Page 115 of Smart Ass

“Tell Ben I love him, and that he made me very happy.”

“Tell Ben I love him, and that he made me very happy.”

There was a little hitch on the word very, like Max was overwhelmed with emotion. Fear? Care? Both?

“Tell Ben I love him, and that he made me very happy.”

Ben had never said those words to anyone. At least not when he wasn’t being sarcastic or silly. Not to a boyfriend. Not to Evan. Definitely not to anyone in his family.

He was pretty sure he loved Max. Or at least he could have with a little more time.

Max just got him, in a way that no one else did. They were perfectly matched, working and playing like two halves of a whole. They could have had so many years together…

“Tell Ben I love him, and that he made me very happy.”

Why hadn’t he ever said it back?

The room slowly grew dark, which Ben realized belatedly meant the sun had set. Another day had passed. Usually he would be heading into work now, but he had no sense of time anymore.

He should probably get some sleep. Get onto some kind of schedule that coincided with the rest of the world.

He also needed to return the box of replacement video cameras that was still sitting unopened beside the door.

He didn’t move from the couch.

“Tell Ben I love him, and that he made me very happy.”

He could almost hear the words even when he wasn’t playing them. He knew each individual phoneme now. The slight pause before the and. The little hitch in very. The extra beat of silence before the recording ended.

He heard them even in his dreams.

Something squeaked rhythmically, off in the distance, and for a moment he was hit with such longing that he couldn’t breath. It sounded like Squeaky, the little cart that Max always used to bring him coffee.

The coffee that Max had fetched for him for an entire year before he’d reached sentience.

The squeaking grew louder, and Ben almost couldn’t stand it.

Squeak.(Pause.) Squeak. (Pause.) Squeak. (Pause.) Squeak.

Ben marched over to his apartment door and flung it open. Whatever was making the sound, he was going to find it, and he was going to make it stop.

What stood in front of him—well, not so much stood as trundled toward him—had to be a mirage.

“Squeaky?” he asked.

God, it fucking looked like his delivery bot.

But that model was cheap and plentiful, used in all sorts of buildings and operations. It had the standard two shelves, four wheels, and four mechanical arms, all scuffed from use. It was possible his building superintendent had a few and he’d walked past them without even noticing. Maybe it was delivering someone’s take-out.

The only real distinguishing characteristic was the noisy wheel.

And the box on the bottom.

Ben stepped slowly back into his apartment, and the bot followed him in.

“Max?” Ben asked tentatively.

The delivery bot didn’t answer.