EVEN DROIDS HAVE FEELINGS

EVEN DROIDS HAVE FEELINGS

Jasper White was a drifter. Always had been, trying his hand at most things without any luck -poker, mineral prospecting, ranching -always drifting from town to Texan town.

Back then, in ’45, it seemed like most o’the bad men had chosen to hang out in the vast state o’ Texas and, if’n they didn’t get ya, the booze and diseases from poxed up whores, surely would. 

Yessir. But, somehow, ol’ Jasper just drifted through all that, flitting from place to place, avoiding any danger and just kind of existing though he had no real purpose to his life.

After listening to some fella talking ‘bout life in California, Jasper got a hankering to see the mighty Pacific Ocean for himself so he started drifting further west, picking up odd jobs as he went to 

pay his way, his only possessions, his horse and the watch that his father had bequeathed him. As a tribute to his daddy, Jasper wore the rough buckskin jacket that his father had worn for many years but, if Jasper’s father could see him now -drifting aimlessly-he would surely be disappointed for Jethro White had been, in his prime, a celebrated Texas Ranger and had taught his son how to handle a gun from an early age but, somehow, Jasper and guns just didn’t seem like a good fit.

Jasper had gotten as far as a place called Flagstaff, Arizona and ’t were outside o’ this small town that he sensed something calling to him from the foothills o’ the low lying mountains. In truth, ’t were 

more akin to a feeling o’ being drawn, as if by a magnet, to dismount and climb into them there hills. 

Jasper was astounded when he found some kind o’ contraption, smashed to smithereens, made out of a material he’d never seen afore in his life.  And sitting inside o’ that thing was the skeleton of some little critter, no more than three feet tall, with the biggest darn skull that ol’ Jasper had ever seen. Jasper was mesmerised but what really caught Jasper’s attention was a small silver ball that sat amongst the wreckage for it was this tiny object that seemed to be 

silently beckoning him, almost speaking to him though not a word was uttered.

Snatching it up, he could feel a sort o’ pulsing emanating from within its shiny surface, non -threatening and 

rather comforting. Feeling like a thief in the night, Jasper hastened away from that strange place as quickly as he could, the silver orb tucked into his belt.

Days passed and Jasper continued drifting westwards, stopping occasionally to pick up work. Strange as it sounds, it seemed that life had suddenly become more positive. People seemed more kindly disposed to this drifter who, in turn, imbued with a newfound self belief, appeared more confident and outgoing. Many a time, folks begged for Jasper to stay a while longer, a first in his life. Now, ’t weren’t that this silvery ball had some kinda magic properties, more like it had been specifically designed with the sole intention of  radiating a feeling of equanimity and when ol’ Jasper went to sleep at night, with the orb next to him on the pillow, he slept good; real good. He kept that little globe close at all times for there was no doubting that things did improve for Jasper in small ways. If’n he played a hand o’ cards in the saloon o’ some town, for 

example, he would often come out ahead rather than losing. He ate better and felt fitter.

It was all beyond Jasper’s comprehension but that didn’t matter none. Jasper prized that little ball more even than the expensive gold watch he had inherited from his daddy.

As he rode on each day, the tiny orb now sitting in its new place of honour: his breast pocket, close to his heart, Jasper began to feel real optimism ‘bout the future and, though the ball was silent, it seemed to emit a feeling of contentment as if, it too, was happy being so close to Jasper.

Alone at night, under the desert stars, Jasper never felt any fear as he slept tucked up next to his precious sphere.

From time to time, Jasper heard men tell tales about flying objects and bright lights in the desert sky and, though he, himself, kept his counsel, Jasper would think back on that strange contraption with the weird, dead critter he had come upon outside o’ Flagstaff, and what else he might have found if’n he hadn’t skedaddled.  

Maybe another silver orb. Who knew?

One fateful night, in the small town of Chico, Butte County, Jasper found himself playing in a poker game that had grown aggressively ‘til there were only two players left: Jasper and a dandified card 

shark. The shark raised and Jasper found himself without sufficient capital to call. Yet, in his hands, he held three kings and two queens -a full house!. Imperceptibly, his hands began to tremble with excitement.

“Mister, I wish to call you but I have no more ready cash. Would you accept a marker?’

The experienced gambler, chewing on the end of his cheroot, studied his own cards, laid them face down on the table baize and looked shrewdly at Jasper.

“What are you worth, stranger?”

“Sir, I have a gold watch -which should more than cover what’s in the pot, I reckon.”

“Let’s see the watch”.

Jasper clumsily fumbled for his watch, emptying out the contents of his pockets and, inadvertently, placing the silver orb on the table.

“What is that, stranger?”

“Oh, that ain’t nothing, mister. Just a little knick-knack I picked up some place. Lookee, here’s my watch”.

The gambler could not tear his eyes from that shiny ball.

Without looking at Jasper, transfixed by the glowing sphere, he opened up his jacket pocket, displaying two gold fobs adorning his waistcoat.  Then he pointed at the shiny, silver ball that had so captured his attention.

“Guess I don’t really need another watch but I’ll let you cover your call for that there thing”.

Jasper looked down at the silver orb and it seemed, somehow, as though the ball was looking back at him.  Though unmoving, it seemed to be pleading with Jasper: don’t do it. He started to sweat, looked again at his cards. It would be blasphemous to fold the best darn hand he had ever been dealt.

“It’s a deal”.

I guess, in the end, it’s the true measure of a man when he would gamble the most precious thing in his life like that for a mere hand o’ cards.

Impossible to describe the shocked emotions that flooded Jasper’s senses as his opponent turned over his own cards -four aces!

Nor the depth of despair that Jasper felt as the winner grabbed greedily for the silver orb; his silver orb.

Even in the hand of its new owner, Jasper could sense the feelings of hurt and betrayal that emanated from within that closed fist. 

Stunned and bereft, Jasper, feeling such a grievous sense of loss, staggered blindly from the saloon.  

It were six months later that a wagon train, traveling west, passed by those same foothills outside o’ Flagstaff and one o’ the party, exploring the upper reaches as the horses rested, stumbled upon the alien wreckage and, lying beside it, the skeletal body of a man, swathed in a buckskin jacket. He seemed to have died on his hands and knees scrabbling, searching desperately for something lost amongst the ruins.