Grotesque

By Gala Peter

An Artificial being, lost in an unfriendly world, is searching for companionship, and his own purpose. During his travels he encounters disturbing scenes, meets a friend, finds his love, and discovers some answers to his questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312743984

Book preview

Grotesque

Grotesque

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Martin stood in the middle of the square looking at his toes.  Thoughts, which up to now were just an erratic mesh of pictures and sounds, now were arranging themselves in order. Martin was looking for a reflection of the sky from the metallic tips of his shoes but now they were covered in golden-gray dust from the recent storm. He carefully tapped his feet together and now the shoes acquired a faint glow. Now he could preoccupy himself with his thoughts.

He felt the need for activity; that he was supposed to do something of great importance. Questions were arising one after another. He could not remember why he was here, where he came from; nothing, save for his name.

Maybe I am mentally ill? thought Martin. That’s when first realization came to him that he cannot possibly be mentally ill. Because Martin was a robot.

He approached the shop in front of which he was standing: a small building among a row of tens just like it. A hat shop with the multitude of choices: velvet hats, silk hats, hats with feathers, lacy bonnets, glossy black cylinder hats for gentlemen. Martin examined himself with curiosity. From the dusty window looked at him with kind doe eyes a tall pale man in just such a cylinder hat, black jacket with a dove tail, a white shirt and black pantaloons. The man was clean-shaven, the clothes sat on him impeccably, and he was leaning on a thin shiny cane with a round metallic handle. Satisfied with his looks, he glanced around.

The town around him seemed large enough. Narrow paved streets and little shops spread out as far as he could see. To the west at an unknown distance above the rusty-colored shingles of the roofs he could perceive grand mountains, whose tops were concealed with soft fluffy clouds. To the east, a narrow canal separated the city. A jolly ferry moved up and down the canal, carrying people and goods, breaking the relative silence of the city with the occasional bell.

Still plagued by questions but unsure where to turn and who to ask, Martin chose to observe his surroundings from the safety of the nearest café. He walked into a pretty building with a pretzel sign hanging above the door, and placed himself at a sturdy wooden table against the window.

What'll it be? asked the owner, a healthy-looking lady in a white bonnet, wiping the dust off of the table with her apron.

I don't know. he said honestly. What do you recommend?

She sized him up with an experienced eye.

Folks like you usually get a coffee and ask for a newspaper, she said confidently.

Folks like me! He thought with hope. So there are more like me!

A coffee and a newspaper then, please.

She brought him the coffee and placed a delicate cup on a crispy clean starched napkin.

Martin sipped the dark bitter liquid, feeling his gears churning and clicking as he did, and looking out into the street. The divine scorching drink flowed through his piping, setting things in motion, expediting the beating of his heart. Then he noticed the landlady still standing over him, fists propped on her curvy voluptuous hips, studying him inquisitively.

You’re not one of us, she said finally.

How did you know? asked Martin, alarmed. If she could spot him so easily, then others could, too, and he did not know yet the consequences of being a robot among humans. What would they do to him?

Well, that’s obvious, she said, pointing out the window. Just look around!

Dragging their feet across the cobblestone, the people shuffled outside. A slouching man, with a chewed-up cigar hanging from his lower lip and stubbled chin; a woman yanking her squirming child across the puddles. Another pair of men in brown worn jackets, which were barely fastened around their protruding saggy bellies. All had this one thing in common: the expression on their faces, not of desperation or exhaustion, but of the indifference. They obviously were tired of their existence, of the dull gray world around them, of the dust, of the helplessness to change this world, but they also did not care either about themselves nor of their surroundings. The child the woman was dragging with annoyance, responded with capricious wide-mouthed screams, beating upon her brown