Cosmogramma

“Basically, we’re just waiting at this point.” The doctor spoke with unmistakable aggravation, but Parker could ignore it. He was just as annoyed.
“We’ve got him on a coolant IV, but once it runs out, he’ll overheat and the failsafe shutdown procedure starts. He could be repaired, but not flying in the necessary parts. Not to mention tracking down enough donors willing to donate to save a cyborg.” He stopped himself after the last word, facing Parker with an embarrassed look
“Sorry,” he continued, expecting an offensive outburst from Parker.
“It’s alright. You let him in here, that’s more than enough.”
“So, I’m assuming you want to go ahead and…”
“Pull the plug?” Parker could tell he wanted to say it. “I think so.”
“I just had to hear it from you.”
“Why me? Doesn’t he have anybody else?”
“Apparently not. The only name he would give when he was asked about relatives or other relations was yours.” Parker didn’t know how to respond, so he let the doctor finish.
“You can go ahead in and see him now if you want.”
“Sure,” Parker replied. “That’s why I’m here.”

Parker couldn’t help but think the heart rate monitor was overkill, at least for this situation. But it’s what Henry wanted; and it was that reason that Parker was here to see him and that he was in the hospital at all. A fall from the top of a twenty story building would have killed any human being, but Henry was an exception. This was mostly because whatever organic material he had in his body was surrounded and augmented by some of the best technological hardware science had to offer. Parker had no idea when he was built, and in fact knew nothing about him other than he performed clerical work in the same office as him. But he had specifically requested to be taken to the hospital once the paramedics arrived, and he had specifically requested that Parker be contacted once he got there.
“Am I going to die?” Henry finally said, his mouth moving with less human-like precision than usual.
“I think so, yeah.” Parker replied. He wouldn’t bother with pleasantries; who would with a cyborg?
“Good,” Henry replied. That caught Parker off guard.
“Good?” he said, barely containing his shock. “How is that good?”
“You don’t understand, do you? I jumped from that window, Parker.”
“Why?”
“Franz Kafka once said, ‘a first sign of the beginnings of awareness is the wish to die’. I needed everyone to know I was human.”

Sean Colligan – Prompt 3f

“Mr. Paulson,” the voice on his answering machine growled and burrowed in Nick’s ears like immovable worms. “It appears as if the warnings you received were not enough to dissuade you from the pursuing the nature of the…incident in Zurich. I’m afraid you’ve left us with no choice but to act as we see fit. I won’t waste any more tape space; I have no reason to believe you’ll even be alive to hear this entire message. Goodbye.”

As soon as the tape ended, Nick jerked his glance toward his front door as a loud knock echoed through the apartment. He slowly approached the peephole as the knock came again. Two men in ski masks; he was expecting Harvey’s men to be a little more original. Before he could back away, his intercom buzzed. After he could no longer stand the sustained tone, he held his finger on the center button to listen to whoever was on the other end.

“Nick?” a snide voice asked after a few moments. “You there?”Nick knew the voice, and he let out a silent expletive as he remembered: Perry.
“Surprise, asshole!” Perry continued. “Come on, I know you can hear me. The guys outside your door already know you’re in there, buddy, we’ve been trailing you for days. I was expecting you had better taste in safehouses.” Nick couldn’t stand this crap anymore, so he finally allowed himself to answer.
“I thought I left you dead in Bolivia, you prick,” he said, surprised at how well he masked his unbridled contempt.
“Funny thing, that” Perry responded. “I was playing dead. That’s how a set-up works, genius. I play my part to get you just calm enough to let your guard down for a few seconds. It worked, didn’t it?” Nick felt his pulse spike.
“Look,” Perry continued. “I’d love to keep up the chitchat, but me and my friends don’t have a lot of time, unfortunately. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and just sit back and let them…do their work.”

The intercom switched off, and after a pause, Nick heard a boot slamming against the door to force it open. He backed away to the wall at the opposite end of the den, just in time to notice another assailant climbing up the fire escape outside. Before he could shoot, Nick smashed his elbow and grabbed the man’s arm with the loaded pistol still held. As the door flew open, Nicked forced the man’s finger to squeeze the trigger and take the two men out. He then disarmed the one by the window and finished him with a clean headshot.

Perry would have to do better than that.

- Trapped in an elevator, alone, with a person you would walk across the street to avoid. -

I know it sounds like I’m starting a joke when I say Adam Sandler walked into an elevator with me. However, it’s anything but. I was in L.A. for one weekend at a conference and it just so happened that the one celebrity in or out of that fancy Hilton was none other than the Waterboy himself. He jogged in just before the door started closing and pressed the button for his floor; 2 above mine.

As we started moving, I couldn’t help but notice his attire: a clearly often-worn Yankees cap, sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt beneath a blazer. I guess if I wanted to feel like one of the common folk, I would have taken a similar approach. He gave a quick glance back toward me, but we didn’t even make eye contact, so I thought nothing of it.

Suddenly, we stopped moving. Adam punched the button again, but nothing happened.
“You think we’re stuck?” I asked after a lengthy pause.
“Yeah,” he replied. “But I’ve been to this place before. Sometimes the elevators do this.”
I was surprised that he would be so familiar with one particular hotel; he probably stays in more than I have in my lifetime in a week.

To my surprise, he turned back to me.
“So, what are you around for?” With only a brief hesitation, I responded.
“Uh, work.”
“Oh, that big IT thing going on downstairs?”
“Yeah.”
“I could hear the karaoke all the way up in my room, you guys sure know how to party.”
“Yeah, well, I guess anyone knows once they get sauced enough.”
We shared a snicker, and I figured I might as well go for it.
“So, here’s something I’ve been wondering: what’s Paul Thomas Anderson like as a director?” At first I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or disappointed that I had asked the question, and his first response didn’t give me much of a hint.
“Huh, well…Sorry if I’m a little slow, I don’t get many questions about Punch Drunk Love.”
“Ah, I see. I thought you were great in it, by the way,” I couldn’t help it.
“Thank you. Well, he definitely knows exactly what he wants, and sometimes it can be a little trying, but it in the end it’s usually for the best.”

A solid answer. Perhaps he didn’t act like a 3-year-old in his off-screen life. I figured I ought to have asked the next question earlier.
“So, what are you here for?”
“Visiting somebody.”
“Who’s that?”
“Rob Schneider.” I almost gagged, but the elevator started again.

The doors opened as we reached his level, and he started out.
“Nice meeting you,” he said.
“You too.” Before he rounded the corner out of sight, I couldn’t help but ask the next question.
“Hey!” He stopped. “How much did you get for Jack and Jill?”
“Enough for that second swimming pool!” he responded just as the doors closed. I couldn’t help but let a smirk break across my face. Cheeky bastard.

-Sean Colligan