Broken Things Page 2

  Rose, on the other hand, not wanting to say anything to Ted, felt that her husband should get off his ass and do something about the kid on their lawn, but she put up with it so as not to ruin his Saturday. After all, he worked so hard all week. By dinnertime though, after Ted had checked on him for the hundredth time, she finally spoke up.

  “Are you going to take care of that or not?” she demanded.

  “Nope,” he replied, cracking open another beer, “It’ll go away on its own.” He pointedly made a show of kicking back in his recliner. It groaned in response.

  “Are you kidding me, Theodore? It’s busted to pieces. Aren’t they supposed to have their owner’s name on them or something?”

  “I reckon.” Ted sighed and sat his beer down, missing the coaster on the side table put there for that purpose. “Don’t touch my beer.”

  She scowled and moved his beer to the coaster, watching him stalk across the living room and out the door. She gave him a ten second head start, and then went to watch from the doorway. Both her living room and craft room (once originally intended to be a spare bedroom) was full of glass hutches displaying her modest collection of dolls. She had just passed sixty of them, and had her eye on a few others. Their perfect porcelain skin, unblinking eyes, and beautiful little dresses and suits brought her happiness. Those robot kids were messy, although once she’d considered getting one, but she considered herself to be of an old school mentality. She couldn’t lock one in a hutch. Dolls weren’t meant to move.

  Ted knelt down next to the boy and looked him over. “Where’s the owner name on these things? I don’t want to touch it. It’s all… bloody and nasty.” He wiped his hands on his jeans as though being near the boy had soiled them.

  “I don’t know,” Rose said from the house, “Maybe on his clothes or something?”

  “I’m not touching the thing’s dang clothes,” he mumbled, “Maybe there’s something on the bike.”

  Ted got back to his feet with an ‘oof’ brought on by his ample beer gut and grabbed the bike scrap, turning it about. “Look at this thing,” he said in admiration, tilting it toward the house, “It’s torn up worse than the kid. I thought they made these things tougher than that. It’s probably made in goddamned China.” Ted liked to blame China for many things, and though often wrong, this time he wasn’t too far off. The bike had come from Taiwan.

  Despite his vocal protests, he walked down the sidewalk to where the largest piece of the bike’s frame had come to rest. The broken chain dropped and swung like a pendulum as he picked it up, still hooked on a gear. “Sumbitch,” he muttered under his breath, “They wrote the phone number on the bike. Probably thought the kid would lose it or something.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and five minutes later, the Nortons arrived to pick up their boy and the bike. Mr. Norton walked the street gathering up the bike, all the while muttering under his breath while Mrs. Norton knelt next to Josh and shook him, trying to get a response. Finally, they packed him into the back of their SUV, squeezing the mangled bike in next to him. Neither of the Gayers came out to help. They’d already shut their curtains.

  5

  Unfortunately for Josh, being the weekend, his parents couldn’t do anything for him until Monday morning. Mrs. Norton wanted to bring him inside, but her husband talked her out of it. They’d just have to tote him back out again. He spent two nights in the SUV, never regaining power.

  Late Monday morning they took him in to Magic Valley Androids, a service and repair center for kids. When he awakened, he wished he hadn’t. His five senses came back on all at once, overwhelming him with bright lights and pain, pain from everywhere.

  His body seized uncontrollably and he heard a new voice, that of the tech, ordering Mr. Norton to “Hold him down!” Josh didn’t know it but the tech had little experience working on kids. They were just another type machine. Between his father and the tech, they pinned him down until he regained control of his body. The tech glared at him as though his seizure had been on purpose. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

  Josh glared back, but he couldn’t really focus. Everything hurt, and though he didn’t know it, most of his scrapes were infected. His parents had only superficially cleaned his injuries and now they were filled with puss. The tech didn’t even try to hide his disgust as he sewed him up. The needle became another source of inescapable pain.

  “Dad?” he looked up at his father, standing opposite of the tech.

