The Malfunction

A Short Story

The Doctor by Sir Luke Fildes

This is a short story I shared a few months ago for paying subscribers (they get first dibs at the good stuff), but a little while has passed, so I thought I’d share it here now for everyone to enjoy. I haven’t had a chance to do much in the way of revising yet, so I’d love to hear any thoughts you have on it!

I’m not sure why I chose this painting as an illustration for the story—maybe it was something about the two men, with one standing in the shadows, both looking on something precious and fragile.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my short story, “The Malfunction.”

---

Jake tucked his chin and peeked over his shoulder at the screen mounted on the wall behind his office chair. It looked blank, but you could never really tell for sure. He pulled his device halfway out of his pocket and peeked down, checking for new messages. Nothing.

Today was the day, or at least that’s what the company had said: Friday. The package would arrive on Friday.

It had said Friday, right?

He checked the clock on his computer again, ran his hand through his hair, half stood so he could scan the office above partition level. Dozens of cubicles, mostly empty on a late Friday afternoon. The overhead lights made the tiniest of buzzing sounds, and the smell of someone’s garlic-filled lunch still wafted through that wing of the building. A janitor walked lazily down the aisle, reaching under each desk, pulling out the tiny trash cans, shamelessly examining the contents before dumping them into the larger bag he dragged behind him on wheels. The director’s door was closed, but Jake couldn’t tell if she was still in there or if she had gone home for the weekend. A woman he recognized—from HR?—drifted through the expansive office, moving along the aisle towards the bathroom.

He sat back down, glancing at the screen behind him again. Still no white line. Maybe his overseer had gone home early.

“Hi, Jake.”

He had trouble disguising how much she had startled him. It was the woman from HR, and he couldn’t remember her name. He glanced back at the screen.

“Hey,” he said, not sure where to look, his eyes eventually settling on her navy-blue high heels. “Hey.”

“We’re updating everyone’s photo and video consent forms.” She stopped talking as if he was supposed to reply.

“Um. Okay. Are you sending them through messaging?”

“Actually, all you have to do is verbally consent. Your screen will collect the audio.”

“Right. Yeah, sure. I consent. Or whatever I need to say.”

She laughed, and he looked up at her. She was rather pretty, actually, with large brown eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. Her nose was . . . bent? He couldn’t quite tell, but something was just the slightest bit off. Maybe a break from when she was a child. Her fingers were very long. Besides those things, though, he found her attractive. Which made him nervous.

She leaned against the side of his cubicle. “Do you ever go out?”

His chest tightened, mouth immediately dry. She gave him a kind smile. “I just mean, I never see you with the rest of the office crew, you know, on the weekends.”

He felt himself gathering up the courage to ask her out. Why not? What would it hurt?

“We’re all going out tonight,” she continued, hopefully. “I don’t know. Does your type enjoy something like that?” Her question was playful and knowing.

He found himself smiling at her. She was right—he didn’t go out often. Mostly because his roommate Eldon was kind of controlling, nagged him to come home straight from work. Maybe he should go out. Maybe he would.

Then he remembered the delivery. Arriving at his house. That very day.

He had saved money for two years, ever since the first model had been released to the public, tucking away any spare cash that he could, selling back his vacation days to his employer, pulling everything out of the investments he had saved. He had even moved in with Eldon to cut down on living costs, something he had sworn he would never do, but desperate times, yada yada yada.

Three months ago, he had filled out all the forms and transferred the money. He’d never moved that much dough before in his life, wasn’t even sure his bank would allow it, so he hadn’t been surprised to get the message on his device asking for his password three times and backwards to make sure it was actually him. Well, it was actually him, so move the damn money. He felt a small twinge of regret when he checked his balance again and saw that it was all gone. Every penny.

But ten seconds later he had been back on the website, reviewing the features for the hundredth time, downloading and memorizing the operations manual. Reading customer reviews and FAQs and common problems.

Always make sure you’re the one to open the package. That message had been burned into his brain.

And today was the day. Or it was supposed to be the day. He wondered if they were usually on time, or if they ran late, like everything else.  

He looked at the girl whose name he still couldn’t remember.

“I’m kind of a homebody,” he mumbled, which was true.

“Just one night, you know,” she replied, shrugging.

“I really can’t.”

Disappointment weighed down on her face, then a flatness, then her back stiffened.

“Sure,” she said. “Yeah. Of course.”

Then, another voice.

“Jacob,” said the screen behind him, and he knew without looking that the nasally little white line was there, a fake mouth that slithered and slunk through the words. “You’ve been distracted today.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Strachan.” He glanced at the girl. She gave him a smirk—a smirk!—and walked away.

“Your productivity is down 27%. Your call rate is suffering. Something on your mind? Would you like to take ten minutes and speak with our emotional support representative?”

