The Unexpected Android

My name is Sam Sung. After you read that, I’m sure all of your reactions are: “Whoever wrote this is crazy-I have a myriad of better things to accomplish, like, oh I don’t know, eat ice cream until my stomach explodes?” Hmm, I suppose that’s iota quixotic, and hey, it’s not my fault my parents are evil enough to baptize my first name to Sam. 

Moving on, it’s essential to know what I’m writing or you’re all going to be enslaved or dead. Mind you, neither sounds like a dream come true.

There are egregious robots who probably want to murder me because I exploited their stupid secret to take over the world. I should probably be doing something sensible like going to the cops, but I am on another planet (which smells awfully malodorous), and there aren't any cops here. Here I am, in a hyperborean prison, writing with a pencil without an eraser. It’s worth it because you need to savvy the truth. Gosh, I can’t believe a few hours ago, I was eating scones with way too much sugar and watching seagulls perform their revolting daily routine.

This is REAL. Are you leaning towards determining that I’m crazy? I’m not. You know, this would presumably make more sense if you hear the story from the beginning.

Before the androids get bored and want to play a fun game of Torture The Ugly Human, let’s heretofore.

A NEGLIGIBLE HOURS AGO.

The vast body of water spread out before me. I cherished the seashore breeze in my hair and the pulchritudinous consonance of the waves lapping over each other that originated a phenomenal melody that chased each other like heartbeats. I adored sojourning at this minute beach. It’s a pleasurable change from the atmosphere of the bustling city. I kneel and brush my fingers in the cool water, deciding it was time for an exhilarating swim.

Before I could dive in, I descried a glimmer of flash a few feet away from me. I spun around and distinguished a man in a Sable suit that reached down to his Chelsea boots, and a geometric pattern tie. He was heavyset, clutching a professional-looking suitcase as if it incorporated a treasure map, and his eyes seemed calculating as they scanned the shore, almost like a robot’s.

What is a guy like that doing on a beach? I wonder.

He would’ve seemed inconsequential if the man hadn’t turned around and revealed viridescent wires sticking to his head and cervical. I gasp. That’s something you don’t see every day.

The man hurriedly walked away. The scone I’d eaten churned in my stomach. Something about this seemed fishy. Should I continue my blissful ignorance? Or should I warn him? After all, the wires may be fatal. I set my jaw. I should at least attempt to inform him.

This is like one of the scenes in the movies when everyone is at the edge of their seat, screaming hysterically at the TV: “Don’t do it!” Obviously, the actors do it anyway and head to their dooms (maybe that version’s a little exaggerated). I can’t help but feel a tingle of apprehension.

I stood up, brushed my battered denim, and followed him towards a dwarf forest. I just hadn’t realized that was the first idiotic mistake that’d gotten me in a pickle.

FIVE MINUTES AFTER.

The lesson of the day: Work out more.

My arms and legs felt like they were transforming into a lollipop which toddlers had been gumming on, and I was exhausted and panting, sounding not much different from how a dog reacts when they’d gotten special treats. I’d been sprinting towards this inexplicable man for ten minutes straight (which is a miserable experience); the man’s pace never slowed down. I was too far away to scream at him.

Who is this guy? A robot? I wonder grumpily.

I comprehended that the logical thing to do would’ve been to turn around and recommence my day in blissful ignorance, but my conscience informed me not to. What if the wires actually hurt him?

I slow my pace, stunned to comprehend that I was in the forest. A vast green carpet of thriving vegetation spread before me. The trees were ancient and dense, their finger-like branches reaching towards the sky, so Brobdingnagian and sky-scraping, as if they were all competing to be the highest. Though the beams of mellow sunlight filtered through the flourishing canopy, masking the fundamental darkness of the forest and all that is concealed behind the murk.

I glanced at my apparel and felt my cheeks flush. Seriously, who doesn’t look like a fool chasing an enigmatic man while wearing a bikini covered with little men who carried deadly-looking swords, which appeared downright evil, like the little men wished with all their heart that they could come alive and take over the world with their charming looks.

