The Machine

“I don’t understand what love is, Rover,” the Scientist said. Rover looked at him and wagged his tail.

“That’s strange,” Rover said. But as usual, the Scientist didn’t hear him.

“But don’t worry!” the Scientist said. “I’m a Scientist! I’ll build a Machine that will help me understand it. Look!”

And the Scientist unfolded the blueprints (that were no longer blue, Rover thought, because we dogs do see blues, it’s reds and greens we have problems with, thank you very much, and those are definitely not blue) of one of his strange inventions. His machine consisted of a large chamber fed by a conveyor belt, full of control panels on the outside, with two gates that led into what looked like some furnace. But the blueprints that corresponded to the interior showed no such furnace, but strange machinery, cables, pipes and all sorts of pieces Rover, a Scientist’s dog as he was, could not recognize.

“We’ll feed the Machine with all the pieces we believe have to do with love, and the Machine will give us the solution that will explain love to us!”

“Now it’s us,” Rover said. “I never said I didn’t understand love.” But his Scientist rambled on. Rover tsked, not a small feat for a dog, but helped him.

The scientist worked for months, and Rover took charge of the lab and the food. The Scientist tended to focus too much on his work, and Rover knew he sometimes even forgot to eat. Rover fixed some splendid (in his own, gourmet opinion) tuna sandwiches that the Scientist gulped down quite satisfactorily. Rover also had tea always ready for the Scientist, who apparently thought the beverage brewed itself, since he often walked absent-mindedly into the kitchen and simply grabbed a cup, expecting it to be full.

Sometimes the Scientist also forgot going to bed, and Rover found him asleep over some piece of machinery. Rover then took him to his bed, or wrapped him in a blanket. When the Scientist awakened, he simply would shake the blanket and keep working.

And thus one day the Scientist shouted “Eureka!” He had received a proper Scientist education and knew that was the correct term to use whenever one finished a project. Rover approached, and there it was.

The Machine was finished.

“Rover, here it is finally!” the Scientist said. “Time to try it out!” And he pulled levers and pushed buttons in the control platform he had built.

The conveyor belt cranked on, and the Scientist started placing things on it. “Come on, Rover, help me!” Rover sighed, but helped him nonetheless. Together they filled the conveyor belt to the brim, had it had a brim, with balls, dolls, a toy horse, and a pacifier; some chess pieces and dice; teacups and saucers, and a portion of pie left over from who knows when that Rover eyed suspiciously; a stuffed rabbit and a carrot for the rabbit; a top hat and a baseball cap; cardboard boxes and reams of paper; pencils, pens and a quill; a traffic sign and a bone (and where was that bone before?); nails, scissors, buttons and a feather.

The Machine made gurgling noises and spewed grey smoke, it shook and shone brightly, and lighting cracked above it.

And the gates opened, and something — no, someone — walked out.

And Rover stared as the Scientist looked at himself. Rover sniffed both of them, and they smelled the same.

“Will you explain me what love is?” the Scientist asked the Scientist.

“No,” the Scientist said. “You just have to look inside yourself.”

~~~~

This is my entry for the Weekly Writing Exercise: February 8–14, 2016 on the Writer’s Discussion Group in Google+.

I am very happy with this story. It was one of those rare instances when, once I had the idea in my mind, I just sat down and wrote it all in one go, with minimum editing. I had this idea of giving it a children-story air, and I hope I succeeded.

It also turned out to be my most voted story in the Group ever.