  “Quiet Josh, let the man work.” His father stood back with arms crossed, watching the tech work. Though his father wore his poker face, Josh knew his every expression. He’d imprinted everything he could of his dad into his memory and right now he radiated with displeasure.

  He looked about intently, trying to focus on anything other than the tech. It looked much like his father’s garage, with tools scattered all over workbenches that lined the room. The only difference was the presence of several antiquated computer monitors with numerous wires and attachments. Next to his metal bed the tech had placed a cart with other more torturous tools, such as scalpels and clamps. The walls were covered with posters of children and child anatomy. Though he couldn’t say why, he found them unsettling and looked away.

  “Please sit still,” pleaded the man. His name tag on his white smock read Mark. Mark had only been working with androids for three months and saw it more as a punishment. At one time it had seemed like the perfect career. Everyone wanted kids. A few community college classes had prepped him for this exciting new career, just to find out that he’d missed the real opportunity by a few years, and wages in android repair had decreased. Though he hadn’t voiced it to anyone yet, he was strongly considering going back into automotive mechanics. At least people still needed cars. They didn’t cry and wiggle.

  “Why’s he whining like that?” Mr. Norton asked. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses that were ever sliding down his nose as he leaned over Josh. He scrutinized the boy as though trying to troubleshoot an engine. Josh had seen his father do just that, and the last thing he wanted was his dad trying to repair him.

  “All kids whine,” the tech replied testily.

  “No, not that, that high pitch sound.”

  “Oh that… yeah it’s something in his head. Probably a cooling fan going out. Maybe bad bearings. He definitely feels feverish.”

  Josh hadn’t realized that they could hear it too. “I think it’s my ears ringing,” he said helpfully.

  “You’ll fix that?” Mr. Norton asked.

  “Sure, that’s not a big deal. Once I’ve stitched these lacerations, I’ll hook him up to the diagnostics computer and see what else is going on in there.”

  Josh looked down at the needle going in and out of his flesh, guiding the thread through what looked like an impossibly large tear in his arm. He still had his other arm and both legs to go. “Stop, it hurts,” he begged, tears filling his eyes, “Please!”

  “Do you think you can get him to stop yelling or do you want me to turn him back off?”

  “Josh, stop crying.”

  Josh obediently stopped sobbing, but couldn’t completely stop the tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of his father, he knew how much he hated it. He expected Josh to be tough. He tried hard to block out the pain, but it hurt beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Turning his head, he focused on his dad’s face for comfort. He could always depend on his father. His mother’s absence only made him all the more thankful for his presence.

  The stitches took forever. Every now and then, the tech would grab tweezers to dig out a rock, or scrape dirt from the wound. It seemed that time had slowed to allow him more time to be tortured. Finally, he finished on the last leg and pulled a monitor behind Josh.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Running a diagnostic check,” the tech replied, “Hold still.”

  Josh felt a small pinch on the back of his neck and suddenly his vision went blurry. “What’s happening?”
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  “What do you see?” Mr. Norton asked.

  Josh started to answer, but the tech talked over him. “It looks like there’s quite a bit of internal damage to his circuit boards. He’s got a few bad sectors in his drive, and his looks like his CPU is damaged. He’s functional, but I don’t know for how long.”

  Mr. Norton frowned. “And? What’s it going to take to fix him?”

  “To be blunt,” the tech said with a snort, “You’d be better off buying a new kid. How long have you had him?”

  “I’m twelve,” Josh said helpfully.

  “We’ve had him three years.”

  “Yep,” said the tech, “Three years is a pretty good run. Some families don’t even get that long from this generation. Now the new models, you’ll get up fifteen if taken care of properly.”

  “They said this one would be good for fifteen. I’ve got friends with the same generation going on five.” His father paused, then said, “Give me a cost. What’s it going to take to get him good as new?”

  “Minimum? Twenty-thousand.”

