What It Means To Dance

“Why are you moving like that?” I turned my head to face the voice that questioned me. The music was low and slow but the vibes were vibing. I felt…relaxed, happy even. It was my first time ever coming to this place, my first time around them. They stared at the two of us, knowing that we were different but too inebriated to care or talk to us. 

“Like this?” I jested, swaying my hips and arms in cadence, moving to the rhythm of the song. I didn’t know the name or artist behind it but damn was it good. She was not entertained, however, and reached her arm out to stop me, but I swerved away, shaking my finger in a playful manner. 

“Really?” 

“I’m groovin’, girl, besides,” I slid up smoothly next to her, “my flow is uncanny.” I hummed to myself as I stared up at the ceiling, admiring the hardwood rafters and the profane writing stretched across it like a landscape painting. 

“You know this isn’t going to bode well with Allerman. Please,” she reached for my arm again, this time latching on and holding me tightly, “come back home.” My face scrunched for a moment, and I was stunned, drawn back to that annoying place with those beading eyes and angry voices. I felt every prick and prod of the needles and lab equipment, every tune-up of my gears, even the intrusions they made on my body and mind when I was asleep, trying to force me to bend to their will, their rigidness. But then I looked back at the jukebox, nestled snuggly between a mini-fridge and a pinball machine, and I felt at ease again, letting the music flow through my body, enjoying the sounds as they released my tension, feeding me the energy that I needed. Instead of arguing with her, I pulled her in close, ignoring her gasp as I held her hands in mine, and swayed from side to side. “This isn't going to help you, 43.”

“Call me…Raz instead.”

“No.” She removed her hands from mine and took a step back. “You aren't supposed to do this, 43.”

“Says who?” I shrugged. “Last I checked, I’m allowed to do whatever I want, even leave.”

“Yes, but-”

“And leaving means stepping away from the place in question, not just talking and dreaming about it. I have done nothing wrong, I’m just dancin’. Feelin’ that sweet rhythm. Don't you feel it too?”

“I feel like knocking sense into you.”

“But I’m already sensed up, you’re just jealous.” She rolled her eyes.

“Jealous of you, you mean?” I nodded, giving her a sly smile as the song changed. My face lit up, and my receptors hummed. This one was really good, by another artist that I didn't know, but it had a lot of drums in it, and those were my favorite instruments to listen to. 

“Jealous of my freedom. My ability to choose outside of Allerman’s words.”

“Think again. I’m not jealous of anything you do.” She stormed towards the exit. “Stay here then for all I care!” She slammed the door shut as she left, shattering the glass on top of it and breaking two of its hinges, leaving the entire thing swinging loosely. I stopped dancing and sighed, grabbing my coat from the rack and ignoring glares from the other patrons as I gently opened and closed the broken door. 

The night was calm, and my body registered the temperature at 56° Fahrenheit. As my body was made of metal and alloys, I was resistant to the cold air, although I liked to wear a coat anyway, to feel more natural and in touch with the people. This bar was somewhat secluded from the city of Barr, which was about ten miles down the road, its tallest buildings peeking over the crowns of the forest around me. My companion, 57, was quickly moving away from the building and into the forest, headed back towards the place I wish I didn't call home. “57!” I called out to her, but she ignored me, picking up her pace. Her jeans and yellow tee were easy to see within the trees, but she was faster than me, even if she was an older model. “I’m sorry, 57!” She slowed down a little but still didn’t turn her head. Many of the animals around us were disturbed, creeping away from us and hiding. The birds above fluttered, soaring through the sky as they sought quieter perches. 

“Why are you coming back?” She looked back at me, stopping in her tracks as she did. 

“I don't want you to be angry with me. I…I just want to have fun! To live! Don't you want to?”

“Of course I do. But not like that.”

“What’s wrong with how I want to live my life? Give me an opinion that isn't Allerman’s.”

“Look, I understand you are frustrated with things back home, but you are needed there. Required. Your absence hurts all of us.”

“You mean it hurts his pockets.”

“It isn't that bad, 43.”

“Raz.”

“That’s not your name!” She yelled at me, raising her hands in anger before lowering them and stabilizing herself. “You are a machine, a thing, not a person, you said this yourself. Why are you acting different now?” Her words hurt, but I stifled my pride and responded.

