“We used to think space was the final frontier. We had no idea we were wrong,” the woman mumbled as the robot ran a brush through her thinning, white hair. “I was young once, like you. I’d like to think I was pretty.”
The robot paused, a hand half raised, “I am not a biological organism. I do not age. I am here to care for your physical and mental wellbeing.”
“Yes, yes, I’m not senile, you know. I’m not some cyberspace junkie who can’t tell reality from virtual. But I do like . . . oh, you wouldn’t tell on an old lady, would you?”
“I am required to report any instance whereby threat or implication, there is the possibility of real or imagined harm to a person or persons as defined by the law,” the robot set the brush on a tray and picked up a comb.
“Whatever that means,” the woman looked down at her swollen knuckles, “Sometimes I like to go into the backwash where no one knows I’m an eighty-year-old woman. I suppose if you talk to me long enough, it becomes obvious, but still . . . they have the most wonderful parties there.”
“Mm-hm,” the robot began combing the smallest strands of hair together, forming a perfect French braid.
“Why the other day I went to this masked ball -”
“Masquerade.”
“Yes, and the room was incredible. The floor was all marble, like a cut and polished stone. The walls were a crimson crushed velvet, and the ceiling was painted with a mural like the Listerine Chapel.”
“Sistine Chapel.”
“Yes, that’s what I said,” the woman folded her hands, “You may need to get your ears checked. Anyway, everyone wore masks of either a cat or a bird. I chose a mask made of the most vibrant purple feathers, although I’ve never seen a bird that color in real life. All the birds wore these evening gowns that puffed out so at the waist that it made my head look delicate and tiny, like a china doll. My dress was purple, of course. Each bird wore their hair pulled back with little pin-curls glued to the sides our heads. It was just how it was done, you see. And the cats had these suits with actual tails and silver-headed canes. They, of course, wore derby hats and white, furry gloves. Their masks were nowhere near as well crafted as the birds, but charming in a fashion. I mean, they didn’t have rhinestones.”
“Didn’t they?” the robot pinned a strand of hair in place. The old woman remained silent. “They didn’t have rhinestones?” the robot prompted.
“What?” the woman jerked as if she had dozed off, “I think I need to take you into the repair shop. Sometimes you say strange things. Anyway, the dance floor was split by this river that flowed out of the room and into a fish pond with poi. You should have seen the way the moon looked, glimmering in the surface, covered in orange and white fish.”
“Koi.”
“Yes, they were lovely to behold. I was just tiring of watching them, thinking that I wanted to dance when this cat entered the room. I know this sounds strange given the circumstances, but I could swear that I knew pur. Fe walked across the room, hiss tail following pur like a cape, hiss derby like a crown. Fe carried no cane and eyed me boldly as if fe recognized me. Oh, I felt my heart had sprouted wings and was asserting its desire to live independently of me.”
“Then what happened?” the robot tied the end of the braid with an elastic.
“Well, fe marched right up to me!” the woman clutched her own hand, “I nearly jumped in the arms of the bird I had been talking to, so startled I was. And twee didn’t help matters at all, twee just turned and left me standing there in front of this strange tabby, hiss tail swishing and hiss whiskers twitching like fe wanted to eat me up. And fe doffed hiss hat, bending hiss furry legs, and fe says, ‘Would you like to dance?’”
The robot shook a bottle of hairspray, “And did you?”
“Oh, yes, how could I say no? Oh, we danced and we laughed and we stared at the moon all covered with fish, and if fe suspected my age, fe said nothing. Really, I supposed fe must have been from the same era; there was none of that culture-clash. Anyway, as I said, I think I knew pur once when I was young and pretty like you.”
“I am not a biological organism. I do not age. I am here to care for your physical and mental wellbeing.”
“Yes, yes, I’m not senile, you know.”
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Rather shockingly, 97 people have downloaded Murder In A Box. Don't tell me you haven't yet?
I have started on a sequel to it, but I always feel like I don't know if I will finish a story until I get to chapter ten.