Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Deep Pockets

He sits in the waiting room as the world continues to move on around him. The girls behind the desk answer calls and fill in worksheets while he sits there, waiting. He shuffles in his seat and is overcome with the feeling that, suddenly, he has the right to call the seat his own. He’s sat in it enough over the last few months, and he’s spent enough money to have bought the chair many times over. They should give him the seat, in fact. Maybe he might ask them once everything is over. He looks up almost blindly while the girls chat amongst themselves, then looks back down at his phone, opens up the notepad, and starts writing. It’s nothing of any real interest, but he starts writing anyway. When he next looks up, a woman is making her way from around the counter towards him. He turns his phone off and stands up.

“Mister Jones, sorry for the wait,” she says with a smile.

“It’s okay, I’ve waited longer on more than one occasion over the last few months,” he retorts, smiling as he does. Her face freezes; the smile stays, but her eyes tell an all-too-different story.

“If you’d like to come this way, she’s waiting for you,” she says as she leads him around the counter and out through the back.

“H-H-How is she?”

“We’re not going to lie, it’s been a rough couple of hours,” she replies as she leads him through a door.

“That’s what my bank account said too,” he says sarcastically. She stops and turns to him, her smile now broader, but her eyes still show her true feelings.

“These procedures are not simple, Mister Jones. What you’re paying for is cutting-edge technology, top-of-the-line work, art almost. If you have a problem with what we are doing, what WE are charging you, then you are more than welcome to go elsewhere. Although, I can guarantee you won’t get the work we do anywhere else.”

“I’m well aware of where you sit on the totem pole, love. That’s why I’m here. You take my money; you take my sarcasm. I thought we agreed to that in your thousand-page contract?”

“We are a professional establishment, Mister Jones, and we expect all our clients to be the same. So if you don’t mind, please leave your sarcasm at home. Now, if you would follow me in here, you will see that all the procedures required have successfully been completed,” she says as she leads him into a room where a man and woman in white lab coats stand, checking over a woman who lies motionless on a metal table.

“Mister Jones,” the man says as he looks up and extends his hand. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“That’s what your bank account said,” he says as they shake hands. “So, they tell me she’s fighting fit and ready to go?”

“Indeed she is. All the new modifications and software you requested have been installed. She should be better than ever.”

“And you managed to keep all her previous saved commands and files?”

“Everything as requested,” he says with a smile. “So all you need to do is sign the release form here, here, and here, and place your palm, ID tag side down here, and you’re good to go,” he says as he places a tablet in front of him. Quickly, he follows the man’s instructions and hands the tablet back.

“So, we’re good to go?”

“Certainly. Francis, boot Monica up and then escort her and Mister Jones to the waiting room. Until next time, Mister Jones,” he says as he once again extends his hand.

“Until then,” he says as they shake hands and the woman on the table sits up and turns to look at him.

“Is it home time, my love?” she asks.

“Home it is,” he says as he helps her down from the table and follows the woman from the room.

“I hate that man. He’s so, so vile,” the woman says. The man turns to her and smiles.

“But his money, his money is golden. So I’ll put up with that droid lover any day of the week, as long as he’s paying.”