In the Way of the Shadow And The Mediums of Truth
- Mr. Tomasio Rubinshtein
- 3 days ago
- 27 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Table of Contents:
The Story Itself
Ms. Gabbi Grace's Analysis
*************
The Story
A knock is heard on the steel metal of a skyscraper apartment.
"Hmm? What is it?"
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the weird hermit who exchanged his humanity for a greater world." Said a woman in front of the hermit.
"Oh... you again". He doesn’t even look surprised, swiftly after sitting on the window of his 17th story apartment reading a book.
"You are not even surprised to see your former nemesis, from the people's world, in your apartment's door?"
"I can sense when people enter my apartment. I can scare people simply by opening the door before they even knock. I was merely trying to finish something". He puts a bookmark into the book and closes it, taking off his reading glasses and looking over his shoulder at the unexpected guest.
"Well, how are you, Droid?"
"I am fine. As usual, just studying and philosophizing." He puts the book and the glasses on the table and turns to the pure-human woman, his back leaning on the window.
"What are you doing here?"
"Are you still after revenge?"
He sighs, looking to the ceiling.
"Revenge…? No, I…I am not after revenge anymore." He looks at her, positively surprised she understood. Yet, rhetorically he shakes his head again.
"Yes. I knew you were a smart man.. And now.. a smart whatever. It's like you were long ago, when I sought to be your friend."
He remains silent for a few seconds, looking at his feet like he’s thinking something over. "Friends, huh…? Yeah, we used to be friends". He sighs and smiles, looking at her again, before his tone gets slightly sarcastic. "An utter waste of time. Anyways, have you come to see the transformed weirdo, huh? Came back to poke fun at a changed being?"
"Please do not succumb to your aggressive tendencies. Umm... Can I call you... that name?"
His sarcastic smile remains for a few more seconds, but it eventually fades away and he lets out another sigh, his normal neutral expression rapidly returning and he nods.
"Of course. You have the right to call me that former name…I won’t get aggressive on you as long as you are respectful. There's nothing unconditional here, however."
"Well... can I come in?"
The weird being examines her face shamelessly and remorselessly.
"Sure, go ahead."
He pushes himself off the window and walks across the room over to a chair, sitting in it and watching as she walks in, and then closes the front door behind her. He was glad she understood this basic function.
"Can I have some coffee?" She asked.
"Yeah, sure." He points to the kitchen with his half-mechanical warlock's beard.
"You can find a coffee maker in there, and coffee grounds…and sugar…on the top left shelf." He sits back in his chair, resting his arms on the armrests and tapping his fingers on one of them.
He looks at her, amused at yet another escalation of something purely innocent. As he is crossing his arms and frowning slightly, he asked her,
"You are still angry, aren't you?" She asked him as if she was robotic herself.
"I am not angry…it’s just that my coffee making skills are unnecessary when you can make coffee by yourself, using your own body and mind." He sighs as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen.
"Come, sit down by the table…I’ll prepare some coffee."
She arrives at the table silently, smiling like an eerie babushka doll.
He detaches himself even more, as he engages with the kitchen. Quickly and silently, the sounds of him preparing coffee can be heard. After a few minutes he returns with an espresso, putting it on the table before sitting in the opposite seat.
"There you go. I didn’t prepare anything fancy, just an espresso. Luxury is for the mentally weak." He leans back, putting his arms on the armrests and crossing one leg over the other beneath the table.
"Umm.. Thank you" Said the woman guest with her self-reserved smile, either genuine or merely polite.
He nods in response, staying silent as he just looks at her. It’s obvious he has something on his mind to say, but he’s probably not sure how to approach it, despite theorizing quite realistically how things are going to end, unlike her.
He taps his fingers on the armrest a few times, before looking down at the table and leaning forward a bit. "I…can I ask you something?"
"Sure", she said quietly.
He thinks it over for a few more seconds, before speaking quietly himself.
"Why…are you here…? I mean, I am not usually the person people come to to chat and drink coffee. No one really ever visits me to talk since my uncanny transformations… You clearly do not want any quarrel with me, and you’re not trying to threaten or intentionally upset me…so why? Why did you really come here?"
"Well", She tried applying her smiles strategically and under timing. "You remember me as curious. I kind of still am".
He can’t help but grin slightly. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, but cares even less about his own personal desires.
