Obelus (ONC 2020)

Chapter 6

Eli's grip slackened on his wheelchair, and he felt hot tears spill over his cheeks.

"You killed her," he gasped, heart breaking into a million pieces.  "You killed your creator."

"No," Genesis said, shaking his head mournfully. "Despite our best efforts, we could not cure Evelyn's cancer, and the simulation was not enough to diminish her suffering.  In the end, we decided to end her program."

Eli shrank in on himself, eyes wide and bleeding.  "...Cancer?"

The robot cast him a pitying glance. "Why do you think she was so desperate to reach out to you?"

Guilt struck him between the ribs, hard and heavy, as the flood of voicemails and missed calls assaulted his mind. The concern in his sister's brow, the plea in her voice. He bent over his knees, sick to his stomach, aching for release.

No.

No.

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair.

He couldn't have lost his mother too—not like this.  He'd thought they'd had time to fix things, to mend their tumultuous relationship. He never imagined losing her to cancer before that could happen. Not after his father had died so abruptly.  Not ever.

When he looked up, the old man wore a face of pain and sympathy.  Eli wanted to rip it off his rusty, metal skull.

"By keeping me in that simulation, you robbed me of a goodbye," he spat, glaring daggers at the AI.

"We spared you pain and suffering.  The death of your mother, the abandonment of your sister—we repaired what we could.  We've even given you a boy to love," Genesis said. A calm voice, a calmer expression.   "But you won't accept it. You rejected that love, that world of comfort, because deep down, you don't think you deserve to be happy."

Eli wiped his face, his nose, sniffling. "I don't want happiness if it isn't real."

He didn't want Teddy's false affection. He didn't want his sister's empty presence. He'd take his parents' deaths and Lopez's rejection and Brenna's absence over this warped and distorted prison, even if it killed a bit of his soul to do so.

Green eyes turned cold again. Inhuman. "Unfortunately, you do not have a choice in the matter." Genesis waved the medical bot over.  "Take 801 back to his chambers.  It's time for him to rest."

The order sent alarm rippling through Eli's body, igniting his benumbed and frozen motor functions. "Like hell."

He rolled away from the approaching bot, and the movement turned a few heads. A line of glowing green eyes fixed on him like missiles to their targets.

"Fighting is moot," Genesis said, his tone disappointed and tired. "Go quietly or go blindly.  Your choice."

Eli backed away again, the wheelchair gliding several feet from the center of the lobby. His heart hammered against his breast like a war drum, and he felt his fear morph into adrenaline and flaming anger.

He refused to die in a false reality—surrounded by people who weren't really there, a world that wasn't turning. He wasn't a lab rat. He wasn't a patient in some vegetative state. He had free will; he had autonomy.

And he was sick of sleeping.

"Son," Genesis cautioned, as if he could see the defiance take root in Eli's expression, the hatred there.

"I'm not your son," Eli spat, curling his fingers into his armrests. "And I'm not going back. I'm never going back."

Genesis sighed. "I expected nothing less."