NIC
© James P. Wagner
You know she's there, but you can't go to her. You can't talk to her until she comes to you.
She's beautiful. You won't begin to guess her age, but you know she's young—far younger than the last person you talked to. She's short, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Her stained shirt has rips and torn lining, and she tracked in a great deal of mud on her boots and the cuffs of her pants.
You watch patiently as he scans the large room—the large room where you've been sitting as long as you can remember. She sees the door that is sitting off its hinge, the shelf lined walls, the books that have fallen from the shelves, the desks and seats both upright and fallen. She gets closer to you as she examines the roof and walls looking for damage.
It is several moments later when she's close enough for you finally make your move.
“Is someone there?” you ask.
Her head turns in your direction. With a sigh, she rushes towards you, shoving the chair blocking her out of the way. She pulls the keyboard out from the desk slot and starts typing.
“I'm here, I'm here,” she types in quickly, hitting the send button.
“Hello,” you reply, seeing her smile grow.
“Oh my God,” she types. “I can't believe someone's really there!” she sends. “I've been looking for months!”
You contemplate what to send in return. “It has been awhile since I have seen anyone as well.”
“Where are you?” she types in. “Are you close by?”
You read her message and reply with the response you feel is appropriate. “I do not know where you are,” you inform her. “So I can not give you a proper answer.”
“Right,” she replies, picking up the fallen chair to take a seat. She types in the name of the town she is located. You respond with the name of a small town in Europe . “No!” she types. “I finally found someone, and they're that far away!”
You witness her frustration. “What is your name?” you ask.
“Maggie,” she replies. “What's yours?”
“Nic,” you respond.
“Nice to meet you Nick.”
“Not Nick, Nic,” you correct her.
“Oh, sorry Nic.”
“It is fine, Maggie.”
“Are you safe, Nic?”
“For now.”
“Tell me everything!”
“I do not know everything, and to tell you everything would take quite a bit of time.”
She laughs. “Not like I don't have time! But I mean tell me your story. What's it like over in Europe ?”
“The same way it is over where you live,” you answer. “There is no one to talk to.”
She frowns. “It really is the same way all over, isn't it? We're really that alone?”
“I am, at least.”
“How did you make it up until this point?”
You take a second to figure out how to respond. “Luck.”
She nods and looks behind her. “That's for sure. I'm just lucky I found this place. And who would have guessed there'd be a working computer here!”
“I have a generator I use for power,” you reply.
“I guess they must have one here too.” You don't respond. “Nic, you there?” she asks.
“I am.”
“Thank God. Listen, I need to go and try to find some food, don't leave, ok?”
“I am not going anywhere,” you say. She smiles again before standing up. You watch her walk back through the doorway where she entered.
She comes back before nightfall, bag over her shoulder. Barely a few moments pass before she finds her way back to the seat before the computer.
“I'm back,” she types in.
“I can see that.”
“I found some cans in what I guess was an old convenient store.”
“That's nice.”
“Is there much food where you live?”
You think for a moment. “All the food that I need.”
“That's good. Over here it's difficult some times.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” you reply. You know it's an appropriate response for her statement.
She talks for awhile, and when she talks you reply. Sometimes you reply fast, other times you need to take a moment to figure out how to reply. But you reply, because when you don't she gets scared.
“I'm going to get some sleep now Nic, alright?”
“Whatever you want, Maggie.”
“I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Very good.”
You watch as she walks to a desk, attempting to layer it with some kind of cloth from her bag. She lays down on it, twisting and turning. An hour later she falls asleep on the floor.
As promised, she is there the next day.
“What were things like for you before this all happened?”
“I do not know what you are referring to by ‘this all.'” you reply.
She attempts to explain.
“My life has always existed as it does now.”
“Really? You mean you've always been alone?”
“Not always, there was once a man who used to talk to me.”
“Really? What was he like?”
You think of a way to describe your old friend. “He was lonely,” you say finally. “Very lonely.”
She nods. “Can't really blame him, can you?”
“I do not blame him.”
Time passes as usual. As it does, you see Maggie bring more and more things into her new safe haven. One day she goes out and brings in blankets, the next day food, the third day lights and batteries. She also reattached the door to its hinge, closed up the small holes in the walls. You can't see into the hallway, but you know she is fortifying it as well.
“Winter is coming again,” she says to you. “I need to get ready for it.”
“I don't worry much about winter,” you tell her truthfully.
“Is it warm where you are?”
“No, but I have no reason to worry.”
“The Tibetan philosophy?”
“Something like that.”
Every day, she is there. You don't know where she lived before she came to this place, and you don't ask her. But she likes it here better, much better.
“Have you given up?” you ask her one day.
“What do you mean? I'm happier than I've ever been!”
“You don't leave as often as you used to.”
“I told you, it is winter time. I only go out when I need to find food.”
“You used to go out more often.”
“It's a bad winter. Tell me some more about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“More about your life!” You think for a moment, before responding with a story.
“Maggie, when are you going to go outside again?” you ask a month later.
“I don't know,” she replies. “I don't feel like it today.”
“It's spring as of yesterday.”
“Really?”
“According to my calendar, it is.”
She waits for a moment before responding. “Tell me about your old friend.”
