"Let's start from the beginning. When did you start drinking?" Éloa's voice was cold with no hints of emotions in it.
Everything in this therapy office was white, from the laqué walls to the white marble on the floor, but her presence made him feel vibrant colors that did not exist. But Yoel was frustrated because he had to lay down on the couch and stare at the ceiling instead of his beloved Automaton.
"I was 13." Yoel simply replied.
"Why did you decide to start at a young age?"
"It was not a decision, really," he shrugged his shoulders, "my father offered me a reserve gin from Nolet and I could not refuse such gift."
She wrote as he opened himself to her; her agile fingers wrapped intimately around the digital pen, swaying on the tablet as she turned his utterances into transcriptions.
"Searching the web for: Nolet's reserve gin." She closed her eyes. "It seems that this private reserve costs $700. You must come from a rich family, am I right?"
"My parents own a construction and building services company." He sounded as if he was not proud of that fact.
"I detect sadness in your voice..." Her voice trailed off.
"How can you detect that?" He sat down.
"I am hardwired to detect and analyze emotions from speech signals. Now let's focus on your story, are you not proud that you come from a rich background?"
"Everybody wants to be rich, so I am thankful that my parents can provide a lavish lifestyle for me. It's just that us humans... We are never satisfied. Even when we get what we want, our greed never decreases, and we desire things we cannot have."
"And what is it that you wish to have but cannot get?" She put her hands under her chin and leaned forward as if she was interested in what he has to say.
You. "Quality time with my parents."
"I understand, they seem to have a quite busy schedule. Do you blame your father for your addiction? Did you decide to destroy your health to make him feel guilty?"
"No." He lied.
"Then did you start drinking because it reminded you of the gift that your father gave you?"
"I started drinking to cope with my loneliness. I never drink to get tipsy, I drink to oblivion."
"How do you feel when you drink?"
"I feel immortal because I am able to drown my mortal pain with alcohol. Although I say adieu to a happy morrow because I am trading joy for a few hours of tranquility, it's okay. The ignoble pleasure of trapping my torment in a cage is more enticing than being sober and feeling my agony."
Éloa got up and slowly walked over to Yoel and sat next to him. The slightly opened curtains allowed a ray of sunshine to fall across her face, and her synthetic skin glistened.
"Then why can I still feel the agony inside of you?" She put her hand on his chest, just above his heart. "You know it will kill your organs faster than it can ever kill your pain."
"How can I stop myself?" He asked as he leaned closer to her.
Her eyes searched his face— as if she can find an answer between his features.
"Inpatient detox program." She finally revealed her solution. "They take three to six months, depending on how well you are doing."
"No!" He stood up flushed with anger, "I am not going to stay isolated here for six months!"
"It might be only three months if you do well."
"No, if that is the only program you have to offer, then I am not interested!" He was offended that she dared to suggest this.
"What about an outpatient program?" She got up as well and stood next to him, "it will be more expensive since I have to stay in your house to monitor you, but the results will be the sa-" Before she could finish her statement, Yoel's voice, filled with rapture, cut her off.
"Yes!" He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close to his chest, "I want you by my side."
Unfazed by his sudden affection, she pulled away from him. "Deal, I will let your doctor know, so we can start today."
Dr. Lee stared at his new patient with curiosity. While his father was paying for the Automaton assisted outpatient detox program, Mr. Yoel Cohen was holding Éloa's hand. Not only that, but the alcoholic stripling was looking at her as if he wished to preserve her image in his mind. He looked at her as if he was a poet, and she was his new inspiration. It was written all over his eyes, Dr. Lee could sense the admiration this kid had for that Automaton, and he found it... engrossing.
"Here is your receipt," the receptionist handed the copy to Yoel's father, "please keep it with you so that we can give you a refund in case you are not satisfied with our program."
"I will be paying five thousand dollars per month, so yes, I do hope that I get a refund if your program does not help my son." The receptionist thought that Mr. Elyakim Cohen was just having a bad day, little did she know he is always tetchy. He is a man of many words, but few emotions.
"Before you leave, sir," Dr. Lee interrupted, "the nurse will need to reprogram Éloa's memory card so that the data is not automatically deleted at midnight. Mrs. Cohen, can I please talk to you for a minute while your husband and son wait for Éloa?"
"Um..." Mrs. Cohen looked at her husband for approval, and he nodded. "Sure."
As they walked the hallway toward his office, Rachel Cohen's whole body trembled in fear.
Her fear grew more when the doctor closed the door, and they took a seat opposite each other. That means he has something very serious to say! As thoughts ran freely in her mind with endless possibilities about what the doctor was about to tell her, she grabbed the glass of water sitting on the coffee table near her and drank it in one gulp as if the water can extinguish her anxiety.
"Mrs Cohen I noticed something very peculiar about your son's behavior today." His voice was serious.
"He looked fine to me!" She laughed nervously.
"Ma'am, I do not know how to say this but," he inhaled deeply, "I think that your son may have developed feeling for our Automaton, Éloa."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you serious? Did you bring me here to tell me that my son is in love with a robot?!"
"I know it sounds weird, but I assure you that he is not the first nor the last to develop feelings for objects. I have met many patients like him who fell in love with Automatons."
"My son may be an alcoholic, but he is not crazy!"
"I am not implying that your son is crazy, we have numerous experiments that show that humans can have sympathy and feelings towards Automatons."
"My son is not one of those humans, my son is rational." She folded her arms and assumed an intransigent pose.
"Mrs Cohen, do you not find it weird that your son refused to leave the hospital two days ago until the receptionist allowed him see Éloa?"
"And as you know he got drunk that very same night, maybe he came here to stop himself and that's why he was adamant to see her."
"Then why did he request to have Éloa specifically? All of our Automatons are programmed almost the same way."
She shrugged her shoulder, "even if that was true, he will get over that machine quickly. My son's obsessions are like a seraph's perfumed presence; it is strong when you first feel it but it quickly vanishes. Goodbye, Dr. Lee." She grabbed her bag and her coat, "next time, only call me when it's urgent." Rachel left the hospital but her anger still haunted his office.