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People at times joked about frying an egg on the sidewalk, but the egg would probably be cooked in its shell by the time they step out of the house. The air was thick and frozen in time, and silence filled the deserted residential area. Heat waves danced on top of the few cars their owners weren’t merciful enough to park in the shade, and the road shimmered in a literal embodiment of the sun rays assaulting arrows. There was a scientific explanation for the mirage, but the young robot didn’t think she wanted to ask her mother about it.
She only stood for 124 seconds outside the tiny house’s front door, but her metallic outer shell heated enough to burn someone upon the touch. She knocked again and waited, knowing the person she wanted to meet was inside because her super hearing picked up the sound of his feet dragging slowly across the floor. She tapped a finger on her arm impatiently, rolling her eyes, and staring at the yellowish, dying grass in the front yard.
The front door then cracked open, and the sleepy look in his tired eyes was the first thing she noted. They widened once he noted who his guest was, and he opened the door fully.
“H-hi Jen… What brought you here today?” he asked in a raspy voice, smiling and shifting his weight from heels to soles. “Need anything?” He then leaned forward, the grin widening to reach his reddened cheeks. “Or perhaps you just wanna hang out?”
“No. Can I ask you a favor?”
There were a few things that made Sheldon Sheldon. His graceless timidness, his burning, somehow unhandy intelligence, and his inability to say ‘no’.
“Sure! Anything for you.”
“My knee suddenly became squeaky. It’s quite annoying,” she said, raising her left leg, bending and unbending it a few times. The movement produced a subtle squeak. “Can you fix it? My mom said she’s busy with research due.”
No. Hesitancy and Sheldon didn’t mix, but that day, he took his sweet time to think about the answer, placing an index on his chin and studying the faulty knee. Jenny crossed her arms, waiting for his answer. Her super hearing caught the sound of movement across the street. She glanced over, and a little middle schooler was building a lemonade stand, occasionally wiping the sweat off her forehead and stealing a sip or two from the already melting iced lemonade.
But there was no soul outside to buy from her.
“I think I can,” finally came the answer, but then it was followed up by a stream of raspy coughs. “C-come… inside…” he added amidst uncontrollable coughing, walking to his garage.
Once she stepped inside the tiny house, Jenny felt relieved by the instant drop in temperature. Her overheated systems cooled, and her overworked fans slowed. Perhaps labeling outside with the nickname oven was an understatement, and for once, she was thankful that her metal skin was unfeeling.
As usual, she sat on the small workbench in the corner of the crowded, disorganized garage/workshop — as its owner liked to call it —, and idly swung her feet. She frowned at the sound her knee made and looked up so her optics could follow Sheldon as he gathered the tools he needed.
Without a word, he pulled a chair and sat in front of her, holding her leg and a screwdriver with oddly unsteady hands. He let out a shaky sigh, and only then did Jenny notice his teeth were chattering.
“Hopefully it just needs oiling,” he muttered to himself, but not an additional word was added, leaving Jenny pondering on how disturbing the silence coming from the normally talkative geek was. His movement was sluggish, too, and he occasionally shook his head and blinked the sleep from his eyes. If she concentrated enough, she would notice the shivers that occasionally shook his body, subtle and not as announcing as the dark eye bags and ashen skin.
How could he be cold in the middle of a summer heat wave?
“Are you okay?”
He looked up. His freckled cheeks and nose were painted in deep red, which wasn’t odd, because Jenny was used to him blushing whenever he was within nine yards of her. The flush refused to fade, though.
“I am, don’t worry.” He smiled, then his head dropped as his attention went back to the gears he was assessing. “It’s just a common cold.”
Jenny blinked, thinking about her previous question. Wasn’t the common cold caused by… being cold?
“Hey, you don’t have to fix my leg if you aren’t feeling well,” she responded, standing up so she could leave, only to stumble forward and fall flat onto her face because the central gear of her knee was still in Sheldon's hand. “Or maybe you have to,” she added, her voice muffled because she was still face down on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Jen. Are you okay?” Sheldon asked, rushing to her side and offering a helping hand, which she accepted. “Uh… let me replace this faulty gear first.”
They returned to their original positions, only that Jenny had her cheek on her palm, waiting patiently for her knee to be fixed in the uncomfortable silence. According to habit, the task should have taken less than five minutes, but Sheldon would occasionally put the tools down to rub the side of his head with tightly shut eyes, or cough into his elbow and grab into the side of the workbench for support with shaky hands, those that lost their dexterous steadiness that made him the most skilled mechanic for his age.
Twentynine minutes later, she felt fresh oil pour over her newly replaced parts, and then he screwed the pieces back into their place, and announced, “done! Good as new.”
“Thanks, Sheldon. I owe you this one.” She hopped off the workbench and headed for the door. “See ya later.”
Sheldon flashed a tired smile, half waved goodbye and began to collect the used parts and tools. Jenny didn’t bother to ask if he needed help, and the guilt ate her once she stepped outside. The sight of the bored middle schooler next to the lemonade stand, with no one to buy from her, greeted her. The blinding sun, without tire, made her instantly wish it was Christmas season again, even if she associated the holiday with unpleasant memories.