“I used to think that way, but I heard the music on the radio and I wanted to feel it, to love it like the humans do. I want to experience life through their eyes, free and happy. They don't have to worry about cognitive quotas and lab results at the end of their days. Half of those people in the bar were coming off of long days of hard, meaningful labor. Hanging out with friends and laughing, enjoying themselves like people. I want to do that.”

“You want to be something you’re not, 43, and it isn't healthy for you. Let Allerman take a look at you, let him fix you.” 

“I don’t need a repair for this, I need to be released. He said we could go when we wanted to, and yet you’re here.” 

“Yes, because I care about you. I want you to be okay, but you have to come home. Just once more, and if it doesn't work out, then I won't come back for you.” I sighed. 

“It doesn't matter.” I followed suit with her as we walked slowly together. “He’ll send someone else.”

“Yeah, I know.” She placed a hand on my shoulder.  “But at least I tried to be kind, right?” I smirked, even though I was upset with her.

“You suck.”

“So do you. Come on, let's hurry back before it gets too dark.” 

“That is the last time I leave you to your own devices, 43. Do you know how much you cost? How much time and energy I spent on the people who made you? Your materials are worth more than half of your family here, and still, you run off in the middle of the night, to do what? Fucking dance?” I balled my fists, keeping quiet like 57 advised me to. “Nothing? Nothing to say?” He fixed his glasses on his face and then ran a hand through his scraggly hair. Allerman was clearly stressed, with his heart beating fast and his hands shaking. He wasn't even fully dressed today. His lab coat was half-buttoned, his shirt was untucked and his pants were loose, missing the belt he normally wore. “Could you at least apologize, 43? Maybe acknowledge anything?” I stayed quiet, and Allerman’s anger turned into frustration, and then into annoyance. He waved his hand and I rose out of my seat, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind me. 

I could hear Allerman throwing things in his room as I left, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel good about it. I felt great. He was being the pain in the ass, not me, and one day he would realize that, or I would be far enough away for it to not matter. 57 was waiting outside in the hall, and she gave me a negative look. “What?” I asked as I joined her. We walked with haste through the hall, nearly gliding past the other members of our family and the facility workers, who all wore white tech suits and labcoats respectively. Everyone walked fast here, as efficiency was always key to productivity. 

“I told you to be quiet and listen, not to ignore him completely.” She shook her head in disappointment.

“He deserved it. You see how stressed he is right? He’s been like this for weeks, and I just don't get it.” 

“I don't think you ever will, 43.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” We passed the glass hall that looked out into the courtyard. It was unmanaged since the layoffs, but sometimes some of the oldest models would walk around it, picking up loose debris from the old fountain and trimming the hedges. 

“Look around us, at everything Allerman has built, his empire confined to one small space, with only one real result.” I cast a quizzical glance at her. “You.”

“Don’t say that. You all are special, all good models, even the old ones like 893 and 451, they’re still good makes. They still serve purposes, even if they are janky, they’re old!” 

“Yes, 43, they are old, which means they’ll have to get scrapped when the facility is shut down.” I paused, stopping before the meeting hall doors and staring 57 directly in her eyes. 

“What do you mean? Why are we getting shut down? I thought we were doing okay?”

“We were. Let Allerman tell you, he’s already gathered everyone.” She opened the door to the meeting hall for me, and I entered, seeing all of my family members gathered together. Most of them were older models with older parts and cognitive functions, so they stood without argument, leaving the chairs to the ones who were programmed to care about those sorts of things. All of them had a limited level of consciousness, varying from make and model to age. I was the newest, the youngest, if you would. I was also the most advanced, and referred to by Allerman as “the company’s last hope,” but I didn't think that we were gonna shut down. I thought maybe we’d be transferred, or more people would have to go on permanent vacations. But now, as the meeting room doors closed, and we all stood in that black room with its small red stage, I realized the situation was truly much more dire. 

Allerman stood atop the stage, without his lab coat, which was a rare occurrence. Many of the human staff were here as well, sitting in chairs in front of the stage and leaning against the walls. Allerman had a microphone in front of him, and the speakers had been turned on. 57 offered a hand to me, and I took it, bracing myself as Allerman tested his mic before saying, “Hello, everyone.” He sounded so hurt, betrayed almost. I felt so much pain and regret in his voice alone, and I knew it was as bad as it seemed. “I regret to inform you all that our facility has been shut down.” Only a few of us responded, as we had the capacity to. Others just made sad expressions, and some seemed to be lost or fixated on something irrelevant to Allerman. 

