Monica II rolled over and kissed Dr. Strong. He remained asleep. Once she got out of bed, she headed towards the sanitation station and washed in lemon zest and lavender oil. Her skin glistened under the lights. She felt a surge of energy course through her petite frame. As a synth, she could sense when the doctor would be roused from his slumber. She let him sleep as she donned a tan sweater and blue jeans and white flats.

She heard Dr. Strong stirring and the light sound of a yawn that seemed to pierce the air.  In all of this, she continued to prepare for the day. She didn’t possess a brain chip, she was a brain chip. Her biological features of smooth skin and supple muscles met with circuitry that charged through the night. Dr. Strong’s king size bed with six hundred thread count linens also served as a giant charging station. Pert and lively, in the darkness right before dawn, she prepared all of his work for him. He had just started another book while the latest flew off of digital bookshelves.

He walked into the bathroom to eliminate, shave, and shower. In sync, with Simon the digital assistant, Monica II brought up the day’s schedule and looked out onto the city. Dazzling lights dotted the cityscape below. Like a child’s toy from years gone by, different colors of blue, red, yellow, and green cast a distinct glare amongst the darkness. After Dr. Strong finished, he dressed in a starched white shirt, blue blazer and trousers, and cognac colored dress shoes. He walked up to Monica II, and hugged her waist. He kissed her cheek.

Breakfast had already been prepared; fresh strawberries and kiwi sat alongside eggs over hard and a cup of the finest coffee which steamed at his place at the head of the table. Monica II sat at the other end as news streamed through Dr. Strong’s brain chip. She and Simon aggregated news stories from all over the world and in their own town. Her femininity seemed lithe and graceful as a lynx. 

As he finished his meal, Dr. Strong continued his day by looking over the schedule that Monica II had prepared. Figures from financial sources listed the mergers and acquisitions (M&A) and the stock prices for the various companies in the city-state. He managed to read all the data the computer systems processed. In moments, he looked at the time 4:44 in the morning. 

He cherished this time period. Enjoyment sprang forth in his spry way of conducting himself. The early morning before the break of day provided him with ample opportunities to construct his prose. He walked around the house and made notes. His studies brought him to a position of power. Every step against his marble floors produced another idea which hung in his head and leapt onto the pages through his voice control apparatus attached to the chip.

Another synth named Gregor cleaned up the plate and then vanished almost as quickly as he had arrived. When Monica II had taken Dr. Strong’s vitals, she had purposefully allowed time for him to jot down his words via the speaker and they appeared on his computer system in his study. 

The time kept him going, nevertheless. He fought against the idea of sun rays which sought to hurt his eyes. That’s why the pitch black always seemed to be the best time to catch the fish of thoughts swirling around in his organic brain. He came across a story from one of the states outside of Smartystan. In Indiana, music had been banned totally. All forms, styles, and genres had been completely censored by the government there. He breathed. This dour news dropped onto his consciousness. With vigor, he began to type up an essay to be included in the op/ed section of the Smartystan Times. 

His love for classical and blues music bubbled inside of him. He selected with his device tunes from the early twentieth century. Then, he turned contemporary and listened to Phyllis Deaver’s Third Piano Concerto. Monica looked at him as she tiptoed around the house. A smile curled around her mouth. The defiance and liberty echoing throughout the house warmed her.

Sounds emitted through the luxe sound system. With every step Dr. Strong took, he commanded the ideas to be corralled into a comprehensive whole. There seemed to be a binary connection between biological and data driven. 

Another story which horrified Dr. Strong sprung from overseas in Milan, Italy where fashion shows had been shut down indefinitely. He gathered all of this information and channeled it as well. In China, still, they banned all cryptocurrency. This collection of stories continued to harbor in his mind. He wondered what Go would make of all this. He didn’t call him because he usually slept well past noon, even if he stopped using heroin. The doctor continued on his course for self-discovery through these news items. He, though, didn’t let them bother him. They became fuel to feed the fire that burned through his entire person. Even with the fury nestled in his thoughts, he could still enjoy his abode. The temperature settings adjusted with his every movement. Monica II played chess with Gregor by just walking around the house. A sense of harmony descended upon the man and his synths. With all of the calamity surrounding this place once known as Delaware, there existed a clean sensibility that aroused great understanding in all of them. They knew that they had been fortunate enough to live in a place unencumbered by state regulations or controls. 

What they liked most wasn’t just the freedom but the knowledge of the freedom of action between man and machine that burst through times that appeared dim outside of the ivory gates. This boosted Dr. Strong’s own sense of who he had become and what he would do. In his writings, he could comment on anything he wanted. The city-state had afforded him enough space to say whatever he wished. To consider his way of life and the hellscape of the rest of the surviving states gave him pause. He circled back to the dining room where his coffee had cooled but still had enough bite. He didn’t even ask for it to be warmed again. Monica II motioned for the coffee to be heated, he waved at her. She comprehended the message. With a quick turn, she shrugged and put Gregor in check. 

