Your Eyes
By Ryan M. Williams
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © Ryan M. Williams, 2010
All Rights Reserved.
Publisher's Note
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Your Eyes
By Ryan M. Williams
"Have you seen my babezee catalog?" Wyatt shoved the brightly colored catalog at Hank.
Hank scowled. It was his most common expression and one that he was good at. He used his broom handle to shove the offending catalog aside. "Don't start with that shit, Wyatt. Fake babies? Who needs that? I have enough trouble with the real thing."
Wyatt's finger traced the plump curve of a happy cheek. The paper felt slick and cold beneath his finger. Not at all how the babezee would feel. A babezee would be warm and soft. He could cuddle it and carry it around. "Ain't fake."
Hank shook the broom handle. "Just push the damn cart, Wyatt. You can look at the catalog when we take a break. We have to get this place clean after all."
Sometimes Wyatt wished that Hank would listen more. He always seemed angry. Wyatt didn't understand that. Hank had a perfect life. He had a good job cleaning. It was nice and quiet at night too. No people to give them trouble. When Hank went home Wanda would be there, Hank's wife. She was pretty. Plump like the babezees. Wyatt liked her laugh. He remembered from the time he went to Hank's barbecue party last summer. Hank had a house and a car and kids of his own. Wyatt didn't know what he thought about the kids. They were so quick and loud. At the barbecue he couldn't understand how Hank and Wanda kept track of them. It seemed like everywhere he had looked the kids were there running and laughing. Screaming sometimes too. He didn't like the screams. And Wanda had a baby. A real baby that she grew in her own tummy. Hank called the baby his angel but her name was actually Martha. Wyatt thought Hank should be happy because he had so much but Hank usually complained about something.
Wyatt pushed the cart while Hank pushed the broom. Sometimes Hank let him push the broom but when he did Hank usually complained that Wyatt missed something so mostly Wyatt pushed the cart. He liked pushing the cart. He kept it neat. Everything in the right place, ready so he could hand Hank whatever he needed. Sometimes Hank called him his nurse. That made Hank laugh but Wyatt didn't understand why.
"You still with me Wyatt? Or are you off dreaming about those damn babezees?"
Wyatt rolled up the catalog and stuffed it in his back pocket. "I'm here, Hank. Need something?"
"The fucking dust pan, thank you very much."
Wyatt handed Hank the dust pan. "You're welcome."
#
After work Wyatt went out to the bus stop and sat on the cold metal bench. He took out the babezee catalog and looked at the pictures some more. There were all sorts of babezees in the pictures. Wyatt had asked Hank to help him understand why. Hank said no but Jilly back at the office had told him. The babezee doctors took some of your hair when you wanted a babezee. They used the hair to make the babezee match you, so it would have your eyes and hair. Jilly said it made the babezees seem real because they looked like you. Wyatt looked at all of the different babezees smiling in the pictures. Did he want a babezee to look like him? The thought made his palms sweaty and his heart race. A babezee of his very own that would look like him, that's what he wanted. He hugged the catalog to his chest and wished he could smell "that perfect babezee" smell. He wanted to come home and find the babezee waiting for him, happy to be fed. It seemed like a babezee would be much better than a dog which might bark or bite. Or a cat that could scratch. You couldn't cuddle a bird. A babezee would be the best, Wyatt thought. He had to get one. Jilly might help him. He'd ask her tomorrow.
#
"Jilly! I have a question."
Jilly tapped a stack of papers on her desk. She smelled like strawberries. Jilly always smelled like strawberries but Wyatt never saw her eat any. "What is it?"
Wyatt held out the babezee catalog and Jilly groaned.
"Are you still going on about those things?"
"I want one."
Jilly took the catalog and tossed it down on her desk. She pointed a strawberry-red fingernail at the babezees smiling on the cover. "You want one of these twisted monkey mutants? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"It isn't a monkey," Wyatt complained. "It's a babezee."
"I told you before, Wyatt. Those are chimpanzees that they've mucked around with. They changed stuff inside them to get rid of the hair, changed around their hands and faces. Turned them into fucking useless imitation babies only without the screaming all night. Perfect angels, they call them but I'm telling you that's some twisted shit. They sell these things to rich broads too busy and too pure to have children themselves. Real save-the-planet types while they show off their perfectly cute mutant monkeys. Filling the maternal instinct crap. And you don't have any maternal instincts, Wyatt. You aren't a woman."
"I want one," Wyatt said stubbornly. "I need your help to order one. I don't know what to do."
Jilly rubbed her eyes. "Look, Wyatt. These things cost a shit-load of money."
"I have money."
"Come on, how much money do you have?"
Wyatt thought maybe Jilly was going to change her mind and help him. He had brought his checkbook with him. He held it out. "I write down everything I save."
For a second she just stared at Wyatt then she snatched the checkbook out of his hand. She flipped through the pages and her eyes grew wide. She covered her mouth for a second and then let the checkbook drop onto the babezee catalog. "How the hell do you have that kind of money?"