I was about to turn around, dejected, but terminated when the man froze, staying abnormally still.

I advanced. I was proximate enough to call out, but I didn’t.

I contemplated circumspectly as the man knelt and unfastened his suitcase, his back facing me. I choke back a gasp as a hologram materializes, showing a petite woman with gelid cerulean eyes, attenuated lips with way too much lipstick, and high cheekbones, radiating savage beauty and competence. She wore a necklace with an embedded sapphire F. Her middle school semester grade, perhaps. I’m going to name her Hippo. Huh. Only I would name something so cryptic, something so audacious.

Hippo glared at the man. “Is the upcoming phase of the plan concocted, Android Seven?”

What the heck? Android Seven? What’s going on?

Android Seven responded, “Yes, mam. The humans aren’t suspecting aught.” His voice was metallic and robotic.

Hippo nodded, her lips twitching like she desired to smile, but conjectured that it would kill her evil vibe. “I’m assuaged. The soldiery of newfangled androids will expeditiously be inaugurated when we unleash them on the Earth. You have corroborated your significance. Congratulations, Android Seven. You will lead the army to destroy the Earth.”

A chill rolls down my spine. Since I was an ankle-biter, I’d dreamed of being involved in a mystery, but turns out, it’s not very exhilarating.

The man says, “Thank you, mam. It will be a tremendous honor.”

The man and Hippo lock eyes-something pass between them. The man nods and arises. He extracts his sable coat, revealing his bare body. I restrict another gasp when I descry what’s behind the finery. His chest is pale milky with a blue tint, viridescent wires weaving in and out between his flaking skin. His metal spine stuck out of his body, and random fragments of burnished metal embedded his skin. He would’ve made the most formidable monsters run for Mama.

I was proud of myself for not throwing up all over my bikini.

I’m dreaming, I thought, attempting to reassure myself. But I unquestionably don’t dream in five senses. I intuited the bitter taste in my mouth, the sweat trickling down my back, my inconsistent wheezes, songbirds chirping, the putrid odor wafting from the man, like burning metal, and the vivid topography in front of me.

Apprehension struck me. The man isn’t a man. He’s an android. That brought up flashbacks of the less unprepossessing androids than this one from the sci-fi movies I’d viewed.

That’s crazy, my judicious part of my brain screamed at me.

You’re supposed to be a smart brain, look at what we’re distinguishing, I contemplated.

Hippo the hologram seemed quite pleased gazing at the gruesome android. Her face broke into a barbaric smile, which made her look like the sinister villains kids have nightmares about. “Open the portal. You savvy effectuation.”

With that, the hologram flickered and dissipated.

I was trembling all over now. This didn’t make sense. None of it did. But I acknowledged one thing-I had to brief sheriffs and polices forthwith. Well…after they conclude I’m not paranoid.

Goodbye beach. Hello, police.

I circumspectly started to back away, but my flip-flops (curse you!) had trodden a stray branch, concluding a piercing snap. 

I suck in a breath as the android spins around. His frontal body was just as gruesome as his back. The android’s gaze meets mine and his guileful eyes widen, as if thinking: Wow, she is stupid.

I switch to panic mode. Mini Sams running around my head, screaming, “AHHHHH!” 

The android gawked at me for so long, I wondered if I was sprouting a pigtail and a mustache I didn’t know about. Do you know how it feels to be in this unpropitious circumstance? It‘s equivalent to being trapped underwater and suddenly, a shark sneaks up on you and you’re petrified, staring at the shark’s murderous face, wondering if you’ll ever see the sun anew. The shark blinks as if telepathically communicating: “Welcome to your doom, weakling. You’ll make a lovely snack. My handsome face is the last thing you’ll see. Isn’t that just delightful?”

The android narrowed his eyes, irritation reflecting in them, as I were an annoying bug. “You shouldn’t be here. Hmm, should I kill you now?”

