I Am Automaton

Chapter 3

Peter pulled up in a cab to his childhood house. It was late and the block was quiet. Living room windows flickered with television light, like fires in hearths.

He swiped his Mini-com over the payment kiosk in the back of the cab and thanked the driver. Shouldering his duffle bag, he closed the door quietly and strode up the front path as the taxicab pulled away.

The living room was dimly lit from some secondary light source—his parents must have been in the kitchen.

He paused before he reached the front door. He took in his neighborhood. Once the stomping grounds of his youth, the block felt familiar, but no longer like home.

He stepped up to the front door, placed his palm on the security lock panel, and it registered his print. A soft tone sounded, and the door lock disengaged.

He quietly slipped into the house. He heard conversations coming from the kitchen table. He silently crossed the living room and stood in the archway to the kitchen, placing his duffle bag quietly on the floor.

His mother, sitting at the kitchen table facing him, was the first to notice. She stood up and put her right hand to her mouth as if to silence an outcry.

“Oh, Peter, you’re home.”

His father was sitting at the table with his younger brother, Carl. She ran over to him and threw her arms around him. “Oh thank God you’re alright.”

“I told you it wasn’t that bad, Mom. A little physical therapy and I’m good as new.”

His father came over and put his arm around him. “How’s my man doing?”

“Fine, Dad.”

His father backed away, making room for Carl, who stepped up and hugged his brother. “How’s the army treating you?”

“Shitty as usual, Carl. How’ve you been?”

“Well, we were just discussing that,” Peter’s mother interjected rather tersely.

“Now, Marla, we don’t need to burden Peter with Carl’s…situation,” his father admonished.

Peter wondered what kind of conversation he had just interrupted. “Why? What’s going on with Carl?”

Carl put his hands up in exasperation. “They just don’t understand, Pete. Maybe you can help me explain it to them.”

Peter leaned against the kitchen counter. “Explain what, Carl?”

“He thinks he’s dropping out of school and joining the military, Peter.” His mother’s eyes were welling up with tears.

“No, not dropping out,” Carl corrected, “just postponing.”

Peter didn’t understand. “Why, Carl? I thought you liked school.”

“I do, Pete. It’s just that I’m halfway through, and I can’t afford it anymore. And Mom and Dad can’t afford to help me out either.”

This was happening all over again. The first two decades of the new millennium saw a freezing in credit, an exponential increase in college tuition, and predatory lending from banks with double-digit interest. On top of that, unemployment had been hovering between nine and fifteen percent over the years in what economists were calling the Rollercoaster Recession.

This was the same discussion Peter had with his parents several years ago, only he never entertained the notion of attending college. This was a wound for his parents that had not yet completely healed, particularly for his mother, and now his brother Carl was opening it up again and pouring on the salt.

“Carl…”

“Don’t ‘Carl’ me, Peter. You of all people should understand. My half scholarship is no longer cutting it. In order to take out a bank loan, Mom and Dad would have to cosign…at 22 percent. Twenty-two percent, Pete. I can’t let them do that.”

“I told you I’d find a way to pay it, Carl,” his father said. “The military is not an option.”

“It was for Pete,” Carl retorted.

“Carl, do you know what joining the military means?” Peter implored.

“So what, now you can do it, but I can’t hack it?” Carl was sounding hurt and defensive. So much for a nice, quiet visit home.

“Carl, in case you forgot, we are at war. A war on many fronts.” Peter had to be careful—no mention of Mexico. “It’s not like you’ll be at a base in training exercises all day. They’ll ship you off to Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, or some other God forsaken part of the world where you’ll be shot at by the very same people you’re trying to help.”

His mother was pleading with Carl, “Honey, listen to Peter. You’ll be shot at, bombed. There are decapitations.”

“Well what am I supposed to do, live in your basement unemployed? For how long? There are no jobs. College is a waste.”

Peter sized up his younger brother. He was about as tall, but thin and soft from an easy life. He wouldn’t even survive boot camp. Then there were the horrors of war.

“Carl, if you enlist, you’d be putting yourself in harm’s way every day for people halfway around the world who don’t understand freedom or democracy.”

“So, is that how you feel about what you do, Pete?”

“Yes, Carl. Yes it is. It is exactly how I feel.”

“So, then why do you do it?”

