Home Visit

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(Written by Ace Dreamer; posted 08 September 2012)

Dr Scure - Season One - 26/May/2012

Chapter R

Home Visit

Summer, 2008, UK.

Uran liked scaring pigeons. They always took off with a terrible fuss, from the dower house roof, in the quiet English village. She thought it was a bit unreasonable. After all. Invisible star ship is invisible. Isn't it?

Mentally checking the grav tethers were OK, she unstrapped herself, then glared at the thoroughly strapped-down cargo. With twice-weekly 'home visits' so much shouldn't be needed, but, Brains, 'Brian' she should call him now she was at home, had been working overtime.

At a metre each side both crates were as tall as her, but she quickly had them wrapped in invisi film, and, engaging her own invisibility, flew out the top air lock, one in each hand. A mental command to the cottage roof door, and she flew in. 'Good job it's not raining', she thought, 'Always makes invisibility more tricky'.

Floating into the kitchen she saw Brainless, through the open door to the workshop. As usual, he ignored her, though she was pretty sure he could sense past her invisibility. 'Stupid dummy', she thought, 'Least he could do is be polite'.

Opening the the crates she quickly sorted their contents. She wrinkled her nose as she hid the sealed bags of sewage, ready so Brainless had something to flush out to the septic tank, on 'toilet breaks'. Yes, it was unpleasant, but Brains insisted on thoroughness, in support of the illusion of him still living here.

Packing the food from the fridge was next, wrapped and into a crate with fresh produce from Co-op Home Delivery. Exchanged for a bag of food scraps, to go out on the compost, and some general household rubbish, to go in the refuse collection. 'I'm glad Brian doesn't like soft drinks', she thought, 'It'd be tedious shuffling full and empty bottles and cans'.

She checked the water meter. Brainless hadn't been using enough to be credible, again. She'd better have a long, hot, shower, later. Yes, it was was hard work, but someone had to do it. Humming she floated a crate over into the study, pausing to collect three-day's post on the way.

"Bill. Advert. Bank statement. Progress report for Eastercon." She quickly filed, then put the con PR in the crate. Five trays of miniature figures were quickly removed, all pre-packed in foam. Two trays of Brainless's work, basic but thorough, went back in.

'Now for the squicky bit', she thought, as she floated into the bedroom. Hers she supposed it was, these days. From the hidden drawer in the wardrobe she pulled out the re-purposed sex doll, and shook it out. So strange to look at it like this...

Quickly, she laid it on the bed, pumped it up, and opened the stomach flap. Closing her eyes she reached out, contacting the paired satellite dishes in the roof space. One swung, hunted, and found her micro relay sat in orbit. Feeling inside herself she brushed the entangled link to the other half of her brain, and the LOCK as the return signal from the rest of herself, on the far side of the Moon, took control of her body.

As usual tele-operating her body from the Moon was an exercise in careful forethought. 'Brains should really put some effort into that FTL communicator' as always ran through her, as she lifted her half-brain from her 1 meter tall robot body, and placed in the body on the bed. RESET.

Sitting up on the bed, she looked away, reached-out, and flipped-close the brain hatch on her now inert robot body. Bobbling, she got up, pulled a towel and a small box from a drawer, and bounced into the bathroom. The water quickly reached the right temperature, and she drank and drank. Then, carefully injected herself from the 'insulin' kit, and felt the water jelly into flesh and blood. 'Much better! Flesh body equals hot shower time!'

Towel-wrapped, padding back into the bedroom, she again fiddled with the wardrobe. Then donned the hidden clothes hanging there. With some difficulty she picked up her robot body, and put it on a wooden stand in the corner, marked 'Uran'. 'It's always creepy doing that', she thought. 'Maybe I shouldn't have left it standing around while I was having a shower.'

Pulling her knee-length red leather boots on, and her invisible folding plastic raincoat, both from the office crate, she prepared herself. 'Money, car keys, house keys, shoulder bag', and after sticking her tongue out at herself in the mirror, 'Middle-aged again (well, early 30s)', she quickly brushed her hair.

---

Driving back into the village she waved and nodded at a number of people, through the open window on this warm day. She'd flown, invisible, without problem (apart from annoying the pigeons again) to the derelict-looking garage she rented, off a quiet lane, in the next village. The inflatable battered-looking Bedford van was safely hidden, and easily filled with air, then rain water ballast, as the battery cache had been charged by the recent sunshine; 'No manual pumping, this time!'.

"Hello, Mrs Jones!" "Hello Ran." And her conversation with the elderly postmistress followed the usual path. Special mail, boxes of figures to paint for Brian - Brainless would do the undercoats.

"Morning, Ms Severn", as the local special constable came in, "Hope you're Uncle Brian is OK?". "I'm just on my way to see him, officer. Is there anything you'd like me to tell him?" "No, just give him my good wishes." "Thanks. Bye, Mrs Jones! I'll drop some parcels off, later. As usual."

"Such a good girl, Ran", she overheard as she left.

---

'It's always the social side of things that's most difficult', she thought, as she stripped in the bedroom, hanging the clothes she'd re-use, the rest to go in a crate. Brainless, 'Brian', had wheeled himself to the door when she'd 'arrived', grunted once, then wheeled back to the workshop. And not even come out when she left. She'd like to think the real Brian, on the Moon, would've behaved better, but she knew that when he's depressed he could easily be that bad. She didn't like the term 'artistic temperament'.

'Squicky', she thought, as she looked at her robot body, back within reach of where she lay on the bed. It always felt so strange, after the injection liquefied her flesh and blood, and she released the perfectly clean water down the drain. Like becoming made of air. The reverse sequence ended with her closing her brain hatch, and folding the deflated doll away.

'And, I do this twice a week. But someone's got to look after Brian, Brains. He just doesn't do it properly himself.'