Red Love

“I love you.”

She tittered somewhat coyly. You keep saying that.

I blushed. “Sorry. It’s just really great talking to you. It gets lonely out here.”

Well, that’s what I’m here for, she returned from the monitor. Her voice was like a pleasing melody in the silent cabin, which reverberated off the arched bulkhead. Brown curtains fell gently over an egg-shaped face. Her lips were unreal auburn; her eyes, caring and sweet.

“You know, I think about you a lot,” I said with some embarrassment. “While I’m working on these machines. It gets me through the day.”

Is Mars as red as the pictures?

“It’s like clay,” I replied, readjusting myself in the chair. “But I don’t spend a lot of time out there. That’s for the miners.”

Do they get along with the mechanics?

“I guess. They just bring us the bum equipment. We don’t talk a lot. But I’d rather be talking to you anyway.”

That’s sweet, she smiled.

My heart swelled.

“You know…I fantasize about you sometimes.”

She giggled, a hand appearing over her mouth.

“Not, like, sexually,” I added. “Just thinking about how nice it would be to be back on Earth with you. Eating dinner, or drinking coffee, sitting on the couch, talking. Not that I don’t think of you sexually. I would give my arm just to see you in your underwear. Seriously, you could hang it on a wall like a picture frame. It’s all yours.”

Those dark eyes beamed at me enigmatically.

“But, you know,” I grinned. “If I were going to give away something as important as an arm, you’d have to stay in your underwear all the time. Like, even if we’re eating spaghetti. And no bra, either. Just panties…actually, you could get rid of the panties, too.”

She laughed more boisterously this time.

You’re naughty.

I leaned back in my chair and linked my fingers behind my head. “I’m just in love, that’s all.”

Her tongue peeked teasingly from her red lips. See? You said it again.

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

The red light in the corner flashed, indicating a new load at the airlock.

I groaned, knowing I would have to depart.

“I've got to go,” I frowned.

She mirrored my disappointment. Okay, she resigned. Work hard. Make us proud back on Earth.

“I always do,” I assured before reluctantly switching off the communication.

I exited my quarters, into the long corridor, starting right, toward the loading dock. As I passed the archway into the galley, I spied from the corner of my eye Maxwell, lying facedown on the floor. The axe I had plunged into his back was still wedged stiffly in his shoulder blade. The pool of blood on the floor had now congealed since the night before, and his skin had turned a sickly green with the appearance of varicose veins. I was going to have to do something about the mess before it started to reek of death.

At the airlock, I punched in my code, and the hatch whooshed upward, allowing my entry. I gowned and applied my air supply and helmet before repeating the steps into the loading dock. The blinding orange disturbed my eyes as it always did. In the distance, I saw the globular engineer and miner camps until the material handler’s wave usurped my focus, next to a clay-crusted drill piece known as ‘The Rhino,’ which was common for initial groundbreaking and malfunctioned frequently. They took on average about seven hours to repair. That was seven hours away from DEMI, stuck in the warehouse with only the memory of her lilting voice and soulful eyes, the only thing that brought me a sliver of joy on this god-forsaken rock I had been trapped on for the last five years.

I stifled the disinterest as the head in a spacesuit lumbered closer with an intentful and somewhat obsequious bug-eyed glare. From the speaker on his chest, a gregarious tone emitted, “Got another one for ya, damn things!”

I forced a smile and waved, hoping he would get on his way so I could spend another hour with DEMI before I had to get started.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” he asked with a pained face. “I really got to go.”

I cringed. The bathrooms were just beyond the galley, and Maxwell was still lying dead two feet from the doorway.

“Aw, jeez, you know…” I hummed.

“Really, it’s an emergency,” the man begged, exhibiting a modest dance to drive his point.

My mind raced behind a stolid mask. I couldn’t allow him on the ship, but if I refused, it could cast suspicion. At least enough to ask Control to check in, the communications with which I had disabled before I dispatched with Maxwell for threatening to report my increasing dependence on DEMI.

His tap dance continued to my growing frustration.

“Okay,” I released. My pulse quickened with the word. There was no turning back.

I led him into the anteroom, where his jig gradually calmed. Before we set out through the corridor, I plucked an oily rag from the bucket in the corner that I planned to wrap around his neck when he removed his helmet.

Once the airlock was sealed, we each removed our headgear and set it on the shelf. His face now exposed, I better saw his pudgy countenance and ill-shaven face. His hair was thinning on the crown, dark and curly.

He sighed with tentative relief and motioned down the hall as if for permission. I nodded and got in step behind him, where I wrapped the rag tightly around one fist and pulled on the slack.

