A

Model Life

Strap squinted and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He could
hear his mother clanking dishes downstairs as if her new method of washing them
was to beat them clean. The noise did not break Straps concentration. As he pulled
down the magnifying lamp and zeroed in even more, the sunset had found its way
into the attic. A single ray of orange light cut through the curtains and covered St.
Basils Cathedral with a dusty warm glow. Strap had been working on the scale
model for over two months and was preparing to place the final piece. With a large
exhale and a delicate release of the needle nose pliers, Strap fastened the last
observatory window. A series of squeaks pierced the air as Strap leaned back in his
chair to take in the finished masterpiece. He loved this moment, but also dreaded it.
Although feelings of accomplishment came with the completion of the model, Strap
didnt take much joy from that. Building and obsessing over details made him much
happier.
Strap! He could hear his mother clambering up the stairs.
Yeah Mom, what is it? He grumbled back without removing his gaze from
the finished cathedral.
Strap dear, did you call Mr. Trammell back about the library job? She had
reached the top of the stairs and flipped on the light to reveal a room packed with
scale models on every surface.
Strap was visibly annoyed.
Mom, turn the light off, and its not a library job, its a janitor job at the
library.
Well, I dont imagine the library gets too dirty. It would be easy money and a
good excuse for you to get out of this house and away from your toy buildings.
Straps Mom turned her gaze towards the hundreds of scale models lining the walls.
She knew she was striking a nerve with the toy line, but she was genuinely worried
for her 31-year-old son living in the attic.
This place is a dump, Strap! She spoke before she even looked around to
assess if it indeed was. It was not, however. Strap had neatly placed hundreds of
models along a shelving system that, from the ground up, covered all the walls of the
converted attic space. The models ranged from vintage planes and ancient
architecture, to alien spaceships and futuristic skyscrapers. Every single one was
perfectly assembled and evenly spaced. The models had all collected quite a bit of
dust, and Straps mother felt it was her duty to let him know.
Strap, I just dont know how you are not on your death bed with the amount
of dust collecting up here! Turning her head as if she was avoiding the plague, she
started dusting the models with a duster that she had suddenly produced.
Mom, the dust doesnt bother me. Youre bothering me! I have things to
work on! Strap was finally lashing back for the toy comment earlier.
Straps mother had had enough, and with watery eyes and a strained voice
she boiled over.
You and your model making. Its never enough! When will you go out and
experience what the world has to offer a young man!? A nice girl maybe!?
Mother, girls dont
 Ohhhh, will I ever be a Grandma, or will I grow old without any grandbabies,
dusting your precious models!
With this, she stormed off down the stairs hoping that her son could find
something else to love other than model building. Strap stood up and was going to
call out to his mother but hesitated for too long, and then found the effort to be
pointless. As he sat back down in his chair, he fixed his eyes on his next build. It was
the Chrysler building, neatly packed away in pieces, in a crisp, tiny box. Something
was happening though. His urge to get started on the new model was being
suppressed, and he knew exactly why. He had really upset his mother this time, and
as much as he wanted to ignore the fact, he could not. He would now have to
somehow make his mother happy, and with a heavy sigh, he decided the first step
would be to leave the house and take a stroll through the neighborhood.
The neighborhood consisted of a cluster of blocks set back on a hill over
looking the town below. The entire town was truly small and with huge mountains
surrounding it on all sides, it appeared to be even smaller. Standing in the street
outside of his house, Strap could make out the town library, which was also Town
Hall, and the community center. It was surrounded by a number of small shops and
restaurants that looked as if they were all connected to the library at one time. In
fact, all the buildings looked as if they were built for the movie set of every Old
English Christmas movie ever made. There was one anomaly though. Set back in the
far corner of the town was a mansion. It loomed over the town, surpassing the
height of the library and cutting the fog with it s thorny, black iron spires. The
mansion reminded Strap of the 19th Century Gothic Cathedrals he had built in his
attic, and on this day he felt as if a closer look is what he needed.
It took Strap a little over an hour to walk down pass the library and towards
the mansion nestled in the back corner of the town. The last of the sun was slipping
behind the mountains and its rays were bursting through the clouds as if a great
explosion had been frozen in time on the other side. The mansion had stood here all
his life, but he had no clue who had lived in it or was living in it now, and his mother
