. . . 1992. . . May 2nd .. .
. . .Bar. . .Arizona . ..
I yanked George out of the bar by the collar.
"Come on,Qreg!" George shouted. "Lemme at him!"
I rolled an eye.
"Not on my watch," I said. "You get drunk and you are going to claim aliens abducted you!"
"But it is the truth!" George said.,
"The truth my ass," I said. "I found you wondering around the road lost and very not clear. Rumbling about being abducted when all that happened was that you were drugged and taken advantage of by people who don't know what to do with power!" I dragged him to the truck. "I mean it when I say I watch your back!"
"Ah shucks," George said.
I opened the passenger door.
"Get in." I said, firmly.
"Gee, you remind me of a guy my pops knew long ago." George said,
I was that man his father knew and he knew me well, only I had appeared in his life scarecely up until that day in 1984. He was indeed outside naked mumbling about 'they messed with me. They messed with me! THEY TOOK MY CLOTHES!' so messed up. I assumed giving him a lie would help him recover. I have been around for two hundred years waiting and watching out for any interfering terminator models.
I am a Terminator myself.
"In." I said.
George slipped into the passenger seat with a hiccup. I shut the door when he was completely inside. I get into the van then close the driver's side door. He visited the bar every friday. I can't visit bars and get drunk. Cyborgs, under any circumstance, cannot get drunk! I had to buckle the drunken man.
Had I known he would have become a drunken man after being abducted, I would have told him the truth.
I didn't want him to become this way.
Humanity has nice sense of fashion that has been changing lately. It used to be funny hats, coats, trousers, white buttoned up shirts, long white socks, and vests. The later century was more of a turn to modern slowly with hats ranging in size, black coats, walking sticks, pants, a suit, and nice shoes. After that was the suit era of suits. I drove out of the parking lot then down the road.
"Hey, Qreg," George said. "What is your last name?"
I chose the name Qreg because it had a letter that popped up in my processor as a designation. I was activated at 2109 and sent into the year 1792 with the mission of ensuing no Terminators did not try to mess up the family tree of John Connor. I have been finding creative ways of terminating these assasins. Some of the humans I knew were great men and very admirable. I had to drop out of their lives because I could not make a personal relationship. I outlived them. I never aged. I had human skin but it was systematically controlled to my processor that had a 'age-command'. I am a Terminator. What is there more to say?
"I don't have one, kid." I said.
I look at the center mirror.
"Why?" George asked.
I sometime wonder who I was based off.
Were they a great person?
Were they a lousy person?
Were they a fearful person?
Who were they? Who was he? Why him? I went down the road until I was headed back to town. The town he lived in was Charvolizzon. Tucson was the city George had been in. I found it no trouble to drive him home. It was the least I can do. Suddenly the car stopped in the middle of the road. A bright light shined in my eyes.
"What the hell?" I said.
I opened the driver side door then walk out.
Two hundred years and I never seen anything like this. I saw right above the shape of a triangle where there is the circular light. I felt myself free floating in the air. I found myself in a white space looking around. I saw gray unusual beings. I never seen them before. Who were they and what they were. I found myself unable to move. I saw George on a table. I felt a imminent impulse to take him off.
I could hear their thoughts.
I COULD HEAR THEIR THOUGHTS.
This will make a fine test subject, one alien thought, send the other back.
"GEORGE!" I shouted. "GEORGE!"
I saw the light fade and I was on the ground screaming George's name. I ran after the flying saucer. Sheer panic and fear was going through my joints. I came to a stop once seeing the triangle space ship disappearing into space. Along with that went one of my only friends in this life. I had seen a man's son be taken away. One of seven sons. I wish I could have a good cry. But I can't.
I am a cyborg.
Cyborgs don't cry.
We cannot cry, at all.
"George!" I shouted.
My knees gave out and I sat there for four hours wondering what to do.