Jake paused, took in a deep breath. He wondered if the girl from HR had drawn attention to him. Rookie mistake. He looked over at the small screen, his overseer, and tried to smile in a relaxed way.

“That’s okay, Mr. Strachan. I’ll focus. I’ll catch up.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Jake spent the rest of the hour speaking quietly into his dictalogue, moving through orders and customers, checking boxes, answering questions, trouble-shooting. Whenever he glanced back at the screen, the long white line was there. He felt his device vibrate in his pocket, and his heart nearly stopped, but he didn’t dare look at it. He made it through a second hour, and when he was sufficiently ahead of schedule, he glanced back.

“Mr. Strachan, are you there?”

“Yes, nice job, Jacob. I see you’re back up to quota. You seem stressed, though. You’re heart rate and blood pressure are elevated. Are you feeling okay?”

“Restroom, Mr. Strachan?”

“Of course, Jacob.”

Jake speed-walked through the cubicles and ducked into the men’s room, stood there in the quiet, and took out his device to read the message. The delivery. It was at his house. At his house! He sent a quick message to his roommate.

IMPORTANT PACKAGE JUST ARRIVED. ARE YOU HOME?

Eldon responded right away, of course he did, and for once Jake was thankful his new roommate never left the house.

ONE SECOND. LET ME CHECK THE FRONT DOOR.

Jake paced back and forth, taking deep breaths, mumbling to himself. Then another vibration, another message.

GOT IT.

Jake sighed. THANKS. DON’T OPEN.

Then he deleted the last two words. They felt too…controlling? Parental? Demeaning?

THANKS.

---

He fidgeted the entire ride home, checking his device over and over again for no reason, picking at a loose piece of plastic on the seatbelt, watching the warehouses give way to towering apartment complexes and eventually row homes and parks. He kept opening the program and pressing the “Emergency” feature for the car that had picked him up, but the automation simply asked for the nature of his emergency, and none of the listed options had anything to do with racing home to open a package you’ve spent your life savings to purchase.

He looked out the window at the passing city and tried to occupy himself with thoughts of what his life would be like now. Different. Better. Not so lonely.

He nearly left his backpack in the car, remembered it, caught the edge just before the door closed, and snatched it out. He turned, tripped on the bottom step, scuffed his hands, swore, and raced up the steps to the front door of the tiny rowhome, entered his code, and flew inside.

“Eldon?”

That’s when he saw the cardboard box, the size of a small coffin, lying on the floor in the living room. The seal had been hacked through with a butcher knife from the kitchen—the knife was lying on the coffee table at an angle, like a minute hand frozen in time. Its dull black handle was smudged, the blade shining. There were packing materials spread all over the room. Jake bent down and put his hand in the box, gingerly, carefully, as if there might be snakes inside. But there was nothing besides packing peanuts and some bubble wrap.

“Dammit, Eldon!” he shouted.

And this time, a reply.

“In here.” Eldon’s voice was unusually quiet, somber even. Jake followed the voice into the dining room. And there it was.

There she was.

Eldon was sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and across from him sat a woman. She was 5 feet, 3 inches tall, 115 pounds, with short, black hair and blue eyes. Her skin was caramel. Her ears were pierced in three places. She had dimples. A mole on her lower back, which, of course, he couldn’t see at the time. But he knew it was there. Because that’s precisely how he had designed her.

Her eyes were closed.

“Did you open the package?” Jake demanded.

Eldon cringed. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. How did you manage to pay . . .”

“That’s none of your business! What the hell, Eldon.” Jake leaned over the table, waved his hand in front of her closed eyes. “Did you know they’re made to imprint with whoever they see first? Dammit.”

“I didn’t turn it on!”

“Her. Not it.”

“Her, it, whatever. Seriously? I didn’t turn it on.”

“How did she get over here? And seated like this?”

“She’s not heavy,” Eldon replied, shrugging. “I took her out. Laid her on the sofa. But she was freaking me out, just lying there like a dead something or other, so I sat her over here, at the table.”

“And she hasn’t been on? At all? She hasn’t spoken?”

“God, Jake. Would you chill?”

“Do you know how much . . . never mind. Forget it. Dammit, Eldon. I knew I should have told you not to open the box.”

Jake moved in behind the woman and stared at her hair. He leaned in close. She smelled like a spring breeze. Her hair felt real, not like a wig, but like a human. The skin was warm.

“Okay. Move.”

Eldon stood and Jake took his spot across the table from her.

“Go in the living room or something. She has to see me first.”

