Cracked

The stage is set and for the ballet, that’s relatively easy. The large windows and doors of the living room backdrop are set against the far wall. A huge, and brightly lit, Christmas tree with a mountain or presents it tucked into a corner of the stage. There is a small table with a couple of chairs and a chaise lounge also pushed to the side of the stage. Claire runs through her checklist again. Everything is where it should be, except for the ballerinas. Loud boisterous laughter sounds backstage. 

The director comes through from the opposite side. “Are we ready?” 

“Just about.” 

She takes a look at the empty stage. “Where are my dancers?” 

Claire’s eyes travel toward the side curtain. 

The director lets out a low sigh. “We’re all set for the top of show. It would be nice to have all of my dancers on stage! And ready to go!” She marches off backstage—presumably to give an earful to whoever isn’t where they are supposed to be. 

The chatter cuts off into low giggles. There are several pairs of hurried footsteps running around. No one makes their way onto the main stage. Wherever they’re off to, they can’t hide from Harpen—not for long, anyway. 

Claire breathes in deep. She may not be on the receiving end of their director’s ire for now, but it’s only a matter of time before that sour mood spreads its way throughout the theater. A set of doors to the theater open. A delivery man walks through, pushing a large box. Behind him is another delivery man pushing an equally large box. 

She stares at the two men in bewilderment as they make their way towards the stage. 

“Miss Fritz?” 

“Yes.” Her puzzlement at the whole scenario adds an upward lilt to her affirmation.

The delivery men stop near the orchestra pit in front of the stage. “Where should we put these?” 

“Put what? What are these?” 

“I don’t know, but they got your name on ‘em. They’re kinda heavy though. Did you want them up on the stage or should we just leave them here?” 

“No, there must be some kind of mistake. I didn’t order anything.” 

“Look, I just make the deliveries. You said this was you, right?” He pulls out a card from his shirt pocket. 

She comes down to grab it from him. 

Claire Fritz

She unfolds it. 

A little something for your Christmas show. 

With love,  

Cal

“I’m gonna kill him.” 

A thud sounds off to her right. The two delivery men managed to lift one box up onto the stage. They move on to the second one. 

“What一 What一 What is一 What is?” Claire rushes up the stairs after them. 

“Your delivery.” The second box is set down with an equally harsh thud. “Sign here please.” He holds out a phone to her. 

She stares at it. “I didn’t order,” she eyes the large boxes, “whatever these are.” 

“This is 108 North Anders Place, right?” 

“Yes. But—” 

“Good. Sign please.” He taps the screen to keep it from going dark. 

“I’m not signing for these! I didn’t even want them!” 

“Whether you wanted them or not, I was told to deliver them here. Maybe they’re a Christmas present.” 

“But they can’t stay here.” 

“Claire!” Harpen made it back to the main stage. “What are these two gigantic boxes doing on my stage?” 

Claire shuts her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. 

“And why aren’t they wrapped?” Her footsteps get closer. 

Claire scribbles out a signature on the phone. The delivery man takes it with a smile. “Happy Holidays!” He hurries off the stage and accompanies his partner up the aisle. If either of them caught the obscenities Claire muttered under her breath, they certainly didn’t show it. 

“Eddie! Theo! Get these boxes backstage and decorated for the party scene. I thought this had been sorted weeks ago, but apparently not!” 

“No! No, Eddie, Theo don’t touch those. Those aren’t our boxes, Harpen. They’re a delivery.” 

“Then what the hell are they doing in the middle of my stage?” 

“I… don’t know.” 

“Get rid of ‘em!” Harpen turns and heads down to take her seat in the audience. “We got a show to do! Why is no one where they’re supposed to be? Everybody in your places! Let’s go!” 

Theo and Eddie haul the boxes offstage under Claire’s instructions. They tuck them in an empty corner for the duration of the day. The familiar opening notes fill the theater. The boxes loom over Claire for the rest of rehearsals. 

As soon as Harpen gives them all the go ahead to go home at the end of their last meeting, Claire heads straight for the boxes, but despite all her efforts she can’t get them open. Growing tired, and for fear of breaking something, she grabs a crowbar from the toolbox in the janitor’s closet. With just a little force, one panel of the box pops right off. She slides it aside and is greeted with what looks like a man in a princely looking soldier’s uniform. But where an actual soldier would have worn pants, this one was wearing tights. Claire quickly moved to the other box. Inside this one is a woman, in a pure white tutu with sparkles, a sparkling crown and ballet laces done up so perfectly they almost don’t look real. 