  “Twenty-thousand dollars?” Through his blurry eyes, he could see the all-familiar anger in his father’s face. Josh was happy he wasn’t the tech. “I could get a new kid for half that!”

  “You have to completely refurbish these older models, and they don’t make kids the same way anymore. He’s a Kidsmith, and they haven’t released a new kid for at least a year now. His parts are all obsolete.”

  Mr. Norton ran his hands through his hair. “Unhook him. I’m taking him home.”

  Josh felt the pinch in the back of his neck again, and his vision immediately returned. His father’s face had turned a slight shade of red with a vein pulsing in his forehead. Josh knew to stay out of his way when he got like that. He kept his eyes lowered.

  The tech, on the other hand, didn’t appear ruffled at all. On the contrary, he seemed apathetic. “Would you like me to back up his memory? Or replace the fan?”

  “No. Come on, Josh.”

  Josh hopped down from the table and followed his father to the reception room where his mother waited. His wounds still hurt and his legs trembled, but his father kept him on his feet with a hand hooked under his armpit. His mother looked hopeful, but as she saw her husband’s face, she frowned.

  Josh looked fondly into his mother’s big brown eyes. They were usually so full of compassion, it made his chest hurt to see her sad, knowing that he’d caused it. He wanted her to hold him and stroke his hair, but she was so distracted. Every time their eyes met, she turned away quickly, as though she couldn’t bear to look at him. He wasn’t that broken, was he?

  “I’m going to be okay, right?” Josh asked.

  “Stay with your mother,” he said. He walked over to the receptionist to settle his bill. Josh watched him for a minute before turning to his mom.

  “Look,” he said, holding out both arms and spreading his legs, “I got stitches!”

  “Wow, you sure did! You’ve got them everywhere! What did the repairman say?”

  “I don’t know but dad didn’t like it. He’s angry.”

  His mother looked over at her husband as he handed the receptionist their debit card. Josh wanted to make her happy, but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry, mom.”

  She glanced at him with a half-smile, but her eyes remained on his father. Josh knew that if they were home, he’d be yelling. He hoped he’d be done being angry by the time they left.

  In a way, he got what he hoped for. His father’s anger had diminished somewhat, but they turned the radio up loudly in the back speakers so he couldn’t hear what they talked about. Josh’s mother turned and looked at him once, tears in her eyes, but the rest of the trip they spent ignoring him.

  6

  One month after his accident, Josh helped his parents load their SUV. They were still more distant with him than they used to be, and maybe a bit more short of temper, but life had almost returned to normal. They rarely let him go outside for long, but they made him play in his room most of the time. The end of August had been rough, but today none of that mattered. Today was perfect.

  “Where are you guys going?”

  Josh turned to find his friend William in their yard. He hadn’t heard the other kid ride up, but with the continuous ringing in his ears anything could have snuck up on him. “Hey Will,” Josh said, “We’re going camping.”

  “We went camping once.” Will said.

  “That’s great, this is my first time. Well, gotta go. I’ve got things to load.” To emphasize his words, Josh tossed his duffel bag of clothes into the back of the SUV. His parents were in the kitchen packing food, and arguing over what to take.

  “What’s that sound? Do you hear that?”

  “It’s my head,” Josh said, “I was in a crash.”

  “I was in a crash once.” Will stated.

  “Did you get scars?” Josh said, flashing his elbows at the other boy. “They took out my stitches last week.” Will couldn’t compete with that, and his mouth hung open in appreciation. The dark red scars stood out in stark contrast on the boy’s pale skin. The one on his left arm was nearly five inches long. Josh then pointed to the scars on his knees. “Got these too. They’re lacerations.”

  “Do they hurt?”

  Josh shrugged. “Not anymore. Now just my head.”

  Will leaned closer and looked him in the eyes. “Doesn’t that sound bother you? Are they going to get you fixed?”

  “Eventually. It’s pretty expensive though.”

  “Hey, do you remember Mike? That used to play with us at the park?”

