Departure Times

The shadows of her broad brimmed hat accentuated her high cheekbones and chiseled but delicate jawline. She had that classic 20th century movie star good looks, which came in handy given her chosen profession.

“Oh darling, I’m so glad we decided to use the port lounge this time,” said Emma leaning back. “The seats are so much more comfortable with this increased level of gravity.”

“You get what you pay for, as the old saying goes,” Marlon responded while pressing his thumb into the bowl of his wooden pipe.

“I just love space ports,” she said with that soft look that comes over a woman when she’s at ease and enjoying herself.

Emma looked out the broad windows at the ships departing their bays, gliding gently at first then in a bright burst of light, vanishing into the starry void.

“Such an air of romance and adventure!” she said crossing her legs. “All these people coming and going across such great distances. The vastness of space makes me feel lonely sometimes, but then I remember we’re all going somewhere and that binds us together across the galaxy.”

“That’s a positive way of looking at it,” said Marlon pensively tapping his lower lip with his pipe.

The sound of announcements echoed through the vast port. Arrivals. Departures. The hum of voices in the endless stream of travelers.

“I just can’t wait to see the blue sky of earth,” said Emma. “They say it goes on forever, and the air smells so fresh.”

“I don’t know how people can still live in that old planet. If it weren’t for this job, I wouldn’t even go.”

“Well, don’t be a spoilsport,” Emma scolded Marlon. “Given that we’re going anyways, we might as well enjoy it. They say the ruins of central Paris are very fascinating, and some folk still make wine in Old Provence.”

Marlon muttered and looked out the port window at an earth-bound shuttle. He puffed on his pipe absent-mindedly. There was no smoke, but he pretended to blow billowing clouds like in the old days.

Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“I wonder what is taking so long,” she said looking at her watch.

“What does the ticket say?” Marlon asked her.

She held out her hand, and the skin on the back began to glow with flight information.

“It says eleven twenty-“

At that precise moment, an announcement came through the sound system.

“Passengers on flight sixty-four-H-eleven bound for-”

“That’s us!” said Emma sitting up straight.

Marlon took a few quick puffs of his pipe and put it away.

“How exciting! I’m getting goosebumps,” said Emma standing up and grabbing her travel case.

They went to the boarding area where people were already lined up.

“This is a reminder to please remove your helmet when you reach the counter,” announced a flight agent, “otherwise we can’t verify your identity.”

The security agent behind the counter looked at Emma and then waved the scanner over her outstretched arm.

“Thank you. Have a great flight, Mrs. Wasson.”

Marlon adjusted his tie with an air of gravitas and rolling back his sleeve, he presented his arm to the agent.

The agent scanned his arm.

The machine beeped.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wasson,” he said turning to the terminal, “there seems to be a problem with the machine. Give me a minute.”

The agent turned to the screen and began to interact with the touch interface.

Emma, who had been standing nearby, looked puzzled.

“But how do you know that his name is Wasson if the machine is broken?”

Marlon looked at Emma and cleared his throat.

“Go on, sweetheart, get us some good seats with great views,” he said winking at her.

She smiled and winked back then turned towards the tunnel.

Marlon watched her go, and when she was gone, he pursed his lips and looked down at the security feed.

He watched Emma cross the walkway. A couple of flight attendants approached her, took her luggage, and walked with her on either side.

They disappeared in the shadows.

“All clear, Dr. Higgs,” said the agent in a relieved tone. “That was close. My mistake."

He raised the scanner.

"I just need your eyes looking here.”

Dr. Martin Higgs looked into the machine.

“Thanks,” said the agent once the scan was complete. “All good to go. Have a wonderful day, Dr. Higgs.”

Silence fell across the port, and the holographic model of the interior disappeared, leaving just a few pieces of furniture in the middle of the empty warehouse.

His footsteps echoed as he made his way toward the exit.

Whenever the units pushed back, he felt a sense of elation and accomplishment at having completed a job. If they put his life in danger, the reality of their risk to others was tangible. But the assignments that went smooth and without problems, stuck with him the longest and left him feeling emotionally drained.

Emma was completely immersed in her made-up world. She would now be given an upgrade to align her experiences with reality. Martin would be just one more in a line of ex-husbands in her movie-star memory algorithms. For some reason, illusions were more persistent among units developed for the creative arts. The very versatility of their behavioural matrix that made them great artists also made them prone to hallucinatory thinking. They became trapped in their fictional lives. Getting them back to normality was a long process.

He loosened his tie and stood on the doorway.

“Have a wonderful journey, Emma,” he said in a low voice.

He brought the prop pipe to his lips and puffed gallantly, then he put it away and walked out under blue skies.

Thank you for reading my story which I had intended to submit for the challenge but did not make the deadline. The challenge prompt was ticket, so naturally I immediately thought ROBOTS!😍 Yes, I am a boy. I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Images generated by @litguru using Generative Art software