Realize Me

“Son, you can go ahead and state your name,” The senator with thick, square glasses used his pointer finger to make a tapping motion towards the mic in front of me. I noticed that his accent was much stronger than mine was, it having worn thine over the years of increasingly longer absences from home.

“Oh, alright,” I said leaning to far forward so “alright” was shouted into the room. Leaning back a ways I spoke again. “Woody Spencer, former lead guitarist of the band Doggerel, globally renowned country western sensation.” I looked up at the congressmen with a smile who didn’t smile back.

I could feel a series of slow blinks and internalized groans from the committee in front of me. Someone in the back stifled a laugh. I realized that my left hand had been tapping on my knees and I slowed it to a stop.

“Mr. Spencer do you understand the gravity of the situation you are in? If I was you I would start taking this a little more seriously.” A Congresswoman with a birthmark that barely peeked out from the collar of her high-necked shirt said sternly. I looked down at my suit with its white embroidered leaves snaking over my shoulders. I thickened my accent.

“Gee, I’m sorry ma’am but this is my best suit. Got it for my sister’s wedding, you know.”

“Mr. Spencer, it’s you that decides how easily this goes,” the Senator with the glasses interrupted, “Let’s get back to the matter at hand. I don’t’ really understand why you are here today.”

“It’s you that decides,” I murmur to myself, my lips barely moving. But with my wrists still resting on the table in front of me, I lifted my fingers in a placating manner.

“Well, frankly sir, I’m not too keen on the situation either. “

“That’s not what I mean. How did you come to be invited in this? A German engineer, a South Korean roboticist, the venture capitalist husband of a cabinet member, are needed for such an endeavor. Heck, I can even understand the French archeologist or the Egyptian linguist, but Mr. Spencer what do you have to do with this? What party could you have possibly met these people at? How did you come to be involved with a development of a-a-a,” he stammered. I leaned forward towards the microphone again.

“HENRI?

The few committee members flipped through more sheets.

“An android. A humanoid robot.” I added.

“Yes, an android.” Another committee member broke in: a congresswoman with Delaware and a D next to her name.

“Mr. Spencer, can you give us a brief explanation on how you came to be involved in this project.” My mind drifted back to a bookstore. I am, after all, known for my moving lyrics filled with references to poetry and antiquity. And you can’t do that if you don’t read.

Two Years Earlier

“I don’t know Pascal,” I overhear a voice at the next table. A deeper voice than I expected when I turned around. The woman spoke with an accent, but still her English was very clean.

“Lotte, all I am saying is that there is something missing with HENRI. It’s not right. Your Adam was created from mud too, but incomplete without his soul.” The man speaking also had an accent. It was stronger than the women, and significantly more pronounced. I was getting curious now, so I subtly knocked a book of mine off the edge of my table to as to have an excuse to turn around and look at them. The Frenchman jumped when the book hit the ground, it was much louder than I had anticipated.

“Sorry about that.” I said leaning down to collect my book. And the pair only briefly looked my way before they put their heads even closer together. There was a book of Jewish mythology set open upon the table, not a real book that is, but one designed for children, with illustrations. I could see that they were flipped open to a page with the word Golem in a large, intricate font on the left pages, left corner.

“Golems, huh. Figures, usually of mud, turned into living servants. Now, what makes two adults so keen on them?”

“Excuse me sir, but I really don’t think that is any of your business.” The man called Pascal replied tersely.

“Well, you are in rather a public space to be talking about something as private as HENRI. I don’t know if I can be blamed for my curiosity. So, what is wrong with HENRI?”

“Oh my-,” we both turned to Lotte who had been staring at me. “Are you Woody Spencer?” I leaned back into my chair and smiled.

“Who?”

“Why yes,” we said in conjunction. Pascal’s head was turning from Lotte to me waiting for someone to explain to him who I was. I reached out my hand towards him to shake it.

“Woody Spencer, former lead guitarist of the band Doggerel, globally renowned country western sensation.” Lotte began to shake her head vigorously in amazement.

“ I saw you,” she said excitedly. “I saw Doggerel at the Olympiastadion!” Her accent became thicker in her delight. She turned to inform Pascal about it. “It was a nearly sold-out show. So memorable.”

“It was one of my favorites,” I lied. “The crowd was just amazing.”

“How does a global music sensation like yourself seem to know so much about Jewish mythology?”

