floating | ✓

24| robots

“For the two of us, home isn’t a place. It is a person. And we are finally home.”

- Anna and the French Kiss

24| robots

Oliver

I walk into the living room and see Jason sprawled over the couch, chugging diet coke while watching basketball. He crashed here yesterday night after coming back from the carnival and hasn’t moved yet.

Jason is going through his post-break-up routine. This used to happen every other month. It goes like this—he tries to get a girl, the girl dumps him, he comes over, makes his home on the couch in our living room, and spends the next three days in one spot.

After three days pass, he starts to move, like sloth, and goes back to his house where he spends a week moping about it. A week later he has his “glow up” and then gets ready for “the market”—his words, not mine.

So ever since we got back from the carnival, and he realized he doesn’t have any chance with the girl Valerie, he has started following his post-break-up routine.

Honestly, break-up happens if you are in a relationship. For Jason, things don’t go that far. He gets dumped before he gets in a relationship.

I stand by the couch, rest my elbow on the head of it and ask, “Need another coke?”

Jason rubs his eyes and yawns. “Yep.”

I open the fridge and pass him the coke. He opens the can and takes a sip. I get cookies for me and start eating. There goes lunch.

“Wanna have a match like old times?” I say as I stand by the couch with a moping Jason whose drinking coke like it’s alcohol.

“Those still work?” Jason says.

“Of course they do.” I get a little offended.

I head towards my room. Surprisingly, Jason stands up and follows me.

I don’t have to go through my closet doors today. In case I want to avoid certain people, I do that.  Instead, I use the door in the hallway and open up my room. “The Not So Secret Room,” in other words.

As I walk in, the little robot falling on the side lights up the room with LED lights. It’s sound sensitive, so when I opened the door, it received the wave signal and turned on.

“Hey, Lighty,” Jason says in a voice like he is petting a dog.

I roll my eyes over the ridiculous nickname and almost stumble over the pliers I left on the floor. My toolbox is open in one corner with wires, circuit boards, LEDs, and some nuts and bolts around.

I look at my table. The humanoids should be here somewhere. I made them last year. It took a whole year to make them. I won’t say it’s my best work.

The controllers are here. I also see the book I have been reading for the last month, or trying to read—Artificial Intelligence and Robotics—but it’s impossible when you have “someone” always looking at your face and trying to guess what you’re reading.

She thought I was reading smut.

“What’s going on now?” Jason says, sitting down on the floor, turning on other little robots, which senses an object within a certain distance and turns away from it. I added an infrared sensor. Jason also takes pride in naming it “bumpy,” though it’s main purpose is not to bump into anything.

She thought I had been secretly painting her picture here. Nobody should ever let her play guessing games. I shake my head thinking about it.