Peter knew there were two answers to this question. He was doing it for freedom and democracy. He was doing it to fight villains all around the world who threatened the American way of life. Then there was the other reason, a much less romantic one.

“Carl, I wasn’t a good student like you. I didn’t have any other option.”

His mother glared at him. She apparently believed otherwise, but she had lost that argument years ago.

“Well, Pete, I don’t have any other option either. I only have two years of school under my belt, and there are no jobs.”

This was true, and in the past decade, many other young people found themselves in the very same shoes that Carl was standing in at that moment in the middle of his parents’ kitchen.

“There’s another way, Carl,” his father pleaded. “I’ll make some phone calls. I know people who owe me favors.”

“Carl, please. Listen to your father.”

“Mom, we’ve been through this already. There’s no other option for me. The military could train me in engineering. They need people, and it would be good on-the-job training.”

“For what?” his father asked. “The private sector? The private sector doesn’t give a damn about anything you learn in the military.”

“That’s not true, Dad.”

Peter was leaning up against the kitchen counter taking this all in. He had been here before, and this all resurrected memories of intense arguments over the dinner table and the horrible guilt of what he did to his mother.

He wanted very badly to shake his brother and discourage him from enlisting, but his brother was grown and this was not Peter’s fight. At the moment, he was content to be a noncombatant in this battle.

“Pete, I know you understand.”

“Carl, my situation was different.”

“Different? How?”

“It…it just was, Carl.”

Carl threw up his hands in surrender.

“Well, I see I can’t reason with any of you.” He stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the storm door behind him.

Peter’s mother grabbed his hands and squeezed them in hers. “Please, Peter. You have to explain to him…”

“What, Mom? What am I supposed to explain to him? What could I possibly say that wouldn’t make me look like a hypocrite?” Tears streamed down his mother’s face. “Mom, I don’t want him to enlist any more than you do, but what could I say?”

Her eye makeup was running down her face. Peter felt awful. He felt awful for what Carl was doing to her, and more so, he felt awful again for what he had put her through. He knew she suffered every day, worrying about where he was and if he was okay. She never admitted this to him, but his father had related it to him during quiet moments alone.

They heard the sound of Carl bouncing a basketball in the backyard. His father put a sympathetic arm around his wife. “Well, I don’t think Peter wanted to come home to this. Let’s give him a chance to settle in. He must be hungry.”

“Yeah, Mom. I’ve been dreaming about your meatloaf since the last time I came home. You wouldn’t have any of it handy, would you?”

His mother wiped her eyes, sniffled, and nodded, smiling uncontrollably at her son’s flattery. “Yes, Peter. As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll warm some up for you.”

Peter smiled at his mother. “Sounds good, Mom.”

He shouldered his duffle bag and walked out of the kitchen, ascending the steps to his room. As he unpacked his bag on his old bed, he heard his parents continuing the discussion in hushed whispers as Carl dribbled the ball furiously on the patio out back.

Peter looked out his old bedroom window as Carl took a shot that hit the rim and ricocheted away from him. Had things gotten so bad that even his egghead brother was now considering the army? He was the one who was to become some kind of a doctor or engineer and make his parents proud.

However, part of Peter was relieved that he was no longer the black sheep who disappointed his parents. Now he was in good company, but that did not stop him from worrying about his little brother.

When he finished packing, he went down stairs and wolfed down his mother’s leftover meatloaf. She stood there clutching a cup of coffee and watching him eat with maternal satisfaction.

It was a small satisfaction, but some of the only satisfaction she got these days. She tried her best to be content at home, but she missed the days of working in the office. A casualty of the recession, she became a shell of her former self, smiling through her domestication and feeling helplessly inadequate.

Peter’s father was sitting with him at the kitchen table. “Peter, this accident you had…”

“Nothing that would happen again, Dad. A freak accident. The Major called it a ‘low probability event.’” He hated lying to his father. “I’m okay, really. So how’ve you guys been?” Change of topic.

“Good, I guess. The hardware store’s doing okay. Business has been a bit slow, but it’s a living. It’s good to see you again.”

His mother jumped in. “It’s always good to see you, Peter.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

All things being equal, Peter felt good. He was home, he was stuffed to the gills, and he was ready to hit the town. “I’m going to grab Carl. I’ve been itching for a night out on the town.”

He remembered his last night on the town with Apone and his squad.

His father put his hand on his shoulder. “Can I offer you gents a lift? Frisky’s I presume?”

