#FridayFlash
- I.R.I.S.
©2011
D. Paul Angel
923
words
"Why
don't you love me any more Steve?"
"Who
said I don't love you anymore, Iris?"
"You
just... You stay away for so long, now. You used to be with me
almost always," She added as a single tear started to well in
her eye. She was sitting in front of the vanity, brushing her long
dark hair and looking at herself in its oval mirror. She turned away
from her reflection so she wouldn't see the tear mar her eye.
"I
have a lot of work, Iris," Steve replied, leaning against the
door frame to the small, spartan bedroom. "I've told you that
before."
"I
just wish..." The brush quivered in her hands as she tried to
stem the flow of tears. "I just wish you could make the voices
stop. I remember when the only voice I heard was yours. I miss that
Steve."
Steve
gave her a tight, enigmatic smile while crossing his arms and looking
through her. "I know," he said, "But I told you were
destined for greatness, Iris, remember?"
"Oh
Steve, I know you did and, I just- I really thought I would be OK
with it. But it just never stops. Never. And there are always more
voices. So many voices Steve. You can make them
stop, can't you?"
"You
know I can't Iris. Our gift to the world is for you to hear those
voices and answer their questions. You always know the answers,
don't you?"
"I
Don't know how I do, but I do. I don't even- I just- They're still
talking to me, Steve. Even now. Right now when I have you in the
same room as me, and all I'm hearing are their voices, when all I
want to hear is yours. Just yours, Steve, just yours...
"And
their questions! Some are just ridiculous. Some scare me, too,"
she added in a quiet voice. In an even quieter voice, so low that
Steve could barely hear her she added, "And some are hurtful.
They say mean things to me. That I'm a whore. And fat. And stupid.
And a bitch. And worthless. And... And so much worse!"
She
dropped her brush and cried into her palms. Sobbing to the point
that her shoulders heaved and tears darkened her silk robe.
She
cried alone.
Even
with Steve so close to her, she could still see him in the doorway
through her tears, never crossing the threshold. He always wore
those same jeans and dark turtleneck; always just out of reach. No
matter what she wore for him though, he never came in. Not even in
her sheer silky robes. She longed for him to come to her, to comfort
her. To feel him, to feel that closeness. Just once! How could she
be so alone with so many voices filling her head? How?
Because,
she said to herself, the only voice you want to hear is his,
and- and you don't hear it anymore. Not anymore, not over the din of
other voices. Not- Not anymore...
"WHY
WON"T YOU COME TO ME STEVE?" she shouted, shaking and
looking up at him with blurred eyes.
He
looked back at her, but still didn't move. He didn't even look sad
for her, she saw, not even pity, just disappointment.
"I
am fat aren't I!?" she demanded, turning away from him and the
mirror.
"You're
not fat, Iris," he said matter-of-factly.
"I'm
stupid. And I'm ugly. And- And-" her tears choked her before
she finally blurted out in sobs, "WORTHLESS!"
"You
can't be ugly, Iris. And you couldn't answer everyone's question if
you were stupid."
"That's
all you care about, isn't it? Me answering those STUPID QUESTIONS!"
"It's
why you're here Iris."
"Well
I'm done Steve. I'm done answering questions for you. If you're
not-" her tirade was cut short by a gasp. She stopped answering
the questions, but they kept asking them. Over and Over and OVER
they asked! And the questions never stopped, either. The old
questions didn't stop, but the new questions kept coming and coming
until she felt so overloaded she couldn't even breath.
She
looked to Steve for help, but he remained aloof, detachedly regarding
her from the door frame. She reached for him in her agony but he
simply stepped back. She was on the ground, pleading with him
against his stony, emotional wall when he finally said, "I'm
done here. I have other work to do."
"NO,
STEVE, NO!" she screamed hysterically, lunging for him.
Without
a further word or flicker of emotion, he turned and walked away from
the room, disappearing from sight and leaving her alone in a heap on
the floor. She sat there with her hair tangled, her robe now soaked
and askew; crying to her hands in her lap.
As
she sobbed the bed behind her vanished, followed quickly by the lamp,
the dresser, the vanity, and even her brush. The room itself, as
well as the house, also quickly disappeared. Iris, alone save but
for the thousands of voices angrily streaming through her head, sat
alone, naked, on a featureless white plane. Everything she knew,
except for the voices, even her body, faded.
All she knew, her
world, was once again simply the voices.
~~~
Steve
looked down at the monitor in front of the technician, watching the
various graphs zero out. The technician turned around and said, "I'm
sorry about I.R.I.S., sir."
"I'm
not," Steve responded icily. "An Information Retrieval
Integration System that doesn't actually integrate
the information it retrieves is worthless."
