Fleshing out A Cyborg's Ultimatum-Part 1

A Cyborg's Ultimatum (ACU for short), has been hanging out in the back of my mind playing cards for a few years now. It's a crowded table, packed with a blended family of undetermined number--twelve at least, probably more like sixteen--arguing incessantly. A jabbering robot tries to boss the game, and a cyborg with his eyes crossed sits in the tangle of shrieking children simply trying not to die.

Of course, there are some dormant machines packed in there for storage. They contribute the light show.

Every couple of months, my gal mechanic will get up and storm around my brainspace throwing things.

It's kind of alarming, and it gets my attention immediately.

"Stella, stop! What's the problem?"

She turns on me like a stork (I was going to say bull, but aside from her attitude, she doesn't resemble one in the slightest). "What's the problem? Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so difficult to figure out. Let me capitalize it for you. WHY ARE WE STILL HERE?! You promised us a story, not a stuffy attic to play cards in."

Reuben glances up from a hand he's sharing with his little sister--or... step-sister. I can never tell. "Wait, this is an attic? I thought it was a basement..."

"Guys, stop!" I shout over Stella's retort. This isn't the time for sibling warfare. "I'll be happy to explain, just please stop insulting my brainspace. No street rules, guys. You know that."

Reuben slaps down a card. I have no idea what game he's playing, but neither does he. "Sorry, Miss Author Person. I forget where we are sometimes." He raises his hand and looks around at his family. "Everyone! No street rules in the dump. Dump rules only."

I remind myself of my power to incinerate them all if I choose and press onward. "Look, everyone, I know you're disappointed. I am, too."

"Sorry we're so disappointing," Stella mutters.

I won't kill Stella. I won't kill Stella. "The thing is, guys, I just haven't gotten the spark yet." I raise my voice to be heard over the chorus of groans. "You know I can't write a story without a spark. If it doesn't grip me down deep and drag me back, I won't be able to give it the best of me, which it deserves because it's a totally awesome story and one I truly, genuinely love even without spark. I'm working on it, I promise."

"Like a snail," Stella says.

"Or an anteater."

"Reuben, that doesn't even make sense."

Reuben raises his eyebrows at me. "Your mom loves us. With spark."

Stella again, stomping her foot. "It's that Uriah again, isn't it? Just because he's a jerk and haunts your dreams, you write his story first? How is that fair?"

"Wait--" Reuben jerks, as if just waking up. "Is he your imaginary boyfriend?"

My mind becomes the dreaded blank page for a halting three seconds. The snaking wires of confusion yank my indignation into an unpronounceable knot. "What--no! Good grief! Why do people keep asking that?"

"Okay." Stella pulls her chair out from the table and drops into it, arms crossed. She stares at me for several seconds, as if my line is up. I must have forgotten it. "Well, are we going to figure this out or not?"

"No one knows what you're talking about, Stel."

Ah, Reuben. I can always count on him to speak our mind. "Thank you!" He bows, showing his cards to everyone at the table.

"Brainstorming session," Stel explains, still drilling me with her oft-worn I'll-shape-you-up-if-it-kills-me look. "You need the spark? Fine. We get it. We hate you for it, but we get it. Now, the best way to find the spark is to start looking, and what better place to look than right here?" She gestures to the rest of the room. An undetermined number of hands wave at me. "Ask us some questions, and we'll give you some ideas. And you're good at pulling action sets and new costumes out of thin air. We can walk through a few scenarios, if that'll help."

I nod. "It usually does."

"Good." Stella slaps her knees. "Someone get Author a chair."

Several little ones clamber to the floor, revealing a wooden chair. They start to drag it toward me. The legs screech against the floor, making everyone wince. Reuben glares at me, and I start. Oh, yeah. I turn it into a rolling chair, and it glides over easily. I keep my eyes down as I accept it with thanks. I have to get better at remembering what I can do...

Stella crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knees. "Can we get started?"

I look around the room. Many expectant eyes stare at me, though a few littles are occupied with gumming Reuben's cards. Maybe I'm not alone in this process, after all. "Just one more thing. No insults?"

"No promises."

I shrug. "Fair enough. Let the brainstorming begin."

**To be Continued**