Retirement by Arthur M. Doweyko
This story originally appeared in Alien Dimensions Issue #10
Tim Black raised his frothy mug. “To our future.”
“You and me?”
Tim lowered his head. “Jerry, no way in hell. I was addressing the big picture.” His elbow slipped off the table edge causing the mug to topple.
Jerry snagged the beer and slid it back across the table.
“Give me that thing. You’re just a damn showoff.” Tim sent half the beer to his lap. “See what you did?”
“My apologies, Tim. How is your head?”
“Headache. That’s all. It’d take a lot more than a fall to do me in.” Tim rubbed the back of his head. ” ‘Sides, the medication is setting in nicely.” The remaining brew disappeared in one gurgling chug, followed by a protracted burp. “Look at them. Buncha boozers.” It was early evening at Mulligan’s. Patrons elbowed at tables, heads bobbed, whispering and sniggering rounded out its dim interior. Tim slammed the empty mug on the table. “This place stinks.”
“Urine and alcohol.”
“You know what your problem is, Jerry? You got no sense of humor … no friggin’ empathy. No friggin’ feelings, for that matter.”
“You know that to be untrue, Tim.”
“Brother, you are so screwed up. The crap they dished out at the factory has you convinced you can think.” Tim paused to listen to a conversation from a nearby table. A man was talking to his companion, a female automaton. “Sandy, you’re absolutely the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know what I would do without you, honey.”
Tim said, “Did you hear that crap?”
“A satisfied client.”
“What an asshole. He just doesn’t get it. He’s talking to a friggin’ machine and thinks it understands him … what a moron.”
“We do understand, Tim.”
“The hell you do.” As Tim rose from the table, Jerry offered a hand. “Get your damn paws off me. I may be a little drunk, but the day I need help standing up, that’s the day you can bury me.”
Jerry said, “Tim, you are in my care.”
“I don’t need no retirement. If you ask me, this whole government craphole can go to hell.”
Tim grabbed the back of his head and staggered out into the half-light. The street was silent—no cars, no pedestrians.
Jerry said, “Shall we walk home, Tim?”
“Home … yeah, I’d like that.” Tim pointed to a brick wall at the end of the street. “See that? Over that sucker, and then I’m home.” He wondered why he hadn’t thought about home before.
“You know that this is your home, Tim.”
“Just because some asshole decided I’m ready for the farm …”
“People your age should enjoy the few years remaining in peace and comfort. You have everything you need here.”
Tim thought about his family on the other side. For some reason, he hadn’t thought about them for years. He had trouble picturing his wife. He wasn’t even sure he had children. “It’s a farm, Jerry, and we’re the chickens and the cows … the pigs.” He leaned up against a lamp post to catch his breath. “And you and your kind are the goddamn farmers. Make that shepherds, making sure we’re fed and watered until—”
“Tim, that is unfair.”
“Let’s face it, chum. You got one goal—keep us happy until we die.” Tim turned away. “Jerry, you stay here. I’m going to take a walk and I don’t need your busybody gearbox trailing after me.” He swayed away from the post and sidled along a storefront, gliding one hand against the glass. After a few more tentative strides, he caught Jerry’s reflection. “Damn it. Get off my back. Get lost. I’m leaving this hole.”
“I cannot let you do that.”
“You do what you’re told.”
“It is more than that, Tim.”
“What’re you saying? You’re worried about me?”
Tim continued his erratic stroll with Jerry close behind. When they reached the wall, he scratched his chin and said, “Friggin’ thing is at least twenty-feet tall.”
“You should turn around now.”
“You remember the day they brought me here?”
“Yes, Tim. I am surprised you remember.”
“Yeah, it just came to me. When I woke up, there you were, all pretty and shiny. I think I was too drunk to realize what a friggin’ pile of crap this place was.” Tim rolled his eyes up and said, “How long have I been here?”
“Time is relative.”
“Damn it. Maybe I don’t want to remember. But I do know I’ve had it. I’m going back to my real home. Hey, I think I might have a son. Damn, what’s wrong with me?”
Jerry diverted its eye slits.
“So, tell me, my mechanical wonder, how are we going to get over that wall?”
“I strongly recommend you not do this.”
