Copy & Waste
A Short Story
By Stephen O'Neil
Part 5 of 9 - First Page - Previous Page - Next Page
“No, thank you.”
Arty smiled, “You’re very welcome.” He waved his hands to gesture at his new body. “It really is the least I could do.”
As the image vanished from his screen, Grigori turned in his chair, looking broodingly toward the window set in the far wall. There wasn’t much to see beyond. Most of the view was obstructed by a nearby building, but beyond that, the Martian landscape changed little and the novelty had long since worn off. When he had first arrived on Mars, he was initially struck by how much it reminded him of the central Australian desert where he had been taken to train before embarking on his career here. The familiarity of the scene helped him think though and that was his aim right now.
His thoughts were interrupted by Vermisa pulling a chair over to sit beside him. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about what Arty said. What do you think?”
“I think you should do it.”
“Do you? I guess it would make sense to you. You’ve spent your whole life in an artificial body. It’s what; it’s who you are. To you it would seem like just another upgrade.”
“It does seem like that. You did ask what I think though. Well I think it makes sense. That is my opinion. Your body is old and dying.”
“I know.” Grigori’s shoulders sagged slightly as he let out a sigh. “Well whatever I decide, I don’t want to die here. I had planned on making one last trip back to earth. I worry I might not survive the trip though.”
“I think you’re strong enough.”
“If I’m not… well I’ll die if I don’t anyway.”
“Shall I make the arrangements? The next scheduled departure is in two days.”
“Yes. I suspect Arty knew that.” Grigori pondered for a moment before continuing, “Go on then. We will travel together. The journey will give me more time to think. I will either go there and do it or I will go there and die peacefully with friends and family by my side. My task now is to decide which.”
Arthur Roberts sat quietly working at his spacious desk. His office resided on the top floor of ARALO headquarters. A building which dominated the skyline of Mesa Arizona. A door opened and his secretary entered, ushering in two visitors. Arty stood from his desk, beaming as his guest entered his office. “Grigori Andreev! I have missed you old friend. I am so pleased you could come.”
“It is good to see you again,” he replied as the two friends embraced.
“Hello Vermisa. It is good to see you too.”
“Thank you Arty. I’m pleased to be here.” She turned to Grigori, “I will wait outside. You will let me know if you need anything of course.”
“Of course.”
Arty clapped Grigori gently on the shoulder and escorted him to a comfortable chair. Grigori looked around the office as he sat. Mesa seemed to have changed a great deal since he had last visited the ARALO headquarters two short years earlier, though little seemed to have changed in the CEO’s office. “How was your flight?”
“You mean the long flight or the one I was just on?”
Arty chuckled, “Well I guess the one you were was just on.”
“The traffic was worse than I remember.”
“Ah yes I know. It seems they’ll give a licence to anyone these days. Are you feeling well?”
“I’m felling terrible.”
Again a chuckle, “Well that is something we hope to fix. So you are decided then.”