Page 42 of Even Robots Die
There won't be any live test before we hook all those cables to Brice’s brain.
I save my work and open another tab to get the information I need for modulating the power, except everything blurs in front of me.
When was the last time I slept? Or showered?
I’ve eaten for sure—mostly snacks, if I’m honest—but I have no recollection of the last time I really stopped.
“Enough,” I hear from the entrance to the lab.
I didn’t hear him coming, but here he is—Brice—looking at me like a child that needs to learn their lesson.
I look around me, trying to decipher what on earth he is talking about. I’m not acting out or sassing him—yet—and I’ve done nothing else but work these days, so I don't see what he means by this single word.
It must show on my face, because Brice walks up to me and slips his hands right under my armpits and forces me up.
“You’ve worked enough,” he tells me. “You need to rest. I let you set the pace so far and I can see that it’s not good. You look like hell and I won’t have that under my roof.”
“Fuck you,” I answer him. “I look like hell? This is all your fault. You took me out of my home. You made me work so I can save you, so if you can’t deal with how I look, you can go fuck yourself.”
My vision is blurred this time, but I don’t think it’s exhaustion anymore. Rage has taken over at his words, and I’m seething.
Brice answers my rant with a devilish smile that spreads over his lips.
I want to slap that smirk off. I want to hit him so he stops looking at me like whatever I just said is just amusing to him.
“I’m trying to help you here, and now you’re taunting me? Well, fuck you,” I add.
”I believe you already said that,” Brice answers and for the first time, I think I can actually hear the amusement slip into his words. “But if you stopped just for a second, you would think back on what I told you. I’m not making you work eighteen to twenty-four hours a day,” he adds with a pointed look. “I didn’t even give you a timeline. I’m not making you do all these hours. You’re imposing that on your person yourself. I’m actually here to remind you that you can’t survive on coffee and snacks. Take a break. Have dinner with me. And then sleep. I’m not telling you that you look like hell to piss you off, even if I do tend to love doing that. I’m telling you because you need to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to fall to pieces because you didn’t listen to your body and you burned out.”
Well, fuck me sideways.
I wasn’t expecting that.
I know he must be saying that because if I burn out, he won’t have anyone to finish the job, but before I know it, I feel it. The lonely tear that slides down my cheek.
As quickly as I feel it, I erase it from my skin and turn my face so Brice can’t see it.
I know it’s just about the job for him, but I'm used to being the one taking care of others, and even if it doesn’t come from a place of love, Brice forcing me to stop for my own good, still hits like a sledgehammer.
“What is it?” he asks, seemingly unaware of the turmoil his words have started.
“I’m just tired,” I tell him. “You’re right, I might need some rest.”
I know this isn’t the answer he was expecting when his left eyebrow rises, but he doesn’t say anything more.
Good.
I don’t want to have to explain, especially to him.
I’m used to masking, anyway. It’s basically lying with a twist; telling people only what they’re ready or want to hear.
Except I know why he raised his eyebrow in a questioning way. I’ve been so lost in my coding job since he brought me to the lab that I almost forgot that the bastard knows when I’m lying. I still don’t know how he does that, but he knows.
Luckily, this time, he doesn’t pry and lets me keep to myself why that single tear got away.
I don’t want him to know, and he doesn’t seem to think it’s worth prying out of me.
Good.
