A Robotic Heart (revised)

[AnimatedC9000]

Chapter 1


It was the same as it was every night. There I was in the same dark room, and there were my friends, Lindbergh, Vicki, Waldo and all the others, gathered around the same confounded table they were in every dream, performing the same doomed experiment. As I watched them, I noticed, as I always did, that something didn't look right. The chemicals they were mixing were too volatile, and anyone with any training in chemistry could tell that there was a great risk of a dangerous reaction. The people gathered around the table however, had no training. As I looked on with apprehension, I saw Waldo pick up a beaker of what I could tell to be myamila gerisolite, a highly explosive agent even under the best of circumstances, and move to pour it into the compound. Knowing that I couldn't let this happen, I tried frantically to get the attention of one of them. Finally, my calling and arm-waving got the attention of Vicki, who smiled and waved me over. I ran over, in the hopes that I could stop this experiment before it went too far. It was too late. The chemical had been poured; the damage had been done. I heard a ground-shaking explosion, and saw a large cloud of smoke. I felt myself being thrown backwards by the blast, but I knew I was the only one. I couldn't see them, but I knew the others had been caught up in the explosion. Suddenly, I felt myself falling rapidly...

~~~

... and immediately found myself screaming as I fell out of bed.

As soon as my body hit the floor, I sat up and breathed heavily, trying to calm myself down. I’d experienced that dream--no, nightmare--for weeks upon end now and didn’t know how to prevent it. At first I thought it would pass, but now...

“Digit?”

Looking up, I saw my friend and roommate standing at the doorway of my room in his pajamas, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Floating beside him was a little computer graphic who yawned. “What’re you doing screaming in the middle of the night?” my friend drowsily asked me.

Apparently, my scream of fright had awoken them from their slumber. Not knowing how to answer either of them, I simply remained silent.

“Did you have a bad dream or something?” the floating creature asked. "Must've been really loud..."

"You were screaming like you just saw something bad, or something," the other added.

I could not believe how correct both Lindbergh and Waldo were... “... well, yes,” I replied, “but… you see… I’ve been having this.. dream for...”

“I know, nights now,” my kiwi friend finished, moving to kneel beside me on the floor.

“We’ve been hearing that same scream for lots of nights in lots of weeks now," the graphic said, his drowsy eyes looking at me. "What’s going on with you? You're not glitching or anything, are you?”

"No, Waldo, I'm not glitching..." To be perfectly honest, I had been asking myself the same question ever since I first had that nightmare. The friends, the dark room, the chemicals, the explosion... it could possibly mean only one thing... “Lindbergh, I think my past is coming back to haunt me...”

Lindbergh looked me over. “... your past? ... like, when you became--”

“Yes, that.” Lindbergh was the only one other than myself that knew about what happened to me… how I became the way I am today...

But he, ever the optimist, tried his best to reassure me that things were okay. “Aw, don’t get yourself worried about this stuff, Digit. Maybe you did something all those nights to make you have that dream... like some of your wires got crossed again.” He paused. "... do you want me to look?”

“... no,” I said after a period of silence, crawling back up to my bed. “I think I can make it...”

He looked sort of sad after I said that. “Well, okay,” he said, then he returned to a semi-chipper voice. “I hope you get to feeling better... Good night, Digit.”

“Good night, Lindbergh, Waldo,” I nodded as they were leaving.

Poor little Waldo, ignorant of what had went on in years past (as he was not even there with me until the 1980s), raised an eyebrow in confusion. "When what happened--?"

"It's a long story, Waldo," Lindbergh interrupted, leading him out of the room. "Digit doesn't like to talk about it."

"Aww, but I wanna know!" the graphic whined. "He's basically my dad; dads are supposed to tell stories of the good old days when they rode trolleys to work and when sugar costed ten cents a bag and stuff like that!"

"It's hard to understand if I told you, Waldo," was one of the last things I heard Lindbergh say that night. "Maybe he can tell you all about it someday." Then he closed the door and went back to his room to sleep again, Waldo no doubt floating back to his computer resting site with questions in his computer-generated head still unanswered.

Lindbergh had been one of my oldest and dearest friends. He’s been with me ever since the accident and has never left me since. We were so close that we even moved in together after I was released from the hospital. From then on, we've pretty much been inseparable, partially because we became best friends, and partially because he's one of the only ones that knows how to actually fix me whenever I glitch.

Then there was Waldo C. Graphic, the self-proclaimed “spirit of 3-D”. He was a playful computer graphic who always had fun on the job and elsewhere. The little graphic had gone through a lot, including major redesigns from when I first activated him on a computer. I consided him to be the closest thing to a son that I'd ever have. After all, I basically coded him from scratch and activated him at all those places, including our former workplace, Muppet Central.

Of course, that’s not to say that I don’t have other friends. There’re the members of Solid Foam, a band that I was in back in the Eighties (and a little bit earlier). I played keyboard, Clifford played bass, Beard was our guitarist, Flash on saxophone (although he could also play the fiddle), and his girlfriend Francine was our drummer. We were close as well, and it seemed as if we knew what was going on with each other, especially during that one period of time...

So many other names came to my mind. There was Kermit the Frog, my boss and friend. Gonzo was also there, that delightful little alien who loved dangerous stunts and poultry. So was Leon, Kermit’s chameleon cousin and con artist. Still more were Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, his assistant Beaker, and all of the Electric Mayhem.

And then there was that one name that was so dear to my heart. The very mention of it sent a vision of happiness and loveliness to my mind. She was always so happy and upbeat, with the sweetest personality I could ever think of. She was so beautiful and magnificent, a real angel on Earth... at least to me.

At that moment, my hands felt over just a few of the items that I had taken out during my moments of solitude. A high school diploma... a photo album... a college degree... a paper heart... All of them brought back so many memories...

I knew that I couldn’t go back to sleep. My mind was wide awake and didn’t want to shut down for the rest of the night. Having nothing else to do, I sat down at my desk and booted up my laptop. Then, when everything was situated, I started to reminisce about the times gone by, typing memories that flooded into my mind down on the computer.

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A/N: Okay, so I decided that I am going to repost this story because I've gotten around to making a few revisions to some of the chapters. Don't worry, the plot (or lack thereof) is basically the same! It's just some revisions, a few additions and changes here and there, but nothing deviating that far from the overall structure. I hope that fans of the original will still enjoy this story, and that new people can look at this story and enjoy it as well.

 

[AnimatedC9000]

A/N: Thanks Ailie. And wait no longer! Here's the next chapter!
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Chapter 2

I'm sorry to say that I can't remember that much about my life before the accident. I'm pretty sure that it was an average life. I vaguely remember getting good grades, but I also remember not having that many friends. I don't remember having any siblings, either; I do, however, remember having an imaginary friend that later was the main influence to a special creation of mine. I doubt that I was ever in a relationship back then, given that I clearly remember that I didn't go to any prom.

However, my earliest childhood memory that I can fully remember involved working on a science project when I was in middle school. I was frustrated, not being able to figure out why a certain part in my experiment wouldn’t work out. I was in the midst of a break when a knock came on my door.

“May I come in, sweetie?” a woman asked, poking her head into my room. Her hair was light brown in color and she had a very radiant smile. The detail that was very prominent about her was her species: She was human.

“Sure, Mom,” I replied with a sigh.

The woman I referred to as Mom entered the room and sat down beside me on my bed. “How’s the science project coming along, Michael?”

My full name was Michael Lloyd Scott. That was when I was still human and was in a family. From what I could recollect, it was just my mother and I. I don't remember having a father figure in my life.

“Not so good, Mom,” I said, motioning over to my experiment. “I can’t seem to make it work.”

Mom took a look at the project, then back at me. “Son, you have the best grades in science that I’ve ever seen. You’re telling me that you can’t get the project-- that, remember, you designed -- to work?”

“I’ve tried everything,” I told her. “I’ve looked and re-looked at the plans. Heck, I’ve even redesigned a few parts so it could work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ve tried everything.”

“Everything?”

She had me there. After a few awkward moments of silence, I answered her. “... what do you think I should do?”

My mother looked at me and smiled. “Michael, I know you can think of something to make it work. You just have to keep trying until you eventually get it right.”

If anything, my mother was a great motivator. She was always encouraging me to try new things and also was very supportive in my experiments.

Looking back at my experiment, I pondered my mother’s words. What else could be done to improve it, I wondered.

Standing up from my position near the edge of the bed, I headed towards the desk that supported my project and began to look over it and the plans again. Before I began to tinker, however, my mother spoke again. “Remember that bedtime’s in an hour.”

I flashed a smile as I looked over my shoulder at her. “Okay, Mom,” I said in return. “Good night.”

“Good night sweetie.” With a smile and an air kiss, she left the room.

I ultimately stayed up late that night, tinkering and fixing my project until I thought it would work. Then I activated it and watched as the experiment worked like a charm. With the work finally completed, I almost immediately fell asleep afterwards.

