Flawed Machines

I. The Question-1

I. The Question

Inara Brillar leaned back in her thick sanguine-toned chair to feel for a more stable spot. The giant seat centered in her boss, Dr. Glen Kriit’s, office reached as wide as a couch. Dr. Kriit was a minimalist that worked out of a relatively small trailer, so all power that ran through his low-priority office was utilized for the bare necessities.

Since Inara’s arms were folded, her golden linked watch gleaned from the shimmer of the incandescent lights. Her watch was an older timepiece, as old as the golden circular pendant she never left home without. Both were made in a century when wristwatches only displayed the time. In the year 2118, her multifaceted jewels were out of place in a foreign era of digital simplicity.

Inara briefly glanced at her watch, an action not lost on Glen.

She then apologized, “Sorry, there are never enough minutes during the day. Lately, I feel like I have a chronic lack of time.”

Glen gave a half-hearted expression to his colleague before his gaze dropped to his desk.

“You’re not gonna like this but…” Glen sighed, “the answers you’re looking for aren’t… available right now. I understand where you’re coming from, so don’t take it the wrong way. I’ve thought about that possibility as well. It’s something I can’t be totally sure on until I have more pieces to the puzzle. Taking that into consideration… how have you been? Truly, it’s been quite a while.”

Inara took a noticeably deep breath, “Okay. I have been alright, sir. I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but if we must ponder other topics. Lately, I have decided to let my mind wonder on an ugly truth. Something I cannot seem to shake.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“About the intention of our friends and not-so-close friends. The intentions of ourselves. One cannot help but think, with all of the vast differences separating us, the strong from the weak, the wealthy from the poor, the conniving and vicious from those entirely opposed, life enjoys playing this tragic game.”

Inara paused for a second and glanced at her watch, then stared down at the desk before her.

“Does it ever bother you knowing that we’re all part of this game that may never reach an end - that may never declare a winner?”

The stern grin Glen held until now drooped further with his understudy’s question. He leaned forward on his desk and met Inara’s eyes, hoping to bridge a gap in their understandings.

“I’m not too sure I want to answer that, Inara. I’m assuming, of course, that was a rhetorical question.”

She quickly shook her head horizontally.

“From the sound of it, that premise asserts life as quite the bleak experience. In fact, from the way you’re speaking, I could close my eyes and picture Osmond sitting in front of me now.”

Inara’s eyes shifted from the bearded figure behind the desk to her wrist. Her fingers wrapped around her knee one-by-one, comparable to a spider wrapping a moth.

For a second, she pondered whether she had caught her boss off guard. He sat silently tangled in her newly woven net, spun to entertain Glen’s complacency.

“Alright… I’ll play ball. So, why does life seem to be so tragic? Let’s see. Well, I suppose that’s a question that regularly flirts with many answers.”

His head raised to the ceiling while his eyes fell on the person in front of his desk.

“Rather than speculate life’s preference for this game you say we’ve entered, I think the bigger point is acknowledging its role in the whole matter. The point that life is forced to do whatever it must to survive every moment. Regardless of its preference, it must continue with this ebb and flow from start to finish. And that is without pause, no matter what, to keep the hope of winning afloat. It is the futile hope of winning that all life secretly knows it will never reach. That’s the real tragedy,” he said, grabbing the cup on the side of the desk.

“Oh god, now I sound like him!”

“You are right, that is bleak,” she said.

A short spurt of laughter sparked between the two, an effect formed from a long relationship as colleagues and friends.

Inara paused to say, “When you say, ‘the hope of winning’ the game, I assume you mean doing well. Like extended periods of happiness. That seems like a reasonable-enough prize anyway for enduring all of life’s hardships… I guess.”

Glen looked away at his window with a concerned look. He tried to laugh again although he saw his colleague sitting calmly and blankly staring at his demeanor.

“Yes, reasonable-enough,” he said.

“As far as prizes go, the reward of happiness definitely takes the cake. I mean, it sounds like a reasonable thing to do. But you know what I always say…”

“Why be right when you can be the first to answer?” she interjected.

“Ha, yes, exactly. Happiness, that’s a phenomenal reward… I presume. But is that reward worth taking the risk of the game?”

Inara slumped back in her chair as she thought about what Dr. Kriit said. Less confident than before, she said, “We have no choice but to play the game.”

“Oh really? Have I ever told you about Osmond and me first meeting when in university? Yeah, didn’t think so. Ha… well - to put it frankly, he’s always been a bit of a free spirit. Me, not at all. I’ve always tried, though I tend to come off a bit sloppy. But with Osmond, he was as free as a breeze. Flowing in whatever direction had the strongest current. I mean, who can go about life doing things spur of the moment? It’s a risky way of living, y’know? At the time, I kinda hated him. Not just because of his untamed nature, but it was the results it gave. No matter what he did - regardless of how sporadic his actions - he always seemed to be on top of things. On top of everything. Over the years of knowing Osmond, that same loathe I had for him never ceased. In fact, it grew and grew...along with my curiosity on how he managed to do what he did. I was forced to come to the realization my friend had figured out some type of controlled chaos that I simply could not comprehend. Once I finally accepted that understanding him was out of my grasp, all the disdain I held for my friend,” Glen flicked his hands, “evaporated. The boy’s a creative magician. I became excited, which is why I have devoted my life to making all my work compatible with the brilliant research of Dr. Osmond A. Diaz. Pupil or not, he’s far exceeded my expectations. Fulfilling his dream is now a benchmark of my own. You look like you want to ask me why. Why help someone I’ve envied for so long? What will that accomplish for myself? Well, I’ll tell you.”