Wyatt shrugged. "I save my money. Isn't that good?"
Jilly laughed. "Sure, it's fucking great. Don't you buy stuff?"
"Only what I need," Wyatt said.
"But you want to buy one of these babezees? It'll clean out your savings, Wyatt. Hell, you could buy a house with what you have and as much as those things cost."
"Really?" Wyatt hadn't ever thought he could buy a house. He could have his own house just like Hank. Except he didn't need a house, did he? All by himself? He shook his head. "I just want a babezee."
"I don't know about this, Wyatt. Why do you want one of these things?"
"I just do," he said. It was hard to explain. He didn't think he could make Jilly understand.
She tapped the catalog again. Outside he heard the truck breaks squeal. Hank would be coming in. "You'll have to do better than that. They don't sell babezees to just anyone. They do screenings."
"What's that?"
"They test you, Wyatt. To make sure you are the right type of person to have a babezee. They don't want to sell to fucking pedophiles, you know?"
He wasn't sure what she meant. "Will you help me?"
Jilly picked up the catalog and his checkbook. She shoved them at him. "No, Wyatt. It's a bad idea. I'd be wrong not to tell you that. Save your fucking money. Forget about the babezees."
Hank knocked on the door. "Hey man, you ready to roll?"
#
"Come on, Wyatt. What's the problem, man?"
Hank had already asked that question more than once. Wyatt shook his head and pulled the next trash bag out of the wastebasket. He dropped it into the big trash bin on the cart. When he reached to get another trash bag Hank snatched the roll away.
"Tell me what the fuck is wrong, man! I can't be going through the whole shift looking at your hang-dog face."
The trouble was whenever Wyatt thought about what Jilly had said he felt like crying. He wasn't supposed to cry. He knew that. Men didn't cry. He didn't want to start blubbering in front of Hank. Then Hank would know the truth, that he wasn't really a man. He wasn't going to have a wife like Wanda and a house. A babezee would be enough but Jilly had been mean. She wouldn't help him.
"Come on Wyatt. You're pissing me off. I don't want to spend the whole shift with you looking like you've lost a winning lottery ticket."
Wyatt pulled the catalog out of his back pocket. He held it out to Hank. Hank took the catalog, unrolled it and groaned. "Babezees? You're still going on about these things? You know they never grow up, right?" Hank's finger poked at the belly of a laughing babezee. "They stay like that right up until they die. Pathetic little fuckers."
Wyatt reached for the catalog. He could feel his face burning. Hank and Jilly were the same. They didn't understand. Hank didn't give him the catalog back. He held it out of Wyatt's reach and moved around the cart.
"Hank, can I please have it back?"
"You know how much these things cost? Heck, if I had that kind of money I could send one of my kids to college, not that there would be much point. You couldn't afford to buy one of them anyway. How about we just throw this away?"
Hank dangled the catalog over the trash bin. Wyatt lunged across the cart, upsetting the toilet paper rolls but Hank kept the catalog out of reach and danced back with a laugh. Wyatt clenched his fists.
"Hank, that's mine!"
"Bullshit. You found it in one of the office trash cans."
"Yeah, but I found it so finders keepers. They didn't want it."
Hank waved the catalog. "But you can't get one of these!"
Wyatt dug in his other pocket and pulled out the check book. "I have money."
"Really? Let me see."
"Give me the catalog first," Wyatt said.
"Sure, sure." Hank handed over the catalog and took the checkbook.
Wyatt looked at the pictures of the babezees on the front. They looked so happy. Hank and Jilly didn't like them but that was okay. He liked them. Other people did too or there wouldn't be this catalog. Hank whistled.
"Jeezus! You do have some dough, don't you?"
"I told Jilly I had money," Wyatt said. "She wouldn't help me buy a babezee."
"You save everything, don't you man?"
"It's good to save money."
Hank nodded. "Sure it's good, but you have to spend something now and then. Why else do this work?"
"I like my job," Wyatt said. "I like things clean."
"Sure, sure. You really want to blow your wad on one of these babezees, don't you?" Hank laughed and waved the checkbook. "You won't have all that money saved anymore."
"I want one," Wyatt said. He struggled to find the words. It was hard sometimes. "I want to take care of it."
"I get it, man. You know that they don't live long, right? Five years or so, that's it."
Five years! It sounded like a long time to Wyatt. He didn't really care about the money. He saved it because that's what he was supposed to do. Everyone said that it was good to save money. He hadn't ever really understood why until now. Without knowing it he had been saving for a babezee.
"Wyatt? You still there?"
"Yes, Hank."
Hank thwacked Wyatt in the chest with the checkbook. Wyatt took the checkbook back. "I'll help you, man. It's some crazy shit but I'll help you out. Saturday we'll go over to that clinic they have."
"Clinic?"
"It's like a store, man. You have to answer questions and shit before they decide whether or not you are the right type of person to have one of these babezees." Hank's voice sounded serious. He put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder and that made Wyatt feel better. Hank was his friend even if he did get angry a lot. "I'll help you out there, okay?"