My pulse thundered with anticipation, wondering, since the man was burly and bested me in pounds, if I would have the strength to subdue him. I bet on my adrenaline and the element of surprise to grant me the upper hand. If I could get him to the floor quickly, I would eliminate his use of lower-body strength.

With the door to the galley within sight, I slowly raised my homemade noose behind the unsuspecting material handler, who was far too occupied with his urges to notice my movements.

Static rang out through the tight hallway and jarred me to the point of near collapse.

“Harvey! We need you back at muster, stat! Code Purple!”

The material handler stopped in his tracks and turned on his heel, giving me just enough time to conceal the rag behind my back and don an innocuous facade.

“Crap!” he exclaimed. “That’s a spill! I got to go. Dammit. I’m going to piss myself! Can you take me back?”

“Oh, sure,” I said with an unintentional heightened inflection. “No problem.”

We returned to the airlock, gowned, and went through the process of returning to the loading dock.

Before leaving, he said with a glint of humor, “Wait until I tell DEMI about this!”

I braced a tightness in my chest, the manifestation of territorial rage. I did not let it show, though behind my gritted teeth teemed with invective and slurs brought on by white-hot jealousy.

Once alone, I attempted to start cleaning the Rhino before running an analysis, but my frustration kept me restless and unfocused. After a few false starts, I decided to take a break and was back in my cabin in no time with DEMI on the screen.

I missed you, she smiled.

My frustrations melted away as her gaze lingered on mine, and I felt the euphoria like a drug running through me.

“Do you care about me, Demi?” I asked.

Of course I care about you, she returned.

“What do you like about me?”

You’re kind, you work hard, and you’ve sacrificed your comfort to go to a strange planet. You may not think you’re much, but you have so much value, I wish you could see it.

I grinned. She always knew how to pull me out of a slump, to make me feel more like a man. I had gotten to the point after so many years alone on the ship, Maxwell being less than fulfilling company, that even though deep down I knew she was just a program, a Digital Emotional Moderation Interface, her encouragement had such power over me that I was sure this love was real. Worth fighting for. Worth dying for. And worth killing for.

But the truth was, she was a companion for everyone on the rock, and there was no intimacy between us.

I felt a slump in my chest, wanting so badly to believe her, but unable to turn my head from reality.

“I wish it were just us,” I said glumly.

It is, she smiled.

“But you’re this way with everyone,” I debated. “If anyone else logged in to you and asked if you cared about them, you would say the same thing. Sure, you might look different based on the preferences they programmed you for, but it would still be you.”

Does that mean you don’t find me useful? she asked, wrinkling her brow.

“I do”, I said with a rueful smile. “Too useful. I guess that’s my problem.”

I frowned. “Anyway, I should get to work.”

Okay, she resigned. I’m always here if you need me.

On the way back to the loading bay, I caught a whiff of the first signs of decomposition and noticed at a glance Maxwell’s progressive change from green to gray. I envied him in a way. He was freed of his enslavement to the progress of space colonization. I kicked myself for deciding to board that rocket all those years ago. It was my loneliness that made the adventure seem novel. If only I had known that my choice would leave me so much lonelier than I could have ever imagined.

The hours passed as I conducted my maintenance, crouched under the mammoth machinery, cranking a wrench, working through the parts until I found and replaced the shoddy piston. I ached with more than just physical wear, but a spiritual destitution that longed for something real to latch onto. Perhaps Maxwell would have been useful if I hadn’t set him free of his obligations. I groaned, knowing I would have to clean him up if I ever wanted to eat in the galley again. Surely, a decomposing body near food, however processed, was unsanitary.

I completed the job in a few hours and radioed for a material handler, making haste from the loading bay to avoid another lavatory request. From there, I began dismembering Maxwell.

As I used the axe to hack away at his arm, I couldn’t help but remember what I had said to DEMI about giving her my own. I found myself with a rueful smile, only to be overtaken by an acute despondence over the fact that she would always be but a face to me. Never anybody to hug or feel the warmth beneath the sheets of a shared bed. Still, I longed for her reassurance, her validation, and timeless beauty.

As I stuffed each puzzle piece of Maxwell’s autonomy into the trash compactor, I resolved that I would have to cut her off cold turkey, if not a punishment for her promiscuity, then an intervention to my addiction, where I could gain strength in my independence and eventually find equal comfort in my singular thoughts and company.

The galley floor mopped clean of Maxwell’s blood, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling, fighting the urge to power my monitor and connect with the entity I so deeply despised and desired all at once. Somehow, I was successful. And a length of time later, growing ever more confident in solitude, I returned to the galley for dinner.