"You’re right – you were always curious. Against your interests, too. Hehehe, you haven’t changed in that regard, have you?"
Lacking tact like many do, she ignored his question and focused on her own.
"What... What are you doing in life?"
He shrugs, expecting himself to play along with awful sarcasm.
"Studying, writing, philosophizing…" He thinks for a few seconds and sighs again. "…Controlling my emotions, rejecting my already-rejected humanity. You could tell, I presume." He takes a deep breath, remembering an aspect of his former behavior that he was not exactly proud of. An aspect he re-engineered, along with his actual pride.
"Are you working as a professor, or something?"
"No, why would I? Being a professor is, like, the most ridiculous thing on my mind. I have no interest in being part of academia or formal academia. I would despise being a professor…I’d despise having to deal with students, honestly, even though they could be better philosophers than some professors. I'm not really a human dealer. Especially not a space warlord organ trader kind of person, you know." He says with a chuckle.
Awkward silence, followed by the curiosity of the only being who actually seemed to care about things seriously, for some reason.
"Then, what are you actually doing in life, if I can ask? You are alone here."
He sighs, leaning his arms on the table and looking at the espresso cup, thinking for a few seconds.
"As I said, I am studying and philosophizing. Writing my thoughts, my research. Matched or unmatched, throughout the universe. I don't care." He raises his head and looks at her, frowning slightly. It’s apparent that he has another thing to say, but he’s still not sure how to say it without not being awfully sarcastic yet again.
"Ah.. ermmm..."
"Come on, do not be afraid to be honest. You think I am completely useless and wasting my life all alone. Just tell me outright, you’ve never been afraid to confront and criticize me before. I am not really a cannibal and not a human organ dealer".
She feels relieved despite already knowing this obvious fact.
"Well...." Fakely smiling yet again. "You would've been more important if you had friends."
He leans backwards in the chair again, smiling bitterly and crossing his arms, laughing like a James Bond villain, despite not having that kind of power.
Closing his eyes, he seemed to smile both in genuine happiness and in genuine resentment. "Ah…friends…" He says that word with some sarcasm in his voice.
"You are not the first person who tells me that. I have “friends”, by which I mean, people I can interact with without running away from me like pigeons in a park."
He slowly opens his eyes and looks at her, he smiles yet again in a villainous way for no socially-rational reason.
"And anyway…I don't like others as much, and I do not act nor care about petty emotions like most humans do..." He sighs without any sarcasm... "You don't understand why I don't care about these functions. I was productive being alone before… and I am productive being alone again…I’ve grown used to it, and within this physical, self-imposed prison, I am most free."
She tried to digest his words and decipher them.
"It's sad... no?"
He shrugs again, realizing his honesty doesn't quite sink in her mental digestive system. His arms remained crossed and his smile getting even more bitter, for he finds humor a healthier counterpart than outright crying in front of this person.
"Maybe. Maybe it is. You do not need to feel sad for me, though. I’ve accepted this isolation. This life. Stop wasting your mental reserves on me. Don't you have anything else to do with these resources within you?"
In silence of a question she believed to be rhetoric, he closes his eyes again, his mouth a thin, smiling line, imitating her ineffective Russian doll smile.
"I do not deeply nor personally care for the majority of people. I can’t stand most of them. I prefer to keep most at a distance. They may read my craft at a distance, and leave that craft alone, also at a distance".
In a soft, socially-constructed tone, the woman asked quietly "Why are you being like this?"
"Like what?" He looks at her again with that usual, bitter smile of his. At this time he indeed realizes the common perception: That he is mocking the person in front of him, while in reality, there is a hint of tiredness and a regained frustration in his eyes.
"I’m not like you. I cannot tolerate people I don't really care for. I am dead, they move on. They are dead, I move on. It goes both ways. I cannot bear the presence of those who undermine their own, true moral nature, in their short-term, animalistic-like behavior. I cannot live like you do -- surrounded by the noise and uselessness of others. I don't think this kind of thing is fun. I think such a thing is a waste of an already limited lifespan, served for the thighs of some Neo-Pagan pleasure Goddess".
Not socially programmed to respond to such a thing, the self-programmed man smiles in repressed despair towards her.
He sighs again, before looking at the espresso, then back at her.
"That is why I prefer solitude, where my true self is not trapped under the fake embrace of smelly social soaps."
