Bon Voyage (One-shot)

"...and from here, you can visit virtually any place around globe you can think of! Here, look: here's Florida - notice the lovely beaches and beautiful white sand? Monaco - that seaside view is magnificent, don't you think?! Tokyo-..."

The receptionist flipped through the holographic images on the desk he sat at as he chattered excitedly about the varied cities his clients could visit. It was a rather hot summer day, and the couple in front of him were in quite a hurry but he cared not; all that mattered was him getting his hours in for the day. He flipped once more to the umpteenth scenic beachside view he's showed them and breathlessly continued chattering in their ears.

"Or! Or! How about the lovely beaches in... Bali-"

"Um yes! That's fine. Bali's fine." The man interrupted him before he could go off on another round trip across more tropical cities than you could fathom. "Right, Elisabeth? I heard Bali's quite nice."

"Uhhh yeah, I guess so..." The woman next to him mumbled as the glowing projection of Bali lit up her pained, scrutinizing face.

"Then Bali it is!!" The receptionist beamed. "I'll get your tickets right away!" He swiveled around in his chair as if to print out said tickets.. but in reality, he reached out for a brochure and handed it to the couple.

"...but before I do so, I really must tell you both about our wonderful new airline system we're employing for the first time this year!" Pointing to the blurry photos of vaguely spaceship-esque contraptions in the handout, he prattled on and on about the "luxurious" and "advanced" new technology his company is using to transport passengers around the world. Only half of his words were heard as pictures flew by the couple's eyes but they definitely heard "affordable" and "fast" among the receptionist's babble.

"And best of all, it really doesn't matter where you choose to go with our Super Deluxe Transporter Extreme 2020! It'd take you just about the same amount of time to travel from here to the North Pole or from here to the next city over!"

"Amazing!" The man was clearly quite impressed with this statement (though not as much as when he heard it was "affordable") and his face lit up at the prospect of going to the North Pole. Or Bali. It's impossible to tell at this point.

"Viva la Technology!" He said in his comically broken French. "Don't you think so, Elisabeth?"

Elisabeth just shrugged and turned her face away.

"She's kinda in a sour mood," the man replied, feeling the need to explain his companion's behaviour for some reason.

But the receptionist had his back already turned towards the couple as he typed away at his computer, numbers filling up the screen in rapid succession, in an attempt to look "productive."

As he continued to type away and the sound of clicking computer keys filled the hall, a sudden mechanical 'whirr' sound caught the couple's attention. Just then, a metallic object approached the receptionist's desk from around the corner; short in stature, about half the desk's height and reaching just about the man's hips. A cutesy little apron was wrapped around the bottom of its body, possibly snatched from a doll of some sort from the looks of it.

The man couldn't take his eyes off it and exclaimed, "Oh WOW, what is that?? Is that.. one of those robot things I've seen on TV?!"

"Yessiree!" The receptionist responded, not slowing down one bit at his incessant typing. "This's one of our new helpers we got from corporate; a Super Robotic Maid Grand Deluxe Type 00! Or.. Type-O for short."

"She's stunning!" Replied the man in almost excessive admiration. "Or at least, I think she's a she? With that apron and all.. anyways, uh what do you think, Elisabeth? Cool, right?!"

"It's... lovely." Came Elisabeth's cold reply. It actually wasn't really "lovely" at all. In fact, the "maid robot" looked like a shiny metal trashcan more than anything, with tank tread in place of wheels and the tattered pink apron around it being the only speck of colour on the damn thing. Elisabeth opted to turn away and stare at the wall once again, anything to get that horrid thing off her mind.

As if in protest to getting the cold shoulder, Type-O beeped loudly and flashed some blinding lights just before starting to.. speak?

BZZTTT UNIT 393 STATUS REPORT. NUMBER OF ROOMS PURIFIED: 10. PURIFICATION RANGE: ROOMS #01 - #10. AWAITING NEW COMMANDS

"You can just say 'cleaned,' Type-O, it's okay," the receptionist said, dryly.

BZZTTT UNIDENTIFIED EMPLOYEE. COMMAND DENIED. AWAITING INPUT FROM HIGHER PERSONNEL

"Ah, c'est la vie.."

The man and the receptionist had a good chuckle at their.. strange situation, as Type-O whirred and beeped in almost joyous reaction to their laughs.

Elisabeth, however, jolted in sudden realization of what she'd heard. "Room 10... Sammy..." she sighed, close to tears. Her companion looked at her and his eyes widened as he, too, realised something.

