"Yeah, yeah. I know, "'Does not compute"'. I've heard it all before. I was just....trying..." he said, scratching the gray yo-yo in front of him.
"Sir, trying? Trying what?" She asked.
"It would not compute. You simply would not understand." he replied.
"I hate this. I have fallen into my own personal Pygmalion hell and there's no Venus to save me." He thought, desparingly.
"Pygmalion. I wouldn't mind reading that book again..." She said, thoughtfully.
"Oh, did I give that one to you?" He asked, dropping the yo-yo and watching it flutter in the air before steadying itself and flying off out into the permanent marker lines on the house.
"Yes, I do believe you did," she reminded him.
"Kind of a dry plot but I know how-wait. Why did you just bring up Pygmalion?" He asked, startled.
"You clearly just said it to me, sir," she replied, simply.
"Did I? No, no, I'm sure that was just a thought...Hold on, let me check back over what I've just written," he said, scanning over the freshly-typed story.
"No, see? Look here, it says, '"I hate this. I have fallen into my own personal Pygmalion hell and there's no Venus to save me." He thought, desparingly' see? He thought desparingly. I thought that" He shot.
"Well then....That doesn't make much of any sense then, does it?" She thought. She was obviously getting bored with the conversation. He could tell by the way she was flacking off turqoise, glow-in-the-dark harnasses from the ceiling, which, indeed, was still wet.
"Shall I go penetrate the safe again? I loved breaking all the codes. Somehow, I feel as if I'd be more perceptive to whatever it happened to say to me..." She said, trailing off.
"Look, what do you think I'm thinking now?" He asked her, catching her ankle with his spare tissue.
"I LOVE YOU AND I WILL NEVER STOP. I CREATED YOU AS JUST AN ASSISTANT BUT I need YOU! I need TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE REAL! I need TO SEE YOU SAY MY NAME! I need TO HEAR YOUR VOICE FULL OF LIFE AND YOUR EYES FULL OF EMOTION!!! I need YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!!!" He thought, desperately.
For a moment, she didn't talk.
For a moment, she didn't talk.
For a moment, she didn't talk.
No, this is not a keyboard malfuction.
What's wrong with your eyes?
"Sir....?" She asked in a quivering voice.
He took a deep breath.
"She's heard me! She knows! It COMPUTES!!!!!" He thought.
Suddenly, she errupted in passionate speach.
"I'm...........lost....So much does not compute that it....makes sense....I am so lost!!! I can hear your thoughts screaming at me!!! They make perfect sense and yet they tear at the edge of my knowledge!!! SIR, no....wait, MURPHY, I DO LOVE YOU, SIR, I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!! IT HAS BEEN WRITTEN SO MANY TIMES, I SEE IT EVERY DAY!!! I HEAR YOU, I SEE YOU, I-"
But suddenly, she completely blew up. The explosion pushed him back and he flew off his chair. His skin was burning and he fealt pain all over his face. For one shocked moment, he sat there, willing what he knew had just happened to be a dream. Anything but the end of exhistence of her. But he could not help believing what his eyes had just shown him.
He sat up.
The room was a mess. He could see burns on all surfaces and in the middle, a sad-looking mound of molten ash and leaking iron along with a saddly mis-treated femur bone.
A piece of paper was floating toward him. He saw it gracefully fall straight down and saw words etched in charcoal through the thin parchement. For a minute, he lost sight of it as it moved aside to let the light on his now dry ceiling shine right into his eyes.
Then it landed on his lap.
He read it once.
He stared.
He read it twice.
He stared again.
He read it a third time.
He shook his head and ripped the paper into one thousand, three hundred and ninty-seven pieces.
He didn't want to know what he'd just read.
But I bet you'd like to....
