Act Fourteen - Interlude: Lost Paradigm

‘It is odd for Dorothy to ask me for anything. As odd for her to ask as me, and strange enough we have both accepted. I wonder what kept her in the garage after me. I will ask her later.’

   After a moment’s pause, I responded. The candlelight flickered momentarily as I drew in breath to speak, and it seemed to soften her features so that I could forget, momentarily, that she is a machine. As soon as she drew her fingertips from the last card, her eyes deadened and she began to speak.

    I don’t know if the complete hollowness of her voice scared me more than the words she spoke, but I cannot exactly remember the words now, only what they meant. After a few moments, I blacked out, and when I woke, it was here, in my own bedroom, with Norman at the bedside.

    “Dorothy!” I sit up and call out to her, but Norman shakes his head sadly.

    “I’m afraid calling for her won’t work, Master Roger.”

    “What’s happened to her?”

    “Apparently something about today’s work shorted out a few of her circuits. She’s powered down and resting in her own room, sir. Shall I turn her on again?”

    I pause, taking a gasping breath. The memories began to flood in as soon as I opened my eyes, and I am afraid that she will cause another flashback if I see her just now. I shake my head, and lean back, putting one wrist over my forehead and closing my eyes.

    “Since you’re feeling a little better, how about I leave you to sleep till morning, sir?”

    “Norman…”

    “Yes, sir?”

    “What woke you?”

    “Why, Miss Dorothy’s scream, of course. I was having a pleasant dream about… well I rather forget what it was, Master Roger, but it was exceedingly comfortable, when I was woken by an ear-splitting cry from the sitting room. I grabbed my robe and came in quickly to find you sprawled on the floor, and Dorothy crying. She helped me to get you in here and change your clothes before she said that she needed a little down time and would take herself to bed as soon as she cleaned up the mess in the other room.”

    “I see. Thank you, Norman.”

    “Good night, sir.”

    “Norman.”

    “Yes, sir?”

    “Do you remember when you first became my butler?”

    “Vaguely, sir. You were just a boy.”

    “How old was I?”

    “I don’t properly recall, but you must’ve been nine or ten. A very quiet, serious young man. You always seemed to anticipate what I had to say.”

    “Good night, Norman.”

    “See you in the morning, sir.”

***