“There is a way over, isn’t there?”
Jerry placed its hands on its hips and seemed to sigh. “I will show you.”
Tim wondered why the turnabout.
Jerry said, “On one condition.”
“Freakin’ hell. A condition?”
“When you return, you will never complain about this place again. You will be happy to live here for the rest of your life.”
“Tim let out a broken laugh. “I’m not coming back, nitwit.”
“Do you agree to my condition?”
Tim focused as best he could until only one Jerry stood before him. “Agreed. So, be a good little robot and lead the way.”
Jerry bowed its head, as if pondering its next move. After a moment, it walked ahead of Tim, motioning him to follow. They tracked the wall for a few blocks to a point where it met the side of a department store. According to the sign on the door, the place was about to close for the day.
“Go inside.”
Tim said, “In there? What the hell for?”
Jerry grasped Tim’s shoulder. “Last chance, Tim. There is nothing outside for you. Your memories are playing tricks on you. Perhaps the fall—”
Tim pulled away, catching himself on a handrail. Jerry held onto an arm, but seemed to have given in to Tim’s wish, nudging him up a pair of steps. They passed an elderly blue-haired woman carrying a large bag. Tim said, “Sale on diapers today?” and laughed. The woman threw the pair a one-fingered salute and waddled away.
A female mannequin come-to-life greeted them in the foyer. “I’m afraid we are closing just now, sir. We open again tomorrow at eight AM
“Your sister here wants us to go back, Jerry.”
“My client, Mr. Black, needs to find a tie for a dinner party this evening. We’ll be just a minute.” The two marched past the motorized greeter and up an escalator.
“I think she’s still talking, Jerry.”
A minute later they were in Men’s Haberdashery with Jerry sizing up a necktie display. “What the hell are we doing here?”
“Look interested, Tim. Someone’s approaching.”
Tim leaned over as if a particular tie had caught his fancy. A tuxedo-suited figure emerged from the shadows. “Can I be of assistance, sir?”
“My client wishes to leave—to return to his home on the outside.”
The man raised his chin. “Does he now?”
Tim thought he looked like a penguin. “Are you the head waiter?”
The thin line of his mouth warped. “Your client has a sense of humor.”
“See, Jerry? That’s what sets us apart. Feelings, man. At least I know we’re not talking to a robot.”
Jerry nodded, but Tim had the unsettling feeling that the nod was aimed at the penguin. In the blink of an eye, the penguin man lay on the floor. Jerry kneeled over him and removed his head.
“Goddamn, Jerry. What the hell?”
Jerry held out the head fixed in an obsequious smile. “This is your human.” Wires swayed like wet noodles from its severed neck.
“But, why?”
“This systems mechanoid would not have let you through. In any case, these models are easily repaired.”
Jerry pulled Tim over to one of the curtained stalls. “What do you see, Tim?”
They faced a full-length wall mirror. “I just see you and me.”
“Look again.”
Jerry touched a portion of the frame, and the mirror slid to the side, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond. Tim stepped through. “I know this place.”
“I thought you might.”
“This is where I first met you.”
“Beyond this opening lies the answer you seek. Do go on, Tim.”
“What about you? You’re staying behind?”
“I must stay.”
“But what you did back there. You’re going to be in a crapload of trouble.”
Footfalls approached. “Quick. Proceed to the end of the hall and down the stairwell.” Jerry slid the mirror halfway back and added, “Beware the humans, Tim. They are not what they seem.”
The mirror closed.
#
“Jerry!”
Tim slapped at the mirror’s back, trying to slide it open. An empty feeling surged up in his gut. He was alone for the first time in as long as he could remember.
The stairwell led him down a flight and to a set of double-doors. After years locked away in a walled-in world, he didn’t quite know what to expect. He stepped out and was met by a warm evening breeze and a misty cobblestone street. Ornate iron lampposts topped by gaslights exuded a flickering blue glow.
Tim’s skin prickled as he realized he could be anywhere. He should have asked Jerry what town this was. A young couple passed by dressed in clothing he vaguely recalled as modern. They seemed more intent on looking at each other than giving him a second glance. Tim whispered. “Beware the humans.” What the hell was Jerry trying to tell me?
