by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|The thing staring its glass eyes back at me looked hungry even in death, the perfect killing machine. I heard my x-wife in my head, “You are so weird.” It is impossible to keep her quiet, although she is dead, too. Margot never appreciated the thrill I got from my work.
I rocked on my heels, making notes of the museum display. I like realism. What the taxidermist before me had done with the wolf was startling so. “What do you think? Can you do it?” This time it was the museum curator, not Margot. My x-wife never asked open ended questions. She hunted down only pre-approved tame answers she agreed with.
“It will cost.” What we gazed at was a static three dimensional representation of nature caught in one dramatic moment. They wanted the display refreshed, turned into an interactive drama. Putting 21st century robotic movement into a dead animal wasn’t going to be cheap.
“Yeah. I can do it,” I said, tapping my teeth. The fangs of the wolf snarling at me evoked where I wanted to take this.
The curator breathed out a sigh. She knew she had me. I was clearly salivating at the project. “Sign here.” The contract demanded completion within three weeks or reduced funding kicked in for each additional week thereafter. I’d have to work day and night to get the job done.
I took the wolf with me to start adding the electronics at home. Margot, in her new and improved state greeted me at the door. “Hi, babe. Look what daddy brought home.”
“Hello, darling,” her recorded voice murmured seductively. Synching lip action had been tricky. It had been a bitch dissecting Margot’s innards and pulling her back together into her A.I. form. The results were so accurate and amazing, my neighbors marveled at how I’d ‘changed’ Margot into becoming the perfect wife.
Three weeks later and I was done. “Too lifelike. Scared the beegees out of me,” the curator mourned.
“I met the contract. I don’t care if you use the wolf or not but you’ll have to pay.” The words meant nothing. I wanted the re-animated wolf doing its thing, in public while on display.
“Talk to my lawyers. Just get that damn wolf out.”
I shook my head. My contract provisions stated firmly I was no longer responsible for what happened next. “No way. Do it yourself, if you dare. I’ve done my part. See you in court.” Or, maybe not.
“Told you so, wimp.” Margot chastised me in my head. Marriage can really suck, when a wife gets under your skin.
“I’ll show you.”
Wolf and I are going hunting tonight back at the museum of natural history. The curator is working late. She’ll be trying to come up with something to fill the void where my banned project should be.
I know what remains of her will be the perfect missing part of the display. A woman just needs to learn her place.