38
To borrow Granny’s description, a bookstore is a place densely populated with tens of thousands of authors, dead or living, residing side by side. But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then do they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.
I heard a rustling among the stacks and looked up to find a skinny boy with a popped shirt collar, hanging back awkwardly before disappearing behind a bookshelf. A star-shaped scab on his head caught my eye. After a while, an adult magazine was tossed onto the counter. A woman with a curly blond mane, big breasts and a black leather jacket that barely contained them, sat on a motorcycle with her back arched and her mouth slightly agape.
“This is such old shit. I’ll take this for my antiques collection. How much?”
It was Gon.
“Twenty thousand won. Antiques are not cheap, you know.”
Gon dug into his pockets, grumbling, and threw out coins and bills. “Hey, you,” he said, staring at me with an elbow placed on the counter and his chin propped on his hand.
“You’re a robot, I hear. Emotionless, right?” he asked.
“Not entirely.”
He sniffed a little. “I did some research on you. More specifically, about your crazy little brain.” He tapped his head with his fingertips. It sounded like he was tapping a ripe watermelon. “No wonder. I knew something was off about you. I was going nuts for nothing.”
“Your dad told me to call him if you came near me.”
“There’s no need,” Gon snapped, his eyes instantly glinted.
“I should give him a call. I promised.”
I picked up the phone but before I brought it to my ear, Gon had snatched it away and flung it to the floor.
“Bitch, are you deaf? I’m saying I’m not gonna bother you.” Gon stood up and roamed around the bookstore aimlessly, flipping the books for no reason.
Then he asked out loud from a distance, “Did it hurt, I mean, when I hit you?”
“Well, it did hurt.”
“So robots do get hurt, huh? That’s not a real robot.”
“Well . . .” I tried to say something but stopped. It was always hard to describe my condition. Especially now that Mom, who used to help me explain, was gone.
“Well, I do know what it feels like when I’m cold, hot, hungry, or otherwise physically in pain. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be alive.”
“That’s all you can feel?” Gon asked.
“Tickles, too.”
“And when you’re tickled, you giggle?”
“Possibly. I can’t be sure, I haven’t gotten tickled in years.”
Gon made a deflated balloon sound. I didn’t even notice that he was in front of the counter.
“Can I ask you something?”
I shrugged.
“So is it true . . . that your grandma died?” he asked, his eyes avoiding mine.
“Yes.”
“And your mom is a vegetable?”
“Technically, yes, if you must put it that way.”
“And that happened in front of you? She was stabbed by some lunatic?”
“Right.”
“And you just stood there, watching?”
“In retrospect, yes.”
Gon’s head shot up. He was glaring at me. “What a fucking dumb-ass. How could you just stand there watching your mom and grandma die in front of you? You should’ve beat the shit out of him.”
“I didn’t have the time. He died right after.”
“Heard about that. But even if he were alive, you would’ve done nothing. You would’ve made no difference, you coward.”
“Maybe that’s true.”
He shook his head at my response. “Don’t I piss you off, talking like this? Not a change on your face. You don’t ever think of them? Your mom and grandma?”
“I do think of them. Often. A lot.”
“And you still sleep at night? How can you go to school? You watched your family bleed to death, dammit.”
“I don’t know. You eventually just move on with your life. I’m sure others would go back to their normal lives too, eating and sleeping and all, although it may take them longer than me. Humans are designed to move on and keep on living, after all.”
“What are you, a know-it-all? If I were you, I’d be kept awake every night from the rage. Actually, I couldn’t sleep these past few days after I heard what happened. If I were you, I would’ve killed him with my own hands.”