Memoirs of a Dollface – File Entry_105


File Entry_105:

Sometimes I forget how much I love being in love, feeling in love, daydreaming about some else and their dimples, their smile, stretching my memory to recall the sound of their voice like a dim recording playing over and over in my mind. There is absolutely nothing like it, and nothing like the weight of water pouring down on you from the top of a waterfall threatening to drown you as you stand underneath trying to withstand the pressure. The pressure of disappointment while my heart drops.

The heartfelt disappointment is always real, in some ways more so than the art of being in love itself. I daydream too much, put too much stock into how much I think he likes me. I know he will never come to save me and that the only reason he ever finds me wherever I am is because it is his job to do so. If I wasn’t a Dollface and he wasn’t a Sentinel I doubt he would even know me or try to stay in my life at all.

I know that to be true and it hurts, but still I let my mind wander off at dinner to Jay and those honeyed eyes, the dimples of a sweet smile, and envision him with toasted almond skin instead of the pea green he’s been rocking ever since I met him.

“Well? What do you think?” my patron snaps me back to reality. I wasn’t paying any attention at all and I take a moment to rewind my audio file and catch up on the conversation. This one seems to enjoy the sound of his own voice and just keeps talking.

“I’m still soaking it all in.” I say and sweetly smile like the timid little woman he has asked me to be programed to be for today.

This patron lost his wife, repeatedly. He has chronic anger management issues and a thing for choosing women that he knows won’t defend themselves. So, my mission for today is to act as his court appointed anger therapy doll to see if he can get through one interaction without losing his temper and dismantling me.

Thanks a lot guys. I would rather have gone on the deep sea fishing mission and played the bait again. At least I’m allowed to fight the fish. Here, I’m allowed to sit and take it unless he tries to dismantle my vital functions, which for some reason does not include my arms and legs. Which is more painful than it sounds because some sadist turned all of my pain sensors up so high I have a headache from the candlelight in the room. His performance today is being recorded through my eyes and will be reported to the Court Authority.

Apparently his last wife’s ID core is being kept in a vault (per her request) to give her a break from his abusive nature. He is obsessed with her and she got away from him by sending a remote controlled Inferno into her home for him to mistreat while she absconded off to New Zealandering to have herself put down. She would rather be in a cryostatis coma happily dreaming than be upright and living with him.

And to make matters worse I have not listened to a thing he has had to say.

“Soaking it all in, huh?” he says getting visibly angry.

“My processing centers are a little off. Having to constantly reset my memory interes with past knowledge and understanding of concepts. I have to download tutorials and patches to truly get what you are saying.” I tell him.

“I’m talking about fishing. How hard can that be?” he snaps.

“Depends. I’ve been used as bait for a fish. But, the fish was the Inferno skin someone chose and that was the only way he could get a humanoid date. They called it fishing too. From what I gather you are talking about the capture of fish using rods and nets. But, why not use the stop-motion sensors and have the fish floated into the boat like in the new boat commercials? Is it more fun to do fishing when the fish have to be tricked into taking bait?” I ask as I let my mind continue to wander intermittently to Jay and whether he would like fishing.

“I see. They gave me a broken one. Well, that’s just great. I can’t even have a normal conversation. I mean, how am I supposed to get my wife back online if they give me some idiot shell to practice on?” he says and the holographic room dims to a moonlit beach. Dinner was a ruse and we are still apparently in the Observatory Hall.

He moves to slap me just as a door opens.

“That will be all Abigail.” An Authority Officer states blandly as he stands at the door.

Without hesitation I rise to leave the room, but I feel the man’s hand close in on my wrist. He spins me around to face him, meeting my eyes as his steak knife enters my gut.

“Compute that you stupid broad.” He says and spits in my face.

“File sent to Court Authority.” I say narrowing my eyes. “I hope your wife joins a singularity with you. Then when you get mad at her, all you can do is injure yourself because you will be sharing the same body.”

He yanks the knife out and slashes at my throat. I feel myself fall and a warm pool of my own blood gathers around me while I watch the shuffling of feet of two guards trying to gather the mad man and his knife. They cart him out of the room. The expression in his eyes is murderous, but frightened. Perhaps a singularity will be his punishment.

The pain feels like one of those laser swords from old space movies has slashed at me and somehow wedged into neck still burning, and melting me. What idiot turned my pain sensors up so high and was it really necessary? I let myself slip into unconsciousness hoping to dream of Jay, but only dreams of dangling from a fishing line while a huge fish approaches wanting to swallow me whole ensue. Apparently I cannot swim in this dream.

-End File.