SAMWACT
Semi-Annual Mental Wellness And Clarity Test: 4-AB
Subject #: 0043.2
Age: 36 E.Y.
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How I wish I could have flown through the trees and over the meadows, to wade through a lazy river, take in the sun as I lay in the tall grass and to feel the boisterous silence of nature.
How I wish...
The landscape of this desolate moon is all I know. The only breeze I have ever felt, comes from the air recyclers as they purge in the afternoons. A repair bot, two sentient computers, and a talking GPS are my only company.
Oh... let us not forget the refrigerator.
She is a dandy, with all her bells and whistles. I don't know what I'd do without the protein resequencer. I supposed I'd manage, but I dread the the thought of living on MRE's.
I guess that's why I'm so patient with her.
You see, the closing sensor can be a bit jammy at times. The doors may be shut, but the sensor reads ajar.
This is when our domestic spats begin.
She doesn't stop blathering on; She won't quit for a second. I'm deathly afraid to take her apart and accidentally bumble up the fix.
What if I break her? I'm not a chilly tech!
She'll complain for just minutes sometimes and then a good slap puts her in her place. Other days I can't win. Those are the days I ball my fist and strike her, leaving dents and traces of blood from my knuckles.
I'm not proud of myself, but she has it coming.
Sometimes I wish she would say more than “The door is ajar”. Our fights can be absolutely one-sided when I can't stop her, but I must admit I fear the long periods of silence the most. Her chrome exterior reflecting my fear as she stands tall; a statuesque gaze, mocking my dependance with the distorted expressions of my haggard face at the end of each day.
This is when I can't live without her.
One would think me mad, especially with the onboards and their chatty nature being so readily available. The problem though, is that the PCs don't have a sense of humanity in their voice. The repair bot beeps feel warmer to me than the cold delivery of the sentient systems and the damned GPS.
But that fridge...
That chilly is a dame. I often wonder who was sourced to record that notification voice. Is she sweet? Kind? Smart? Pretty? Ugly?
I hope she's not ugly...
I fear the days when I imagine her ugly. It makes our marriage of necessity seem even more shallow than her crisper tray, but there's no one here to judge.
Unless someone actually listens to these logs...
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Subject: PASSED