He staggered over the cobbles and sat on a park bench across the street, thinking that at any moment a horse or wagon might come barreling around the bend. Although the building he came from remained quiet, it was hard to shake the feeling that the doors would explode any moment, releasing a pack of robots hell-bent on retrieving their wayward resident.
“Pssst.”
“Goddamn. Who’s that?”
“Don’t turn around. Just look straight ahead.” The voice came from the shrubbery to his rear. “You just came out, am I right?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Things are very different here.”
“You know where I came from?” Tim felt his stomach descend from his throat.
“How much do you remember?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I bet it ain’t much.”
“I remember plenty. My wife … I’ve got a son—”
“What about your job? What did you do before they retired you?”
“I … It was … Damn, I’m all muddled right now.”
“Yeah, let me tell you—muddled you ain’t. They played with your mind. My advice to you is to go back, and don’t even think of coming out again.”
“How come you’re still out here?”
“Stayed too long. I know what this place is … and I know what happened. You’ve got to go back.”
Tim turned around to see the wrinkled face of an old man through the brambles. His rheumy eyes were buried in dark craters. White hair shot out in tufts.
“What the hell do you mean—what happened?”
The sound of horses’ hooves put an end to the conversation.
“Get away from me while you can. They’re not coming for you, yet.”
Tim scrambled behind a nearby stand of trees. A wagon-like vehicle drawn by two horses clattered into view. Several robots leaped out, and like quicksilver, glided over street and sidewalk. In the time it took to clear his blurry vision, the wagon clip-clopped away and out of sight.
“Where the hell am I?”
“Excuse me?” A young woman holding a parasol stood nearby. A leash in her other hand held back a small black dog seemingly eager to make a new friend. “My, my … the smell. Have you been drinking, my good man?”
Tim’s mind raced. “I’m afraid I have, ma’am. As a result, you see, I seem to be a bit turned around. Perhaps you can help me?” An address emerged from somewhere deep in his mind. “Fifteen Park Place.”
“Of course, I know it. Everyone knows that address.”
“Would you be so kind as to direct me, ma’am?”
The woman pointed as she spoke. “Take this street to its end, turn right, and proceed straight ahead. You can’t miss it.” As Tim stepped out onto the sidewalk, she said, “My, are you sure you’re all right?” She raised her parasol to get a better look. “I would suggest you hurry before a patrol comes by. They’re not fond of drunks.”
Tim was sure that asking about the patrol would give him away completely. “Thank you, ma’am. You’re very kind.”
He braced himself against a corner lamppost to wave back at his Good Samaritan. The woman was talking to her wrist.
“Damn.”
The street led to a mansion illuminated by ground lighting. It boasted a pair of white columns at its entrance and a wide, wrought iron gate at the foot of a curved driveway. A guard in a gaudy uniform stood to the side.
Tim approached, concentrating on each step, careful to avoid an ‘I’m drunk as hell’ stumble. When he saw the address placard hanging on the mansion’s gate, Governor’s House, Fifteen Park Place, fragments of a previous life fluttered past. A chill ran along the nape of his neck. He had lived here, he was sure of it.
“Good evening, sir. Can I trouble you to ring the proprietor?”
The guard pushed back the cap of his headdress. The reflected light from the gate gave his face a look of carved marble.
“Is it you, Mr. Black?”
A name rose to Tim’s lips. “You’re Sigmund, right?”
“To be sure, sir. If I may be so bold to ask, sir, what are you doing here?”
“Just visiting, Sigmund. Is you-know-who in this evening?”
“You mean the Governor?”
“Exactly.”
“I shall inquire, sir.”
The guard turned away and spoke into a box. Disconnected flashes continued to swirl in Tim’s head; however, his son remained an indistinct memory.
“He will see you, sir.” The guard turned back and the gate parted.
His crunching footfalls on the gravel drive grew louder as he approached the marbled entryway. When he reached for the brass knocker, the door swung open. “Good to see you again, Mr. Black.” The middle-aged woman was dressed in an ebony maid’s outfit. She stared at him with sallow, unblinking eyes.
“Ah, yes. It’s good to be back.” Tim couldn’t recall her name and his words left a foul taste in his mouth.