had certainly never mentioned it. There were, of course, the rumors from his
childhood. Straps classmates use to say the place was being haunted by an old
miser, who built the house in the mountains to escape being tried for several
horrendous murders across the world. It made sense when Strap was a child, but
now it seemed quite silly.
As Strap neared the towering iron gates of the mansion, he saw a notice.
PLEASE COME IN. EVERYTHING IS FOR SALE. IF ITS NOT PRICED PLEASE
SEE ATTENDANT.
What in the world? Strap muttered to himself.
His eyes moved from the sign to the grand entrance of the gate, which was
standing wide open. The thought of walking through troubled him. He wasnt
seeking an adventure. He was just trying to please his mother. His mother wanted
him to experience what the world had to offer, and it seems like the world was
definitely throwing him a bone at the moment.
An estate sale at Mystery Mansion. Why not, Strap thought to himself.
Strap walked through the gate and followed a deteriorated cobble stone path
that led right up to the mansions huge double doors. The doors were cracked open
and as he walked in, he was immediately hit with the smell of musty old things
coupled with the smell of burning cedar. The ground floor was void of any furniture
or anything at all for that matter. High arching windows let the lingering light from
the sun flood the empty space. There seemed to be nothing for sale at all. Suddenly,
Strap heard footsteps come from a balcony upstairs. His eyes darted up to find a
young lady in a green cardigan and a long black skirt looking down at him. Strap
squinted through his glasses and stood motionless looking up for what seemed like
eternity before the girl spoke.
I cant see what you are, my glasses are fogged. Ive been sitting next to a
fire in the other room. Its quite drafty up here.
She spoke with an accent that couldnt be placed, and Strap was stunned by
the awkward approach.
What you are?, he thought. She started to speak again.
If it compels you, please do come up here and feel this draft for yourself.
Also, if you are here to buy something, Im sorry. The sign out front is merely a
temporary prop. Were trying new designs. Everything is gone. Are you coming up?
Uh, yes, Strap managed to eek out some words, but his feet hadnt yet
caught up with his answer.
Straps gaze from the balcony fell and he started to head over to the staircase.
The uneasy feeling he had was blanketing his curiosity of the mansion. He slowly
eased his way up the stairs that were creaking loudly, all the while making the lack
of conversation between him and the girl all the more awkward. Then she spoke
again.
There you are, Strap. I have to tell you, I expected a different model today,
but thisthis is truly a break though! Please, come closer Strap.
Her voice was friendly, which confused Strap even more. She knew his name,
but he didnt recognize her. The things she was saying were so confusing but she
was saying them with confidence. Strap was thinking that he must have known her
from school, years ago. It was the only thing that made sense.
Im, um, sorry. Did we go to school together? Strap desperately tried to
contribute to the conversation. He moved towards her and she replied, flashing a
huge smile.
Brilliant, brilliant, but no, my dear. Come closer, I want to see the expression
that your face builds when I explain something to you.
Strap never had a girlfriend but this girl was bringing about new feelings that
he thought would make his mom happy. The girl had peaked Straps intrigue with
her bizarre dialogue and now he stood face to face with her. She talked again
through her whimsical smile.
Give me your hands, Strap.
Strap held up both his hands and the girl placed her thumbs directly in the
middle of his palms. Straps heart raced, and he was feeling flushed. The girl
squeezed his palms with her thumbs exactly three times and began to speak again.
Strap, I just shut down your core movement functionality. You will not be
able to move right now, but basic sensory functions such as sight and sound, will
remain intact, as well as responsive facial controllers.
 She was right. Strap could not move. A sinking feeling of terror slowly started
to creep up from his stomach.
Strap, you are model C9-32 and you were programmed to have a life altering
addictive personality. You are apart of many ongoing experiments to locate and
eliminate such non-productive human traits for the betterment of the species. The
genius of the software could have led you to any type of addiction, but at a very early
stage, you became addicted to building and hoarding scale models. It was simply
fascinating. Most addictive personalities do not have much room for the
considerations of loved ones. However, today is a break through as the internal code
enabled you to break free from your most peculiar addiction for only a moment to
please who you believe to be your mother.
The young scientist paused and looked more intensely at C9-32s face before
she began to speak once more, but this time to her colleagues, who were listening
and watching from another room.
Ah, brilliant, brilliant. Our code has clearly replicated a flawless look of fear
on this model. Lets reboot, and redistribute, gentlemen.

End.