I yelp. “Are you insane? Of course not. Now, be a good robot and I’ll buy you some metal candy.”

The android grit his teeth, and I detected the regret in his eyes. “I would love to kill you, but I’m afraid it will effectuate a delay in destroying the world. I suppose Candy would appreciate the company.” His eyes scanned me from head to toe. “Sam Sung. Age 26. Eligible. Mortally afraid of spiders and creepy dolls-”

“Have you been reading my diary?” I interrupted, appalled.

“No. I’ve been reading your memories. You want to swallow a bag of popcorn kernels to make your cremation more intriguing. You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, “ I mutter. “I go normal from time to time.” 

Boom. End of the discussion. Can I go home now?

Apparently, our chat time was over because the android began to advance with an unforeseen cloth. Life is full of disappointments and I just added today to the Brobdingnagian list. (Tuesday really is Monday's ugly sister.)

I open my mouth to holler for help, but the android rushes towards me at a supersonic speed and compressed a cloth around my nose. My eyelids turned hefty, and I began yawning like crazy.  Opaque milkiness swirled around my eyelids, distorted pandemonium buzzing in my head. 

I’m incontrovertible that you don’t want to apprehend how enervated I was and what kinds of brutal tortures I was conceptualizing for the android, so I’ll offer you a short story: I landed on my butt and passed out in front of an evil android.

AFTER A WHILE.

I encountered two deplorable nightmares. The initial one was was about unprepossessing witches flying around my head on their extramundane brooms, threatening to shave me bald. The upcoming one was about me stupidly pursuing an android. I tremendously require to adjust my medications.

I rubbed my pulsating head, feeling like an undomesticated bear head been chewing it for a nighttime snack. I never fall asleep. I usually overthink myself into coma, but it never caused this much of a brutal headache. I instantaneously ascertained things I hadn’t before. I was laying on a freezing, compacted floor, unlike my snug bed overfilled with adorable stuff I definitely wasn’t supposed to have. The atmosphere smelled of a revolting amalgam of rotting toenails and the odor you acquire from men who haven’t discovered the wonder of underarm deodorant.  And something rigid and chilly entwined my hands together.

My eyes snapped open and I sat up groggily.

I distinguished the metal chains were wrapped around my hands first, presumably making me appear like the world’s worst present. Shocking. I was imprisoned in a caliginous, concrete room, which would’ve been an exemplary horror movie set. Double shocking. A Tartarean Wagon Wheel chandelier suspended from the ceiling, which would’ve made my face go ka-bam if it cascaded on me. Triple shocking. I was unequivocally not in my bed, which was overfilled with adorable stuff I palpably wasn’t supposed to have. I was in a prison and it felt like it was designed to murder people by sheer boredom.

So, the nightmare is real. Not the sinister witches, but the evil androids.

I shudder. The place screamed, ‘You will die here and enjoy haunting this creepy dungeon for the rest of your life. Mwahahaha!’ That was a ridiculous conception but-YIKES! I really wanted to eat pizza once more before I died.

A hoary man on his hands and knees came into view. He had a wrinkled face, each scared line representing his life. Like a way a storybook unfolds and closes, gradually withering away. His arms and legs looked like noddles, and his face was sunken. (I was dumbfounded he didn’t die in front of me.) He was scowling at me as if saying: “Who the heck are you?”

Instead, he moved close. “Hello.”

I scream and scramble back. The resonance of his voice creeped me out more than anything else. It sounded like nails scraping a chalkboard and a donkey dying.

The ripe man snorted. “That’s the first time someone had been scared of me for a prolonged time. Don’t fret. I’m an innocuous man. My name is Candy.”

I did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

“Go on,” Candy muttered. “Insult me.”

I instantaneously felt culpable. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have been staggered. I comprehend what it is like to have, uh, questionable name. I’m Sam Sung.”

I’d anticipated shock on his face, but Candy just stared at me blankly.

