ta-two
2/2/22 - wrote this for fun on such a cool day because why not! Just a quick practice in quick soft-worldbuilding with a fun concept
“Don’t flinch,” Cherry whispered. Her breath came out in a plume of white. “It will just be a moment.”
“But Cherry,” Alexander whined. He hastened to smother his voice as she sent him a warning look, eyes darting from him to the floorboards above them and then back again. Voice soft, he continued, “It seems like it would be something that hurts.”
“Sure, but I hate it when my clients squirm. It’s a good thing you don’t have to. So don’t flinch.”
Alexander huffed a breath out, cheeks puffing out in disappointment. There was a minute of silence where Cherry patiently waited out the tantrum. Soon enough, the young android stuck his arm out, sullen and obedient.
“Good boy,” she said. He beamed at that magic word, “boy.”
Cherry had to breathe on her stiff fingers for a couple of seconds before they were warm enough to move again. When she was satisfied by their dexterity, she took out the auto-needle from its packaging. It was the color of Alexander’s flesh, eight-sided, and roughly whittled, Cherry’s own handiwork. Her usual suppliers for tattoo needles unfortunately did not produce android-grade quality, so she had to make due with what scraps she could get.
“So, Alexander.” Cherry turned on the auto-needle and a soft whir buzzed in the cold air around them, mingling with her white, ghost-like breaths. “What’s the dream life you want?”
“A filmstar’s assistant!” The boy’s eyes went glassy and dreamlike. In them, Cherry could see his thoughts flicker behind the glass. They were all in black and white, montages of old movie scenes. “Do you think they’d ever let me be on screen?”
“Well, anything can happen.” She gave him a soft smile before setting the auto-needle down onto his skin, and the matching flesh-tones seemed to blend into one another. Metal flakes dispersed into the air. Overriding the pleasure district barcode, her needle etched in a Holo-wood based scan. “Any filmstar in particular?”
“Man, it’s gotta be the Chase Prototype 1. He was the best. Even the new models follow his coding, yanno?”
“Ohh, yeah I remember seeing some of his work.” She looked up and grinned at the boy’s carefully combed synthetic fibers. “The one with the swoopy black hair, right? You look like him.”
“You think so?” Alexander said. The paneling under his face glowed a gentle pink, imitating a blush. It suffused his entire face with that soft color, only stopping at the gaping pit at his right temple, where bright blue circuitry peeked through. Damage from a rock, maybe? The edge of a table? Cherry wasn’t one to ask. “I mean, I thought so too…”
“Oh yeah. You definitely have the look down, kid.” Cherry focused back on the barcode, carefully crafting the lines so they matched the assignment code perfectly. She angled his wrist under the meager light to make sure that even the holographic ink receipts were slanted just the right way. It was tricky work, fooling the ‘droid scans.
“All done,” she said, ending the last stroke with a flourish.
Alexander marveled at the new barcode, pressing perfectly shaped fingers against the embedded ink. “You really did it…” His eyes, still fluttering with black and white stills, shuttered in the strange way android communicated their tears. “I…thank you, Cherry. I’m going to miss you.”
Cherry held out her hand, and he took it. She blew on them gently, as if to warm them from the cold. His steady warmth, maintained by the machinery within him, melted the snow around them.
Above them, she could hear the tattoo parlor opening. Joe was opening shop; his weight made the same old floorboards creak along the same paths he takes every morning. He would be calling for her soon.
She gave Alexander one last squeeze before releasing him. “Go get ‘em, movie star.”
“The hell have you been?” Joe muttered as Cherry entered the parlor. She resisted the urge to glance into the mirror and check for icicles in her dark hair. “We’re opening in 3 minutes.”
He rose from where he had been rummaging through a cabinet, unfolding his long, slim body from its folded position. If she had to describe Joe, it wouldn’t be his body or his features, but the way he walked. The gears in his legs whirred with each step, making the process of lifting the leg, extending it out, dropping back to the floor impossibly smooth. He lurched forward to follow his legs as if to keep up with them.
Joe glared at her when she still didn’t move. “Well? Andale.”
