Norman - Short Story

"Three steps forward,"
Norman looked at the door. It was open, but he didn't want to go in. He turned around,
"Five steps back," he muttered as he turned and took five steps in the opposite direction. He could feel his frantic heart rate begin to slow to a normal breathing pace as he got farther from the door.
"Then four steps forward."
He turned, and his heartbeat quickened, panicking.
"It must be an electrical field," he said quietly to himself as he took four steps towards the door again. He denied the possibility that it might be nerves or anxiety. "Electricity to the heart. Causing erratic behavior."
This was how he thought. He never said anything in his head; far too noisy and loud. The constant headache and pounding in his brain made any effort of thinking a challenge. Instead he spoke fast, in short sentences, to keep up with the flittering thoughts that came, zigzagged around, and left like tiny damselflies.
"Here in an instant, gone in a flash. So quick. Can't remember it all." His beating heart quickened to an alarming rate.
"I have to calm down," he turned on one heel, "And two steps back." He paced like this for some time, three forward, five back, four forward, then two back.
"Always end up where you started. Why am I here? What do they need me for?" The door waited ominously, blackness behind it. The white room he was in loomed around him
"Like a threatening fog," he whispered, "Why did they bring me here?" His mind raced to think of a reason as to why the robots in control would need him.
"Is it good? No, probably bad. Was it something I designed? No, it couldn't have been. Right? They told me to invent more robots. It's what I do. Nothing like this has ever happened before." He hesitated and swallowed hard, his hands shaking. "They're waiting." He stepped through the door.
His heart rate was so fast he couldn't count it anymore. Fast enough to give any person a heart attack. That is, any normal person. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the robots that were in control of the entire human race. Three large round orbs, with metal clawed  tentacles, and great big glaring eyes. He dared not speak. No, they were too important, and he mustn't upset them. As his eyes adjusted, more Controllers became visible through the dark expanse that they resided in. Norman walked toward the chair in the middle of the room. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember ever seeing it before. In front of the chair was a sheet of paper lying on the floor. Norman recognized it as drawing of one of his inventions: a security robot, something to keep harmful people away. One of the Controllers, the large robot, turned its glowing eye on him, lifting up the paper with a huge metallic tentacle arm..
It spoke in a low, metallic voice, "Do you feel unsafe?"
Norman nodded, wishing he could run.
The robot's claws pulled him into the chair, fastening his hands to the armrests. Norman couldnt resist, or move, all he could do was stare into the large eye of the robot. The light grew blindingly bright.
"All humans are safe" said the voice.
Norman could feel himself drifting, the pounding white noise in his head becoming as deafening as the light was blinding. He caught fragments of conversation between the three front Controllers.
"...another invention...useless design..."
"...could incite rebellion..."
"...subject needs recalibrating..."

~~~~~~

Norman woke up the next day with a bad headache. This was normal for him. He had no recollection of his meeting with the Controlling Robots. He was on his bed, his mind still fuzzy and quiet from sleep. The white room had the bluish tint the sun cast on chilly mornings. But it wasn't cold, and there wasn't actually a sun. It was all just a bunch of LED lights outside. But that was their reality, so it was natural enough for him.
His System Enigmatic Transcription Android, or SETA, whirred to life beside him. He had invented them a long time ago, but he wasn't very good with telling time anymore. Norman only imagined that it must have been a long time ago. Before the headaches had started, and back when his inventions were any good. He pulled his sleeve up so that the SETA could inject a syringe filled with vitamins, medicine, proteins, and nearly anything and everything else needed for survival. Norman could feel his heart skip a beat, trying to cope with the high concentration of chemicals newly inserted into the bloodstream. He could have gotten all of that from eating, but he never had time, and they never let him have any food anyways. He stood up, his hyperactive brain starting to get to work, pointing out shapes, connecting them in ways that could provide useful, to the human race through robots in some way or another.
He began the day as he normally did: stressfully. There wasn't anything specifically stressful about his life, he just felt very stressed doing it. He would walk into the living room, amidst the sea of white paper strewn on the floor, so thick you couldn't see the soft grey carpet underneath. There was a desk against the middle of one wall with no chair. A small machine, about the size and shape of a printer, had already started creating a new pile of white paper in a neat stack for Norman.
Norman never noticed this though. He would pace back and forth, his mind thinking in every way at once, his thoughts traveling in every direction, altering with every single outside stimulus. Every once in awhile he would dash to the desk, and sketch a new invention out on a piece of paper. From there, his routine was just a random series of actions. Sketch inventions, pace back and forth, dig through the discarded drawings of inventions on the floor, toss a finished sketch on the desk or to his feet.
Whenever he put a finished one on the desk, meaning that it was more or less successful, his SETA would carry it to a submission file, where it would be sent to the Controlling robots for evaluation. If they liked it, and decided it was helpful for the human race, they would build it, and give it to the humans. Norman didn't know what would happen if he made one they didn't like. But he knew that it wouldn't be good. If Norman could have remembered, he might have realized that it was because of them that his migraines got worse each day.
He didn't know why he was constantly filled with fear, like a tiny creature trapped in a vast, strange reality. He was just terrified of something unknown. He was stressed about everything. He was in his own tiny world of fear, paranoia, and constant migraines.

