The Black Man Who Was Thursday 9. I, Robot

By

Time to Read:

5–7 minutes

Thursday and Saturday moved quickly on the sidewalk toward the eastside.

“Should we jump on a bus?” Thursday asked. 

“It’s late,” Saturday said. “Do you want to wait for a bus? We can walk it, it’s really not that far.”

Thursday wasn’t in a mood to run. He was very impressively dressed and hated that his sweat would likely stain his shirt collar and armpits, but they were in a hurry and he didn’t want to slow them down.

Saturday led the way and the two jogged across avenues where there was very little traffic. After about fifteen minutes, Saturday stopped on the sidewalk in front of a building and motioned for Thursday to follow her up the stoop and to the front door. The outside of the building was dark, as though electricity was out on the specific block where the building sat, but Saturday knocked firmly on the door.

The door opened almost immediately and the thin, frail body of Friday stood awkwardly before them. 

“You two are out of breath,” Friday said. He wore glasses and Thursday assumed that he lived in the building because he was wearing what seemed to be pajamas. He must have changed after the dinner with Sunday and he looked like a very young person squinting through his glasses. 

“Oh wow, you can actually see with those things?” Thursday asked jokingly and he elbowed Saturday. “I thought it was just a prop to make you look like a convincing Technologist.”

Thursday laughed and was disappointed that Saturday was not equally amused. 

“Don’t mind him,” she said in her Saturday voice that was deep and manly, “we’re kind of in a hurry. You do know where we can find Tuesday, right?”

Friday eyed Thursday and they seemed to be having a staring contest. 

“What’s your hurry?” Friday asked. “Would you all like to sit down for a minute? We can talk over tea or something.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Thursday said, “I would say that you’re trying to stall us.”

“Do you?” Friday asked. 

“Do I what?” Thursday asked angrily. 

“Know any better? Are you sure that I am not stalling you?”

Thursday eyed Friday.

“There’s really no need for animosity or argument,” Saturday said, doing her best to pacify her seemingly agitated colleagues. 

Thursday took a step closer to Friday, who seemed to shrink back and brace himself for assault.

“Those glasses look strange,” Thursday said. He was taller than Friday and looked down on him. 

“They’re not strange,” Saturday tried to correct, “he means…”

But Thursday continued, “I mean what I said,” and then he reached over and took the glasses from Friday’s face. Both his eyes were like glass balls, shiny simulacrums of real eyes, and Thursday doubted that there was real life behind them. 

“Are you blind?” Thursday asked. “Are both your eyes prosthetics?”

“He’s not a person,” Saturday said with astonishment. “Look at his eyes.”

Thursday stared at the face of Saturday and he realized almost instantly what was happening.

“It’s a robot?” he asked Saturday as he pushed the body of Friday that was much heavier than it looked. Friday fell and there was a loud boom that seemed to shake the floor. 

Thursday and Saturday stepped in through the doorway and over the robot that was moving but unable to stand. The interior of the room was dark and they both noticed the glow of a screen filtering into the foyer where they stood. 

“Don’t come in here!” a young voice screamed from the living room where Thursday and Saturday saw multiple squares of screens that created one wall-sized screen that buzzed with static. Standing in the light from the screens was a slight figure that seemed to shiver with cold.

“What is going on?” Thursday asked. “Do you know where Friday is? I mean the real one.”

“There is no Friday,” the young voice said, “or not anymore. Not since I replaced him with my robot. I got this shiny badge and they asked me to design a robot that could fool people.” 

It was the badge of the Order of Sound Reason and Thursday exchanged looks with Saturday.

“Why did you ask us to come here?” Saturday asked.

“I was hoping to record a confession from one of you. The investigators heard that the Idiot days were comfortable speaking openly at that dinner, so I thought maybe I could get you all talking about the Beyonce plot.”

“We’re investigators as well,” Saturday said in her deep man voice as she and Thursday flashed their badges.

“Wednesday was too,” Thursday added. 

“So Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday are all investigators,” the frail figure of the young Friday said. “Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday were the only real Idiots?”

“So it would seem,” Thursday said and scratched his chin curiously. “We could have ended this at the dinner if we hadn’t been so afraid of outing ourselves. If Beyonce dies, it’s on us guys.”

“Will you stop being so glum?” Saturday said. “Even if we had tried to shut it all down, I doubt any of us could have stopped Sunday.”

“Is he as strange in person as he appeared on video?” The Friday boy asked. “I thought something was wrong with the cameras in my robot, every time Sunday’s face was on screen, it was blurry or something, like his face was moving clay.”

“That wasn’t your camera,” Thursday said. “You’re right Saturday, there’s something about Sunday. I don’t think ten people could lock him up. Our best shot is to stop the assaination and then figure out how to deal with Sunday.”

“We have to find Tuesday before he completes his plans,” Saturday said. 

“I put a tracker on him,” Friday said. “You guys can take my robot to help you find him. You can communicate with me through it and I can feed you information from here.”

“Good,” Thursday said, “we wouldn’t want to go running off with a minor. So let’s go then,” he said to Saturday and the woman, the man, and the robot dashed out of the home of the boy who had designed and constructed Friday. 

“Where are we going?” Saturday asked. 

Thursday was trying to hail a cab, and one finally stopped when Saturday stood next to him. 

“To the closest airport,” Thursday said. “And heaven help us, it’s the Newark Airport.”

“Dios mio!” the robot Friday said.

The child Friday managed to get digital tickets for the three by hacking an airline, and they were on a plane, headed for Houston before the sun was rising on the east coast.