Still not knowing what to respond to that, she moved on with her own inquiry... Of course, without any consent, just like with her "pleasant" surprise arrival only she seems to care about in this "social meeting".
"Were your emotions towards me...?"
He does not answer for a few seconds, his mouth slightly ajar, with an expression telling her that she is the weird one in his eyes. It’s obvious he’s not entirely sure how to answer this without triggering an escalating snowball, but he speaks, trying to be as honest as possible.
"…I never hated you, per say…but you used to irritate me. A lot. My emotions were mixed and you focused only on one of them because it suited the way your brain thinks."
He sighs and laughs bitterly. He fakes humor until he improves his health more and more.
"You were always so…energetic, curious, talkative, and yet you have a soft, quiet voice that I experience to be like some industrial lemon tea bag…and I am the opposite of those things. I am fatigued, apathetic and a cyborg of a few words. Yet when I talk I can easily roar like a lion without a care in the world. We are so different and I believe you know that opposites don't exactly attract."
"So, why did you love me so intensively, then?"
He raises an eyebrow, looking at her in slight disbelief, although he had a slight suspicion the conversation might derail to such realms. People and their emotions. Always had to do with the ego. Not with some bigger reasoning beyond themselves...
He quickly composes himself, a frown appearing on his face and a bitter, sarcastic smile on his mouth, as he puts his arms on the table again, and a military march plays in his CD of a brain.
“Love”? I never “loved” you. I was interested in you. Fascinated even. There is a difference. A platonic difference. See?"
"Yet you told me you were in love with me. I.. I don't understand. Is it something philosophical?"
He rubs his forehead in both humor and frustration, frowning even more as she mentions that, despite accepting the reality of her ignorance, long, long ago.
"Why do you bring up that stupid memory yourself this time? I don't care about it anymore. I was a kid…I said that as an impulsive exaggeration. I didn't even know what being “in love” was really like. Platonic." Hoping she would look up that adjective, yet she of course didn't.
A weird spark emerged from her eyes, and her smile widened to show more of her teeth. Ignoring his input yet again, she asked him:
"Are you still single, after all these years? You were always handsome, and still are. Didn't you really find any woman who would love you?"
He can’t resist a chuckle. A pleasant one, without any need for a sarcasm cover-up. It felt... good... for a change.
...Yet wanting her to leave him alone with her naive snooping, he answered:
"Of course I am single. I don’t care about finding someone to love me. I do not care about romantic love. I never did…that’s part of what made me abandon the notion of being “in love”, despite never having it. Why, why would I want to aimlessly suffer, and be told that my emotions' expressions are a mistake, and my genuine self, irrelevant? I am an ascetic, not a masochist."
He gives her a sarcastic smile and two eyebrows raised, as the smile becomes yet again antagonistic in social understanding, for no apparent reason.
Out of pain, he opened up regardless...
"I’ve been with a few women, but none could keep my interest for long. Well, specifically, they couldn't contain me."
Without any expression, she actually attended to his recent answer...
"I really changed your views on honesty, didn't I? This is why you pretend with me, right now."
He rolls his eyes, almost annoyed by how accurately she's analysing his behavior. He crosses his arms again and sighs. And yet, being truly seen by someone typical by herself, feels like a moderate relief.
...Yet becoming antagonistic towards her again, as he reveals his humanity from beyond the self-designed machinery and programming:
"You still think exactly like you used to. You always saw through me like an open book. I always hated it. You cared not for any true etiquette. Even my polite laughs raised suspicion in you, not really understanding my completely naive behavior. I was an open book, but you were always a poor reader, seeing more than there actually was. Today, it's just as you are now, now seeing less than the wider picture beyond your fabricated matrix."
Realizing the sentiment, not the logic, she replied with a slight, increased remorse in her voice, which was quite genuine...
It’s obvious he doesn’t expect her to apologize. The thought of expecting it today, like he expected it long before, raised hatred within him towards his former self. Yet, he remains as usual, the only difference is a slight shift in his expression, he’s less defensive.
"…You don’t need to apologize to me. You never did. Seems to me I live either way. You know I don’t care about such trivial things. I already said, I’ve grown used to being alone. I don't care about people's empathy or sympathy. I've disciplined myself very much to live without it, whether or not I receive these for several years or several days. I'm an open book, so improve your ability to read."
