"Severance Package"

He's clacking again. He's always clacking. Silly little man. I can hear him, even here, at the other side of the house, beneath this thick layer of stone. Clack clack clack I know what he's doing. Oh, yes. He thinks I don't know. Fool. He thinks me old, set in my ways, and distrustful of new gadgets. And so I am... but I am not stupid. He underestimates me. He is job seeking. That's what he is doing. He is going to leave me. And why not? Everyone does, soon or late. Oh, don't think I say it for pity. You know unto which cavity you can shove that. No, I'm just realistic. When you live exist this long, everyone leaves. That's just how it is. He's connected to the bloody Inter Net. I can hear it whirring, like so many tiny bats, flying about with their little messages and bits of information. He's gone on this Inter Net, and he's Goggled "new jobs nere me" or something like that. He has applied to these jobs. He has sent prospective employers Electric Letters, on the back of one of those tiny bats. I know a thing or two about this process. I know he will need a Reference. I lay here, arms crossed on my chest, like so, and I wondered whether I should do him this great service. Perhaps not. Then he would not get a new job, and he would have to stay here. Don't think me soft, or sentimental. I am not. I don't want him to stay because of some childish fondness. I'll grant you, he is somewhat useful. Remember, though, humans who wish for immortality are ten a penny. I could replace him quickly. The promise of it keeps them going for a long time. It's true that you do grow used to people. He has grown accustomed to the way I like things done, and I, too, have grown used to his way of doing things. But there is this: to someone like me, who lives so long, what is a year, or five, or ten? A blink only. It would be tiresome to start anew, but hardly an insurmountable undertaking. I thought all these things, my mind going to and fro on whether to help him in his new adventure, much though it may inconvenience me... Then I saw the depth of his plotting. More phones! He will be giving himself references! He has even invented companies and created websites. The whole enterprise has demonstrated a level of cunning and industry I had hardly expected of him. I hope he has applied for a job working with these new machines. He might not do terribly in such a role. Here is something he does not know: I have been doing some clacking of my own. Such clever creatures, humans are, they have made replicas of themselves. These replicas look human, but they aren't. Rather like me. They do as they are told unfailingly, as long as one is precise in giving the instruction. This would cut down on the time for training and getting used to a new familiar. Like me, the replica would be unchanging. I have ordered one. I will give my faithless familiar some time off to reward him for such loyal service. He will be thrilled. No doubt this will make it easier for him to attend interviews without looking like grey dog doings that have been reheated. My new, mechanical familiar will arrive while he is gone. My neighbour will take delivery off it for me, and I will collect it after sundown. I see no flaws in this plan. I will let my idiot manservant go, but perhaps I will unpack his replacement and set it to work before be leaves. Just to see the look on his face. Or, perhaps I will arrange a severance package for him. Here you will have to imagine a sinister, even maniacal laugh. Typing "ahahaha!" doesn't really do the trick, no matter how many exclamation marks one uses. Keep clacking little man.