“You see, I try to be more Dylan less Brooks if you know what I mean. Know tell me about this Henri friend of yours, lets see if I can help.”

“We can’t.” Lotte’s expression grew serious again.

“Oh, are you sure? Well, that’s a shame. I love to donate to charities or a good cause.” The two shifted uncomfortably, but when you mentioned money to people who are used to working off grants you can really work magic. 15 minutes later and I knew all about HENRI, as he was called. The worlds most intelligent and humanlike robot yet to have been designed. They told me in whispers about the venture capitalist who had assembled the team after being approached by a roboticist and linguist and the rest was history.

“It’s you that decides, ultimately, but I sure would love to be involved with something like this. To help you folks out. And with all my connections who knows what could happen. And I’d really like to use my money to invest in the future, you understand.” I always strengthen my accent when I want people to do as I desire. The two glanced at each other, mostly when I mentioned use of my money.

“We will think about it, but we really must discuss that with our team.”

“Pascal,” the women said, chastising him. She was the more private between the two.

“Oh, that seems reasonable. Let me write down my number for you.” I dragged the children’s book towards me and jotted by number down right above the picture of a large, clay figure.

“Well, I ran into them at a bookstore actually, Pascal and Lotte to be specific. I overheard them talking and boy, did I find what they had to say interesting. So, I asked if I could join, and they let me.” The committee looked rather disbelieving at this.

“You are telling me that you eavesdropped your way into this? I find that hard to believe young man.” The Senator said as he looked at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Sir, I would also probably find it hard to believe if I didn’t make annually the GDP of some small countries. I think that is what sold them. Every brand needs money, but they also need a face. And I happen to own a very nice one, a very popular. A face known around the world-”

“A face beloved by kings and queens and prime ministers,” said a senator from Iowa. She dragged out the last two words. Imbuing them with a meaning that was superfluous when we all knew what they meant.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” I replied, softy.

“Shall we go into that now? The meeting with the prime minister. Since you are the reason HENRI was there.” I sighed as quietly as I could in hopes that it wouldn’t be picked up by the microphone.

“Young man, don’t sigh at me. Your involvement in this caused a serious incident with a foreign power. One that could have started a war!” The Congresswoman from Delaware snapped at me.

“Alright.” I tried to keep my voice measured hoping they wouldn’t interrupt me, and I could just tell the story in one sitting. “As I have mentioned I am a rather well-known musician, first with the band Doggerel, which I helped found, and now as a successful solo artist. As a popular musician you find that you have fans everywhere on this planet. Mine do, in fact include a few political figures. I was invited to a ceremony to celebrate the arts.” The thumb of my right hand was tapping frantically against the tabletop.

“HENRI was there because of me. I had brought HENRI along with me at the behest of the team. We have been taking turns bringing him places to see if he could pass by unnoticed. And if not we could continue to tweak things. This was the first time I he had been taken internationally, which I could do because I charted a plane. And it was by far, the largest event he’d been to. There was a line and the Prime Minister was shaking hands and taking photos with his guests. HENRI was against the wall with the rest of the aids and attendees. And then he wasn’t. He moved so fast. Faster than any man could move. The Prime Minister and I were just letting go of one another’s hands and then he was on the- on the floor.” Even I knew that my swallow had been caught by the mic and rang out around the room.

“Son,” interrupted the committee head for the last time. “In your opinion why did the android HENRI do what he did? Was it a malfunction? Did he think he was protecting you? Did someone compel or- or programed him to do it?” I could hear the silence. The shuffling of feet stopped. The rustling of papers was quieted. I think that the cameraman nearest to me was holding his breath. I spoke with my hands clamped between my knees. Trying to prevent the shaking I could feel was coming, the shaking that was going to rattle my body apart.

“Uh, well, sir, I don’t rightly know why he did it. But I don’t think anyone programed him to do it. I- uhm-I think, well it’s you that decides, right. So, I suppose I think he did it because he could.” I looked upwards toward the committee, my eyebrows raising.

“We were wrong all along; he wasn’t just a golem. Or maybe he isn’t anymore.” I was beginning to ramble, finally able to talk about HENRI. I didn’t know I needed to until I had started.

“Mr. Spencer, what are you talking about? A golem?”

“I don’t think he realizes that part of being human means not only deciding, but also having to carry the blame.”