Cree-ping-ab-out
It’s dark again. I’m shaking the dust off my sides. It sticks just under the arm. Without water - the wasting kind - I leave the sticky remnants to hang there. They will provide, at least, the suggestion of warmth.
Clouds are up, but the dusk is only half was through its short cycle.
The only noise at the defined edge of suburbia are the flickering lights of unhealthy electricity. I can detect the TV - the signal - as it flies through the air. You can hear the buzz of electrons when its colder, and crisper.
Elma and Eliza are with me. They have 3 wheels a piece. They’re the older style of robot, the ones with the three wheels, the vacuum tubes. Old tech. Very Firefly - but these babies have souls. They care like the new models can’t - they care deeply. They care brightly, for all to see with their exposed hearts. They remind me of Jesus, the sacred heart of that person some used to worship, out there, on the outside.
I’m still searching - through the park, out the window, at the hotel, always on the edge.
Elma buzzes. Eliza buzzes back.
It’s perfect for walking tonight. So I walk.
There’s something I have to tell you…about where I’m going…
