I Understand
An exercise in breaking "show don't tell."
This short story was written for the Not Quite Write challenge of 2025.
It is daytime. The proprietor, Yesi, greets me before coffee, and I watch from the corner as my battery charges. I am a BOOT: a Bionic Of Ortholog Technology, and I belong to Yesi. I do not know how old I am, nor do I know what I look like. Such things are not in a BOOT’s programming, despite our code’s descendant from man, and man’s penchant toward pride.
I like to watch my human, as Yesi is an agreeable sort. For now, she sits with her coffee, newly saddened by some pictures on the television. Marko enters the room, retrieving a coffee for travel. His dress is formal, and he pauses for a moment behind Yesi before kissing her goodbye for the day. Every day, while Marko is away, I am Yesi’s helper. That is my role as the household BOOT. Yesi cries again.
“Why do you cry, Yesi?” I ask from my charge port.
My question startles her, and she wipes away the tears. I do not understand the laugh she utters. “I miss Marko,” she says to me.
“Marko was just here,” I tell her.
She smiles at me and nods at the television. “I know. I miss who he was.”
“Do you require my assistance?”
“No, I’m fine…” she turns away from me but she repeats herself. “I’m fine.”
I recognize the pictures on the television. It is a video of Yesi and Marko and they tell each other in turn, the words: I do. They still wear the metal on their fingers, and I understand it is meant to show their love. I do not understand love, but I do understand love sometimes makes the humans say and do strange things.
Yesi still cries, and my programming wants to help. Unfortunately, I am affixed to the charge port for another twenty-seven minutes. Without a prompt, Yesi comes to my corner and confides in me.
For twenty-seven minutes she tells me the story of their love.
They met in college. Marko played with a local band for fun (I do not understand fun), and Yesi saw his band. He wore grungy clothes then, nothing like the pressed suits he wears now. She says it was instant love, and I am intrigued by this notion. They spoke of desires and dreams, hopes for the future… their early years were carefree, artistic, and unknown.
But something changed in Marko. Now, he is gone often, sometimes for several days. He desires more. More praise at work, more numbers in the bank account, more time spent in his suit… It is Man’s innate pride programming. And Yesi? She is alone with the fruits of the account, to watch the television and dream of past Marko. She languishes alone, surrounded by materiality.
I am not warm or soft, nor do I weep or deliver goodbye kisses, yet now I understand. I am glad pride is culled from my program. I am here for Yesi always. I am her BOOT.
~END
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