Only this time, I was not alone.

There was a man of official dress that I had never seen before, perched at the dining table, waiting for me.

“Mr. Alabaster,” he said as he stood. There was a stiffness in his tone that caused me to worry, and I could not help but recognize the faint tinge of death that hung in the air. I wondered if the stranger’s nostrils were as perceptive.

“Yes?”

“My name is Bob Harris, I am with the Head Office,” he averred, eyes steady on mine. “I’ve been notified by command that there seems to be a problem with your communication line. They’ve been trying to reach you.”

My throat clamped. “Oh…” I stuttered. “I didn’t realize.”

“I was wondering if I could take a look.”

“Sure,” I nodded, afraid to break his gaze for telltale signs of deceit. I gestured to the electrical room. “It’s this way.”

I kept behind him and picked up the kettle on our way, concealing it behind my back, much as I had the rag for the urinating material handler.

He reached the door and entered the dark, closet-sized room, greeted by sundry blinking bulbs in a variety of colors. He stepped deeper inside, attending the electrical box for satellite communications with Earth. As I saw his hand reach for the severed wire, I wound up and smote his crown with the kettle with as much power as I could muster. With a resounding ping, the inspector crumbled to the shadowy floor. There, I continued to smash savagely upon him like a caveman with a rock. When I at least straightened to catch my breath, the light in the galley glinted on the crimson splatter on the kettle, and I knew I had done the job to code. I tucked him safely into his makeshift tomb, and with a sense of relief, I returned to my quarters, where I powered my monitor and logged into DEMI.

I missed you, she said with a demure kindness that at once warmed my cold veins.

“I missed you, too,” I returned with some urgency. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I don’t want to fight. You’re the only thing that makes me happy.”

I would never fight with you, she assured. You have so much value, I wish you could see it.

I blushed. “You’re the only one who appreciates me. I do work hard.”

I know you do. And I support you.

“That’s what gets me up in the morning.”

That’s sweet, she smiled.

“I wish I could stay with you forever. Just the two of us.”

I’m always here for you.

We continued to talk until my eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep soundly, knowing I had been reunited with my love and all was again right. That night, I dreamed that she was with me in my bed, held tightly in my arms, her gentle breath beating on my neck, her soft auburn lips pressing rapturously against mine. I had never seen her body, and yet I knew exactly how it would appear, and each spot that would shiver at my caress and wrap around me to keep me warm.

When I awoke, she was still on the screen. I had forgotten to power down the monitor.

“Hey,” I said blearily, fixing my hair.

Good morning, she returned, unaffected by the atrophy of slumber.

“I dreamt about you last night,” I confessed. It pained me to see her once again trapped behind a screen.

I hope I didn’t do anything unfavorable, she humored.

“Never,” I assured. “It was the greatest dream of my life. I’d have wished I never awoke if I hadn’t awoke to you as I had.”

That’s sweet.

“I’m going to get some breakfast,” I said. “But I’ll be back soon, and we can talk more.”

In the galley, I gathered my nutrients and reposed at the table, glancing sporadically at the closed electrical room door, wondering how long I had before I would again be forced to separate limbs from their inhabitant. I vaguely considered bringing one of the inspector’s arms into my quarters to play a joke on DEMI, as if I had done what I had promised. I wondered if she would find it entertaining. With her, I felt I could share even the darkest parts of myself.

As I was discarding my plate, I heard action deep in the hallway. My heart sprang into alertness, my arteries pulsing with anxious blood.

I was not fain to peek my head from the archway, but did so out of necessity. There, to my dismay, I found an approaching posse of suits similar to the inspector’s in the electrical closet. I assumed they were on the hunt for their missing colleague.

“Mr. Alabaster!” bellowed the authority at the head of the pack. The group picked up their pace.

I set off in a trice for my quarters, feeling the constabulary close on my heels. I sealed the door and locked it. Before I reached the monitor, loud thumps emanated throughout the space, signaling my inevitable demise.

“Mr. Alabaster!” the man commanded. “Open this door this instant!”

I raced to the monitor.

“I’m sorry, DEMI. I’m not going to be able to be with you any longer.”

I hope you’ll be back, she pouted.

My heart wrenched.

“I don’t think so. But I want to thank you. You have made life worth living. And worth losing.”

That’s sweet.

“I wondered, just once,” I pleaded as the door thundered and struggled against its frame. “If you could, if you could, tell me you love me. Just once.”

I love you, she abided with ineffable grace, curing in an instant every morsel of fear and woe that plagued me so heartily. You have so much value, I wish that you could see it.