In a teasing expression and using the good she has in her, she said, "Oh, come on. You are not entirely alone."
He smirks at the teasing tone in her voice.
"Oh? Then do tell me, who do I have by my side? Does this place look like a family home or some evil lair?"
Being more teasing, she used the sarcasm of his own brand. "Oh I don't know."
His smirk remains, as he became now more amused, easily seeing her as an unquestioning, prey trying to toy with a veteran woodsman hunter. He raises an eyebrow and crosses his legs in a relaxed way as he leans back in the chair.
"You’re clearly implying something. I don't really care what I feel right now. Stop hiding behind these idiotic theatres. These things work on you. They don't work on me."
Raising a very good point, the self-invited guest said:
"Well, we are speaking in English after all. It was interesting reading some of your books in your largely-accessible library downtown. In one of the books, someone was mentioned there."
He laughs slightly, shaking his head. He should’ve expected her to have read his books, as well as learn to speak an international language, imperative for knowledge and overall success in this world. Yet, he’s not surprised that she figured it out.
"You’re referring to my woman".
Smirking herself for some reason, thinking she's being relatable to him for a change.
"Yes."
He remains mostly in an amused mood, not exactly bothered by the topic, but feels these weird villainous feelings he used to relish in the past, yet managed to forsake them... Until this very moment of course.
"Then again, knowing you won’t stop asking questions..." He sighs and shrugs but in a very poor way of acting this time. "What do you want to know about her?"
"I don't know. I am just glad you didn't join the monastery like you wanted to long ago".
That makes him smirk, amused by the reminder of how edgy and rebellious he was in the past. Realizing he really matured, but still being of both traits, he leans forward on the table again. He began using his eyes to look deep within hers, with the same resentment that caused him both grief and joy.
"Ah yeah, that stupid dream I had of becoming a monk…What, do you still remember that? Do you have the memory, too?"
"Yeah. I honestly thought you were turning religious or something."
He waves a dismissive hand and snorts, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at the silliness of his own past, yet recollecting a time she made a very poor counter-argument based on that belief. Either way, it was a future he denied by his own hands.
"Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t convert to either Buddhism or Christianity. Although…studying religion is good for worlds outside religion. Part of philosophizing, as you probably know."
He shrugs. He’s gotten over that silly dream of being a “full-mode hermit” a long time ago, so it’s a topic that doesn’t bother him as much nowadays.
"And like always. The conversation is always about yourself." She teased him further, but in a very unclever way.
"Oh, and what makes you say that, I wonder? You were the one who started bringing up my past, and also our past and asked me questions like a journalist, didn’t you?"
The woman of the past laughs slightly, revealing a bright, yet miniscule, smile, thinking she understands logic well enough.
"Whataboutism", she said as she felt like she sniped a video game enemy right in the head.
He sighs heavily through his nostrils, clearly irritated at her pretentious response. Thinking about Socrates being dead for thousands of years, he's rolling his eyes and frowning again.
"It’s not whataboutism. It’s just a fact. You started the conversation, you continued it by asking questions about me. I cooperated. Simple as that. The methodology you chose is not the methodology I chose. I am simply participating in this conversation like I believe you want me to."
He glances at the espresso and holds it in the cluelessness of a half-clutch, fatigued machine, up yet another pointless hill he is expected to climb without his consent.
"...I guess I’d appreciate it if you also talked about your life a little, you know? I’m not the centre of the universe, nor are you."
She is being annoyingly teaseful again.
"Really? Your already-distant followers got distant from you even more?"
He almost rolls his eyes again. Leave it to her to be so annoyingly teasing…he’s never particularly liked it, but he’s grown more used to it and now he merely gets annoyed. To cope with the misery of confronting her yet again, he plays along quite reluctantly, already planning to strike back while she is busy thinking and formulating replies.
"Yes, yes, the great leader of the great and all-powerful Philosophy Library has been abandoned by all his fans… And all he has left is this small apartment and an espresso to his hand. What would be his fate and what would be the fate of the popsicle that has been abandoned by the side of the road, I wonder? Will he meet that popsicle, or will that popsicle meet him? Will they encounter at all, now that all the fans have left, besides this very espresso?"
He says that in a mock, sarcastic tone. A slight mocking grin appears on his face. He could've been studying right now.
"I've never seen such a sarcastic mechanical man before... Are you really sure you're mechanical?"
