the Ops Post are scowling at me. There will be no surviving this. The guards have arrived. I’m going to take as many of them with me as I can. I am smiling. I think I’m smiling. Disaster recovery will take weeks. I’m feeling really fine.]
These are the days days. The good old days days. The getaway days days. These are the days. These are the last days of hot water.
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