Julius Rosenthal will make candy no more and other short stories by Nicholas Russell (young adult books to read .txt) 📗

The message continued explaining the dangers of smoke inhalation but Jack ignored it. When the face was done a box appeared on the screen allowing a doctor’s visit to be scheduled. Jack could let the question sit there but the droid couldn’t. Her systems were interconnected into the houses and the message pinged her to get an answer. She looked from the screen to Jack, the hand gun and then the fire. The droid walked over to the screen and pressed the buttons for both medical and psychological appointments. With the appointments made the droid returned to Jack’s side. He had picked the gun back up and was running his finger around the edge of the trigger guard. “I was serious about you leaving the city. You are an unregistered model so they won’t be able track you.”

“Where would I go?” The droid couldn’t take its eyes from the burning trash can.

“North of Frisco is a settlement of droids. If you can get yourself there, you are free and clear.” Jack was just as focused on the fire as the droid was, though he saw something living. Monstrous and destructive but alive none the less. As the pistol began to grow heavy in his hands Jack pulled his attention from the flames. Looking down at the pistol Jack could see his feet. In all of the commotion Jack had forgotten to take off his socks. His grandmother told Jack once that his father had despised wearing socks and would go barefoot whenever possible. Jack picked up the habit spending as much time as possible barefoot.

Rolling the socks down his feet Jack tried to decide what he should do with them. Once both were off and his feet were comfortably nestled into plush carpet, Jack tossed the socks onto the fire. The flames flickered for a second as the socks pushed air through the fire. Jack watched the socks smoke and then ignite just as the droid started to speak. “Residents of San Francisco have long derided the term Frisco.”

“Well look at that. You are already acting like a local.” With his socks now off Jack walked to his dresser. Sitting on top was an aged leather wallet. The use of leather in consumer products had been outlawed long before Jack was born. This one was a family heirloom. It had been purchased by Jack’s grandfather and passed down. In the past it had held all that the world needed to know about its owners, but technology made it obsolete. All that was in it now was a stack of faded photos that had fused together before Jack had been given the wallet and a monetary chip. The chip was almost obsolete itself. Most stores didn’t use them anymore, except of course for government facilities. Jack pulled the chip out and tossed the wallet on to the fire.

Two steps from the trash can Jack stopped. He closed his eyes and turned to the fire. Feeling the heat on his skin Jack held his emotions in check. Most first attempts failed, but he had worked a few of those failures and even more successes so he knew what to do. But knowing what to do was not Jacks problem. It was whether he had the nerve to do it that was Jack’s main concern. He held his emotions back as long as he could and tears began to roll down his cheeks as he turned to the droid. He stepped to her and pressed the chip into her hand. “Get going, the further you are the better. And don’t wait for a San Francisco bound train. Get a ticket on the first train leaving and make your way from its second stop.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and wiped his tears way. “That is important if they come for you, and I am sure they will. They will hit the first and last train stations before the others.”

The droid stood motionless not sure what it was truly supposed to do. Jack cupped the droids cheek and kissed its lips gently, his dislike of their artificial feel forgotten. Breaking his kiss Jack whispered “Run.”

Three hours passed before Jack looked at the pistol again. His nerve was starting to wane as dawn approached. He told himself it was the sensors, they would detect the gun shot. Response time in Jack’s neighborhood was four minutes. Again he told himself it was about time. He wanted to give the Droid as much of a lead as possible. That was all a lie of course, the truth was, Jack was scared. For three hours Jack was the scared little boy who had awoken to a nightmare in his father’s rented car.

Picking up the pistol Jack nestled the barrel under his chin, pulling the hammer slowly back. There was no click as he had expected and the lack of sound startled Jack as much as he had expected the sound too. The hammer cocking had pulled the trigger back and when Jack squeezed his finger down gently to find it the gun went off. The bullet burned as it entered his head and the detective in Jack wanted to analyze every moment as darkness overtook him.

Jack’s eyes flickered open as the little cleaning robot brushed past him. He was on the floor now and his vision was blurry. Either the room was quiet or Jack’s ears didn’t work anymore. He couldn’t move not even to twist his head. He couldn’t see where the pistol was until the robot rolled by with it stored in its upper basket. It raced across the room to retrieve the spent shell casing. Jack didn’t see the robot picked it but he watched as it rolled past him again towards the smoldering trash can.

Using all the strength he had left Jack was able to turn his head just enough to watch the robot at the trash