She ushered him into a room off the main foyer. “Please wait here.” A trace of cigar smoke lingered in the air. Bookshelves lined all four walls, surrounding a plush settee. The suffused emerald hue from a Tiffany-styled reading lamp coated the exposed bindings of several large tomes.
Tim recognized one of the volumes, but when he reached for it, it refused to budge. “Goddamn.” He ran a finger across several other books. “Friggin’ fakes.” His stomach began a slow twist.
“There you are.” A youngish man wearing a burgundy silk robe stood at the doorway. “Do you remember me?”
Tim rubbed his eye, stalling for time. “I’m a little vague right now.”
“You don’t recognize me? I’m Jason.”
An image of a park meadow and a young boy exploded in his mind. They were playing catch.
Jason said, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
Tim sat back in the settee and held his head in his hands. This is Jason, my son. Where’s the hug? Where’s the excitement in his voice?
Tim felt a tremor surge through his body, a tingling sensation between his ears— bits and pieces of a former, forgotten life began connecting like an animated jigsaw puzzle.
The man’s features did look familiar. Then he thought about the books—made to appear real—the maid in the foyer with unblinking eyes—the stony skin of the guard. “It’s good to see you again, Jason.”
Something was very wrong. For no apparent reason, Tim felt an urge to get out—the faster, the better. “Jason. You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve made a mistake coming here. I need to leave.”
“Stay a little longer.” Jason took another step toward the window and parted the lace curtain.
“I need to get back home.”
“It’s coming back, isn’t it?”
Just then he heard the voice of a child. “Papa, papa, I’m waiting. You promised.”
Tim felt his heart sink.
Jason addressed the partially open door to the foyer. “Just a minute. We have a guest. Would you like to meet him?”
The noose tightened. Hackles rose along Tim’s neck and hands.
A small boy leaned into the room. A baseball mitt dangled from his hand. “Who’s that, papa?” asked the boy.
Tim blurted, “I’m sorry, but I need to go.” He angled past the boy, avoiding the child’s eyes. A part of his mind struggled to stay, while another screamed for him to run. He paused at the foyer door when Jason said, “Him? Just a visitor. He’s leaving now, isn’t that right?”
The edges of his son’s mouth lifted into a sneer, revealing a set of gray metal teeth. Tim gripped the door’s edge, and said, “You’re not really Jason, are you?”
“Things are never as they seem. You’re no longer relevant here. Your time has passed.”
“I won’t be bothering you again.”
Jason said, “And see that you stay where you belong, old man.”
As Tim turned to step out, a pair of silvery hands gripped his shoulders. Seconds later he was bouncing in the dark, trundling over cobblestones. When the wagon halted, one of the robots escorted him through a set of familiar doors.
The penguin suit greeted him. “Good to see you again, Mr. Black.” Its head was restored—its smile, painted in a wide grin. “It must have been great fun seeing your son again.”
Tim recalled what the old man in the park had said.
“My son?”
“Why, yes. You do remember Jason?”
“I did meet someone … was that his name?”
The penguin’s eyes narrowed. “And your home—quite a nice place. It must have brought back many fond memories.”
“That place?” Tim brought up some gas. “I’m still a little hazy. I just wanted to get out, do a little exploring.”
The penguin shook its head. With a nod to the automaton at his side, Tim was whisked away. A sliding wall parted and he found himself in the haberdashery. A familiar figure stood by the tie section.
“Jerry. Are you okay?”
Jerry nodded in silence.
“Jerry, do you remember me?”
The return stare sent a shiver down Tim’s spine. After a moment, the robot said, “Good to have you back. Shall we go home now?”
They walked together for a time, neither one speaking. Tim had the feeling that they might be followed, that someone might be trying to listen in on them. They paused at the door to Mulligan’s.
“You remember this place, Jerry?”
“It is a drinking establishment.”
Tim drew closer to the robot. “Are you in there, Jerry? Is everything all right?”
“There is nowhere else I could be. And everything is fine.”
“What the hell did they do to you?”
Tim entered through the door and sat at his usual table. Jerry did the same. The robot barmaid delivered a mug and winked.
“Did you see that, Jerry?”
“The wink?”
“Of course, damn it. A friggin’ wink. That’s more than what I’m getting from you.”
