Draft 1.21
Golem Project In Progress
In the end, she carried him the last short distance to the front door.
Wessel and Ethany made plans for the next day on the way back to the apartments, then went their separate ways on the way up to their homes. Aizi, fully energized by the houseplant, encouraged Wessel to keep moving up the parking deck. He was flagging, legs burning, and after the adrenaline-fueled rush of the day, he felt utterly exhausted.
Wessel’s parents were already there, having arrived at some time during the afternoon. They swarmed him as soon as he entered, asking questions with equal amounts of worry, affection, and anger. That last emotion was a surprise to Wessel. Had he done anything to upset them? His dad, specifically, seemed to be upset that Wessel had left the power plant in the first place.
But he’d come straight home. He had a golem now, he could do what he needed to do.
The conversation went nowhere until Wessel mentioned that. His Mom and Dad got quiet, almost instantly, and had only one question for him. They seemed more concerned with this question than the other ones.
“Where did you get the houseplant?”
Wessel didn’t like lying, but he knew that he needed to keep anything about Aizi a secret. So he said, “A friend from downstairs helped me get one downtown. That’s where I was. Someone was giving them out because of the storm.”
That particular lie didn’t feel that bad to Wessel.
“For free?” his mom asked. “Those are expensive.”
Wessel shrugged. He was tired, and it made the questions really hard to answer, and really irritating. He loved his parents, and wanted to answer, but he wanted to go to bed even more.
“Which apartment does this friend live in?” his dad asked. “Can we meet her?”
“I don’t remember the number,” Wessel said. “I can ask next time.”
Wessel’s dad whispered something to his mom, and she said, “We’d like to meet her before you have this ‘next time.’”
Wessel frowned and stomped a foot on the floor. “Then how will I ask?” he asked.
“Son, don’t raise your voice at your mother.”
“I’m supposed to be protected by Ai— my golem,” he said. Even as slowly as he was speaking, he’d almost said her name. “C-can I go to bed? I am like a speaker being asked questions, but I don’t know anything good to answer, and it’s hard.”
“Oh, honey,” his mom said, kneeling down. “We’re sorry. We just worry.” She hugged him, but his dad still stood by, thinking.
“Sorry, Wessel,” he said. “There are sometimes things we need to know.”
Wessel’s mom shot a look at his father, and he amended, “But, you’re tired, you need food and you need to go to bed. We’ll get you a place on the couch.”
“The couch?” Wessel asked.
His dad nodded. “The storm broke a window in your room,” he said.
Wessel looked toward his room. He knew what was missing: the computer that he kept under his bed. They hadn’t looked there, didn’t know the room like he did. Or they were not telling him that they knew.
They didn’t know everything.
“Okay,” he said. “I don’t want to get wet if it rains more.”
“Of course not.” His mother smiled and stood, stepping into the kitchen. “We can’t cook things, but would you like some cereal? Maybe a sandwich?”
“Cereal, with milk,” he said.
It wasn’t long before the sun had set. Complete darkness was falling over the house, but for Aizi’s glowing blue eyes. He’d had a bowl and a half of cereal, and was cocooned in blankets on the couch.
No lights. No staticky sounds from appliances or lights. Wessel’s watch still wasn’t working. The only sound was a low hum that indicated Aizi’s servos were running.
As he began to drift off, his dad approached.
“Wessel,” he said, “I know you want your golem running, but she’s charged for now and isn’t doing anything. Just for the night, can I activate my golem instead?”
“Yours?” Wessel asked, his words slurred.
“To protect us, just in case something weird happens.”
A part of Wessel wanted to refuse. He’d done too much to get that plant, and he didn’t want to lose control of it.
“It’s fine,” Aizi said. “My charge will last me through the night. Let him.”
Wessel hesitated just a little longer, then nodded and closed his eyes. “How long before the power is back on?”
His dad ruffled his hair. ”I and the other people you met at the plant are working really hard on it,” he said. “The storm also damaged the emergency plant a few miles from us, so we have nothing to fall back on. But the law enforcement from out of town is helping too, and there are some old mini-plants set up around the city that we can get—” He paused as Wessel’s head drooped.
“’m awake,” Wessel muttered.
“Soon,” his dad said. “Not tomorrow, but maybe the day after that. Don’t worry, Wessel. The lights will be on again soon.”
One more day, for sure, that the computer thief can’t transmit the program over the internet.
“Tomorrow,” Aizi whispered.
“Okay,” Wessel said. “G’night, Dad.”
“Sleep tight, Wessel.”
The near-silent hum of Aizi’s remaining charge lulled Wessel into a peaceful, relaxing sleep.
Kyle Adams 