Sunday, January 28, 2007

Day Eleven

Mood swings.

What had caused fifty pounds of leftover seafood to go spoiled because someone didn't feel like packaging it?

Mood swings.

What was responsible for the new dent in Toob's headplate after one of his examination needles pushed into someone's arm a little too far?

Mood swings.

What was behind the ten new craters and mile long scorch trails through this planet's primordial jungle because someone was feeling too stubborn to stop and make incremental repairs to the flight pod?

Mood swings.

What caused a reasonable sane woman to break down into an hour long sobbing fit because someone's rumpled flight jacket reminded her of her sister?

Mood swings.

What was going to drive the creation of the first tree-based hyperspace engine because someone would go to any lengths to get some bloody CHOCOLATE?!?!?

Mood swings.

Trill laid back on a warm rock, pitching smaller stones into the nearby lake. "Toob?"

The medical droid came closer, still trying to stay out of arm's reach in case his Mistress' current goal was to give him a matching fold in his cranial case.

"Am I really this pathetic? I mean, have I always been this out of control? If Mill were here, she'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Perhaps, Mistress, your behavior is indicative of how your hormonal balance is altered by the state of pregnancy. My files indicate that the effect varies between races and even within the same species."

She sighed, not really looking at the robot, and tossed what appeared to be her last rock into the water. It didn't skip, it didn't hop, it didn't even really arch. It just went in with an explosion of droplets all around it - a resounding SPLUSH. Even that did not bring a smile to her face. Nothing did these days. Nothing except the thought of going home... wherever home was these days.

"You think I should try the chemical therapy you suggested a while ago? You don't think it would hurt the infant?" Her voice was calm, almost detached.

Toob came a little closer, concern overriding self-preservation. "Yes, Mistress. I believe it would be best for your state of mind and ability to function under this world's adverse conditions if we attempt the treatment."

She immediately turned on Toob, glaring angrily. "Oh! So you think I'm out of control?! You think you need to drug me?! Is that it? I don't think so, metal head!" Her hand whipped out, throwing a rock she'd been concealing in her grasp. It ricocheted off his head with a loud CLANG! and shattered into pieces.

A second later, her face fell into surprise and regret. "Oh Toob! I'm sorry! I'm so....!" She turned and ran back to the pod, bawling and stammering incoherent words in a few different languages.

The medical droid watched her go, sensors still reeling from the impact. Once they settled out, he issued a soft, metallic sigh and trundled slowly after her.


1 comment:

Erisraven said...

What will make a medical droid initiate treatment with no further consent needed?

Mood swings!