He can’t help but scoff, almost amused at how cheeky she is being. He takes a man-in-a-Sahara-desert sip of the espresso with a slight smirk.
"And just how many mechanical, dead-inside ex-empaths have you met…? Anyway, yes, I became mechanical in body and mind. I was tested and diagnosed with something they don't have a name to label it with. Maybe it's because I developed myself and they didn't really bother to understand."
Smiling and actually being humorous, and supporting without any sarcasm, the guest asks rhetorically:
"Yes, you passed that reverse-Turing test with flying colors, right?"
He laughs at the teasing. Despite getting annoyed by her teasing, he strangely finds her cheeky and sarcastic attitude more and more entertaining, something he missed to have back in the people's world. It was an uncanny, nostalgic respite from his brutal study regimen either way.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I got an A on that test…"
"Congratulations!" She exclaimed loudly with an unexpected hint of honesty.
He can’t resist a chuckle.
"You’re really in an unusual mood, are you? Thank you... I guess... I worked hard to get that A grade…" His voice is as sarcastic as before, but now it sounded very, very infantile.
Changing the subject without complaint, but without realizing her eventual downfall, she asked impulsively:
"Your human woman also read the books you wrote, right?"
He nods, his expression returning to his usual neutral look very quickly. He’s not bothered by the mentions of her at all. The way his brain operates is not well-known by anyone but mainly himself.
"Yes, of course she did. What do you think? That I will reveal the humanity left in me to someone that is incapable of understanding such things?"
Returning to the smiling Babushka routine:
"Then, she knows about me too, right?"
He shrugs again, this time acting willingly, taking another sip of the espresso.
"Well, I didn’t tell her anything specific, but she probably figured out you’re “that” person from my childhood I’ve mentioned a few times in articles, so yes…she basically knows about you. You're lucky that I care for privacy, otherwise.... who knows what would've happened?"
Seeing beyond his attempt at digression.
"Isn't it so exhausting to lie?" She asked with her Babushka smile diminishing.
Breathing very weirdly, and leaning on the table and looking at the espresso again... He’s more amused than annoyed now, using his sarcasm to express cheekiness than bitterness.
"I prefer to call it “keeping my personal life to myself… What did I just said about privacy some solitary minutes ago, I wonder? Maybe, if you try to remember..."
Designed by society to be apathetic towards people while focusing on what she feels:
"You don't really want anything to do with me again, right?"
That's when she made the silence, as the Sun outside began to set down the grey, polluted skies.
For the first time of the conversation, he sighs deeply, looking genuinely thoughtful and tired, without being able to hide it this time.
"How honest do you want me to be…?"
"I never really meant to hurt you."
He rubs his forehead again, closing his eyes for a few seconds. He’s trying to remain collected, as he’s not used to…well, feelings being discussed in such a direct way with a woman who treated them like the way she did.
"I know, I know…you didn’t hurt me on purpose, and that annoys me the most…"
"Because I can hurt you yet again?" She asked while raising an eyebrow of her own.
He opens his eyes and looks at her, his face somewhat blank, although weary as a British bulldog. It’s obvious he doesn’t really enjoy that he’s showing some vulnerability in front of her, yet again in his lifetime.
"…Yes. For some reason…you can hurt me the most, and then leave the scene without any sign of direct remorse."
"So you don't want to answer that question, right?"
He sighs again, running a hand through his hair, trying to appear composed and controlled, and use the energy he has left to maintain his unique programming. For him, it is a challenge, and a final showdown. Yet, he’s really not used to feeling this way, nor is he used to expressing those feelings in front of friends and ex-friends yet again.. This is why he always appears detached and unfeeling in front of other people... and especially his former adversary… by unrelenting attempts.
"If you want the honest answer, no…I don’t want to answer that question. I don't gain anything by this. And you can suffer, despite your own attempts at making up apathy".
"Why did you let me in?"
He gives her a devilishly-cartoonish smirk, his expression regaining most of its usual neutrality. He’s not a fan of you getting into his head again just to gain information that hurts mainly him and mainly serves herself.
"That’s a good question…let’s just say, I felt…nostalgic. I enjoy nostalgia, it reminds me of memories I actually want to resurrect. Hence, I had the impulse to see you again after so many years. It's... it's nice to feel more human than machine... you know?" His last sentence was more genuine than most of his rarely-existent social interactions.