Then she heard a few tools hitting the floor, accompanied by what she could only guess was a human body.
Ugh… Sheldon… Could he ever spend two minutes without tripping?
Heading back to the garage, she shouted, “Sheldon, are you alright?”
His silence was probably a negative answer, and the sight of his unmoving body beside his tools on the floor confirmed it.
“Sheldon?”
To her relief, he responded with a tired, frustrated whine, as if his sweet sleep was disturbed, but displayed no other sign of consciousness.
Jenny shook her head and bent down beside him, turning him on his back. “We don’t sleep on the floor, silly,” she joked, lightly tapping his face to wake him up and noticing the sweat that stuck to her hand. Then, just to make sure, she stuck a thermometer that was previously her index, into his mouth.
103.01 F.
Horror spread on her face, and she picked him from the floor, cringing when he didn’t react beyond shuddering. The normal human body temperature should fall between 97 to 99, and a fever of 103 or higher was considered ‘high grade’, according to her memory banks. The heat wave would probably only make his state worse as time passed, and his status as the fifteen years old with negligent parents left her with no other choice but to be his caretaker.
Jenny cringed at the idea, already imagining him trying to return that favor in unasked-for ways, praising how sweet and kind and heroic she was to take care of her sick ‘only chance at happiness’ — again, as he liked to call himself — and perhaps tell everyone at school that they were in love.
Maybe leaving him to die alone isn’t so bad…
No, no, that isn’t right. She shook her head. Better think of it as charity work, like taking care of a sick, stray kitten, an oversized, 5’6 kitten that causes so much unwanted trouble and occasionally flirts with her.
“Looks like you are getting the favor I owe you now,” she said, sighing.
He acknowledged her statement with a small whimper and somehow buried his face into her chest. His sweaty forehead and hot breath left condensation droplets on her cool, metallic shell.
“Okay, you are enjoying this too much,” she grumbled, fighting the urge to drop him to the floor and leave before letting her face change to a neutral expression. “We should get you to cool down first,” she added, guessing it was the right first step to take with her very limited knowledge of how to take care of a sick human.
“Now… how do I?” she hummed. A sizable ice blaster popped out of her back and she pointed it at him. “No, too extreme…” Then she took a giant fan out from her cavity, as roaring and fast as an airplane’s engine, before retracting it back. “Too slow…” She then walked out of the garage and into the hallway, still carrying him and thinking. She found the house’s thermostat on the wall to her right, and said: “no, it’ll take too long…” Then her face lit up with an idea as bright as a light bulb and she exclaimed: “aha! Worry not Sheldon, you’ll be back to normal in no time.”
Why does he always wear this stupid outfit? It’s too hot, anyway…
No, it wasn’t the time to ponder his fashion choices, but how could her mind make the situation she was in any less awkward and weird?
The water streamed into the bathtub in the coolest setting, and two discarded, empty ice cube trays sat on the floor beside her feet. Sheldon — who somehow still refused to wake up — was on the floor, leaning on the wall and muttering incoherent things in his dazed, half-asleep state. She had to choose between putting him in the bath with his clothes on or taking them off for him, but the latter choice made her face heat into a blue blush.
Middle man choice: She took his shoes and the hoodie jacket off, planning on drying him after with her pre-installed gadgets. Then she casually picked him up and dropped his limp body into the tub.
The cold bath must be working; she thought with a satisfied smile, because not even three seconds later he woke up with a sharp yelp, startled and confused, but alert enough to force himself out of the tub. His hand landed on the ice tray, which slipped under his weight, and he hit his head against the floor.
“Jobs! Sheldon, are you okay?”
He sat up and glanced at her while rubbing his head with a soft groan, then at the tub before noticing his soaked clothes sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “What th-the heck!?” he asked in a hoarse, shaky voice, shivering as he stood and wrapped his arms around his chest.
“Sorry?” She smiled innocently. “I was trying to cool you down.”
It took him too long to process what he had been told before replying, “I’m already c-c-cold!”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Your body’s temperature is higher than it should be! But don’t worry, I think it’s already down—” she stuck a thermometer in his mouth again, but the result wiped the smile from her face — “or maybe not. Somehow it’s higher.”
The only response she got was a stream of raspy coughs as he shook his head and left the bathroom, practically dragging his feet and grabbing into the wall for support. She sighed and sat on the closed toilet seat, placing her cheek in her hand. “Great job, Jenny. Now he’s sicker and mad at you.”
The sound of his coughs echoed from his bedroom, violent, with little time to breathe in between.
Maybe her efforts were as useful as the lemonade stand outside.
She contemplated leaving, since she didn’t know what else to do to help, but decided to ask for advice instead. She pulled her pre-installed phone out of her pigtail and dialed the first person she could think of.
“Suuuup, Jen. How’s it going?”
“Brad!” she exclaimed, only to lower her voice not to alert Sheldon. “I need your help with something.”
“What is it? Are you captured? Aliens are trying to disintegrate our national monuments? The cousins covered you in tartar again? Whatever it is, I’ll be your hero!”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “No. I just want to know how to take care of someone with a fever.”
