“Despite Mrs. Weldon’s wishes, I cannot in good conscience grant you custody. There is no precedent for this. I am sorry.” The voice wavered with the knowledge of the ramifications of her decision.
“Computer, log repair to section 424-E as completed.” The computer chirped a confirmation. With a stained hand, Gar shoved his goggles onto his forehead, the strands of his hair tangled and bent beneath the straps at odd angles, the layers of magnification lenses reflecting the glow of the port-lights. Steam hissed through the air, as the steel door locked behind him.
“Decontamination process commencing.” Liquid chemicals heated into a thick steam, choking the air of the chamber. Ten seconds later, a machine began humming loudly, the thick clouds of chemicals, whispering down ventilation shafts. “Decontamination complete. Please, step from the chamber.”
“Thanks, Computer. See you tomorrow.”
With a shrieking groan, the door rolled back, and blinding light flooded the chamber, illuminating the grime and rust.
A thick, grease-stained, work-boot clunked against the concrete, carrying him through the city. People clogged the streets, jostling and shoving each other, determined to get nowhere and fast. No one dared make contact with him, sliding past him like the current around a rock.
“Mr. Gar,” a voice, still soft and round with childhood hollered, piercing through the bustle of the crowd, a chubby fingered hand slipping into his. She tugged at his dirty fingers, and he allowed himself to be pulled away. The shop door clicked shut behind him, cutting out the overwhelming noise of the street.
Stella giggled, tugging at his arm impatiently, weaving him past shelves brimming with vibrant flowers, their petals lush and their smell overpowering. She deposited him by a stand of roses, little hands searching through a bouquet of flowers, brushing petals, crinkling leaves, before emerging triumphant, with a lone white daisy.
She held it imploringly out to him, and he bent down allowing her to tuck it behind his auditory receptor. Her beaming grin was worth the indignity, worth the disgrace of allowing such a pure, clean thing on his stained, dirtied body.
Her arms encircled his neck, her warmth tickling along his sensors. He straightened his spine, her small body raising with him, her shrieking giggles, helping to erase the hiss and boil of steam, the creak and groan of metal. With a gentle push and shrug of his shoulders, he got her situated, her feet dangling on his chest, her fingers tangled in his hair. He suspected this was the closest someone like him could ever come to feeling peace.
“Get out of here you good for nothing…” the words were bit off. “You’ve never cared for her, and you don’t now. Stay away from my daughter.” Gar tried to filter the voices out, to allow her the privacy she deserved.
“She’s mine too,” a man’s voice whined, lacking conviction.
“You gave up that right a long time ago.” Her exhaustion was palpable, her determination no less for wear.
Gar distracted Stella with a brush of fingers across the soles of her sock-clad feet, she tugged at his hair in retaliation.
“I will be in her life, Liz, you can’t take her from me.” Petulance ruled his tone and pride was his motivator.
“The court ruled you unfit for custody. I find myself rather confident that you won’t, in fact, play a role in her life.”
A click signaled Stella’s father’s departure. The air heavy with silence after.
Gar waited patiently, listening to the click of her shoes wandering closer.
“Oh Gar, I had no idea you were here.” Liz’s face was gaunt with exhaustion, but her eyes were bright with kindness. She shoved a few loose strands from her face, tutting as she smiled at her daughter, years seeming to melt off her shoulders. “Come, Stella, it’s time to water the petunias. Will you help Gar?”
He lifted his arms hooking her under the shoulders, swinging the giggling girl down to her waiting mother. Her gasp of surprise nearly locked his joints.
“Mrs. Weldon?”
“You’re damaged,” she informed him, the concern in her voice washing over him. He tucked his arm tighter at his side, trying to hide the exposed wires, leaking oil, and broken plating.
She tutted at him, flicking the plain white plating of his cheek. “Take better care of yourself Gar.”
“Is this unit GARU-E26?”
“Yes, how may I be of service?”
“Well,” the voice hesitated, dripping with nerves and uncertainty. “We have you down as Mrs. Liz Weldon’s emergency contact.” Gar continued his work, wires manipulated beneath his fingers, while something unknown was whirling in his core. “I am afraid Mrs. Weldon has been the victim of a stabbing and she passed away an hour ago. We have her daughter here with us and we cannot get in contact with her next of kin.”
“I will be there immediately.”
That warm smile, Liz’s smile, had faded from existence.
The feel of a small child’s mass in his arms felt like the weight of the world. She snored softly, her grief having drained her vitality, her eyes red and her nose running. The tear stains on his jacket a badge of honor to be so trusted, and a terrible curse to see such a sweet child brought so low by grief.
“Despite Mrs. Weldon’s wishes, I cannot in good conscience grant you custody. There is no precedent for this. I am sorry.”
“May I ask why you have denied my request?” his voice was as flat and monotone as ever, his programmers hadn’t thought a repair droid would be in a situation to need tones.
Mr. Weldon snorted in disgust. Judge Jaclyn glared at the man with distaste, before turning her pale blue eyes on Gar. “You have no income, no home, and frankly no human emotions or attachments, you are not fit to raise this girl,” she murmured, Gar’s attention diverted to the severe girl clad in black, staring at the proceedings with watery brown eyes. “You have none of the qualifications of a proper caretaker. As loathe as I am to leave her with her father, I cannot in good conscience give her to you.”
‘Good conscience’ the words contradicted the meaning his programming gave them.
“Then I would like to petition for the right to an income, that has thus far been denied to me.”
“You’re just a robot! A piece of machinery. What could you need money for?” Mr. Weldon grunted, patting at his balding hair.
“To raise Stella properly. To become a proper caretaker. To fulfill Mrs. Weldon’s wishes.”
“You’ll never raise my daughter,” he snarled, slamming his balled fists into a table. Stella startled at the noise, reaching towards Gar for comfort. Her father growled at the sight, snatching her hand and pulling her towards him. Stella cried out in pain and confusion, struggling desperately to reach the one thing that had been solid since her world had crumbled to pieces.
“Gar! Gar!” Her arm was turning purple in her father’s grip as she tore at his fingers. “Gar don’t leave me!” Her sobs tore at everything Gar was. Whatever control and rationality his programming gave him, it did not extend to Stella crying for him.
Mr. Weldon’s grip was easy to break, and the flashing warnings faded from his view as he wrapped her in his arms. “I am sorry, Stella, I cannot keep my promise. I can not be everything that you need.” Words were shouted, flung about the room in anger, causing chaos. “Remember you are loved.”
A finger tore at his power switch, nearly removing it entirely from his neck, the world faded and narrowed, the recorded image of Stella’s tear-streaked face his last.
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