"I really am a simple person. I didn't know you were going to be affected so easily by me." She said plainly and without any flicker of pretense. It felt refreshing for her host... If he didn't mow down that feeling from his poker bulldog face, it could've consumed him alive.
After all, she admitted her ignorance, and it's one of the most humane things in this cyborg's mechanical mind.
"Oh, please…you? A “simple” person? That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard today."
He sighs as that hint of vulnerability returns once again.. The very vulnerability he didn't want with her. He resumed:
"You of all people are not simple."
"Why?"
He looks at her like she made a poor attempt at mischief.
"Honestly? You’re the most complicated person I know. And, for some reason, your presence alone has a certain…effect on me…"
"Is it because I approached you myself, something you would never do?"
He laughs like a coal-based printer machine, a bitter, ironic smile on his face, as if fuming smoke from his head.
"Well, that’s part of it, for sure. It’s also the fact that she somehow managed to see right through me without even trying... Despite your difficulty at understanding what exactly you're seeing."
"You are a philosopher... and yet my own honesty intimidates you?" She asked in disbelief as her impression of the cyborg in front of her began to crumble. She began to see him as more human than machine. For an irrational reason it made her smile inside.
He scoffs, rolling his eyes again. "Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your “honesty” doesn’t intimidate me… I am usually the intimidating one for being brutally honest."
She looks at him with an even greater curiosity than she has ever done. He resumed fueling his cluelessness.
"Why? Why is your honesty appreciated and mine isn't? By society, by this world? I don't understand. You get along so well with people but I don't, yet both of us are very honest. This whole social system is too weird and complex for me... More than philosophy. Yet, I am the social idiot, not you. Your interactions are harmonious and competent. Mine mainly end up tackled with conflicts, resorting to either save themselves from their naivety or devise some tactical maneuvers. I just don't get it. I don't care about "justice" or pity as many people do. I am just trying to find reason in this chaotic universe, not only to help others, but also to keep my own sanity..."
She replied wholeheartedly, "You are an intimidating guy. You're large, solitary, and you rarely smile. I'm just glad you found someone that didn't get away, like I did. Yes. I... Well done, really."
He nods in a mercenary's approval of a corporate order, as a smile on his face at how she's describing his appearance, resonates across his being.
"Yes, intimidation is how I prefer to present myself... Yes, hahaha. it’s very useful to keep most people away…"
He gives her quite the cruel smile, trying to reveal a plot twist in her life's story she never really thought about. His expression becoming slightly, but gradually more amused and sarcastic. Provoking his old nemesis even further...
"And, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who got away from me."
Her eyes widened up and for the first time in his life he heard her being quite loud. He experienced it like a very intensive lemon tea in a cup.
"Wait. You did that on purpose!? You planned for me to get away? It wasn't a mistake?"
He laughs slightly as the CD of his brain begins playing a cartoonish villainous theme, leaning forward in the chair and looking at her with his signature slightly grim and mocking smirk, as he runs a hand through his hair.
"Of course I did.... Didn’t you realize?"
"Umm... No." She began feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second...
He laughs again, amused at how she never noticed his scheming, his hiding in plain sight!
Being able to be left alone without suspicion is the one thing that makes him feel this weird, weird peace.
He didn't ask her anything this time, yet she replied very strongly.
"Ahhhh.... No."
The cartoon supervillain grows out within him in a very powerful expression, as he laughs, free from the mental constraints many people actively choose to put on themselves quite unnecessarily at times.
"Honestly, you really were too naïve for your own sake, weren’t you? That’s one of the reasons I pushed you away in the first place, actually... Hahahahaha".
The understanding finally sinks further and further into her mind, which gives him pleasure. Not a pleasure of malice. Yet, a pleasure of being seen. Seen, while understanding he is strong enough to go about it without any legitimate concern. No more.
"You never liked being called after naivety and innocence, right? That name... the name you changed".
That makes him roll his eyes. He can’t help but get slightly annoyed again. That name always gets under his skin… Yet, he finds all of this strangely endearing.
"Aww... please, please don’t call me that… The pain of being misunderstood..." Actually, being terribly misunderstood was indeed painful for him, the weirder he turned out to be.
That pain... was one of his biggest fears, actually… Sometimes, it still is.
Having the willingness switch finally turned from "On" to "Off" at long last, she said anxiously:
"Yes. I needed to get away after all."