"Oh, right! I've been meaning to ask.." came the man's reply. "Uh, sir, you wouldn't happen to have seen someone around our age, with dark red hair-"

"Non! Nope! Nuh-uh!" The receptionist responded, doubtlessly having not heard a word his client said after "seen". "As you can imagine, I sit here all day, alright? So I have to look at the ugly mugs- er, faces of way too many people bustling around this place. You can probably tell where I'm going with this, yeah? So, I find it highly unlikely I would've seen this, uh, brown-haired friend of yours? Regardless, still unlikely. Sor-"

"Okay, that's fine. We'll just take our tickets and go then," the man replied, curtly, before turning to Elisabeth in an attempt to assuage her. She only turned away to stare at the wall once more.

"Perfect! Your tickets should be out right about.. now!"

A few more ten or so keys were clicked on the keyboard before an ancient-looking printer turned on, beeping as it began the aligning processing.

"Just a little while longer..."

At one point, the printer appeared to have froze and then started over again.

"Not a minute more.."

The first page came out misaligned and with splotches of ink everywhere. The receptionist assured that this was fine since the first page is usually the terms and conditions that no one reads anyway.

"Okay, it should be coming along right now.."

The printer chugged as it struggled to print out such an image-heavy page, ink running out about halfway. A new one was procured inside of a stuffed drawer nearby and jammed into the printer. Error messages were all that the receptionist managed to get out of this device.

Impatient as one would imagine, the man turned to his companion.. and found an empty space next to him.

"Uh, Elisabeth..? Elisabeth??"

He bolted down the hallway next to the receptionist desk, calls of "Elisabeth!" echoing down it.

The receptionist looked up, finally. He huffed at the situation at hand and mumbled, "..great. Leave me then. 'S not like I need someone physically standing here to show I'm being 'productive'.... damn corporate execs..."

--

Down the hall, the man caught up with Elisabeth at last, both breathless and impatient. She was kneeling down, looking as if she were tying her shoe, before the man showed up and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Elisabeth, don't scare me like that! What the heck are you doing-"

"Looking for Sammy," she retorted firmly, and standing up to face her companion. "Using this.."

She stepped out from in front of.. Type-O? As she did, the robot beeped and whirred, as if waiting for a command.

"Elisabeth, come on.. how is this thing gonna know where Sammy is?"

"It cleaned the room they were staying in. You heard it. I just need to know if it.. saw anything."

The man looked inquisitively at the diminutive bot. "Well.. I guess you're right but how're you gonna get an answer from it? You saw how little Type-O here responded when the receptionist tried to talk to it.."

"Worth a shot," was Elisabeth's only reply as she turned back around to face the robot.

"Type-O," she said, in a firm, commanding voice. "Tell me the status of room #10 from approximately 12 am to 6 am."

BZZTTT COMMAND DENIED. UNIDENTIFIED PERSONNEL-

"Alright," she cut off the poor scrap heap, switching gears. "You better tell me right now you dumb, stinking scrap metal. Or do I need to hardwire your ass into submission? ANSWER. NOW."

BZZTTT PERSONNEL IDENTIFIED. WELCOME H.R. MANAGER ANNETTE MOREAU

"Wait, you're not- you don't work here, Elisa-"

"Shhhhhh!"

ROOM STATUS. RANGE: #10 - #10. TIME: 12 AM - 6 AM. CURRENT TENET: SAM GAUTREAU. ROOM OCCUPIED UNTIL APPROXIMATELY 5 AM. PURIFICATION OCCURRED 00:30 MINUTES BEYOND ROOM VACANCY. END REPORT

"So Sammy left around that time, and then the robot went inside the room to clean right after.. alright. Type-O, tell me the status of the room at exactly 5:30 am."

BZZTTT ROOM STATUS. RANGE: #10 - #10. TIME: 5:30 AM. VACANT. SIGNS OF STRUGGLE DETECTED. GLASS DETECTED. WINDOW DEEMED DESTROYED. APPROXIMATELY 2.1 MILLILITERS OF SUBSTANCE DETERMINED TO BE HUMAN BLOOD IDENTIFIED ON FLOOR. FURNITURE OUT OF PREVIOUS RANGE. END REPORT

"...this is bad."

"Yeah, no kidding but we can't sit around and worry about this, Elisabeth! The ship will be here in a minute to take us to Bali. Bali, Elisabeth! Come on, don't think about this right now! It's time we treat ourselves this time! You know how much you've been begging me to take you somewhere?"

"..but Sammy.."

"We'll follow the news in Bali, I promise. I'm sure they'll show up. This could all just be a misunderstanding, you know!"

As if in agreement, the speakers all around the building announced the arrival of ship #3245 to Bali.