“Oh I am really going to kill him.” Claire fixes the panels back onto the boxes as best as she can. She puts the crowbar back where she found it and takes the largest dolly she can find backstage. It takes a bit of finesse and two trips for her to move the two boxes down to the storage area underground but she manages. Hopefully Harpen won’t ask about them. Claire doesn’t know what she would tell her if she did. She takes one last look at the note that came with them, turning it over in her hand. She tosses the note onto a stool beside the boxes and shuts off the lights on her way out.

Claire pulls her coat tight around her as she exits the theater. She listens impatiently as the phone rings against her ear. Her body shivers, though from the cold or the anger coursing through her it’s hard to say. The irritatingly cheerful voice of her cousin replaces the ringing. “Claire! Did you get my presents?” 

“What the hell is your problem?” She almost thinks she could break her phone if she clutches it any tighter.

“Whoa, watch the tone, Claire Marie. What’s with all the venom?” 

“Oh I think you know exactly what this phone call is about.” She casts a quick glance over her shoulder as her legs carry her away from the theater. The streets are quiet, but she can’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. 

“I know it’s a little early for Christmas but I wanted you to have them in time for your show. My contribution to the arts!” 

“You’re joking right? How did you get it into your thick head that the show needs a pair of androids?” 

“Well you said something about a doll scene. I was just trying to make it realistic.” 

She scoffs. “The point of the scene isn’t to be realistic! The point of the scene is to—” Claire shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. “You know damn well that Harpen doesn’t want androids anywhere near her art. Not only did you send two to the theater for the show but you sent them addressed to me and the delivery guys left them in the middle of the stage!” The shrill pitch of her voice reverberates through the empty streets. She feels a little foolish for her outburst in the silence. Still, the cold makes her breath come out in satisfying puffs of air. 

Cal chuckles on the other end of the line. “Well I didn’t tell him to put them there.” 

“I don’t care.” Claire cuts in before he can say anything else. “I don’t care if it was a part of your special instructions for them to be left there in the first place or not. The point is that you sent them so it’s your fault that they got dropped there in the first place. Now when are you coming to take them back?” 

“Oh I’m not.” 

“What?” 

“Like I said: they’re a gift. They are yours to do with as you wish.” 

The forced smile she usually uses when dealing with particularly difficult cast members stretches across her face. “I don’t want them.” 

“That’s not a very nice response to your Christmas present—and it’s a rather expensive one at that. Do you know what kind of money hospitals and the military have to pay to get their hands on technology like this? And you got yours for your little theater for free.” 

“The theater didn’t want them. Ugh! Damn it Callum! I could lose my job over this!” 

He scoffs. “Relax and step into the 22nd century. You practically run that place. There’s no way you’re getting canned because you received an incredibly generous donation from your incredibly generous cousin.” 

“That’s nepotism. I hate nepotism.” 

“If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” 

“We’re an android free theater company, you know that. Art is for people, not machines.” 

He sighs. “One of these days, we’re gonna stop having this argument. I’ll see you at Christmas dinner.” Without another word from either of them, the line goes dead. 

Early the next morning, Claire walks back through the doors of the theater. She’s used to being one of the only people in the building before everyone else arrives. It’s nice. It’s quiet. She winds her way through the labyrinthine hallways backstage and travels down the steep staircases to the storage basement. Much to her dismay, the large boxes she received yesterday are still down here, tucked away with the rest of the props from shows past where she left them. She sighs. She didn’t actually think they would have magically disappeared overnight, but it’s nice to hope. Miracles are known to happen around this time of the year. Would it really be so unthinkable to believe they could wander off on their own? Yes. Yes it would. 

She reads the note from her cousin again, which is right where she left it next to the boxes. She opens up the boxes and gazes at the life size dolls nestled inside. “What the hell am I going to do with you?” 

They are as lifeless as ever. Gigantic dolls with closed eyes and perfect posture. The reminder on her phone she has set for her usual task of things to do before rehearsals start goes off. She leaves the dolls where they are and returns backstage to get her tablet. She has too much to do to be worrying about this now. 