“No, I wasn’t going to ask,” Inara quickly inserted. “He’s floating towards the stars with this creation, as if it won’t entirely consume him,” Inara said with her hand covering her forehead.

“Maybe, but what he has is what everyone wants. Freedom. That’s the most coveted award of them all.”

“Hmm, I think I see what you mean. Helping him helps us all. Theoretically, that is.”

“Yes, dear, exactly! The liberation he has embraced truly fascinates me beyond reason,” Glen excitedly replied.

“I can tell you admire him deeply, sir. Whenever you speak so highly of him it makes me want to finally meet him in person. I can see why you were so eager to rejoin with him once he moved back to Chun.”

“Ha yes, he became something of a younger brother to me during the years of our studies as well as post-graduate research in the lab. Communicating while he journeyed across the entire world was a hurdle, but we managed to sustain contact throughout the entire time.”

Glen leaned back and stared at the floor beside him as he crossed his fingers resting on his belly. His oversized stomach peeked from the top of the desk, and his beard loomed to the spot his clavicle met his chest. Glen’s fingers started to bounce as his giant belly jiggled from a heartiness held in too long. Inara could tell he had a lot on his mind, though he tried to hide it.

“Sir, like I said on the phone, I wanted to let you know I am going to pick up the disc.”

He looked up from his daydream and asked, “Huh?”

“The disc for the 4DM. I’m going to pick it up tomorrow morning. I thought I should let you know before I go.”

“Oh yes, of course. I appreciate that. Thanks for letting me know beforehand. A few months ago, I took the initiative of having a better alarm built for it instead of just keeping it in that safe. It’s a tricky lock, so you’ll have to be quick when opening and closing it. The lock stays unhinged for exactly five minutes.”

“Only five minutes?” Inara looked confused.

“Is that wise, sir?”

He smiled, “Best part yet is I can deactivate the alarm from this office. That way you can grab it while I stay here. Just some security measures I’ve recently felt… inclined to expand on. You just never know, y’know?”

“I guess that isn’t too bad of an idea. With that in mind, I can make the proper arrangements to pick it up.”

She then left her chair to leave the office en-route to her next objective. The door was left halfway open when Inara heard Glen mumbling something.

“Sorry, sir?” Inara replied.

“It’s that I just… I thought I heard you say the 4DM,” Glen said suddenly rising from his comfortable lounge seat.

He leaned against the doorway and looked Inara in the eyes with a seriousness rarely ever witnessed.

“Inara, please tell me you didn’t just call it the 4DM… come on.”

Her boss’s distressed face made her awfully attentive to whatever randomly pained him. Inara searched for the chance word or phrase that could provide ease to Glen’s nervous movements and speech.

“I’m sorry, but that name is not what was agreed upon. It hasn’t been for the past eleven years, you know that. It was then that the brilliant Dr. Ehmen Foerde officially coined our wonderful device the Foerde Manipulator in the proposal he sent to all the investors. Ever since, we have been blessed with his humblest of names. Since he puts the news in writing every few months we are prohibited from the excuse of forgetting the title. You know you can’t make a mistake like that when you meet with him tomorrow, right?”

“Of course. It was a simple error, Glen. Void of any intent towards Ehmen. Honestly, I had not given the issue any thought until now…but I will be conscious of it in the future. You have nothing to worry about Glen. You can dry that sweat on your brow.”

“I hope so. The second you even mention the 4DM he would take it as disrespect. He can be weird like that. I know, it’s something a whole team of all-stars created - although they will get less than little respect for it - but he is the financial nucleus of this whole show and will get treated as if that money were directly correlated to his effort on the project.”

Glen turned his head towards his office window in a blank stare, “At the same time, without Ehmen, Orion’s Eye Observatory wouldn’t have its telescope or its brilliant researchers. Trust me, the irony of it all isn’t lost on me, but he’ll be blunt to remind you if you forget. As you know by now, he has a way of getting straight to the point that is… a bit harsh.”

“Yes, I do. I have been on the receiving end of his rounded talk before. If his conversation skills were any straighter, it would be a circle,” she joked.

“Agreed!” Glen chuckled.

“You have nothing to worry about; just make sure you take advantage of this opportunity to sleep in. I’ll call you as soon as the meeting is over,” she said looking through the doorway.

Without realizing it, Glen was hovering in the doorway, bearing his weight down in a heavy, fatherly manner. His eyes - with red cracks streaking across a glassy surface - awaited the next words from his young, brilliant pupil as if they would somehow alleviate all his concerns regarding his quarterly meeting with the observatory’s benefactor.