“Yeah, Dad. Thanks. We’ll walk back.” Peter got up and hugged his mom.

“Be careful, Peter. Look after your brother.”

“Will do, Mom.”

He and his father went into the backyard to fetch Carl.

***

Peter and Carl got out of their father’s car and waved as their father drove off. Ah, Frisky’s. It was a local dive—small, smoky, a total dump—but it was theirs. Every single local knew Frisky’s, only some would ever admit to frequenting it, but the beer specials were unmatched.

Carl gestured for Peter to lead the way. Peter opened the front door and held it for his little brother, and they walked in.

Inside, it was packed, a typical Friday night. There were men and women, mostly in their twenties, and a few middle-aged husbands who snuck out of the house for the night to have some suds with the guys or just find temporary respite.

The MP3 shuffler was belting out a Wave Punk tune, what people in the 1980’s would have considered a blend of new wave and punk music. It was old wine in new wine skins, but it was the popular genre of the moment.

Peter led his brother to the bar where he ordered two domestic beers. Forty dollars. Couldn’t beat it. Townie bars had their merits. The boys sat there and canvassed the bar enthusiastically with their eyes. There were pretty girls everywhere, townies mostly, but that’s all there ever was around there.

Peter appreciated that one thing about the army. It got him the hell out of Texas. He mused that nine point five out of every ten patrons in the bar probably never left the state.

Carl was watching his big brother. He knew something was weighing heavily on him. “Pete, everything alright with you? You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders…”

No, just the weight of ten men and their families.

“…I’m sorry you walked in on that conversation.”

“It wasn’t that, Carl.”

However, Peter saw the look of relief on Carl’s face and didn’t want it to look like he was condoning Carl’s decision. “But I agree with Mom and Dad. You can do better than the army.”

“Pete, you’ve been in the army so long, you haven’t been keeping up with what’s going on in the private sector.”

“What private sector?”

“Exactly.”

“But, Carl, men die in the army. Good men like you.”

“So what do I do, hide away in safety in our parents’ basement? Pete, I’ve never been anywhere. You’ve been places, seen things.”

“You have no idea, Carl. I’ve seen many things. I’ve seen dead bodies. Not just of the enemy, but children…children, Carl. Comrades, friends, fellow Americans…good people.”

Carl was now starting to feel genuinely concerned. He knew his brother, and he knew there was definitely something wrong. “Pete, what happened to you?”

“The same thing that will happen to you if you enlist, Carl. You’ll lose people. You’ll make friends, get close to men in your unit, and then you’ll lose them. If you’re lucky, you’re the one who will eat it, and then others can worry about feeling bad for your death.”

Carl looked confused. “I thought you were spending the past year in training exercises.”

Crap. Peter underestimated how sharp his brother was. He needed a topic change. “How about you, little bro? How are things in the ladies department?”

Carl looked away defensively, pulling his drink closer to him. He pretended that he was scanning the room. Peter knew this was a sore topic for Carl, but it did the trick. It took the focus off him.

“Well, not many women want to date unemployed, broke students living with their parents.”

“Carl, it doesn’t mean that you can’t have any fun.”

“So what am I supposed to do, lie to them?”

Peter smiled. “No, just don’t tell them the truth.”

He saw Carl eyeing a beautiful brunette by the MP3 shuffler. Some local hick was making a royal mess out of hitting on her.

He leaned over and talked in Carl’s ear. “She’s way out of your league, bro.”

Carl laughed and brushed his shoulder off. “You were the one who played in leagues, Pete. I’m going to dazzle her with my intellect.”

Peter slapped him on the back. “Go for it, tiger. I’ll be there to catch her on the rebound.”

Carl took one last slug, draining his pint, and slammed it heartily on the bar. “You assume I’m going to fail. You assume too much.”

“Go get her, Romeo.”

Carl started to walk away when Peter grabbed him by the sleeve and reeled him in.

“What now, Pete?”

“Wait a minute, hot shot. What’s your approach?”

“I’m just going to go over there and introduce myself.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to…say hi?”

“Yeah, introduce myself. You know, like civilized humans do.”

Peter looked over at the target. Long legs, ample rack, curves in all the right places. “I don’t think she’s so civilized, Carl. She’s some kind of predator.”

“Classy, bro. Real classy.”

“Hey, I just call it as I see it.”

“Let me do my thing.”

