Reset...Reset...Reset

She woke up in her apartment, lying on the couch, arms at her sides. She opened her eyes to see a room with chairs and lamps and house plants, all grey. She sat up, swinging her feet down and off the couch. They landed silently on the floor. She stretched--though she didn't need to--yawned--though she didn't feel sleepy--and stood up. Then--where was I going? As soon as the question popped into her mind, a calm, soft voice asserted the command:

"Update complete. You have reached the limit of free individuality. Please enter your username."

She blinked. Username... There wasn't actually the sound of sheaves of papers being thumbed, but it seemed like there was. Ah, yes. "Theodolinda23."

"Please enter your password," the voice said.

This time the answer came easy, like a puff of breeze, but her mind stuttered. "Carmellattttttttttttttttte23."

"Sorry. I didn't get that."

"Carmellatte23." Theodolinda suddenly had an itch on her leg that she couldn't reach, having reached "the limit of free individuality" before her new login.

"Sorry. You can't use a previous password after an update. Reset your password."

It was just a little itch but it was making her sweat. A new--gaaaaahhh... "Chocolatesundae23".

"Please confirm 'Chocolatesundae23'".

"Yes, yes! Confirm!"

"Thank you. Full individuality restored."

Suddenly, Theodolinda could move. She almost fell over clutching at her leg to scratch the itch. Ohhhhhhh, yeah...nothing better. She was looking at her grey socks with grey polka dots and vigorously scratching the itch when the colors faded back in; her socks were pink with white polka dots. She suddenly remembered putting them on that morning. Like a splash of water to the face, she also remembered her whole day...her whole life...this was her studio flat, this was her potted plant, this was the music painting she was working on...and this was the reason for the reset.

A cup of coffee was smashed on the floor. From the look of it, a fair amount of force had been used. It was always peculiar to remember something that had been emotional with every ounce of feeling drained from it--especially when it had happened, what, twenty minutes ago? Those updates were effective.

She looked critically at the music painting. It pulsed lightly as the rythms she had designed played on a loop. The blues swirled and sparkled in the afternoon sun. She must have been updating for more than twenty minutes--the sunlight was radically different than it had been. She frowned; the light was all wrong, now. She would have to finish this later, and anyway, she was stuck. She'd been stuck on this now for--how long? She blinked and stared to activate her work logs. The operating system spoke: "You have been working on this music painting for eight months, three days, and forty-six minutes. You have sustained four updates during it's progression, three more than is average for the well-adjusted artist. Would you like more statistics?"

Theodolinda did not. She felt a sudden wave of irritation but breathed in quickly to wash it away and headed to the sink for a rag and to the closet for a broom and dustpan. Coming back to the smashed cup and splattered coffee, she knelt down and carefully picked up big pieces to put in the dustpan. Carefully, she swept tiny shards into the pan. Then she set the pan aside and dropped the rag on the floor into the coffee puddle. The more she mopped up the coffee, the more she realized it had splattered. There were splatters here, on the wall...on the island...clear across the floor here, over by the window. On. The. Music. Painting. She felt suddenly hot and reached up carefully to wipe it away. So many layers, delicately hovering and pulsing. She had to be exact...but a drip from the rag fell into the swirls of music and blue and the music fuzzed, distorted, and stopped. "Stupid piece of--!" She squeezed the rag tight to stop the wave of fury rising. "Ouch!!" Blood oozed from her palm where a tiny shard, picked up by the rag, had cut the skin. "No, no, no, no--" Her vision suddenly went red. "It's just a cut! She called to the air. But the programing knew, and she knew. Her pulse was high, the painting had been set back AGAIN, she was frankly furious and now a drop of human fluid was entering the pristine enviornment.

"Unit compromised. Shut down for evaluation emminent. Please find a comfortable position and prepare for shutdown in sixty seconds," the operating system calmly announced. Theodolinda shrieked in frustration.

"I've only been updated four times. FOUR! You can't just shut me down!! I have WORK to do! I have WORTH!"

"Fifty seconds..."

"Oh, yeah? Well, take that!" She swiped the broom through the music painting, shattering and smearing it. The anti-gravity bubble broke and the pieces and paint fell to the floor, covering the dustpan with shards and the wet floor with it's carcass. "You'll have to have a reason to shut me down!"

"Forty seconds..."

"I'll paint all over this place! You'll see! I'll put what I feel on the WALLS! Don't you know that's what art really is?? What's the point of music if I'm not allowed to feel it? What's the point of color if it doesn't change my pulse??" She upended the couch as she yelled and kicked over the coffee table.

"Thirty seconds..."

Theodolinda yanked the plant out of the pot and threw the dirt across the room. Then she smashed the pot.

"Twenty seconds..."

She yanked the curtains down and tore them with her teeth. She had cut herself on something and blood was on the curtains as she dropped them.

"Ten seconds..."

Wildly, she grabbed the broom again and swiped at the lamp, smashing it to the floor. She swiped again and took out the ceiling light. "I don't need EVALUATION!! I'm just HUMAN!! What's wrong with that??!!

"...five...four...three...two...one...Shut down. Thank you."

Theodolinda, Artist, fell to the floor, definitely not in a comfortable position.