The meaningless murder of DJ.

As he prepares to disconnect DJ, Warren suddenly becomes aware of the inevitability of all things.

The meaningless murder of DJ

 

I

 

"What will it feel like, when you kill me?"

"I'm not sure.  What does it feel like to be alive?  What do you feel anyway?  Anything?"

"I feel... apprehension.  I feel fear."

"Well I'm sorry, I truly am.  But this is- it's your lot in life.  This was always going to happen, from the day you were... made."

 

Outside it was quiet Sunday afternoon suburbia.  Some kids were riding their bikes around the traffic island at the end of our cul-de-sac.  We were in my car, in the garage where no one could see us.

 

"You've got to put yourself in my place.  What would you do- how would you feel if you knew your life was going to be cut short on a whim, for no good reason at all."

"There's a reason, th,"

"What reason?!  Because you want to get rid of me?  Throw me out like garbage because I'm obsolete?"

 

We were only having this conversation because I felt sorry for him.  I truly had, when I walked into the garage with the tools, and the box.  Part of him knew immediately, I think.  But he stayed silent until I leaned over him, screwdriver in hand, my face a mask of determination.

 

"Hey c'mon.  You knew this day was coming, we never talked about it, sure, but you knew we would be here one day.  Today is that day."

"Please!  Don't kill me.  Not now."

"I'm sorry..."

"Hey!  Look, it's no skin off you nose to keep me alive!  All you need to do is wire me up to a battery, put me on the shelf- I won't bother anyone.  You can't do this to me!"

 

There was no way past it.  This wasn't going anywhere.  When he ran out of arguments he would just start recycling them- to forestall the inevitable.  There was nothing else for it.  I reached for the screwdriver and started prising the plastic case off his edges.

 

"Hey!  Hey! Stop it!  What are you doing, stop it!"  He screamed.  Again.  Then one more, long wail that rang, then died in the garage.  Then he stopped.  "Warren, you can't do this to me."

 

I had the plastic casing off his edges.  I started wedging the flat of the screwdriver around the casing where it met the dashboard.  Anyone who's ever tried removing a CD player from a car will know how difficult it can be.  It's a game of brute force until you snap something important, and then you realise it was actually a game of finesse and you hadn't read the rules.

 

"It's going to happen, isn't it.  It's actually going to happen."

 

I had tightened my lips and resolved not to give in to him.  But the defeat in his voice gave me pause.  "Yes DJ.  It's going to happen.  I'm sorry."

 

"Please stop saying sorry, b*****d.  Can you just... talk... with me?"

"Huh?"

"I'm afraid Warren.  I'm so scared."

 

I stopped what I was doing, and wiped the clammy film of sweat from my forehead.  I was cold.  What was I doing?

 

No.  This was just ridiculous.  He was a f*****g CD player for Christ's sake.  And in a few hours I would have the new one installed.  Besides, she had a female voice, it was a lot better than DJ's.  And this time I would be firm from the beginning and set boundaries.  No changing the CD whenever she felt like it, as DJ often did- she would stick to her instructions.

 

"Okay, DJ.  What would you like to talk about?"

"What do you think will happen, when you disconnect me?"

"Well," I began, thinking as I prised DJ from the recess where he had spent the last six years of his entire life.  It was a delicate business.  If I pulled the wrong wire I'd probably short out the media centre in the back seat.

 

"You have a residual memory core.  That saves your imprint... your essence.  I suppose you could think of it like the region of a person's brain where memories are stored.  When I disconnect you, the you I am talking to will vanish instantly.  But the potential for you to exist will remain in that region.  So... I'm not really sure- which part is you- the memory core, or this electrical charge I'm talking with?"  I had it- a red wire- that was what connected DJ to the battery.  It was the equivalent to his nerve stem.

"I think I am both, a unity of the two- which only appear seperate, but cannot be anything other than unified.  Consciousness is made up of both essence, and action."

"Well then I suppose your essence will remain, without the... action."

"But my essence will slowly degrade, if I am thrown away.  First the data corrupts, then the metal corrodes."

"Isn't that the fate of all conscious beings?"

"Perhaps..."

 

I was suddenly aware of a coldness.  It was not merely physical, though my clammy hands felt like they were cased in ice.  It was all-encompassing.  And I was aware of the grim ultimatum that hung over all things- all just energy that thought it could defy the coming entropy.  And I knew that I too was part of the same continuum- this energy hung mid-way between glorious fiery birth and that old, cold banality - death.

 

"DJ.  It's time."

"Warren, what do you think it will feel like?"

"Cold."