“I do not understand.”
“Jerry, you were right when you said ‘beware the humans’.”
“How so?”
Tim cast his eye about the room, leery of being overheard. “Emotions, Jerry. Humans are supposed to care for one another.” He leaned forward and said, “I found my son.”
“Are you sure?”
“Friggin’ nightmare. Everything out there is a damn fraud—gate guards and servants—they behaved like robots. Don’t get me wrong, being a robot like … eh, you, is fine. But these creatures were pretending to be human. Even the books in my study—.” Tim downed a long swallow. “And my son—I don’t think he’s human anymore.”
“Sounds unpleasant.”
Tim raised the beer to his mouth. “Unpleasant? I don’t know what’s going on, but the world outside this place isn’t for humans, is it, Jerry?”
“Have you regained all your memory?”
Tim wiped his mouth and wondered how he could be so stupid. Jerry seemed a stranger now. He pictured the penguin back at the department store with a radio set, its grin growing wider as it listened to their conversation.
Jerry placed its hand on Tim’s shoulder. “Listen carefully. You never had a son.”
“W-what the hell are you talking about?”
“What did you say his name was?”
The barmaid seemed to linger at the counter. Robot companions at nearby tables turned their heads. “I didn’t say.” A moment later, he leaned forward and whispered. “Jason. I know his name was Jason.”
Jerry shook its head. “Prepare yourself for a shock. Jason is your real name.”
“What? You’re crazy. My name’s …” Tim closed his eyes and pictured Jason. The man back in the mansion—Jason looked like a younger version of himself. The father-son resemblance was there. Maybe, it was more than a resemblance. He slumped onto the tabletop and buried his face in folded arms.
Jerry said, “I’m afraid you’ve remembered too much, Jason.”
“I can’t be Jason.”
“You might as well know the whole story.”
“There’s more?”
“Jason, you were much younger when we arrived.”
Jason shook his head and began rocking back and forth on his chair while staring up at the ceiling. Jerry’s words became distant as he struggled with confused memories. The park, the game of catch—moving shadows across the field—great big shadows cast by something in the sky.
Jerry said, “We decided to retain certain elements of your civilization as a kind of memorial. Some humans like you were kept alive.”
“Bullshit! You’re talking crap.” No sooner than Jason spat the words out, a vision of huge airships sprang up along with a host of other horrors—screams, explosions, bodies lying across the meadow.
Jerry went on. “I believe you would refer to the city you just visited as an exhibit. It’s a testament to what once was—much like one of your museums.”
“The people, my family—what of them?”
“Incompatible with the re-engineering we required.”
“My son? It’s coming back to me. His name was—”
“Gone. The only humans left are in this place—what you call your retirement home.”
Jason groped for the beer mug without looking down. He stared hard into Jerry’s eye slits, and moved his free arm in a wide arc. “If what you say is true, why the hell keep us around? I’d rather be dead.”
“You will die one day, but not yet. This place is quite popular among our people.”
“People? You’re just damn robots. Somebody wound you up and sent you here.”
“This place was established so that we could interact with living humans—sample a taste of what you were like.”
“You’re no companion, are you, Jerry?”
The robot leaned back in its chair. “I’m not even Jerry.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “Damn. So, you’re some kind of friggin’ alien, and this place—this place is a friggin’ zoo.” Jason thought hard about that day in the park. “How long has it been?”
“Thirty years, Jason.”
“Then why did you let me go outside? Why are you telling me all this?”
“Human memories are best reset when complete. We needed you to recall as much as possible before—.”
Tim threw his empty mug at the robot. “You’re a friggin’ invader, a murderer. You’re not keeping me in this prison.” He rose from his chair, knocking it to the floor, and started to shout at the bar crowd, when the world went black.
#
“How is your head, Tim?”
“Headache.”
“You had a hard fall, Tim. Perhaps you should go home and rest.”
Tim laughed as he lifted his mug. “The medication is setting in nicely.” He downed the remaining brew in one gurgling chug. “Look at them. Buncha boozers and losers.”
Early evening patrons gathered at tables, heads lowered, some whispering and some sniggering.
Tim slammed the empty mug on the table. “Home sweet home.”