Entry 9

Scott let me move from my room to the couch in the living room as long as I promised to continually drink fluids. So I took my blankets to the couch, let Scott fill my cup with orange juice, and watched television. I flicked through the channels, trying to find something to tell me why everything felt so wrong, but all of the channels were normal. I settled uneasily on ABC family.

My eyes kept wandering to the clock, anxious for it to be the time when John would come home. I needed to see him. I needed him to tell me what was real. John never lied to me. If he told me this was real and he was human, I would believe him. John never lied to me.

Of course, John had football practice, so it was dinner time when he came home. When I heard the door open and John call, “I’m home”, I jumped from the couch much to Scott’s dismay. I raced to the door and into my brother’s arm. He felt real. He smelled real. He smelled like a sweaty boy just home from football practice.

“Carlee! You’re alive!” he exclaimed, hugging me back. He then pushed me to arms length, his blue eyes examining me critically. “Should you be out of bed?”

“No,” Scott responded, walking up to us. He gave me a stern look. “Get back to the couch, Carlee.”

“John,” I ignored my foster father. “Are you an android?” John looked surprised by my question and looked to Scott in concern.

“Is she still feverish?” John asked.

“Not like she was.” Scott shook his head. “She is probably just remembering her delusions. She doesn’t remember what actually happened these past few days.” John looked at me with concern.

“I need to take a shower, Carlee,” he said, “but after that you can tell me all about what you dreamed.”

“No,” I responded, shaking my head violently. “I didn’t just dream it. You were shot, but it’s ok because you’re an android, but then we had to go to the ship to get you repaired.” John and Scott exchanged an amused glance.

“I think our joke has gone to your head,” John said after a moment. “I’m your brother.”

“Yes,” I agreed, frustrated he did not remember what I did. “But you’re an android. The Society of Anthropologists designed you to be my brother.”

“So you’re telling me my brain is a computer and my entire personality is just a program,” John responded. “So I don’t really care about you as my sister. I’m just programmed to.”

“Yes,” I answered quickly. Then his words sunk in, and I added, “No. I mean, I don’t know. You did not explain to me how being an android works.” If John was an android, did that mean all his thoughts and feelings were just programs? Did that mean he really did not care for me because he was my brother but because he was programmed to care for me?

“Listen to me, Carlee,” John said firmly but kindly, in a very big brother, authoritative manner. “I am your brother, flesh and blood just like you. You have been sick, very sick, and you need to lie down now, ok?” I nodded, dazed by his words, and let him lead me to the couch. John then went to take a shower as Scott insisted on taking my temperature again.

Once Scott was satisfied with my health status, I was left alone on the couch with my thoughts, which were very confused.

Had I just dreamed the entire thing? Scott and John both said I had been very sick and in the hospital. Delusional they said. Had the occurrence been only a delusion? Rationally it made sense. I was here on Earth in my home after all. John was telling me he was human and Scott was telling me I was sick. It all made perfect sense, but it all felt so wrong.

Ellen came home just as John came out of the shower. Scott was starting dinner, which smelled like soup. Scott always made soup when someone was sick.

Ellen gushed over me, happy to see I was awake. She reaffirmed the hospital story, and my doubts about what I remembered increased.

I wanted to believe every else. Ellen and Scott were the best foster parents we had ever had. We were happy with them and in this school district. John was doing well academically and athletically. I was surviving, not the smartest in my class but in the same class as the smartest people. We were finally doing well. Ellen and Scott were willing to pay for John and my college. It was perfect. Our life was finally perfect. I did not need an alien abduction, and I certainly did not want my brother to be an android. I wanted this to be life and the android business to be a dream.

If I wanted it to be real so badly, why did it feel so wrong?