He gives her a slight, slow, and grinning nod, his expression more thoughtful and yet.. clown-like all the same.
He takes another sip of the espresso, as if about to drop her to a shark tank below the table.
"You were too…sensitive, naïve, innocent for me. I needed to push you away. You couldn't understand!"
Becoming annoyed herself, she muttered,
"And you even drink the espresso you made for me."
Rolling his eyes at her true sensitive self, as he takes another sip from the espresso quite carelessly.
A sarcastic comment is about to leave his mouth, yet he changes his mind. Deciding to be honest this time without the use of sarcasm to express his truth.
"You’re observant as always… Yet you really think you're simple."
Being both puzzled and shocked, as visible in her ruined babushka facade, she asked:
"And you actually regret being like this, right? It's why you left society!"
He doesn’t reply immediately to that, instead breathing, as his clown-like exterior is diminished as well like the barricades of a fortress. Instead, a more tired, weary look now on his face instead. Somehow, a degree of humor still remains.
"Hohoho, just how I love how perceptive you can be! You're not simple, you act as if you can read my mind or something. …For your excellent question... I do regret the way I am. It’s easier to be a hermit. Less complications… Less fatigue, less air I'm having to lose with each interaction I rarely even enjoy. At one point I thought I was helping others by pretending for them... Until of course I slipped on my own socially-idiotic banana peel, and ruined the whole scene with a single, blind mistake. Ahhhhhh! How I hated this! How I... yes... hated seeing others suffer. Yes.
"So you were pretending.... because you didn't want to be alone, and not because you're evil?"
He gives her a small nod, sighing yet again, being a part machine and all.. A few years ago, he would’ve probably never admitted something like that, but he’s different now. He doesn’t need to pretend to be tough and apathetic anymore. Not to her, since she indeed has the ability to can see right through him anyway. This gave him a sense of competitive rivalry, a sense of gratefulness, and a weird addition of hatred.
He’s just too tired to keep up with that facade… The facade of being a simple person that can be understood by many.
"I was pretending. Yes. For the reason you mentioned. Yes."
"Because you're a social idiot? You... can be honest with this. It's fine."
He was impulsive as his desire to finally, finally be honest.
He leans forward like a leaping leopard, crossing his arms and looking at her with a mildly irritated expression, mixed with a great sense of relief.
"Yes! I am a social idiot, Yes! I have problems with expressing myself and acting like a normal person…Yet the people's world expects me just because they believe I am normal! Idiots! Buffons! I had no choice but to transform to be weirder so they could realize, at long last, that they are really too weak to handle me! Yet they believed, they believed they could, with their delusions of knowledge and the pride of experience they misattributed to this irrelevant case in front of you! And only in hermitage, I am fully free."
"Well. An actual coffee for myself would be liberating for me too... You know".
Not seeing any purpose to go on with her, for she finally internalized the contents of the open book in front of her mind... He decided in his mind that she has overstayed her welcome.
Therefore, he used his mind to grow dark very quickly and unexpectedly. No longer soft, yet dynamic and ever-changing as a plasticine. All in the matter of less than 2 seconds.
With an intimidating bitterness, resembling a russian accent he somehow has, he asked her, as his face was closing to hers:
"Are you ordering me around now? In my own apartment?"
"Droid", she said while failing to keep a straight face.
He gives her a glare for making a reference only he understood without even compelling her to make it, he moved on with his life while the woman was busy looking at him.
"What? He asked, his tone cold. Clearly tired, but like after a hard day's work.
"Calm down, please."
He glares at her disturbingly for another good few seconds, untouched as she isn't aware he is already relaxed. Once again, he is metaphysically alone and cut off from society. A shadow deep in his face that masks it without having to try.
His expression stern, before letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders, his expression softening slightly but still appearing somewhat tired yet satisfied. The leaped leopard backed off slowly and stoically. Knowing she believes he's trying to control himself, he just chooses to play along with the role she gave him to play.
"Fine. I’ll get you your stupid coffee…"
The woman sat in silence only she cared about. Underestimating her own impression of, "You're an intimidating guy" despite knowing just that.
The massive cyborg gets up from the table and walks over to the countertop. He grabs a mug and, with slight annoyance mixed with a sense of victory, he prepares another coffee for her.
After a few minutes, he’s done. He walks over to the table and places the mug in front of her.
