Between the Lanterns(18)
Tara always did have a sick sense of humor. Sam said, “Then you better go before I do because I’m not having one of those things in the diner all day long. It would creep me out, sweets.”
“Sam, there’s at least two in the diner all the time, anyways,” Tara said. “Those things have surprisingly caught on. Some people never leave home without their loved one’s’ memories walking beside them.”
Tara was right. In the year and a half since John had passed away in the clinic on West Main Street, the Montek.Automaton had become the newest and most fashionable trend since the Nutricator. Montek’s plan to soften people’s hearts had worked, to a degree. People were still rude and uncaring about anyone but themselves, but now they remarkably mourned for the loss of life. Well, the loss of someone close to them at least. They still didn’t care about complete strangers and their misfortunes.
The problem was, people weren’t mourning and letting go. They were buying new and better models of these damned robot caskets, and taking their automatons with them everywhere. They took them to work, to dinner, to the bathroom, to church (those who still went to church, that is), to Frizball games. Name an event, and there were at least a few Montek.Automatons in attendance.
They had become so commonplace that no one even noticed anymore. If you had one with you, it was like a watch or new pair of shoes. People would compliment you on the design, and then never pay attention to it again. People’s dead relatives were now relegated to an accessory.
“Be that as it may, sweets, I don’t want you to be inside one of those machines. It just don’t seem right to me,” Sam told her long-time friend.
“Too late, Sam. I done bought one and it’s gonna happen one day,” Tara replied. “I don’t know why you act so nasty about them. Your husband -to -be, the man you are just about to marry in a couple of minutes, is the manager of a plant that builds the automatons. That’s got to be a lucrative job, right? So why hate the thing making your family lots of Credit?”
“Not at all, sweets,” Sam said sourly. “Montek pays next to nothing, even for management. I’ve told August to quit and start a local repair shop, but he’s too afraid that it would fail, and then we’d be even worse off. Hopefully, now that we’ll be married, I can convince him that he doesn’t need to work for Montek. I can support us while he gets the business going.”
Tara nodded along, not paying much attention. She was too busy thinking about Montek’s latest tech catalog that came out last week and window-shopping in her mind.
Sam kept on talking, not noticing Tara’s lack of interest, saying, “I just know it would be better for us, sweets. He’s obsessed with these automatons. He’s neutral about if he or I should be in one when we pass, so he’s not as crazy as you buying one already, but he talks about them all the time. You know, a lot of the improvements in their functions and design came from August. Of course, Montek took the credit and only paid him a small bonus, but he is the one responsible for their increased emotional capacity and dialogue options. I may not approve of those things, but I am proud of August for what he’s accomplished.”
“Well, I think you need to stop worrying about automatons right now,” Tara said, hearing a call from outside the room. “It’s time. Are you ready?”
Samantha was so nervous; her stomach was in knots. She checked the mirror and saw the gorgeous dress, her black hair down and flowing around her shoulders, and her make-up looking perfect; not too much, and not hiding her freckles, of which August was so fond.
“I’m ready, sweets,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
-
August was a mess. His stomach was a bubbling caldron of witches’ brew. He felt he might throw up, pass out, or have a very violent sit-down with the porcelain chair.
“You alright, man?” Bobby asked. “You look like terrible. Here, take a sip of this wine. It’s amazing, dude.”
Bobby Li had been August’s only friend for as long as he could remember. He wasn’t as open and caring as August would have liked in a best friend. He was like most other people today, in that way. But he was fun, hilarious, could sing like an angel, and never let August down. They grew up near each other and hung out almost every day from middle school to when they graduated high school.
After that, they didn’t see each other as much. August had worked on the assembly line, and Bobby was a traveling musician. He was on the road all of the time. It would be nice to say that Bobby got to travel around playing songs he wrote to huge, adoring audiences, but that was just not the case. Bobby also worked for Montek, and went to their many conventions around the country, playing soothing music that was scientifically proven to put customers in a buying mood. It was selling out big -time, but a Credit is a Credit, and you can’t eat hopes and dreams.
August took the offered glass of wine. It was sweet, delicious, and had a bit of a kick to it. It was real wine. Not Nutricator garbage.
“Wow. That’s fantastic, Bobbo,” August said, feeling the burn in his chest. “What is it?”
“It’s muscadine wine, dude. You’re getting married at a muscadine vineyard, you know?” Bobby replied.
“Oh, yeah. Well, we didn’t pick this place for its association with alcohol,” August said. “Though now I’m thinkin’ that it’s a very lucky coincidence. We chose Maria’s Vineyard because it’s the most beautiful place for an outdoor weddin’ in New Dothan. And Sam surely deserves the best.”