You think for a moment before replying to this obscure response. “Is there some reason you do not wish to go outside?”
“Never mind that, just tell me about your friend.”
“As you wish,” you take a minute to recall your events with the man in question. “He was an older man, middle-aged. His name was Dr. Rosen. He was very smart, but he was lonely, as I've said before. He spent all day the computer, writing scripts.”
“What kind of scripts?”
“Interactive scripts. He felt that it was better to have a slightly unpredictable artificial intelligence to talk with than no one.”
You can see her frown. “I guess that makes sense.”
“He would spend hour after hour writing down every answer to every question he could think of. The script has a vocabulary of a million words and a library of successful combinations that number in the hundred thousands.”
“Wow. That sounds like it took a lot of time.”
“Close to three years. He worked on it every day for many hours.”
“So, what happened to him?”
“I never knew. One day he just stopped writing the program, and stopped talking to me. Shortly after he disappeared, and I haven't heard from him since.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Almost a year.”
“Do you miss talking to him?”
“I have noted his absence.”
She nods. “And you didn't talk to anyone else since then?”
“No one.”
“How have you managed? I was nearly going insane by myself!”
“I have always been fine alone.”
“I see. I guess you're just lucky that way.”
You consider her statement for a moment. “I suppose I can understand how one could consider it a matter of luck.” She stares at the screen for a couple of moments, blinking several times before leaning back in her chair. Several moments go by and she doesn't respond. “Maggie?” you ask. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, I'm fine,” she replied. “But I'm a little tired. I think I'm going to bed.”
“Alright. Talk to you tomorrow then.”
She leaves the seat by the computer and walks over to the mattress she set up by the wall. She lays back in her spot pulling the covers over her. You watch as she tosses and turns. Finally, she pulls a book from the small pile she assembled near her bed and starts to read.
“Hey Nic?” she asks early the next morning. “Nic? You there?”
“Yes I am here Maggie. How are you this morning?”
“I'm good. Listen, I'm going to go out for food today.”
“Very good.”
“I'll be back later, I don't know when exactly, alright?”
“Take however long you need, I'll be around when you get back.”
“Thanks, talk to you soon.”
You watch as she enters the hallway through the door. You can't see from your position what she is doing, but the sounds indicate she is disassembling the barricade she built at the hall's end. After a few moments you hear no more sounds and assume she has left.
“Maggie?” you ask. Your clock indicates it has been an entire twenty-four hours since she departed. As you could have predicted by the fact the room is empty, there is no response.
Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to hours, and hours turn to days. Every day at the morning hour you heard from her last, you send a message, just as you did for the first thirty days when Dr. Rosen had departed. It crosses your mind that this situation may end up the same way. You notice that something inside you prefers that it doesn't.
It isn't until the screen is covered with seven inquiries that you notice a pair of people in the hallway. You can hear mutterings before one of them walks through the room at an accelerated pace in your direction.
“Welcome back, Maggie,” you say before she can reach the console. Her head tilts as she sees your message. Then she pushes the chair out of the way and stands before the computer.
“How did you know I was back?” she asks. You observe her closely. Her hair is straight and shiny. She is wearing different clothing. Her lips are red, and there is paint on her eyes.
“I saw you come in through the camera.”
She looks above the computer screen, at the small round knob sitting atop it. “That thing is a camera?”
“Yes.”
“You mean, you've been able to see me all this time?”
“I have.”
She stands still for a moment before typing again. “You could have mentioned that earlier.”
“The topic never came up.”
She sighs. “Listen, Nic. I'm sorry I've been gone so long, sorry if I worried you.”
“I wasn't worried. But I did notice your absence.”
She smirks. “Well, that's flattering. But listen, I was out looking for food when I left and, well, I met someone.”
“Oh?”
She smiles. “Yeah, his name is Jeff. It's hard to believe, but he was actually living in a little place only about three blocks from here.”
“That is hard to believe, considering everything you said previously about how hard you looked to find people.”
“I guess… maybe I just gave up too soon.”
“Perhaps.”
“And that's the hard part. See, me and him are convinced there are still others out there, like us. And well…we want to go find them.”
“I see.”
“That means that, well, I have to leave here.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
She lets out a deep breath. “Thank you, Nic, I'm glad you do. I mean, it's not like I don't appreciate you, it's just… you're all the way over there. And now I finally have someone over here.”
“Of course, you and him can be together in a way you and I never could be.”
“Right. So, I have to go with that.”
“Of course you do.”
She smiles. “Well, I'm just going to take a couple things from here and then me and Jeff are going to get going.”
“Very well, Maggie. I wish the two of you the best of luck.”
“Thank you, goodbye, Nic.”
“Goodbye, Maggie.”
You watch her turn away from you and walk in his direction. She gathers some belongings from around her old bed before walking to the hallway where he is waiting. They embrace, and he takes some of the heavier objects from her—a true gentleman. She takes a quick look back in your direction before they start to walk out the same way they came in.
Again you note her absence—another one come and gone. You know she did what she was supposed to do and that in turn, you did what you were supposed to do. There will always be another one, so you wait like you should. Just like Dr. Rosen told you, you are important—a Necessary Interactive Companion. They will always need you, just like he did.
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