NLC 436QF [Kangin, PG]
Title: NLC 436QF
Pairing: gen. Kangin
Rating: PG
Summary: Kangin is picking up his NLC.
Note: I wrote this for my creative writing course I'm taking now. It had to be 250-1000 words, about anything we like. I was given the prompt "robots," so this somehow sprung out of it. Started/ended 1.31.2010
It was chilly in Room 264B of the Center for New Life Development, Building 2A. Kangin wished he had brought a jacket. He guessed it was nearing on evening time, when the sky becomes dyed a blood pink, purple veins of clouds weaving out from behind the building tops. He had been waiting in the hall for so long, though, he couldn’t be sure. He ran his index finger along the long thin scar that ran down the back of his hand, knuckle to wrist. It was a little white ridge of skin he had obtained from a cat as a young boy.
The walls inside the CNLD were all the same tint of chrome, something just dark enough to be sinister but not as dark as to lose its scientific feel. Room 264B was the same. The overhead lights pressed against the white sheets covering the gurneys lining the walls. On them, Kangin guessed, were the NLCs of the other test subjects. He had seen a pair exit the CNLD when he arrived just after noon. The skinny man who had walked past was holding the hand of his NLC with a sort of dazed look in his eyes. The NLC, however, was smiling, a little dimple cutting into the skin just below his lip, and stumbling a bit of its feet.
The nurse who had shown Kangin inside Room 264B held a hand out for him to stop and walked over to a man in a lab coat with a strong brow and whispered something into his ear. The man gave a small nod and a flick of eyes to Kangin, and the nurse exited the room. The man (Kangin guessed he was a doctor.) took a few steps forward to stand by Kangin.
“Yours is on Number 58Q, over there to the left,” he said. He waited for Kangin to move first, then followed him to the gurney.
Kangin was glad he did not have time for lunch earlier, too afraid to be late arriving to Building 2A. The sheet covered the entire NLC, only revealing a tuft of brown hair at the very top of its head. Kangin’s stomach clenched up against his chest. He was aware of the feeling of each hair on each goosebump on his arms bristle against the next. The doctor did not ask Kangin if he was ready. He pulled the sheet from the NLC’s body and let it pool on the floor at the foot of the gurney. The NLC lay face up, naked with eyes shut. The shade of its brown hair matched Kangin’s, as did the curve of the eyebrows, the length of the eyelashes, the slope of the nose and contours of the chin. Its shoulders slumped, even in sleep, in the same burly manner. A small tube ran from the inside of the NLC’s wrist to a machine that sat next to the gurney.
“Its name is NLC 436QF,” the doctor said. “He’s ready for a trial run. If you feel that there is anything we can fix, make an appointment within the next six months in Building 3F.”
Kangin extended his fingers toward the arm of the NLC. NLC 436QF. His NLC. He wondered if, the like skinny man’s NLC’s dimple, his NLC’s ears could wiggle, too, or if its second toe was longer than the first, as well. The pads of his fingers rested on the cool, almost clammy, skin of the NLC.
“It will gain speech ability within a week or so,” the doctor explained. “Time varies with each NLC. But they are all programmed to replicate the sound of its counterpart’s voice. You, in this case.”
The doctor pressed a sequence of buttons on the machine attached to the NLC. It began to purr and Kangin’s index finger followed along the path of the scar on his hand. After a few moments of the machine’s purrs, the doctor flipped a switch on the top right corner and the purring stopped. The NLC’s eyes had opened. There was the spark of recognition that was not there before the NLC has been awakened, the tingling under the skin that the primary doctors has told Kangin to anticipated. He took a breath and felt the NLC do the same.
The doctor retrieved a uniform pants and shirt set from the closet. It was the same as that the skinny man’s NLC had worn in the main lobby. Kangin watched as his NLC dressed. It was a bit clumsy, tripping over the hem of the pants, but Kangin was glad to see that its second toe was indeed longer than its first.
There was a shock as the NLC took his hand. It ran along his arm and down his spine, passing through his kneecaps and ending at his toes. He thanked the doctor and led the NLC down the hall, into the elevator, and through the lobby on the first floor. He kept his fingers twined with those of the NLC as he hailed a cab. As the car started on its way, Kangin studied the face of the NLC. There was the small mole by his temple, the square hairline, the same delicate creases of skin over his lips. It was all the same.
They had nearly reached his apartment building in the fourth quarter of the city when Kangin ran his thumb over the back of the NLC’s hand. There was no puckered raise of tissue, no mark of the cat he had angered as a young boy.