Impulsively Wyatt pulled Hank into a hug because he was so happy. It only lasted a second before Hank pushed him away but Wyatt thought he saw Hank smile as he turned away and picked up a broom.
"Come on man, we have cleaning to do."
#
When Saturday came Wyatt was so excited that he couldn't sit still and wait so he cleaned his apartment and dressed in his best clothes. Hank came and took him downtown. The whole way Wyatt sang along with the country western songs on Hank's radio even when he didn't know the words. He stared at the babezee catalog while he sang as if he was singing to all of those smiling faces, their eyes big with happiness and laughter.
At last Hank pulled to a stop in front of a building. Wyatt was first out of the truck but then he stopped, unsure of where to go. The building in front of them looked worn and dingy. It wasn't clean. Graffiti made the walls look dirty and trash littered the parking lot. In front of them was a rusted rolling metal door like some of the work-sites had at the loading docks. It didn't look like the sort of place where Wyatt expected to find the babezees. Hank had gotten out of the truck and came around the front jingling his keys.
"This is the clinic?" Wyatt asked.
"This is better," Hank said. "You brought the cash like I said?"
Wyatt dug his hand into his coverall pocket and pulled out the banded stack of bills. Hank shoved his hand back to his pocket.
"Not out here! Come on. We have to get inside. Leave the dough in your pocket until I say so, okay?"
"Sure, Hank."
Hank walked over to the rolling door and Wyatt followed. Hank banged on the metal. After a couple seconds the metal door rolled up rattling and squealing. Two men stood inside. Scary men, Wyatt thought. They looked at Hank and then him with eyes hidden by sunglasses even though it didn't look bright inside.
"That the buyer?" One of the men asked in a scratchy voice.
"Yeah," Hank answered. "Stan sent us."
The man that had spoken gestured for them to follow and headed into the building. Hank went after him and Wyatt hurried to keep up with Hank. He didn't like these men but Hank was his friend. The other man stayed behind and lowered the door with a crashing bang behind them. It made Wyatt jump. The place was a big warehouse, Wyatt realized. He had worked in warehouses before, mostly sweeping. Usually warehouses had lots of boxes. This place had boxes but the center of the warehouse had some sort of building set up with walls made of plastic and bright lights inside. It made the whole thing glow with pretty blue light. Through the plastic Wyatt saw blurry people walking around doing things with machinery. One of the people reached into something and pulled out a small shape that kicked and wiggled. Even from here Wyatt could see that it had to be a babezee. He hadn't pictured the clinic would look like this but it didn't matter. There were babezees!
They stopped at a doorway in the plastic wall. The man that had met them at the door told them to wait and disappeared inside.
"I'm going to get a babezee now?" Wyatt asked.
"Sure, sure you are." Hank put an arm around Wyatt's shoulders. "Only the thing is, these are made by a different company than the one in your catalog so they don't call them babezees. Companies get picky about those things, you know. Trademarks and all that shit. A friend of mine, Stan, put me onto this place. They're doing some amazing shit here. Better than those babezees in the catalog."
Wyatt struggled to understand all of that. "They aren't babezees?"
"It's the same thing," Hank insisted. "Better even. These little fuckers are cool. Stan showed me a video. Trust me, you'll be impressed."
He didn't have time to figure out what Hank meant before the man came back.
"Come on."
Hank nudged him to go first so Wyatt followed the man into the plastic building. It was like a maze inside. Wyatt followed the man through the narrow corridors. They walked past rooms with plastic walls but he couldn't ever see clearly what was inside. Towards the center of the plastic building the hallway just ended in a big room. The man stopped and gestured at a man and woman in long white coats. Wyatt walked into the room with wide eyes. He ignored the people. The room was filled with small plastic beds and in each bed a babezee squirmed beneath blue and pink blankets. There had to be dozens of them. He could hear soft noises they made like giggles done in a whisper. He wanted to grab them all and give each and every one of them a big hug.
The woman stepped in front of him, blocking his view, which made him look at her instead. He'd rather look at the babezees. She had blond hair piled up on her head and bright scarlet lips. He thought she looked hungry.
"I'm Doctor Penniwell." She stuck out her hand.
Reluctantly Wyatt took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. She smelled like old apples, he thought. "My name is Wyatt."
The other doctor offered his hand. "Doctor Burton. You've made a good choice coming here, Wyatt."
Wyatt liked Doctor Burton a little better than Doctor Penniwell. He looked like he laughed a lot. Wyatt tried to see past the doctors. He wanted to see the babezees. "Can I see them?"
Doctor Burton put his hand on Wyatt's elbow and guided him past Doctor Penniwell. "That's why you're here, isn't it? These are the cutting edge. No one has pseudo-infants like these. Because we're just starting out you have a chance to get in on the ground floor. We want to build word of mouth. Affordable pseudo-infants for the masses. We call them babimals."