Willow's Story - Draft Morning

https://youtu.be/1ancCWvjm80 (The Byrds - Draft Morning)


	“And a draft notice came?”
	“Yep,” she sighed. The recollection of the thick letter was scorched into her memory, even more so the adjunctory packet with it. “At the time robots had to be registered, keep a paper trail on robots should the need arise.”
	“I’ve read about this the-”
	“Alternative Service scheme, just an out for the rich to keep their kids at home. Have a robot? Send them instead, get a deferment. Renew that and keep the deferment, and so on and so on,” she sneered. There was a bite at the edge of her voice now, a growing distaste jumping and nipping at the young man opposite her. He should be careful not to crack the verbal eggshells she’s thrown around him.
	“How did the family take it when the notice arrived?”
	“Horribly, the missus was in hysterics over it, begging John not to send him. He’d always had the idea in the back of his head that service would be good for him but not then, not in Vietnam. Timothy took it about as well as one could expect, worried for his brother, and they chose not to tell Elizabeth.”
	“And how’d they come to the decision to send you?”
	“Elena managed to convince him, reading and rereading the damn thing for hours. She got it in her head that robots of my class-”
	“Meaning?”
	“Sorry, domestic servants, nandroids among them, fell into the bracket of ‘non-combatant overseas service’, followed by a long string of letters and numbers and other garbage. Essentially it said I’d be doing medical work since we’re designed for first aid and such. John was convinced enough that I’d come back fine and Jordan could stay home fine, no honor lost.”
	“When did they tell you? That you’d be going, I mean.”
	“Day of- and I accepted it right away. My chief concern was the family, it was in my blood. So when they said they were okay with me being gone a spell, I gladly volunteered for it. Not like I had a choice, in retrospect. Elizabeth was too young to really know what was going on, so she just thought I’d be taking a long vacation.”
	“And Timothy?” She paused for a breath.
	“Hysterical, genuinely. Even now I’m surprised at it, I mean,” she half-chuckled, trying to lighten the moment, “I mean he was just nuts about it, he had *me* worried. I guess part of that is he grew up with me the most, unlike the others. Elizabeth wasn’t even born when the family got me, Jordan was too old to really need me. So for a while it was me and Tim.”
	“It must’ve been tough for him to see you go.”
	“That’s an understatement. I remember there were a few days before I had to go for muster, and the Mister’d be driving me to the bus stop soon enough for that.” The blocky tape recorder he’d brought for this visit churned silently.
	“Understatement? How?”

	“Whitney, they can’t make you go,” the boy screamed. “It’s not right!”
	“Timothy, please,” the robot snapped. She was getting tired of this, the boy trying to block her from packing her meager belongings: her papers, the odd knick knack, a few photos. “I’m okay with going if it means your brother can stay. Remember, I’ll be going and serving like a soldier.” She patted his shoulder, trying to pry him from the door to her charging closet.
	“That’s not true! My teacher says it isn’t like that!”
	“Well *your teacher* doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I’m going so your brother can stay,” she glared. “I’d do the same for you, now *please* let me get my things.”
	“I… won’t… let you,” he grunted, budging her back.
	“Fine, I’ll just get your Father to let me in. I made my decision Tim, I mean, this is ridiculous!” The threat forced him to pause, the boy rushing down the hall to his room.
	“Finally,” she thought, exasperated. Maybe that bicycle accident had done more than she initially worried, not to mention the trip to that clinic. Ruffling through her sparse things and scooping them into a spare pillowcase she tried to arrest her annoyance, the audacity of the boy churning in her head. She was touched, really, at wanting her not to go but this was excessive.
	“Whitney,” he whispered, tapping her shoulder.
	“What now,” she groaned, turning around. Her patience was run thin enough, and now he was skating overtop it. The boy stood over her, heart pounding out an agonized drumbeat as the robot turned around. The little sack swished against him, a gentle ruffle coming from inside. He snatched the narrow cloth, yanking it from her grip with his nostrils flaring.
	“If you’re not gonna listen to me, I’m gonna give you a choice.” He pulled out several large bills and a fistful of change, dumping them in the sack and thrusting it back into her hands. “I know enough to say they’re not gonna pay you-”
	“Why would I need to be paid? Service to the country, and to keep your brother home, is payment enough,” she huffed. “Now take-”
	“No,” he shouted. “No, keep the money. Here’s your choice- you either buy yourself a ticket to Canada at that bus stop and leave, or if you insist on going there, you buy yourself paper or something and write us.” She blinked at him, the manic breathing and white-tight knuckles fading as he handed the bag back. His eyes were misting, tender as he looked down at the robot who’d watched him grow up that tall, the broad blue saucers blinking back at him in mournful understanding.
	“Timothy, it’s okay to miss me, but,” she paused, heart breaking, “but it’s just not okay to act like this. It’ll only be a year! Now come, I’d like the whole family to be there to see me off.” Nodding he followed after the robot, guiding her down the stairs and to the waiting family gathered to see her off. Jordan was absent, off in classes or unseen, John working the key around in his hand.
	“Ready to go,” he asked, failing to conceal the note of concern touching his voice.
	“Actually, Dad, is it alright if I drive Whitney?” He stopped, eyes blinking in thought.
	“I… don’t see why not? Sure,” he tossed the keys, Timothy yanking them from the air. The family offered their sombre goodbyes, Elizabeth proffering a crude little crayon sketch as a token to remember her by, her middle brother escorting the robot to the car after their hugs and farewells. Pulling into the bus depot he turned to her once again.
	“And you’re sure, a hundred percent-”
	“Timothy,” she scolded. “For the last time it’s not a big deal! It’s only one year, surely you can survive without me for that long!”
	“I- Okay, Whitney,” he conceded. His hands grasped and squeezed the leather steering wheel, knuckles white again. “Just… be safe and please, please write. If not for me for Elizabeth, okay? You may not see it yet but she’s gonna be broken up about you going.”
	“I will, Tim, I will. I’m gonna miss every one of you.” One last regulation squeeze and she disappeared into the bustling bus depot, making way for her scheduled ride far off to Texas, away and across the country to her assignment.