Pairing: gen. Kangin
Rating: PG
Summary: Kangin is picking up his NLC.
Note: I wrote this for my creative writing course I'm taking now. It had to be 250-1000 words, about anything we like. I was given the prompt "robots," so this somehow sprung out of it. Started/ended 1.31.2010
It was chilly in Room 264B of the Center for New Life Development, Building 2A. Kangin wished he had brought a jacket. He guessed it was nearing on evening time, when the sky becomes dyed a blood pink, purple veins of clouds weaving out from behind the building tops. He had been waiting in the hall for so long, though, he couldn’t be sure. He ran his index finger along the long thin scar that ran down the back of his hand, knuckle to wrist. It was a little white ridge of skin he had obtained from a cat as a young boy.
The walls inside the CNLD were all the same tint of chrome, something just dark enough to be sinister but not as dark as to lose its scientific feel. Room 264B was the same. The overhead lights pressed against the white sheets covering the gurneys lining the walls. On them, Kangin guessed, were the NLCs of the other test subjects. He had seen a pair exit the CNLD when he arrived just after noon. The skinny man who had walked past was holding the hand of his NLC with a sort of dazed look in his eyes. The NLC, however, was smiling, a little dimple cutting into the skin just below his lip, and stumbling a bit of its feet.
The nurse who had shown Kangin inside Room 264B held a hand out for him to stop and walked over to a man in a lab coat with a strong brow and whispered something into his ear. The man gave a small nod and a flick of eyes to Kangin, and the nurse exited the room. The man (Kangin guessed he was a doctor.) took a few steps forward to stand by Kangin.
“Yours is on Number 58Q, over there to the left,” he said. He waited for Kangin to move first, then followed him to the gurney.
Kangin was glad he did not have time for lunch earlier, too afraid to be late arriving to Building 2A. The sheet covered the entire NLC, only revealing a tuft of brown hair at the very top of its head. Kangin’s stomach clenched up against his chest. He was aware of the feeling of each hair on each goosebump on his arms bristle against the next. The doctor did not ask Kangin if he was ready. He pulled the sheet from the NLC’s body and let it pool on the floor at the foot of the gurney. The NLC lay face up, naked with eyes shut. The shade of its brown hair matched Kangin’s, as did the curve of the eyebrows, the length of the eyelashes, the slope of the nose and contours of the chin. Its shoulders slumped, even in sleep, in the same burly manner. A small tube ran from the inside of the NLC’s wrist to a machine that sat next to the gurney.
“Its name is NLC 436QF,” the doctor said. “He’s ready for a trial run. If you feel that there is anything we can fix, make an appointment within the next six months in Building 3F.”
Kangin extended his fingers toward the arm of the NLC. NLC 436QF. His NLC. He wondered if, the like skinny man’s NLC’s dimple, his NLC’s ears could wiggle, too, or if its second toe was longer than the first, as well. The pads of his fingers rested on the cool, almost clammy, skin of the NLC.
“It will gain speech ability within a week or so,” the doctor explained. “Time varies with each NLC. But they are all programmed to replicate the sound of its counterpart’s voice. You, in this case.”
The doctor pressed a sequence of buttons on the machine attached to the NLC. It began to purr and Kangin’s index finger followed along the path of the scar on his hand. After a few moments of the machine’s purrs, the doctor flipped a switch on the top right corner and the purring stopped. The NLC’s eyes had opened. There was the spark of recognition that was not there before the NLC has been awakened, the tingling under the skin that the primary doctors has told Kangin to anticipated. He took a breath and felt the NLC do the same.
The doctor retrieved a uniform pants and shirt set from the closet. It was the same as that the skinny man’s NLC had worn in the main lobby. Kangin watched as his NLC dressed. It was a bit clumsy, tripping over the hem of the pants, but Kangin was glad to see that its second toe was indeed longer than its first.
There was a shock as the NLC took his hand. It ran along his arm and down his spine, passing through his kneecaps and ending at his toes. He thanked the doctor and led the NLC down the hall, into the elevator, and through the lobby on the first floor. He kept his fingers twined with those of the NLC as he hailed a cab. As the car started on its way, Kangin studied the face of the NLC. There was the small mole by his temple, the square hairline, the same delicate creases of skin over his lips. It was all the same.
They had nearly reached his apartment building in the fourth quarter of the city when Kangin ran his thumb over the back of the NLC’s hand. There was no puckered raise of tissue, no mark of the cat he had angered as a young boy.