Focusing on the show proves more difficult than it should be with those things beneath her feet. She can’t help but feel that her downfall is waiting just below her to swallow her whole. Then she sees her, walking around backstage, looking like she has never seen any of it before in her life. Probably because she hasn’t, not that she has a life anyway. It’s the ballerina from the box. Claire shoves her headset and tablet into the hands of one of her crew mates beside her. “Will you keep an eye on things for a second?” 

“What?” 

“There’s just something I need to take care of.” Claire rushes off. She touches the android’s elbow. The look on her face brightens as her eyes land on Claire. “What are you doing up here? Why are you walking around and how are you awake?” 

“We’re looking for you. She’s over here!” 

“Shh! Keep your voice down. Come here.” 

The android follows her. “But we weren’t sure where you were. He’ll be ever so pleased to know you’re here.” 

“He who?” 

“Claire !” 

Claire jumps. The nutcracker stands behind her with the same overly pleased smile on his face. “Get in here, both of you.” She ushers them inside a vacant dressing room and shuts the door. “What the hell are you two doing?” 

“We came to find you.” 

“Yes, I can see that. Why?” 

The ballerina’s eyebrows furrow. Her face seems confused. “Our instructions said—”

“I don’t care what Callum programmed you to do! Why are you here—like up here? Who turned you on?” 

“Nobody. After twenty-four hours if you hadn’t activated us we were supposed to wake up and find you. To make sure you were okay.” 

“It’s a fail safe measure.” The ballerina supplies with a beaming grin.

“Of course it is.” Claire buries her face in her hands and lets out a frustrated groan. “Okay. Here’s what I need you to do: I need you both to go back to the prop closet and stay there until I can figure something out.” 

“But we’re programmed to assist you. Our instructions say we’re going to be a part of your show. It sounds like it is going to be great fun!” A small giggle emits from the ballerina’s parted lips. 

Claire stares at her, dumbfounded. 

“It is what we’re supposed to do.” 

“Yeah, well… Not right now it’s not. Right now I need you two to stay out of sight. If Harpen catches you running around—”

“Who’s Harpen?” 

“Our director.” 

The ballerina lets out a gasp. “We have a director!” 

“No. Not our director. My director. The theater’s director and if she finds out there are two androids ready to join her show she’ll lose it.” 

“Why? We’re very good. It’s what we were made for.” 

“Yes but—” 

“Claire! Get out here!” Speak of the devil. 

“Is that her?” The ballerina asks with her unending curiosity. 

“Yes. So I need to go and you two need to stay out of sight. Do you understand that?” 

The ballerina shakes her head. “Not really.” 

“Claire!” 

“Ugh. But you can follow orders right? So just do that and stay here.” Claire slips out of the dressing room. If only the door had a lock. She runs straight into Harpen—whose ire it looks like she will be on the receiving end of full force today—on her way back to the stage. 

“Claire, where the hell were you? I’ve been calling for you for like 5 minutes.” 

“Sorry. Bathroom.” 

“Well now that that’s taken care of, can we focus, please. We got work to do.” She turns around and marches off, listing off grievances and notes as she goes. All the while expecting Claire to follow behind and take note—which she does. 

When they’re finally ready to take the last number from the top again, everyone settles into their places. Claire looks up and her blood runs cold as she sees her new android ballerina with all the rest. The music starts and she bounds out on stage after all the others. Claire casts a nervous glance into the audience where Harpen is sitting. She can just barely see her through the curtains. She doesn’t appear to have noticed the extra member. To her credit, she executes the routine flawlessly. Claire looks around backstage for the other one. 

He comes to stand beside her. 

Claire mutes her mic. She’s still sure to keep her voice low. “I thought I told you to stay in the dressing room.” 

“We did. The ballerinas came in and found us. She’s doing a wonderful job, don’t you think? We told you we were made for this.” His tone almost suggests that he wishes he could be out there too. 

Claire feels a twinge of sadness at the thought.

The ballerina moves with fluidity and grace. Her movements look effortless—most likely because they are. She has no muscles to ache and burn and tire at the demanding and complex movements. The smile on her face seems almost full of genuine happiness, if androids can feel such a thing. 

“Is it really so wrong that we can dance the same way you humans do? That we find the same fulfillment in it?” 

Claire sighs. She doesn’t know. She truly doesn’t know.