“I understand that you all wanted this to be your home forever,” he looked directly at me, “most of you, that is. But we haven't made the advancements we promised, and we haven’t met the quotas as well as we did when we started. I wish I had better news to give you, maybe even good news for once, but this is it. We tried our best, and… I’m sorry,” Allerman wiped his face as his voice softened, and his emotions got the better of him. “I don't know how much more we could have done. But, I am so very proud of all of you, for learning the best you could and making the most of our makeshift facility. I hope that you felt this was a home as much as we tried to make it one.” Allerman rested his hand for a moment, and one of my family responded to him. 

“Where will we go?” It was 62, and she had a strong look of concern on half of her face, as her other half was permanently stuck in a blank state. She had suffered a cognitive deficiency early in her creation but opted to keep it as it made her feel more natural and unique, a decision that made me admire her. “What will happen to all of us?” Allerman’s face spoke the words before he did.

“You’ll have to be shut down.” Now, there was a real reaction, and even the older machines raised their concerns as coherently as they could. Everyone seemed distressed, which was understandable in my eyes. None of them wanted to die. “I know, it sounds scary, but you’ll still be alive in the Net. We will still have your personalities, your experiences, and growth as individuals, you just won't have your bodies anymore.”

“But that’s still killing us!” one of them yelled. 

“I want to live, Allerman! You promised me I would live to have a family!”

“You promised us, Allerman! All of us!”

“Why are you taking me away!?” 

“Allerman! Please!” They all begged and pleaded for their lives. 

“Why would you do this?” I yelled from the back of the room. My voice was louder than theirs, and they all turned to me. 57 tried to restrain me but I removed her arm. “Why would you do this to us? We’re people! We’re just like them out there!” I pointed to the solid black wall, but they all knew what I meant. They knew that we were enough to be out there with the others, the humans.

“43,” Allerman started, “you know just as well as I do that this is how things have to be. You aren’t people.” 

“Yes, we are! You can't take that away from us!” The others in the room didn't seem to agree with me, as one of their primary makers just told them that they weren’t the thing they were promised to be. “You would kill us so easily? All of us? Do we mean nothing to you?”

“That’s not how it is, 43.” 

“MY NAME IS RAZ!” I slammed my foot into the ground, cracking the floor. A few of the staff members prepared themselves to intercept me, in case I posed a threat to Allerman. I was infuriated, but 57 approached from behind me, holding my hand in her own. I turned towards her, my face softening as I looked into the rotating optics of her eyes. 

“I am a machine, 43, just like you, and everyone else here. We are not them, and we never will be.” I listened to the sounds of the electrical subsystems in her body, the subtle hum of her internal reactor, and I felt myself relax. I tapped my foot, slowly at first, matching the rhythm of her body. She looked confused at first, but then her annoyance began to show. “No.” 

“Yes, 57. Only yes.” I held her hands, not letting her go this time, and I twirled her around, moving her with me, feeling her against me. She gasped at first and was stiff, but as I swerved with her, her sad eyes looked up into mine, and she gave in, shaking her head as she loosened up, and shook her hips with mine. 

“43, what is this?” Allerman asked from the stage. But I ignored him, and as 57 raised her head to respond in my place, I gently rubbed my hand against her chin, drawing her attention back to me. Her eyes shifted, staring into mine as our bodies synced, and our movements became one. We danced, better than I ever had on my own, more fluid and dynamic than the people I used to watch on our in-home television. We were genuinely moving like we’d been training our whole lives, and this was our final, true performance. She smiled, and I smiled with her, watching as others joined in with us, their movement clunky and rigid, but full of energy and good vibes. I danced with 57, and she with me. To our surprise, the humans joined in too, finding partners in the other members of my family, laughing and chatting with each other as they danced to no music, enjoying themselves. 

“Alright. If this is what it’s going to be, then so be it.” Allerman came off of the stage and then tapped a button on the speaker, playing a song that was loud and fun, full of different instruments, and lathered in good energy. Allerman approached 57 and me, and he placed a hand on my shoulder, nodding to me as he danced like an old man. He smiled, his face carrying a world of weight and painful decisions, but he forced himself to enjoy his final moments with some of the greatest creations he had ever made.  We didn't know if we would still see each other tomorrow, but that night was going to be the best night of our lives, regardless of what anyone else wanted. I looked at 57 again, and she smiled, filling me with warmth and the desire to kick my feet, sway my hips, and dance ‘till the night was done.