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he caught me staring. Something about her seems familiar. I cannot pinpoint it, but something is familiar. I see her walking in my direction. Her black shirt presents a stark contrast to the spick and span clean room. “Considering the fact that it has been a week since I joined and all you do is stare, you should have come up and talked to me. Our very rare but same last names would make an interesting point of discussion.” Annette. Annette Frietz.
We have nothing in common except our last names. She is a social butterfly; I would rather keep my distance; black hair, brown hair, tall, short. Her research style is based on her hunch and her impulse, while mine is totally factual. “Something about you feels familiar.” I did not realize I had said that out loud till I saw her laughing. "How about we figure out what that is over a cup of coffee?” She did not wait for my reply and began walking. Black and white. Yin and yang. I follow along.
My favorite thing about Lespiege is its cafe. With wooden furniture and stone architecture, it looked like something straight out of Italy. I sat down at a corner table. As Annette went to order the coffees, I gazed outside through the window. The flower shop in front of me was full of lilies, white lilies. The owner arranged the flowers in a Japanese pattern, which made them reflect the sun.
Strange emotions began to bubble again as I heard Annette say, “My father used to love white lilies.” I looked at her through raised eyebrows, surprised at the unforeseen connection. “Mine too.” She smiled as she sat down. “My mother instilled his love for lilies within me to deal with his absence. He left when I was little. To feel closer to him, I too began to love the lilies as my own.” Her statement felt quite out of the ordinary.
Here she is sitting in front of a stranger who has stared at her all week, and she is talking about childhood traumas? I felt the urge to talk too, the urge to say something. Will she understand? I looked at the lilies again. “It’s the opposite for me. The presence of his absence made me despise the things he loved.” I felt Annette observing me. It made me feel tiny, insignificant, like a microbe under a telescope. We drank our coffee in silence after this; both lost in our thoughts.
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"Artificial Intelligence is well on its way to taking over the world. Once again, humankind has created something beyond itself, something superior in intellect. Man has always had a pattern of looking beyond themselves, so they can blame unforeseen circumstances on something else.
Fire worshippers existed when we could not control fire, so it was something beyond us. Now that AI is taking over, where is the guarantee of its control? The impact will have on human life will become apparent in the near future. Till then, all is speculation."
I finished speaking and finally looked at the audience. I saw Andrew's face first, forever cheerful, forever rooting for me. He sat there on the uncomfortable leather auditorium seats and clapped. The auditorium was too bright to look directly at him, yet I could not take my eyes off him. He looked so proud.
When I caught his eye, he gave me a thumbs up. I felt a smile creep up my face. Then I caught Annette’s eyes. Her gaze sent a chill down my spine. She had the same clouded look as my father as she looked at me. Her nose wrinkled in the same way, and she rubbed her fingers together in the same way. When she caught me staring, the clouds slowly drifted away, and she got up and smiled. In her hand was a bouquet of white lilies.
“I got them from the shop parallel to the cafe.” She handed over the bouquet. “You felt like you held resentment towards your father. But you shouldn’t take it out on pretty flowers. Who knows, loving lilies may even provide you with closure.” For the first time in my life, it felt like someone saw me, someone understood. I was about to reply when Andrew joined us on the wooden steps.
“Victoria, that was brilliant. It seems like you have overcome your block.” Then he turned to Annette. "And you must be Annette Frietz." Annette gave him one of her dazzling smiles, and they shook hands. I stared at the lilies.
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That feeling it's back. Someone's watching me. I'm sure of it. I sit up in bed and turn on my lamp. Drip, drip, drip. The faucet is running. It reminds me of rain. Rain. Funeral. Father. Snap out of it, Victoria! I know I did not leave the faucet on before going to sleep. I put on my slippers and begin to soundlessly move towards my bedroom door. Click, click, click. Someone’s walking in heels, I’m sure of it. I pick up the pocketknife I keep for safety in my drawer and move towards the lounge. Click, click, click. It’s getting louder.
I try not to make any noise as I climb onto the table so I can get a better view of the kitchen. There’s no one there. Drip, drip, drip. Why do I hear footsteps if there is no one there? I check the washroom, the kitchen, and the balcony. No one. I think back to Dr. Omar's words, "Victoria, your paranoia may be getting worse. Are you sure you have been taking your medication?" I remembered how his scrutinizing gaze had made me shudder.
As I began to move back towards my bed, I noticed it. Dirt prints. Someone who wasn't looking closely would not notice, but there was dirt right beside my bed. Someone had been in my room. I was stuck. I felt like clawing my eyes out. Is it my paranoia, or am I right? Sleep eluded me that night.
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