“How long have you been here?”

“I…don’t recall.”

Detecting the affliction and tribulation shadowing his features, I didn’t push it, endeavoring to shove off inquisitiveness.

Candy mummers acrimoniously, “Candy’s isn’t my authentic name-I don’t even recall my name. They nicknamed me.”

“They?”

“The androids.”

The temperature seemed to descend profuse degrees. “Androids…aren’t factual. That’s stupid. Of course they are! I’d been abducted by one. Androids aren’t supposed to be existent. They’re fictitious. How did this even happen? Who is Hippo?”

Candy stares at me. I flush and expeditiously characterize Hippo. Candy appears like he’s determining if he wants to laugh or lecture me.

He divulges, “Her authentic name is Cyrac. She’s one of her species. Aliens. They’re not like humans visualize at all. She manufactured the androids.”

Somehow, I believed him. I knead my poor pounding skull. Why couldn’t I have been swimming with seagulls pooping on my head right now? But noooooo. I had to be incarcerated in a clammy, miasmic lockup. Being in my predicament is like looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane. It’s bloody inequitable.

I grumble, “Oh now there are aliens too? Great!”

Candy shakes his head. “Aliens acquired the idea from our movies about androids.”

“Oh.” Seriously, what are you supposed to reply to something like that? I clutched my stomach, horrified. Life is a roller coaster and I’m about to throw up.

I scrutinized at his identical restricting chains. “How did you end up here?”

We traded our tales. I informed him about how I was seized. (Nothing says, Hi Friend! like abducting that person, doesn’t it?) Candy had a kindred story. He elucidated that he was working on operating a bijou farm when he discerned an acrobat (and nearly died out of heart attack). The acrobat detained him and here he is, in this contemptible cell. He additionally forewarned about the android’s gruesome modus operandi of torture, which is going to earn me a lifetime’s worth of nightmares. But he stunned me the most when he claimed, “You’re on a different planet from Earth.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I rendezvoused with my grandparents once. I swear, it felt like their sense of humor had been surgically detached back in the 1990s. But you-“

“I’m not jesting.” 

“My imaginary friend claims that you’re crazy.”

“The voices inform me that I’m entirely sane.”

I glance at him with grudging veneration. He’s the first who could conceive a witty reply to my sarcastic comment.

Candy moved to the end of the room. “Come here. I’ll manifest it.”

I escorted him to a minute window. I stare, agape, at the circumambients. Effervescing lava stretched as far as I could descry, emitting frigidness instead of heat. Trees as wide as cars and as elevated as skyscrapers loomed in the distance. Bizarre creatures who looked as if someone had seized elephants, pigs, and dinosaurs, mushed them together, and inaugurated these beasties.

I adjudge, “This isn’t Earth.”

Candy snorts. “Yes, Miss Obvious.”

“You don’t sound an old man.” I wished I could go back in time and punch myself in the face. With all the time confined in prison, he’d physically aged, but not mentally. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I have a way for us to decamp.”

I pondered which would be more pleasant. Strangling him or yelling at him. “You didn’t inform me sooner?! Whatever. What’s your genius plan?”

Candy hands me a paper and a pencil and gazes at me expectantly.

“What am I supposed to do? Write my death wish?”

“That’ll be droll. But you should write the veracity. Let the humans apprehend what’s happening before it’s too late. The humans retain resources to vanquish their enemy, but only if they know the truth.” Candy disclosed a razzmatazz crystal. “It’s a minute portal to Earth. Set the coordinates of the whereabouts and it will teleport an object there. You can forewarn them. I would’ve accomplished it, but I think you’ll do better.”

“Okay. But how does that help us?”

Candy sighed lackadaisically. “Feasibly, they’ll emancipate us. Also, write before the aliens or androids arrive. Good luck!”

—

Not that you know, please take action. I comprehend that this isn’t much documentation, but be on the lookout. 

Sam Sung. Signing off.