A corner of my psyche realizes I’m having a reoccurring nightmare, but the neurons in charge refuse to let me go. The scene morphs to morning where I stand in my commander’s office. He tells me I asked for it and if I say anything, I will ruin a good man’s career and end mine as well.
Don’t say anything, Landy!I try to warn my former, naïve self, but she doesn’t listen, and writes to an email address. There is no trial because there is no proof. There is only my word against his and I am fucked.
Eyes wet and covered in sweat, I wake, this time for real. Pacing the bedroom, I consider the emergency bottle of scotch, However, based on my experience, it doesn’t help for long. If I wait for a few minutes, I may not need it. Regardless I won’t be sleeping anymore tonight, so I open my computer and search the dark web for the person or persons who stole the flight recorder. By the time the sun rises, my savings is gone but I know who paid off Keller.
Enthused, I call Sam. “I’m sorry to bother you so early but did you have a chance to talk to Dr. Jones?”
“I totally forgot. Give me a moment. I’ll ring you right back.”
By the time I make another pot of coffee, I have an appointment tomorrow on South Seventh Avenue. After a short chat, she hangs up and I wake Trixie. It’s time. I’ve had her for over a month and can’t justify procrastinating any longer.
The child-like face comes to life, and she smiles. “Good morning. Want to watch a movie with me?”
“No. I need to tell you something, but you have to promise to keep it a secret.”
“You can tell me anything.” The robot’s eyes widen, then sadden as she mimics my facial expression. It’s supposed to make me think she’s empathetic.
What I feel defies definition. “A bad man hurt me.”
The display’s pixel mouth opens and shuts. “Oh, no. How can I help?”
As best I can, I channel my inner child. As if having no knowledge of sexuality, I describe my assault from the vantage point of a grade-schooler. The process takes almost an hour but, in the end, the robot has all the details it needs to file a police report.
Emotionally drained, I go for a run to purge the thoughts rattling around in my brain. I meet with Trixie’s programmers next week. Volunteers, including lawyers, officers, psychologists, and teachers will be in attendance. Will AI make the world a safer place or will innocent people be prosecuted by children’s overactive imaginations. I have no idea, but I want to help.
I up my pace, hoping to close off the flood of memories but they refuse to be contained. Fuck. When I arrive home, I ask Google how to forget a traumatic event but most of the sites tell me some bullshit about a safe place. How the hell does it make sense? I wonder how many of these online geniuses have lost their jobs because of rape. I’m betting none. Besides, even if I wanted to talk, which I don’t, I have no health insurance except for my VA. There’s no way I’d put my trauma in front of soldiers who really need it.
“Guess, it’s just me and you, Trixie.” I smile at my little robotic friend, and she giggles.
“BFF forever, Landy. Want to play checkers?”
I snort out a laugh. “No, not now. Goodbye.”
At lunchtime, I check my messages. I don’t understand why I expected a text from Dash. He implied I was crazy but I’m not. I’m broken. He’s the one who’s terrified and projecting his panic onto me.
Ha! Who needs a shrink?
My phone rings and it’s my sister. I consider letting it go to voicemail but recall how my face has been all over the news. She’s probably dying of embarrassment and wants my help to put a positive spin on it.
Despite my better judgement, I swipe the green icon. “Hi Sis.”
“Do notHi Sisme.”
And we’re off.I tap the speaker, turn down the volume, and as I place the electronics on the coffee table I sit on the couch and make faces at Jonathan.
“Do you have any idea what you have put me through? Everyone thinks you’re a drug addict. Mom went back to London.” As she spews, I roll my eyes.
The robot-man copies me, and I giggle so hard, I need to press mute so as not to interrupt the well-rehearsed rant. “Your niece’s playmates are asking why you landed your helicopter in the water. All my social outings have been cancelled and I lost ten thousand followers on Twitter.”
God forbid.When she takes a breath, I shake my head and lean over the mic. “I apologize if my near-death experience inconvenienced you.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Lanita. Get some help.” Her tone has the charm of a dentist’s drill.
I have no clue why I bother to respond, but she’s family and her opinion, for some stupid reason, matters. “I’m not taking anything. I swear.”
“First you’re tossed out of the army and now this.”
“I was a marine, sis. Boo-rah!” As my back teeth grind and my fists clench, the robot imitates my grimace and looks so ridiculous, I snicker. “And, in case you forgot, it was an honorable discharge.”