"Come on, Elisabeth. Give it up. Please.." The man grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her heavy, slumped over body down the hall. Her eyes glazing over, she glanced up at Type-O as it got smaller and smaller the further away she was dragged from it. Her last thoughts drifted to how she should probably get one of these shiny metal trashcans for her flat.

Type-O whirred joyously as before.

BON. VOYAGE.

--

Somewhere, in a remote, empty office strung with several hundred thousand papers everywhere, a phone rang with a piercing sound that echoed across the empty travel agency. Not a sign of life all around the building, yet the phone tolled in loud denial.

Type-O finally made the arduous trek from one side of the building to this one, where the phone will finally meet its due rest.

As it approached the receiver, a mechanical arm extended from the back of the robot and grasped it, tightly. It answered and spoke as if it had not a worry in the world. As it should, since it's a machine.

BZZTTT THANK YOU FOR CALLING FAIRE TRAVEL AGENCY, WHERE THE FUTURE OF TRANSPORTATION IS NOW. HOW MAY THIS UNIT DIRECT YOUR CALL?

"Ugh, not another damn robot!" Came the voice on the line. "Do I really have to- okay fine.. Type-O, I need some help. The smell of gunpowder and booze is seriously intoxicating and I'm not comfortable knowing that likely 10 or so mafia thugs are on my tail. Isn't there anything else I could be-"

BZZTTT SIGNS OF DISTRESS: DETECTED. RETRIEVING: SAFETY AND WELLNESS DOCUMENT. BZZTTT- "Step 1: Breath in, and lie down with your feet sticking up. Step 2: Snuff out-"

"No, no, no, no dammit, I'm not having a panic attack!" The voice replied in exasperation. "Goddamn stupid trash heap... I need a way out of here, please! Tell me where the nearest embassy is-"

BZZTTT COMMAND DENIED. UNIDENTIFIED PERSONNEL-

"Okay, okay fine! I wasn't planning on giving my name over an unsecure line but whatever! If it gets me out of here.."

BZZTTT AWAITING INPUT

"Gautreau. Sam Gautreau."

BZZTTT ACCESS APPROVED. WELCOME SAM GAUTREAU. LOCATION-

"NO, NO, NO PLEASE DON'T-" 

...XXXX EAST MARKET STREET. NORTH BLOCK. COORDINATES 32.1, 44.5

"STOPPPP! I don't need my location!! You sonnuva- stupid.. piece of TRASH.. hate this freakin' job, seriously.. look, I need a nearby embassy, please for the love of-"

SIGNS OF RESISTENCE: DETECTED

"Aw, shit."

RETRIEVING: CHIEF JERARD ANSELLUM RECORDING. BZZTTT- "Alright Type-O, you listen here. You're in charge of these new recruits now. Keep 'em in line as best you can. Or better than you can. You hear? I dun't want no yellow-bellied jackasses on my watch. Scare 'em to submission if you hafta. Heck, if a few of 'em's heads need to be lopped off then by all means! No tear in my eye. Okay, so I'll give you coordinates of a few of our best men in case one of the recruits tries to be frisky and run off. You listening? Kay then.."

The voice on the receiver began to hyperventilate.

"Oh god.. who was that... please, dammit I don't want this... No.... Elisabeth... everyone..."

BEEP BEEP. CONTACTING: PERSONNEL X, PERSONNEL Y, PERSONNEL-

The rest of the list of personnel went to deaf ears as the line on the other end dropped. A lonesome tone reverberated across the office from the receiver.

Type-O, having completed its job, dropped the phone messily on the floor and went about its merry way.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading this, once again. I just hope this story was a little more bearable (and shorter) than my last one, "Doubt." d: This one was a really random story that came to me in a dream, actually. Don't remember what the dream was, unfortunately, but the details of the story just suddenly popped into my brain when I woke up. Weird huh, lol.
So, for this one, I was going for a French/American 70s/80s schizo-tech kinda aesthetic. With a touch of Dieselpunk. d: The premise is that technology's advanced faster than it has in our reality, with functioning robot maids and space ships taking you everywhere you want.. yet, we still have outdated, slow printers, computers and stuff like that, like when the internet was first conceptualized. The French names are just to make it interesting, idk. Though, I did pay attention to what everyone's names mean, this time!
Additionally... I wanted to point that if you were to liken "Doubt" to a Greek tragedy of some sort (that's how I thought of it, while writing), I would say this story would be more like American short lit. Either gothic or speculative fiction. Something like that. That's where I got my inspiration, anyway, this time.
And with that, I hope you enjoyed it!