Peter let his brother go and watched in amusement as he sauntered over to the brunette by the MP3 shuffler. They had only just arrived, and already Carl was trying to show up his big brother. It had always been that way, even though Peter thought his parents favored Carl.

Peter was always bigger, more athletic, and better looking. Carl wasn’t bad looking, but he was more ordinary. However, when it came to intelligence, Peter admitted that Carl out-classed him.

Peter was not quite sure what Carl said to the girl, but her body language already indicated that she was not interested. She was trying desperately to look around the bar for a friend to bail her out, but she wasn’t so lucky. Carl was floundering.

Peter finished his beer and placed his glass on the bar. Big brother to the rescue. He crossed the bar over to where Carl and the brunette were standing. Peter addressed the girl, ignoring Carl entirely. “Hi. Is this guy bugging you?”

The brunette looked at him to gauge if he was serious. So did Carl. She nodded tentatively.

He grabbed Carl by his shirt. “Get lost, dude.” And he shoved him several feet away. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly Carl he was rescuing. “Hi, my name’s Peter.”

The brunette smiled, obviously impressed by his brawn and assertiveness. It was pure animal magnetism. “Hi, I’m Amanda.”

Carl, his pride wounded from being upstaged by his big brother yet again, went back to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser. He looked on helplessly as his brother charmed the pants off the knockout brunette. He figured that girls like that just responded to sophomoric bravado, something he decided was not in his constitution.

He turned to face the bar and wallow in his self-pity when he saw her. She was an attractive blonde. Pretty, athletic, and she had an air of self-confidence. She was looking across the bar. Perhaps she was waiting for someone. Nevertheless, at the moment, she was alone.

Carl pulled himself together, took one last swig of his beer, and he summoned the courage to dismount his bar stool. He crossed the bar, apparently acting before his mind could catch up. He was frantically searching for the perfect introduction, but he was in front of her before he could come up with anything.

He stood there awkwardly in front of her, and it wasn’t long before her gaze shifted from across the bar to him. He didn’t know what to say. He held out his hand. “Hi…I’m Carl.”

Not facile at reading the opposite sex, Carl was not sure how to interpret her reaction. It was somewhere between confusion and displeasure, but the look quickly faded, and she smiled politely. “Hi, Carl.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

She began to fidget. “Well, actually I am supposed to meet someone…”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet my brother,” he pointed to Pete making time with the brunette, “but he’s obviously busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I see…” she looked over at Peter and then at Carl. She appeared to have an inexplicable sudden change of heart. “What’re you drinking, Carl?”

“At this point, whiskey.”

“Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

The girl summoned the bartender. “Two whisky shots, black label.”

Carl was impressed. This girl knew how to order drinks.

“So, Carl, what was so rough about your day?”

“Well…I decided that I was going to enlist…in the army.” Dammit, he forgot…he wasn’t supposed to tell the truth.

“Oh, the army. Impressive.”

Wow. He wasn’t expecting that. She looked actually impressed.

“Yeah, well, my parents weren’t too happy about it.”

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t be.”

“Even my brother, who’s actually a sergeant in the army.”

“Really? Well, that seems hypocritical of him, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

He couldn’t believe it. He was actually having a real conversation with a beautiful woman, and she was so easy to talk to. The night was looking up.

“So why the army, Carl? You don’t seem like the army type.”

Now he was embarrassed. Apparently sensing his insult, the girl clarified her remark. “I mean, you seem like someone who’d do well in the private sector.”

“Yeah, that’s what my brother seems to think. But the economy is so bad, I can’t afford any more tuition, and there are no jobs.”

“So the army seems like your best option at the moment.”

“Well, I want to do something with myself. I don’t just want to sit around and do nothing. I am my own man. I want to see the world.”

“Well, Carl, you know the army isn’t a vacation.”

“I know that, but maybe I want to do some good, and perhaps I’ll learn some skills on the job.”

“What were you studying in school, Carl?”

“Engineering. I figured that there’s plenty of on-the-job training, and the army can pay the rest of my tuition.”

“Well, there are other skills you can learn too, besides engineering.”

“Oh?”

“Like leadership, independence, discipline.”

Carl thought he was falling in love. Here he was talking to a beautiful woman who understood him and what he wanted to do. Was this actually going somewhere? She seemed older, but he wasn’t sure how much.

