The Red Corner

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Blooming dogwoods and perfectly groomed azaleas surrounded the neatly-set picnic tables in the facility’s covered courtyard, where residents could presumably entertain their children and grandchildren, if anyone ever came to visit. No one did.

But it wasn’t the view of the courtyard that Rosemary fixated upon—no, it was the fragment of bright red sky visible above an opening in the courtyard’s paneled roof that captivated her. That kept her pattering her slippered feet along the vinyl floor, rolling her wheelchair to Mr. Hatley’s room. He didn’t mind, or at least, hadn’t woken up to say as much.

“I thought I’d find you here, Ms. Rosemary. It’s time for your medicine.” A young girl in scrubs entered the room, waving a small plastic bag containing a single blue pill.

“Leave it for me, Alicia.”

“I—it’s Milo, ma’am, and you know I need to watch you take it.”

Milo. A stupid name, thought Rosemary. All the bots were named Alicia, back in my day. Alicia, or maybe it was Alexis. She couldn’t quite remember. But then, she couldn’t quite remember much of anything. That was why she was stuck in this place, wasn’t it?

Rosemary returned her gaze to that bright red upper corner of the window. Strange, it was. The sky was blue, back in my day. She couldn’t remember much, but she was quite certain of that.

The girl stepped closer to Rosemary’s wheelchair, startling her from her pondering.

Rosemary looked to the girl, as though seeing her for the first time.

“Did you need something, Alexis?”

The girl sighed. “Your pill, Rosemary. And my name is Milo.”

Rosemary scoffed. “All the bots were called Alaina back in my day.”

“I’m not a bot,” Milo said, a hint of sympathetic exasperation in her voice, as though she’d spoken these words many times before.

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. Not a bot. Hmmph. The human girl stuffed the blue pill in Rosemary’s mouth, and Rosemary pressed it beneath her tongue. Pretended to swallow.

The girl raised her eyebrows, and Rosemary opened her mouth, hiding the pill with her tongue.

“Good job, Rosemary.”

Rosemary didn’t answer, turning her gaze back to the window. To the upper corner, where the sky blared red. Is that red, in the sky? I could swear it was blue, back in my day.

“Greetings, Resident. Greetings, staff member.” The sound of the new voice drew Rosemary’s attention from the window. “Staff member, you are relieved from your shift. Resident, I will return you to your room.” The bot moved swiftly, taking the wheelchair by the handles, driving Rosemary away from the window, out of Mr. Hatley’s room.

Back in the privacy of her room, Rosemary discovered the blue pill beneath her tongue. What is this garbage? Tastes like rancid licorice, she thought, and she spit the pill into her hand, tucking it into the wad of tissues and cracker crumbs that filled her bathrobe pocket.

~~~

The next morning found Rosemary in her wheelchair, sitting in front of the window in Mr. Hatley’s room once again, staring beyond the courtyard at that bright red swatch of sky.

“Good morning, Rosemary.” A young girl in scrubs entered the room.

“Good morning, Alyssa.” Rosemary did not turn her gaze from the window.

“It’s Milo,” said Milo, ever patient.

Rosemary looked to her then, seeing the girl a bit more clearly. Milo.

“Milo, why is the sky red?”

Taken aback, Milo widened her eyes, looking to the window that had captivated Rosemary so. Then she stepped around Rosemary’s wheelchair, to the window, and drew the blinds. She stared at Rosemary, seeing the clarity in her eyes.

“I—you—you called me Milo.”

“You just said that’s your name. Now, I want to know, why is the sky red?”

“It’s… I can’t… it’s time for your pill, Rosemary.”

Just as had passed the day before, Milo stuffed the pill in Rosemary’s mouth, Rosemary hiding it beneath her tongue, the bot then appearing to roll Rosemary back to her room.

And once again, in the privacy of her room, Rosemary spit the pill into her hand, tucking it into the wad of tissue and cracker crumbs and blue pills that filled her bathrobe pocket.

~~~

Rosemary had an awful dream that night—of the sky exploding in a cloud of fire, children running and disintegrating into dust as she huddled at the bottom of the subway stairwell. The children, they were familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember why. And then—

“Good morning, Rosemary.”

She blinked awake, finding herself not at the substation, but in a stiff hospital bed, in a fluorescently-lit room decorated with hotel art. My room, she thought.

“Good morning, Milo.” Who were those children?

“My name is—oh. Oh!” Milo appeared shocked by the greeting, her face a mix of pleasant surprise and concern. “It’s… It’s time for your medicine, Ms. Rosemary.”

“Milo, the children. What happened to the children?” But as she spoke the words, the images filled her mind once more. The sky exploding, the children running. A little boy, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes, widened in fear as he ran toward the stairwell. A girl, even younger, toddling behind him as a handsome man sprinted after them, reaching to scoop the girl into his arms, and then… then they were dust. Her son. Her daughter. Her husband. Disintegrated as the force of the bomb tore atom from atom. Tears ran down Rosemary’s distorted face as she remembered.

“Ms. Rosemary,” Milo spoke softly, sadly. “Ms. Rosemary, you’ve remembered again. Would you like your medicine?”

Rosemary sobbed, reaching for the pill with her misshapen hand, stuffing it in her own mouth, and swallowing.

And the images receded, fading into a fog of half-formed thoughts as Rosemary laid back in her bed. She blinked, looking once more to the young girl in scrubs.

“Did you need something, Alicia?”