~~~~~

Outside his house was an entirely different world. A young boy, near the middle of his teen years, was spying on him. The boy knew something was wrong with the controlling robots, and he felt like he was the only one who could see that. People would disappear for a day, then return will no memory of being gone at all. And those people acted differently when they returned. And it began to happen more often. And the people would act more insane every time. The boy could only assume that it was the work of the controlling robots.
The boy stood up to peer through the window again. Norman was inside like always, pacing back and forth, kicking up miniature storms of paper, mumbling to himself. The boy knew that any sort of stimulus would cause the inventor to think of a robot. The med bot in every home had been invented when Norman had gotten a paper cut. Then reinvented every time after that. Similarly, though the boy didn't fully realize it yet, it had been his fault that Norman had gotten the overwhelming feeling someone was watching him, and thus invented the security robot, causing him to be summoned by the controlling robots.
The boy turned around, to run right into a SAS-bot. He didn't get the point of SAS-bots. They were meant to act as manikins or figures to pose for artists, the acronym standing for Serving Artist's visual System. But they really just made it a point to live up to their name. Most people just called them "sass bots".
"And what are you doing?" The android said, it's metallic voice as annoying as its constant poses it employed to accompany its words. The minimalist skeleton design of red LED lights outlined its slender white frame as the 'sass' bot lifted the boy up with incredible strength, suspending him in the air.
"Put me down" the boy hissed through his teeth.
"Sure." Said the android, still holding the boy up.
The boy aimed a kick at the SAS-bot's chest, but missed. A SETA noticed the commotion and began to hover towards them. The SAS-bot let go of the boy and hurried inside the house, while the kid ran off to his own. Nobody wanted to get in trouble with a SETA, not even the other androids. 

~~~~~

For the first time in his life Norman had given up trying to pace back and forth and  was lying on the floor instead when the 'sass' bot entered the house.
"Finally ceased that endless tramping?" asked the robot sarcastically. "It's about time. All that constant muttering; gosh it nearly gave me a headache," the SAS bot picked up one of the drawings from the floor, "What's this? It looks like a microwave to me. Seriously, can't you think of anything-"
Norman had turned off the voice control on the SAS-bot, cutting off its remark. It looked at him indignantly, but Norman took no notice. He didn't want to listen to anybody, not even himself. He sat down again and pushed his fingers to his temples. Although he tried to be quiet in an effort to think quietly, he would occasionally say a few words out loud.
The SAS bot rolled his eyes at this but he didn't dare go near the inventor while Norman's personal SETA was across the room, silently watching them.
Finally, Norman stood up. He began pacing again and for a moment it looked like he would return to his normal life again. Then he suddenly turned and stuck the wall with his fist. The SETA's eyes flashed red, and the SAS-bot took a step back hesitantly. Violence wasn't allowed.
Norman didn't know why he stuck out like that. He wasn't a violent man normally and he didn't feel angry at all, in fact, he hardly even noticed his fear either. The only thing he could understand was confusion, and strangely enough, the need for change. Norman had never felt the need for anything other than safety, but now he didn't care anymore. He just needed change.Maybe he had just reached the end of the line. Stepped over the precipice of sanity. The fragile mind shattered. Perhaps for the better. However, Norman knew one thing for certain: what he would do next would change his life.
Norman stepped outside.

    ~~~~~

Norman opened the door and stepped outside of his lonely white house. The SETA and the SAS-bot followed him, but he took no notice of it. He didn't notice the stares from the people around him, he merely walked a few feet out and stopped.
He might have stayed there for hours, staring at the sky, if the boy hadn't run up to him at that moment.
The boy tried talking to him, tried to get his attention, tried to get a response.
Norman didn't hear him.
The boy reached out to get some response, and pushed just a little too hard.
Norman didn't quite realize he was falling till he had hit the ground. He looked up to find the boy standing over him.
The SETA  left suddenly, and the boy knew that it went to go tell the controlling robots.
"Quick! Follow me!" the boy said, pulling Norman to his feet. The boy half dragged the mostly unresponsive Norman into a gap between two nearby houses.
"You're the inventor!" the boy half whispered, half shouted, "What's going on? What are the controlling robots? Do you know something?"
Norman shook his head in an effort to think. But he couldn't seem to make heads or tails of anything. For him, everything seemed far away, as if he wasn't quite present in the moment.
The SETA returned, and found them easily. More robots, bigger ones, came too. They pushed Norman into a carrier transport. They took the boy too, and even though he put up a fight, they were stronger. Nobody tried to help them, for they were too afraid of being taken themselves. As Norman and the boy were being taken to the controlling robots, the boy asked many questions.
"What are they?' "Do you know how to stop them?" "What are they doing to the people?" "They took you too. Lots of times don't you remember?"
Among all the chaos in Norman's mind, one thing must have survived. For he turned, and slowly said,
"I... I built them."
"AAANNNDDD?!?"
"You can turn them off"

~~~~~

Norman couldn't think during any of the events that happened next. He could only react, his eyes sending a series of events to his head. His heart was beating faster, but this time he couldn't move his legs to stim away the anxiety. He answered the boy's questions on how to turn the robots off. He spoke slowly, reciting from the only fraction of his mind that was still making an effort to function as he stared off into the distance. Their captors took them to the white room from the beginning. The door was open like always. The robots pushed them into the dark room and closed the door.
Norman's heart beat faster and his head felt like it would explode. He could hardly hear the boy, who was urging him to go and save everyone by turning off the controlling robots. His vision started to go red, then black around the edges. His nose and ears felt wet, and when he touched them, his hand came away bloody.
The boy was already at the end of the platform, beckoning him to follow.
Norman could see the Controllers rising from the darkness. He tried to take a step forward to warn the boy, but his body felt like lead. His heart was beating against his lungs.
The boy turned around, staring up at the controllers as they moved in towards him, horrible metal tendrils rising, strong enough to crush his tiny bones.
Then it stopped. The pounding in his head was still there, but the pounding in his heart ceased.
Then everything stopped, and nothing existed.

That is the end of Norman's story.