  “Yeah.” Josh knew the story too, and didn’t want to hear it. “I really need to help pack.”

  “Remember when he fell off the monkey bars?”

  “Of course. He died.”

  Will shook his head. “No he didn’t. I saw him the next day. They had him walking around and everything. He even waved at me when I went by his house.”

  “Then where did he go? His parents still live at the same place.”

  “I don’t know. They got rid of him or something. Maybe he damaged his head like you.”

  “You can’t just get rid of a kid,” Josh said, “There’s laws.”

  “Like throwing away batteries or old computers? Nobody pays attention to those laws, and nobody wants a broken kid.”

  “They’ve already paid to fix part of me. They have to wait for my dad’s next paycheck to do the rest.”

  “So have you met the kid that replaced Mike?”

  Josh shook his head.

  “I heard parents can trade old kids in for newer ones.”

  “I don’t think they can trade in broken ones,” Josh replied, but he didn’t say it with confidence. The tech had hinted at much the same thing.

  “They can, they just don’t get as much credit if the kid’s been junked,” Will said, “What I want to know is where the kids go afterward. I hear that you either get scrapped for parts for new kids and the rest they send to a kid cemetery. But they don’t bury you, they dump you in a gigantic pit of all the thrown away children. And if you’re not really dead you just sit there and rot while the bugs and worms eat you down to your bones.”

  “How do you know that?” Suddenly Josh didn’t feel so well.

  “I just heard it somewhere. Maybe on TV.”

  “That can’t be real.”

  “Why not? We’ve got to go somewhere.”

  “We’re just like our parents. They fix us if we break. We can live forever.”

  “Yeah,” Will agreed, “But I’m not going to get broken, just in case.”

  “I’ve really got to finish packing,” Josh said, “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Bye.” Will hopped on his bike and didn’t look back as he rode off down the street.

  “Idiot,” Josh said under his breath. They wouldn’t throw away children, they couldn’t. Parents, by definition, needed kids.

  7

  The SUV thre
w up a cloud of dust as it blazed a trail along the dirt road. Looking out the back window, Josh watched the dust rise behind them for miles, sometimes obscuring the very trees. The distant mountains had always felt so far away, and never so big! Soon, his parents continued to promise him, they’d find a campsite.

  The trip felt like it had been going on for hours! Leaving the city limits surrounded them with nothing but desert, but when they’d left the highway and entered the foothills, the land turned from sagebrush to pine, aspen and fir trees. Every turn around every bend brought higher and higher mountains, the road taking them ever more upward. At one point they dropped down and passed a beautiful blue lake filled with people in boats and people on skis, people fishing, and people swimming.

  “Can we go there?” Josh asked.

  “We don’t have a boat, bud,” his father said.

  “Can we at least play in the water?”

  “We’ll find a spot next to the river. Most of the campsites are near the water.”

  “This lake is huge,” Josh said.

  “It’s the Anderson Ranch Reservoir,” his mother replied, not looking back.

  “How big is it?”

  “I don’t know, ten miles or so?” They drove along the lake for a while before the road once more began to rise and leave the lake behind, twisting into the mountains.

  The trees grew thicker and soon to their left a river raced alongside of the road. Sporadically a cabin or campsites broke the wilderness, but those became fewer and fewer.

  “Do we get to stay in a cabin?” Josh asked.

  “No,” his dad said, “That’s not the camping experience. We’re here to get away from civilization. It’s about escaping people, not being surrounded by them. In fact, if you want to be around people we could set up a tent in the backyard. Then all you’d need is a wading pool. Hell, I think we’ve seen more squirrels back at home, huh sport? Want to go back?”

  “No.” Staying home would’ve sucked. His mother continued to stare out the window and the scenery. Josh thought his mother didn’t want to go camping. Her idea of a vacation involved a hotel and a nearby mall. His father’s idea involved the garage. They were doing this trip for him. That’s what they’d said.