~~~

It should come as no surprise to anyone that my project earned an excellent grade in my science class. In fact, it might not surprise anyone if I revealed that my grades were excellent in all of my classes. (Except for P.E. I've never been that athletic.) All through my school years, I was in the top students of my class and excelled in pretty much every subject. (Again, not in P.E. at all.)

Among my fellow students, however, I wasn’t what some might consider “popular”. You see, I was mostly known to be studying by myself or experimenting than being involved with a group of people. As a result, I hardly received an invitation to any of the major parties or had a date for prom.

Still, I did manage to have friends in the teachers. They were always encouraging me to do the best that I could in my classes, just like Mom was encouraging me at home. I even actually had after-school access to the science lab thanks to Mr. Hucklebee, my science teacher in high school.

While in school, I also took an interest in photography. I’m hardly one to brag, but I took pretty decent pictures back then, and I still do every once in a while. In fact, it was because of my skills in that area that allowed me to join the school paper staff and (eventually) the yearbook committee.

By the time I was a senior, I was named the valedictorian of my class. My grades were high, my social life was improving (a little), I was the principle photographer for the yearbook committee, and my future seemed bright. It seemed that nothing in the world was going to stop me from achieving my major goals in life.

That is, until that one fatal day in early June that changed my life forever...

 

[AnimatedC9000]

Bad news guys: my laptop, where I've been working on all of this story from, has acted up and is now restored to factory setting. Yes, that means EVERYTHING is gone, even the stuff I came up with for Chapter 25. It's gonna be a while until the next update. ... I apologize for the wait.