Wheaterz

Mel heard the faint ‘blip’ of her laptop from across the dim room. It was late, raining, and cool with the wind making the house around her creak. She sat curled up in a plush quilt on an old couch with a glass of bourbon to her lips. It had been a lonely night, so she was happy to hear the message from her computer. Her roommate was out on a job and she wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. With one last glance at the water pouring from the sky outside her patio door, which she’d purposely left open a crack for the fresh air, Mel brought herself to her feet and made her way over to her desk. She could feel the cold floor underneath her socks, but she wouldn’t be long. She had every intention of bringing the laptop back with her over to the couch.

On the screen of her laptop was a small, blue square in the corner with a history of texts on it from her previous conversations with the other side. It was all very plain, but it was the simplicity that helped. Not only was it a concept she well grasped as far as software programs were concerned, but it read Aperture loud and clear with hardly any delay. With the laptop rested on the arm of the couch, she typed back.

- I’m here.

>That was a test, go to sleep.

- No.

>That was the real test, you passed.

-I’m afraid you’ve lost me, dear.

>I want to talk and I know you can just sleep in tomorrow.

Well, that was a fairly blunt way of putting it. Mel sighed, remembering that she hadn’t yet discovered a job within her new-found community, and it was becoming a little frustrating. Most things that had to do with computers she was bad at, and this new world was heavily reliant on it. Now, she was a fast learner, but when the cash register has ten-millions different options on its touch screen to go through things became a little muddled. Press AE and it will take you to the discount screen, only some discounts were only available for short times, so one would be replaced with another… Oh, did you make so many mistakes that the register locked you out? Please ask your manager for assistance.

Even with how minimalistic their town was in the sad state the world was in, cashiering somehow survived the apocalypse.

It was all very degrading. She was an Olympic Champion of her day, for crying out loud.

>You’re upset. Was it something I said?

Mel blinked, realizing she’d taken a while to respond when she was lost in thought and bit her lip.

-No, it wasn’t you. Don’t worry about it. The storm is just keeping me up.

>Okay.

>Want to talk about it?

Virgil really wasn’t the type of person for taking a hint. You really had to drill most points into him, but maybe for once she was glad for this. Giving in, her shoulders relaxed and she began typing.

-Adjusting has been difficult. I knew it would be, but I suppose no matter how prepared I was I couldn’t have foreseen the way I feel right now. Which is to say… useless. I think I finally have a full understanding of why you didn’t want to leave.

>Took you long enough.

-Be nice.

>Look, you are far from useless and you know it. I’m not going to take you wallowing in a self-pity-party sitting down.

-Excuse you, Mister, I absolutely am not wallowing in pity.

-Ah yeah? What were you doing before I logged on?

-Sitting.

>And?

-Drinking.

-Tea.

-Drinking hot tea.

>Gotcha.

Virgil absolutely infuriated Mel sometimes, but maybe that was because she knew he was right. Curling further under her quilt of warmth she glanced around the room she’d made her home and how she’d neglected to tidy up the place for a bit. It was strange how even though she was bored out of her mind and had all the time in the world, even the smallest thing seemed to be an uphill climb. Granted, she was much happier out here than she would have been stuck down in Aperture, and she was even more grateful for not just being plain dead, but it would be nice if things went a little smoother than they were now.

>Lets change the subject then.

Thank goodness for small blessings… and apparently Virgil’s newly formed telepathy.

>Things have been a little less quiet recently.

-Anything I should be concerned about?

>No, not at all. One of the other cores has pitched that we have holidays. We’re all supposed to send in ideas of what kind of holiday we’d want, since human holidays are kind of meaningless down here. Apparently we’ve reached the brim of boredom for this to be a thing now.

-Well that sounds like a bang up time, don’t you think?

>Not really? That means fun, right? Anyway, I’m not casting any votes in but I did make the mistake of offering to manage them, so now I have a whole file on my computer of different ideas that were sent my way.

-What do they say then?

>Laundry Day.

-You are the only core that has clothes. How can there be a laundry day?

>In definition, they suggested Laundry Day be when we burn a pile of leftover test subject jumpsuits for giggles.

-Ah. Oodles of fun.

>Yeah, oodles. There’s also Sleepmode Day, Rail Day, Turret Concert Day, Hide-and-Seek Day…

-There’s a Hide-and-Seek day?

>That’s actually a pretty common game down here. It takes weeks.

-That’s cute.

>My favorite of these, so far, is Explosion Day.

-Rick?

>Rick.

-Any other news?

>Um…

>Got my core shell solar power enhancements, so that’s nice.

-Very fancy. Do you still plan on returning to it?

>Honestly, not sure, but fixing all the things I disliked about myself has been a nice pastime, albeit a strange one.

-How so?

>Imagine doing open surgery on yourself.

-Oh, well, that is strange when you put it that way.

>Only an itty, bitty bit. I’ve been through stranger, no thanks to you.

-I’m honored you think so highly of me.

>I actually can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not.

Melanie grinned, despite herself. It was strange how a little robot miles upon miles away from her could still manage to make her smile. She was glad for the conversation, and it put her more at ease than she had been a little while prior to their window chat, and the bourbon was finally setting in. Mel put a hand to her mouth and yawned.

-I feel ready to attempt sleeping again. It was lovely of you to keep me company, Virgil.

>Hey, Mel. Hold up a moment.

Normally when she said she was ready to fall asleep he was quick to let her go, so to be stopped so suddenly was abnormal. Of course she wasn’t going to turn him down, even if she was inches from slumber.

-Yes?

>Even if you don’t find anything right away you deserve some time to yourself. More than anyone. Give yourself a breather. I find it hard to believe that you survived as much as you have and there isn’t a place for you up there somewhere waiting. Just… take your time. Don’t stress it. It’ll come up eventually.

-You sound so sure.

>Really, any other way of looking at it is ridiculous. I don’t know what mighty cosmic-whatever you got on the good side of, but it would be stupid to think that you managed to make it through decades worth of croysleep and several killer robots and they just decided you aren’t going to have it made up there.

-I was in a barn for six months the last time I got out.

>We’ll just add that stupid barn to the list of things you’ve stomped into the dust.

>Not literally, obviously. Barns are kind of big.

>Obviously.

>Keep at it, okay?

-I will. Thank you.

>Do you think the storm is going to still keep you up?

-I’m not entirely sure.

>Hold on, I got something for you then.

Virgil disappeared for a couple of minutes, but the next message that arrived wasn’t text at all, but a tiny white square with a music note on it.

>Try that out. Just click on it.

Once Mel had clicked on the file another window opened that played for her a sweet little melody, though an electronic one. It sounded like one of the songs the turrets would sing in the depths of Aperture, and streams of rainbow light bobbed in time with the music in the open window. This may just do it if she kept the volume down enough, and she typed to her friend one last time.

-Its absolutely perfect. Goodnight, Virgil.

>Goodnight, Mel.

She slowly placed the laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch where she’d also lay her drink glass. It was one of the last remaining lights in the main living space, aside from a nightlight plugged into the kitchen wall in the shape of a lily and the dim glow of the moon fighting through the rainclouds outside in spotted streams of silver. Mel thought about heading up to her room, but she was comfortable here. Even with the door still slightly ajar and the sideways rain dampening the floor, Mel curled up against the arm of the couch with a cushion under her head. She could try to find her place in this world again tomorrow, or she could wait.