Eldon rolled his eyes and walked away. “Is this good enough?” he called sarcastically from the living room. Jake didn’t respond. He simply leaned forward over the table, reached around behind her neck as if he was going to pull her in close, and pressed on a vertebra that protruded just a bit more than the others. He felt the clicking sensation of a switch. She immediately took in a deep breath, as if coming up from under water, her mouth slightly open. Her hands flexed. She sat up a bit straighter. And her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, opened. Blinked two or three times, and each time they closed, she squeezed them tight, as if her eyes were dry. She locked in with Jake’s gaze and smiled.

His open mouth went suddenly dry. His eyes darted over to Eldon, then back at her.

“Hello, Hannah. I’m Jake.”

She smiled playfully at him. “I know who you are.”

He heard the sound of Eldon approaching through all the packing peanuts on the floor.

“Eldon,” he said. “This is Hannah.”

She looked at Eldon curiously. “Hi, Eldon.”

Eldon was obviously shaken by her movements, her words. He cleared his throat and pointed at Jake. “I’m just a roommate. Jake’s your owner.”

She looked at Jake and smiled.

“I’m not her owner,” Jake hissed, annoyed, then to her, “I’m not your owner.”

“You bought her,” Eldon insisted.

“I didn’t . . .” But Jake didn’t care about Eldon anymore, and he waved him off. Hannah was looking at him. She was perfect.

She leaned back and looked around. “It’s so good to be here.” Her voice was friendly, candid. She spoke as if she knew everything about him. Which she kind of did. He thought of the dozens of pages he had filled out, the images he had downloaded from his history, the videos and the journal entries. Everything he could find that had anything to do with him, was in her brain.

“How was your day?” she asked him. 

“Uh, yeah, the day was good. I was, it was hard to work, you know? Knowing you were going to arrive. I got the email. So, that was it. But I didn’t know for sure.”

Didn’t he know how to speak anymore? Words jumbled in his throat and came out in any order they chose. But Hannah didn’t seem flustered.

“How are you feeling?” he managed to squeak out.

“I’m kind of tired,” she said, leaning back and yawning. “Where can a girl get a nap around here?”

Jake glanced at Eldon, back at Hannah, then down at the table. Then back at Hannah.

“Why don’t you take my bed for now?” Jake suggested. “C’mon. Get some rest.”

She smiled and rose, stretched, walked back into the living room. He watched as she walked—her movements were fluid, completely human. She pulled a suitcase from the torn-open box.

Jake stumbled to his feet. “Here, let me get that for you.” He walked over, and she handed it to him. He glanced back at Eldon, who was staring like a first grader in a candy store.

“What are you . . .” Jake started to ask him, then shook his head. “Whatever, never mind.” And he led Hannah to his room.

The two of them walked inside and he put her suitcase on the floor at the foot of the bed. The blinds were drawn, he always kept them drawn, and a line of daylight sliced the bed in half.

“Well . . .” Jake began, and Hannah sat on the bed, took off her shoes, then lifted the blankets and crawled in.

“Thank you, Jake,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He sat down on the floor, his back against the wall, and watched her fall asleep. Her slow waves of breathing were visible—the blanket rose and fell, drifted up and down. Incredible. After all this time. He thought of the money and it meant nothing to him. He would do it twice over.

He stood and walked quietly to the bedside. He reached down and pushed the hair away from her closed eyes.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “There you go. Get some rest.”

---

Jake woke to the sound of Eldon clanging around in the kitchen. He squinted his eyes and looked at the clock. 9:15 a.m., Saturday morning.

“Eldon, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing? I’m making breakfast. The real question is, what are you doing, sleeping on the sofa, when you have that beauty in your bedroom?” Eldon laughed and the frying pan banged against the stove top. Soon, Jake could smell bacon and eggs.

Jake stood and crossed the room, leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Since when do you open my packages?” Jake asked.

“Jake, listen,” Eldon began, but Jake held up his hand.

“No, you listen. What are you doing, opening the box like that? What if she would have seen you first? Huh? Do you have the money to reimburse me for that kind of a mistake? Or pay for an entire memory swipe and reboot? I don’t think so. Do you know how much that costs? Do you?”

Eldon stared at the pan.

“Nearly as much as buying a new one! Dammit, Eldon.” Jake turned in disgust, and then froze when he realized Hannah was standing there in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway. Had she heard him refer to “a new one”?

“Hannah,” he said quietly.

“Good morning, boys.” If she had heard anything, she didn’t look upset by it.

“Morning,” Eldon said without turning around.

That’s when Jake noticed that Hannah was carrying the butcher knife Eldon had used to open her box the day before. She held it by the matte handle, out in front of her as if she were preparing for a street fight. She looked at Jake and grinned.

“Found this in the living room.”

He nodded, swallowed.

She laid it on the counter, the point of the blade catching the light, vibrating, singing. 