Then he realized that he knew nothing about her. Here he was droning on about himself and his existential quandary. He suddenly felt self-conscious and rather clumsily tried to change the topic to her.

“So, I’ve been going on and on about myself, I don’t even know your name.”

She was looking over his shoulder. “Oh, I think I see the person I was supposed to meet.”

Oh great. She was blowing him off. He screwed up, blathering on about enlisting, unemployment, and his parents.

“Let’s go say hi.” Unexpectedly, she grabbed him by the arm and nearly yanked him off his bar stool. She pulled him through the crowd, through the smoke, and across the tiny dance floor until she was standing in front of Peter.

Peter looked away from his brunette as he saw some blonde pulling his brother across the bar. He almost did a double take when he saw who it was.

“Hi, Peter.”

Carl was confused. “What? You know my brother? Pete, you know her?”

Peter, embarrassed by his company and completely unprepared for this encounter, straightened up. “Captain London.”

Peter didn’t know why, but he was disconcerted. He didn’t want Captain London seeing him with this bar fly. Part of him found her attractive since their first meeting, even though romance wasn’t an option. She was his therapist after all.

Carl couldn’t believe it. He was finally able to maintain a conversation, with a total knockout no less, and she was here to meet his brother. What was it with this guy? What did Pete have that he didn’t?

“I was just talking with your brother, Carl, over at the bar.”

Peter didn’t quite know what to say. The brunette, no longer the center of Peter’s attention, looked flustered.

“What are you doing here, Captain?”

She sized up the brunette contemptuously. “Major Lewis sent me to personally tell you that your leave has been cut short.”

Great. Again?

“He has approved you for…that program we were talking about.”

It took a moment for the meaning of her message to register with Peter. At the moment, it was really the last thing on his mind.

Carl was lost. “Program? What’s she talking about, Pete?”

She was staring him dead in the eye, no doubt gauging his reaction.

“Nothing, Carl. Yes, thank you, Captain. I’ll report tomorrow morning.”

“At 08:00, Lieutenant.”

What? Did he hear her correctly?

“Lieutenant,” he repeated tentatively.

“Yes, it appears you have been promoted.”

Carl stood there stunned. The brunette, her ego bruised, was losing interest fast. Carl was happy for his brother. “Pete, this is great! Lieutenant. Congratulations!”

“08:00 hours, Captain.”

Captain London turned to Carl and shook his hand. Her skin was soft to the touch, but her grip was firm. “It was nice meeting you, Carl. Peter, you never told me your brother was cute.”

Then she turned and left the bar.

Now Carl stood there just as flabbergasted as his brother was. The brunette had already left the scene and was now talking to some other jock. Both brothers basked in the glow of accomplishment, and each would have argued that his was more significant.

They left the bar shortly thereafter and began their half-drunken walk home. Carl was dissertating about how smooth he was in his introduction and conversation with the illustrious Captain London. Peter was unable to discuss his promotion and what it meant, so all he could do was listen to Carl. Unfortunately, the effects of the alcohol were waning, rendering Carl’s soliloquy nearly unbearable.

Carl noticed his brother squirming. “Hey, listen, I understand if this makes you uncomfortable, she being a senior officer and all.”

Peter didn’t respond. Carl studied his big brother’s face, and then his face lit up as if struck by a great epiphany. “It’s not that, is it?”

Peter just kept looking forward as he walked.

“It’s not that at all,” Carl continued in delight. “You like her.”

“Carl, she’s my goddamned therapist.”

“She’s a shrink? Why are you seeing a shrink?”

Peter looked annoyed. “Carl, haven’t you heard of confidentiality?”

Carl was practically squealing with delight. “You like her. And she said I was cute, and that just burns your ass.”

“Yes, Carl,” Peter responded sarcastically, “it really burns my ass, even though she’s my shrink and there’s no prospect whatsoever.”

For Carl this was Christmas come a little early. “Oh, it burns your ass alright. A girl actually chose me over you.”

“She didn’t choose anything, Carl. She just said you were cute.”

Then it was as if Carl was told that there was no Santa Clause. “Crap…crap, you’re right.”

Peter felt bad at Carl’s disappointment, but he was happy it shut him up.

“Hey, Pete, do you think I’ll see her again?”

Peter just looked at his brother with exasperation. Weary from a night of drinking, he put his arm around his brother and they walked the rest of the way home in silence.