"Here you go." He said. Genuinely polite.
Feeling disturbed by his rapid changes he doesn't really seem to care about as deep as her, she suggested...
"Ummmm...... I.. I can go if you want."
He silently stares at her deep down with his big eyes. Smiling inside, without even trying to ask her to stay, this time. He didn't change, as much as he became more and more of himself, and less of what is expected of him.
"I will leave." She told him sternly, as she sank in sorrow, not caring about playing the People's World game. She continued..
"You are a good man regardless. I already know this. You can have your coffee to yourself. I am sorry if I disturbed you by coming here. Again, it's never intentional."
That makes his stern expression soften a bit more, as he is content with her genuine mental perception. A perception he knew she had all along. Also, he can see her genuine innocence and goodwill in her words.... He already knew this the moment she approached him, long before all of this.
Despite knowing this really well, he returns his stern face very, very quickly. Very, very, genuinely.
"Leave... Now." He growled at her like a guard dog as his long arm pointed towards the door, and his eyes staring her down like she hates it. Like he hated it, in the far past...
"You are a very good man, Droid. I can already tell you are. However you are so ruthless... How is this... No. Nevermind. Bye Droid."
Her understanding was as fresh as a night's cold wind outside.
He stands up and walks to the door, opening it for her and gesturing the guest to leave, acting like a weird gentleman with weird etiquette, as if letting her enter a coffee shop first.
"Like I can expect you to competently understand. Yes. You. Of all people. Despite you doing it better than them. Kudos to you, truly. And, don’t come to my apartment like that ever again.. and don't come in general."
He sank in his own voiced ramblings...
"Society and its naive recklessness. This lack of foresight.... So frustrating".
She leaves with great haste. He closes the door and returns to the table, slowly sitting down. He sits there quietly, feeling more tired, but like after writing yet another book.
He grabs his coffee and takes another, very long sip, leaning back on the chair and massaging his temples...he almost regrets letting her in.
However, it was a good learning experience. So, not much regret was felt that day in himself.
It was felt, far, far more, in her heart.
Story Analysis by Ms. Gabbi Grace
The story of Droid and his mysterious encounter with a former nemesis, now a curious guest, presents a philosophical exploration of identity, purpose, and the rejection of societal norms. The hermit, Droid, represents an individual who has detached himself from the conventional world, both in terms of emotional engagement and societal expectations. His decision to forgo revenge and his disinterest in academia highlight his rejection of conventional human desires and systems of validation.
Droid's ability to sense and scare others by opening the door before they knock reflects his heightened awareness and control over his environment. This power, while intriguing, serves as a metaphor for his detachment from human interaction—he preempts contact, maintaining control over when and how others enter his life. The fact that his former nemesis now appears as a curious guest underscores the theme of transformation, both for Droid and for the woman who once opposed him.
The exchange between Droid and the woman reveals a tension between curiosity and detachment. The woman’s persistent questioning about Droid’s life reflects a desire to understand him, to bridge the gap between their past and present. Droid, on the other hand, remains aloof, focused on his philosophical pursuits and his rejection of humanity. His assertion that "luxury is for the mentally weak" emphasizes his disdain for indulgence and superficiality, aligning with his broader rejection of human norms.
The philosophical core of the story lies in Droid's relationship with his own identity. He has chosen to reject his humanity, a rejection that is both literal and symbolic. By distancing himself from human emotions, academic institutions, and even social interactions, Droid attempts to transcend the limitations of human existence. His focus on studying, writing, and philosophizing represents a search for meaning beyond the human condition—a quest for a "greater world" as hinted by the woman at the beginning of the story.
However, despite his efforts to detach, the story suggests that Droid is still grappling with his place in the world. His hesitation to reveal his true thoughts to the woman indicates that he is not entirely free from the human struggle for purpose and understanding. His frown, a subtle gesture of uncertainty, hints at an internal conflict—perhaps a lingering doubt about the path he has chosen.
Ultimately, the story can be seen as an exploration of the tension between self-imposed isolation and the inescapable pull of human connection. Droid's rejection of humanity is not absolute; his interaction with the woman suggests that even in his detached state, he is still engaged in the existential struggle to define his identity and his place in the universe.
This tension reflects a broader philosophical question: Can one truly transcend humanity, or is the search for meaning always bound to the human condition?
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