Everything''s a little fuzzy. I can feel myself moving, but im not sure where or how. I twist and turn before I finally realise what woke me up. An intense buzzing next to my head and vibrations in the mattress. But that''s not it, the words reach me now. Soft spoken, tired but kind words. “Mikey… Mikey, its 10am”


    My head turns again while my hand reaches for the device next to my head. A murky, blurry image is what I see, but I still recognize her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like flowing water, her bright neon green eyes glowing in the darkness like unavoidable spotlights and her slim figure hidden in her white silk robes. She’s got the softest face imaginable, small and round, something almost like a fairytale.


    I hit the vibrating annoyance; it beeps silently, accepting its recognition. It finally stops. I try to sit up, but my body won''t let me. I’m too tired, I refuse to.


    “It''s been buzzing for thirty minutes. I can hear it from our bedroom”


    Our bedroom. Across the apartment opposite where I’m guessing I am right now. I muster up the strength to speak, but it''s shrill, ugly and tainted with both a dry throat and oily mouth. “Sorry. Am I in the repair bed?” I''m almost embarrassed at how I sound, like I hadn’t spoken in days, especially compared to her tone. It really is embarrassing. I try to cough to get my voice back but nothing comes up. My head is laid back in defeat. I’ve given up trying to function at the moment. Closed eyes, trying to ignore the reality of where Im at and what it means.


    “You already know you are Mikey”


    I’m such a bad husband.


    “Fuck. Tila, I’m sorry, I didn’t… well…”


    “You didn’t mean to? But you don’t remember last night, do you?”


    “No, I don’t” I really am an embarrassment.


    “Mikey, it’s okay. At least you came home by yourself yesterday.”


    “Well. That’s an improvement, right?”


    “That being said. You promised you wouldn’t do it this week”


    She’s right. These misadventures need to stop. We moved away from that life, I don’t have to fight anymore, no matter how much I want to. Especially when it leaves me like this. I can’t remember last night, which means I lost my temper again. That''s the second time this week.


    “Do you need the Ram1 or Ram2 Shot?”


    “... do I really need a-”


    “Yes, you do”


    “I must look as shit as I feel then”


    “I’ll assume that means a Ram1”


    “No no. I think I can… get through with the 2”


    “You sure?”


    “Mostly Positive”


    She sighs. I hate it when she does. It makes me feel even more guilty. Last time I took the 2 when she offered me the 1, it wasn’t enough and I needed another double shot of Ram2. That ended up being twice as expensive as just taking the 1.


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    But she still gives me her faith, no matter how many times I fuck up. I dont know how many more times I can give myself that sort of faith.


    She picks up my arm. I feel her soft, unaltered fingers gliding across my metal. I shiver; my sensitivity must be going haywire, which means this is gonna hurt.


    She opens my forearm, I feel her fingers digging through it to find the Ram slot. I want to struggle and rip away, it stings all the way down my spine. I shake when she finds and touches the slot. She notices and sighs again. She always told me to mention if it hurts, but then she’d give me the painkillers. I dont deserve it. I hear the box under the repair bed open, next thing I know, the Ram2 stick is deep inside my arm, I''m jolted with pure pain and groaning loudly, bending upwards and doing my best to at least keep my arm still. It''s over quickly. She closes my arm and strokes it gently. I feel my veins and wires pulsing with blood energy. Cold spreads through my body to the furthest tips; my arm is frigid.


    “Painkillers are worth the price, Mikey”


    “They are… but I don’t deserve any rewards”


    “For Christ''s sake, people make mistakes. Don’t torture yourself over them”


    “I have to if I keep making them. Gotta be punished to learn”


    “Ever heard of positive reinforcement? At this point, I feel like this is just an elaborate way to get a kick out of it”


    “What?”


    “This torture. I swear, it''s got to be some typa guilty pleasure. I’m starting to feel jealous. Is the Ram better than me?”


    “Tila! Gross!”


    “You’re the sadist”


    “Am not!”


    “Right, sorry, it''s masochist, isn''t it?”


    “Im not an ‘any-ist’ okay?!”


    “Then take the painkiller next time”


    “...fine. But I''m doing it for you, not me”


    “That''s okay. You’ll learn” She bends down and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll go make us some tea. Don’t move, my little non-ist.”


    “Not like I was going to”


    Saying that, I test the limbs just to see if I could. As expected, I''m numb as hell. I look over at the wall. It''s blank to the naked eye. I flick the top part of my mouth with my tongue and think about activating the eyes. As commanded, my infrared turns on and I see writing, statistics and numbers on the screen wall. Internal batteries are at 82%. Emergency batteries at 93%. The overall status is stable but significant damage to my motor functions and head cask. Heart rate and pulse rate are regular, but they shot up to critical amounts around 01:21. The Time of overcharge and memory loss is estimated to be 01:26.


    Probably no community reports yet; Tila would’ve mentioned them. I hope I didn’t go too far. Recently, it hasn’t been that bad; I’ve only caused 3 to go to Medicare in the last year. But I can never really know before a report comes in. Tila seems in a good mood, though. I try to move my arm again. It feels better. A bit surprising, I’ve never had a headache this bad, but my body seems alright for the most part. I hear the kettle beeping; it''s finished boiling.