Savanah's Swan Song (Part 26)

“Honey, I’m home!”

Leaving his suitcase by the door, Chad Sampson stepped into his apartment's domed foyer. From this vantage, he could see most of the luxury penthouse’s interior. To his left was the kitchen, to his right was the living room, and in front of him was the dining room. 

Only, it didn’t look much like a luxury penthouse today.  It looked more like a dump.

Towels and various articles of clothing were draped across the backs of furniture, and the tables were cluttered with a variety of detritus—crumb-covered plates, purple residued wine glasses, beer cans, coffee cups, and an exotic assortment of fast-food wrappers.           

Chad kicked past a robe on the floor and drew the curtains leading to the balcony.  It bathed everything in light, but that only made it clear that the apartment would need to be soaked in something stronger. 

“Babe?”

No response.  The bespectacled man moved into a narrow hallway off the dining room and toward the one area of his home he couldn’t see—the bedroom.

“Babe?”

It was equally messy.  The bed was unmade, and clothing was strewn across the floor.  Against the wall, several dresser drawers had been left open, their formerly folded contents bubbling up and over their confines as if they were boiling.  

It was the same story in the master bathroom, where drawers were open and rummaged through, and a damp towel lay in a soggy heap at the base of the sink.

Running a hand through his shaggy hair, Chad returned to the hallway, calling out once more—

“Savanah?” 

“Yes?”

The petite pop star stood in the kitchen; her arms folded across her chest.  Chad immediately grabbed his own.

“Jesus.  I thought you were going to wait outside?”

“Why would I wait outside my own apartment?  Where’s your girlfriend?”

Chad shook his head.  “I have no idea.  She wasn’t supposed to leave.”

“Maybe she needed more junk food?”   Savanah—at least the entity everyone knew as Savanah the past few months—wrinkled her nose at the trash can overflowing with empty ice cream containers and frozen food boxes.  “Jesus, what a pig.”

Chad frowned but didn’t argue.  The kitchen's island was a clutter of crumbs and marooned survivors of his AWOL girlfriend’s most recent feast: a half-eaten hot dog and two brown blobs that, based on the colorful box teetering on top of the trash heap, he assumed were Jalapeno Poppers. 

“We had to cancel the housekeeper,” he said.  “They couldn’t come while she was here, and we were in LA.”

“Aw, poor baby.”

Chad wanted to smack the smug cyborg.  Dr. Wagner had been a little too accurate in replicating his girlfriend’s condescending attitude.

“Have some compassion.  She’s been couped up here for weeks.”

“Gee, I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that.”

The dripping sarcasm reminded Chad that Savanah Mach II had been unceremoniously boxed and drop-shipped back to Concurrent Technologies headquarters following her triumphant European tour.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

The truth was, Chad had no idea what went on behind the tech company’s concrete façade. Maybe it wasn’t different at all.  Maybe the replicants milled about in a holding cell, twiddling their thumbs, anxiously awaiting their next assignment. 

Chad pulled out his phone and dialed Savanah’s number. It went straight to voicemail.  Then he texted.  No response.

“I need to find her,” he said, heading for the door.  "Stay here."

“Why?  She has to come back here anyway. Do you really want to risk me being the one to greet her?”

Chad returned to the kitchen. “You’re right.  We’ll wait.”  He held out his arms, then let them fall to his side.  “What do you want to do?”   

“Why don’t you take me on a tour of your little pigsty?”  A mischievous grin spread across the droid’s flawless face.  “We could start in the bedroom.”

Nota Bene: And we're back! Thanks for your patience as I worked through a few weeks of summer travel. Expect more regular updates as we move into Fall!