The compilation of thoughts drove Dr. Strong even more with a few sips of the black liquid. He didn’t even bother to sit down as he composed a document with just a few words from his lips. What gummed up the process, still, remained the link he sought to convey between all of these notions. Ties between music, commerce, and fashion commingled in his brain, but the words seemed elusive. Dr. Strong didn’t count this as writer’s block or the squirms, however. Instead, he just needed time alone with his own thoughts to bring all three stories into a cohesive whole. He had already written about a thousand words, but couldn’t quite envision them all coming together. 

The disparate tales from the underworld that had once been the world, failed to totally congeal. Never out of desperation did Dr. Strong work. He just knew he had to make all of them make sense. This presented him with great pleasure as he loved to be in a position where he had to claw his way out whatever situation in which he found himself. His time as an officer in the military prepared him for this day. On every occasion, he knew what to do or could find someone who could do it. Monica II came into his office. She let out an audible sigh. Dr. Strong looked at her and said nothing. She ambled with her hips swaying from side to side to get next to her life partner. He knew this would be a loose term for him. Of course he could live to age one hundred and sixty, but Monica II would be around much longer than that, according to her programming. A finger wrapped around his crown of salt and pepper Caesar haircut. She sat in his lap and told him everything is great. As his muse, he started to figure out how to best shape his words in just the right order. He kissed the backside of her hand and wrist. They stood there in the excellence of the hour. Quiet beyond measure, except for the music tinkling around them, they just kept standing as more thoughts streamed through his mind and found their way onto the device. The scent of cinnamon soon wafted through the study. They smiled. Gregor had prepared rolls fresh from the oven. Dr. Strong paused his writerly intentions and strolled into the kitchen. Now, the smell overwhelmed as the sweetness and spiciness invaded his nostrils. 

Another cup of coffee in hand and a fraction of the pastry in the other, the doctor ambled about his home with a renewed sense of purpose and drive. Monica II put Gregor in check again. Dr. Strong walked past his grand piano, completely transparent like a wine glass. He chomped the small piece of the cinnamon roll and washed it down with the inky liquid. The piano looked pristine and he never needed a lesson as Monica II could simultaneously play chess and the instrument. The music had stopped and now, her notes seemed so crisp and clear. They cut through the silence of the place. Each note had been performed with such agility and grace that Dr. Strong felt enlivened. 

He listened to the tune of the percussive piece of furniture as expressed by his soulmate. In the time it took for him to realize the hellish stories and opine on them, he had already written five thousand words. He relished at the thought of editing. Like a sculptor, he could chisel away all of the sections that didn’t need to be there. By editing, he promised himself the opportunity to excise the elements which seemed murky, rambling, or insufficient. It took him a few moments to integrate his thoughts into a clear vision of truth. He could see it clearly now. Yes! He nearly exclaimed. He grabbed Monica II and kissed her mouth. She giggled with a gleeful sense that the doctor would be able to fight his way through the dimness of the globe and challenge everything that he had just put into words. 

From the time that he had written the words with his mouth, they had landed in the news within just under an hour. By breaking down and then retooling the essay, Dr. Strong had figured out a way to best express himself. The music, the form of exchange, and the fashion all gelled into one. The idea of places outside of the gates that had been dilapidated and marked as unfree had to still be covered. These stories cropped up on a daily basis, but Dr. Strong crafted his words to pop and be exciting to the growing minds of the populace.

Gregor fixed Monica II a mimosa and Dr. Strong a screwdriver. The two of them toasted while Gregor looked on with satisfaction. The doctor grabbed Monica II’s hand. They walked up to the bedroom and closed the door. With just a hint of the sun coming in, Dr. Strong kissed her neck. He pecked at her face. Her soft coos encouraged him to continue. Music began to play at Monica II’s insistence. The notes from a jazz tune seemed to slink their way through the sound system. In all of the house, there appeared to be pleasure and delight. Monica II’s body swished and swayed to the various sounds coming out of the speakers. With Dr. Strong’s awareness of his powers, he thought about how all of this could possibly be a moment for life.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

The Excellence of the Hour

Monica II rolled over and kissed Dr. Strong. He remained asleep. Once she got out of bed, she headed towards the sanitation station and washed in lemon zest and lavender oil. Her skin glistened under the lights. She felt a surge of energy course through her petite frame. As a synth, she could sense when the doctor would be roused from his slumber. She let him sleep as she donned a tan sweater and blue jeans and white flats.



Smartystan

The Excellence of the Hour

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About the Creator

Skyler Saunders

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Smartystan

The Excellence of the Hour

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of .css-13w9qce-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-accent);}Skyler Saunders

About the Creator

Skyler Saunders

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Reason First: Drake Takes Over Hip-Hop Charts As “Take Care” Crushes New Releases

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of Skyler Saunders