---

Saturday night, Jake came up for air. He had been sitting at the table talking to Hannah all day. He looked around the dining room, dimly lit by the lamp in the corner, a film of yellow spilling through the windows from the street lights. Saturday evenings always made him feel empty. 

Eldon came in.

“Well, you guys certainly had a lot to talk about.”

Jake looked up at him with a blank look on his face. He didn’t say anything.

“Where’s the lovebird now?” Eldon asked.

“Taking a nap.”

“Recharging her batteries?” Eldon asked sarcastically, adding a wink.

Jake’s mouth flattened out and he swallowed. “You need to move out.”

Eldon’s face shifted through a range of expressions: from amusement, to uncertainty, to something bordering shock, when he realized Jake wasn’t kidding.

“Seriously.” Eldon crossed his arms and leaned back, and when Jake didn’t say anything else, he leaned forward. “What do you need with two bedrooms, anyway? Aren’t you going to be . . . sharing?”

Jake shifted in his seat and glanced around. Shrugged. “Yeah. I mean . . . yeah.”

“So?”

But before Jake could answer, Hannah came in. She looked at the two of them talking, smiled a friendly smile, and continued on through to the living room, turning on the TV.

“So what?” Jake whispered, looking at Hannah, then back at Eldon.

“So why do you need me to move out? Two bedrooms. One for you two, one for me. I know we have another person, but this arrangement, we agreed to it. You agreed to it. What you’re talking about, me moving out, that’s a big deal, Jake.”

Jake sat there, not sure what to say. When he remained silent, Eldon shook his head, sighed, and stood up. He walked into the living room and sat on the sofa beside Hannah while she flipped through the various programs.

Soon Hannah and Eldon were laughing. Bantering back and forth. Eldon put his arm up on the back of the sofa, not quite around Hannah, but his hand nearly touched her shoulder. He said something funny, and Hannah leaned her head back, her hair fanned out, and Jake watched as a small piece of it came to rest on Eldon’s hand.

---

Sunday night, 24 hours later, and Hannah had gone to bed, casting a longing glance over her shoulder at Jake that had melted him into the carpet. He didn’t think he could sleep on the couch again. Maybe he should at least go into the room tonight, sleep on the floor, watch her sleep, like he had that first afternoon. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He had created her.

Eldon was in the kitchen, and Jake went in to get his device from the counter.

“Jake,” Eldon said in a serious voice. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said yesterday.”

“About you moving out?”

Eldon nodded. He looked at Jake with a curious look on his face. “You do remember this was my place first, right? That you arrived here after me?”

Jake nodded. It was true. “Things have changed, though,” he said slowly.

Eldon was completely still, then his head tilted to the side. “I called your overseer, Mr. Stringer?”

“Strachan.”

“Right, Strachan. I explained the situation.”

“What situation?”

“Everything, Jake. Everything you’ve been doing. Everything you’ve done.” Eldon glanced at the bedroom door. “This is not normal. That someone like you would order . . . her.”

Jake shrugged, but a pit grew in his stomach, a sense that things weren’t right. “I wouldn’t know why. Or what’s strange about it.” He reached over and picked up the knife.

Eldon sighed. “Come here, Jake.”

“No.”

Eldon looked at him in the eyes. “Come here.”

And then, as if compelled by some force outside of his body, he found himself crossing the room. He glanced at the knife in his hands. Had Hannah left it there for him? Had she left it there for this moment, for when Eldon was being this way?

“Put down the knife,” Eldon said in a weary voice, and Jake did as he was told. He didn’t know why, but he listened. “Jake, this isn’t working. Maybe you don’t remember. You work for me. You go into work for me, every day, so I don’t have to. You are my Automated Replacement. And now, you’re threatening to leave? Threatening me?” He motioned towards the knife. “Something’s malfunctioning. You’re malfunctioning.”

Jake realized he was standing right in front of Eldon.

“Stand still. Don’t move.” Eldon’s voice was commanding, and Jake realized he was frozen in place. Eldon was reaching his hand up around to the back of Jake’s neck, exploring his spinal column at the base of his hairline.

“I’m really sorry, Jake,” Eldon said, and there were tears in his eyes, real tears. “It’s gone too far. You’re programming has gotten all crossed up. But it’s nothing a reboot won’t sort out.”

Jake felt Eldon’s finger press on the back of his neck, felt the sensation of a switch being clicked.

For a moment, everything inside of him began to wind down, and his eyesight was the last to go, slowly dimming. He saw Hannah come back out of the bedroom—beautiful Hannah!—with concern on her face. He saw her talking to Eldon, Eldon explaining things, pointing at the knife, pulling her into an embrace.

Hannah! He tried to speak. Nothing.

The two of them sat down together on the couch, facing one another. The look on Hannah’s face was so earnest, so trusting.

And then Jake shut down completely, and everything went black.