Chapter III

I was hardly able to get sleep last night because of what Luke blurted over the phone.

Two things are likely the reason for that call of his, and both are horrendous as per my standards. First, and the one I am very much worried about, is that he actually revived Mary. While it may sound like it came straight from some science fiction novel, with Luke, you can never really tell. Once he sets his mind on something, he never stops until he gets results. Over the past six months, he has been busy with a machine of sorts, barely eating or taking a bath, let alone stepping outside his house. And that last thing he said the last time I visited, it ran circles all over my mind overnight, preventing it from shutting down and giving me so much anxiety.

The second is that he has completely gone insane. Nothing worrisome with that.

Oh, God. Please tell me it is not the first one.

The rising sun was starting to paint the skies of a gentle, yet ominous orange hue when I decided to get up and take a warm bath to somehow comfort my clouded psyche. I need to muster up the courage and ask him personally what mess he is doing, I thought.

When Mary left, I took the responsibility of taking care of her husband and child, but up until now, I must admit that it is only their child, Laura that I am paying attention to, except for the very few times that I have visited Luke. Even in those visits which I believe the frequency may be counted with the fingers of one hand, all I did was bring him food and check up on him a bit.

It was probably because of myself that Luke’s lunatic tendencies have taken a turn for the worse. I was too afraid to face him, and he was forced to take the brunt of her loss alone.

No, that I wanted him to cope with it and open himself to his friends and family would not be reason valid enough as it counts more as an excuse. I knew far too well that such is something he is highly incapable of. Truth is, I was just afraid.

After I got dressed, I opened the door to my room slightly in a thief-quiet manner, preventing any sound from coming out for I worry that the sleeping Laura may be disturbed. There, I saw her peaceful face sporting a gentle smile that looks as if the world around her is full of flowers and butterflies. I bet that in her dreams, she and her parents are together and having more fun than they could ever have in the real world.

Before I left, I went to the garden to see my Mom and Dad. There they are, having the time of what is left with their lives and taking care of their plants. Seriously, had I not known how much they love me, I probably would have thought that it is the plants that are their children and not me. Either way, I am extremely grateful to them for taking care of me, and while I'm at it, I saw them off and left Laura in their care, too.

That reminds me of something, I hadn’t told them about my resignation.

And oh, I have yet to write the formal resignation letter which I am supposed to hand over today.

I guess I will take care of it later. First things first, as they say.

The sound of glass hit by metallic objects clang on the doorway as I grabbed my car keys from the ceramic cup atop the table beside the door.

I got inside the car which immediately roared as I stepped on the gas so hard as if I was chased by a ghost. But I guess, if it is Mary's ghost, I would not be running off because she cannot be scary.

Anyways, my goal right now is to meet Luke and know whatever mess he is dealing with and if possible, knock some sense into his thick skull.

On the way, I might have run over a couple of dogs and broke another couple of driving laws. I said ‘might’ because it’s also possible that I didn’t. All I can remember is that I drove as fast as I could to get to my destination as soon as possible, and true enough, what is supposed to be a thirty-minute drive was accomplished at a little under ten minutes.

As I arrived, what took my attention primarily is the less ominous vibe that the modern-themed, pure white house emits.

“This cannot be good.” I thought.

I was not wrong when I said that the house sports a ‘less ominous’ vibe. It’s just that the reason for it is because Luke’s mood may be uplifted, and while it may be a good thing, the reason for it may not. It’s like comparing dark chocolate and dark coffee. Coffee is lighter in color but is way more bitter than chocolate, so people prefer chocolate more.

The front door was wide open, as expected.

It’s pretty weird that his house has yet to be broken in despite this lifestyle, but I got a feeling that even burglars have amassed fear from the lunatic who lives in here. Who knows, there might be laser guns that will shoot deadly beams to any intruder who dares, and the thought of it inflicted some fear on me, too.

I got inside and immediately noticed the clutter of mechanical tools spread over the floor of the house, making a straight pathway leading to the room that resides a mad scientist.

I just now realized that if not because of the neat, borderline OCD nature of Mary, this house may have long been as much a mess as her husband is.

The door to the laboratory/room is slightly open, suggesting that he has gone in and out of the room at least more often than the past six months. The light inside is also turned on, another thing that I found weirdly unusual because the lightbulb attached to the ceiling, as I remembered has been burnt out a couple of months ago and the only lights that allow the eyes to operate in this room for the following months are the few emitted by the computer screen and some other machines.

I saw not a shadow of Mary anywhere, so my fear of a revived best friend was lifted, for now. With that, I let out a sigh of relief.

I opened the door a few more inches and saw Luke still tinkering with a machine, only this time, he seems to have more life into that canister of him. He still looks dead as a corpse, though.

“You seem rather lively today, I see.”

I was irate at how he either not have heard me or just plainly ignored my presence. Not that I am not used to it, so I just let it pass, and instead, I just approached him.

"Hey," I uttered in an attempt to get his attention.

Luke looked at me with his dull, blue eyes and stared at me for a second or two, probably trying to remember who I am or what my business is being in his laboratory.

“H-Hey.” He responded. Seriously, this guy. “H-How is Laura doing?”

There was a couple of moments pause in between his statements, which hints that the second is a measly attempt to keep the conversation going and not out of care for her daughter. Again, I was irate.

“She’s doing well. My parents are taking care of her, filling in the role that you were supposed to play as her father.” I answered with a hint of contempt.

“I-I see." Luke seems to not be able to get a hold of the subtle grudge packed inside my statement. At this point, I have lost interest in getting mad at him for I know that whatever I say will barely scratch the surface, let alone get through him. Instead, I just went straight to the point with the reason for me being here.

“So, what’s with last night’s call? What do you mean by it?” I asked.

His eyes darted upward as if remembering if such a thing actually happened.

“Oh, t-that thing.” He mechanically turned his head towards me.

I have been mistaken. He does not look dead. He is a robot, and such cannot be dead because they contain no life, to begin with. He is a mechanical, emotionless being. How do I deal with this guy, Mary?

He again looked at me for a few seconds as if trying to carefully articulate what he wanted to explain.

"I-I was able to finish this." He said as he pointed at the machine he has been tinkering with ever since I came into his room.

The machine he was referring to is something resembling a watch, a rather lengthy one spanning around five inches which I presume may cover the majority of the elbow to wrist area when worn, but relatively thin in structure. It has a futuristic physique and no visible buttons, but a wide, bendable screen akin to a smartphone which I believe serves as its control panel. It certainly is futuristic, as if coming from those sci-fi movies.

“And what could that be, you say?” I furthered. I honestly, sincerely hope that this is not something that will revive Mary or anything of the sort because the least I want in this world is a zombie best friend, but judging by the excitement her husband exuded last night, the case may be something along those lines.

“A time machine.” He responded.