Laughter exploded on the other end, and her frown deepened.
“Are you volunteering in the retirement home?”
“Brad!”
More laughter continued before he apologized, “sorry, it’s just… Why are you asking me out of all people? The only sick thing I’ve taken care of was a stray kitten me and Tuck found two years ago. It didn’t end well…”
Jenny had to fight the urge to cut the call and drop the phone in the still-full-of-water tub, already regretting the little analogy she made earlier.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have said that,” Brad continued after the long pause. “I guess maybe you should keep them cool and rested — Make them dress in light clothes and put them in bed and uh… make them drink plenty of liquids I guess. Soup would be great too… if they can stomach food. That’s what mom does when—”
She cut the call short. Food. Why didn’t I think of that? That will surely make him feel better; she thought, but first, she had to check that he was still alert.
She opened the door to his room without knocking and stepped in. Sheldon didn’t acknowledge her presence, mainly because his head was under a towel as he poorly dried his hair with shivery movements. He was still dressing up, she noticed, since he was only wearing a pair of fresh sweatpants, and his wet clothes were surrounding his feet. She sighed and walked to him.
“Here, let me help,” she offered, taking the towel and rubbing his hair dry before helping him into a new shirt. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
She fully expected him to fawn on her, and he delivered.
With a dazed look, he asked: “are you an angel?”
“No, I am a crime-fighting robot.”
“Same thing.” He giggled, but a sudden cough cut the laugh short. Then his gooey legs failed him, and he almost fell if it wasn’t for Jenny catching him.
“Alright, first, you’ll need some bed rest,” she said, following Brad’s advice. She tried not to think about the consequences of her actions as she carried him to bed, but the pure shock he had on his face made her huff a short laugh, lightening her mood.
He blinked in confusion when she put him on the soft mattress, and without a word. He reached for the blanket to cover himself, still staring at her with wide, questioning eyes.
“Don’t. You’re already very hot, Sheldon.”
A tight-lipped smile formed on his reddened face, almost reaching his eyes. “Awe, hehe, th-thanks. You are hotter, Jen.”
She met his smile with an unamused glare, hardly stopping herself from facepalming. “Look, I am trying to help you get well.”
“Oh!” he said, then an even bigger grin curled his lips. “I see how it-t is. You do care about me!” He giggled.
Here they are; the consequences of my actions.
“So you finally realized your true feelings and deep love f-f-for me?” he continued.
Patience, Jen. He’s sick and doesn’t know what he’s saying.
“I love you, and I know you won’t leave me, right?”
She looked at the window. It was still too bright outside. The heat was damaging to her devices, making her feel uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to the discomfort his last comment made her feel. “Geez, Sheldon, shut up. Shouldn’t your throat hurt or something?”
“It does.”
“Okay. How about you stay in bed and I go make you something to eat?”
He blinked, and it took him a moment to respond, “you’ll… you’ll do that, for me?”
Jenny had already lost count of how many times she had rolled her eyes that day. “Yes. Now don’t move!” she ordered, glaring at him all the way to the door as she took backward steps. Once she was alone outside, she mused, “now, how do I even cook?”
The answer was simple. All Jenny had to do was find the ingredients — which were listed in the cooking book — and follow the recipe. Taking a few shortcuts would make the process faster, such as using her swords to cut the vegetables and chicken, and cook them together with the noodles using her pre-installed torch instead of the stove before adding water, oil, and the rest of the spices. The recipe instructed her to add ‘salt to taste’, but she had no sense of taste, so she added a generous amount because she knew salt was supposed to make food taste better.
In less than eight minutes, she had a bowl of chicken soup ready and steaming.
“It’s ready!” she announced once she stepped into the bedroom again. “I hope you’re still—... Sheldon?”
She walked closer to the bed and placed the tray of food and water on the nightstand, feeling disappointed and somehow annoyed that he ignored her orders and covered himself with the blanket, anyway. He was curled up, sweating yet shaking, much to her confusion.
The human body is weird.
The mattress sank under her weight when she sat on it, and her mind wandered back to his previous comment. Why would he ask if I’m going to leave him? It’s way out of the blue! Geez, he really is not thinking straight!
She shook her head and ignored the pitiful thought, then lightly pocked Sheldon’s cheek, hoping to wake him up. He whined and pulled the blanket over his head, so she pulled it off and said: “hey, get up, I made you some food.”
He opened his eyes, blinked the sleep away, and propped himself on his elbows with difficulty. “What?”
She picked up the bowl, careful not to let the hot liquid spill. “Come on, you need to eat to get better.”
At first, Jenny thought he didn’t understand her words since all he did was let his head drop into the mattress and clutched at his messy hair, whining, but then forced himself to sit up and made prolonged eye contact with the soup, as if identifying a foreign object still unknown to human science.
“You made that by yourself!?” he asked, taking the bowl between unsteady hands. “I don’t know what to say…”
“Don’t thank me,” she said pridefully, watching him drink straight from the bowl — without bothering to use the spoon — and make an expression akin to surprise before tightly shutting his eyes and swallowing a mouthful. “How is it?” she asked.
“It’s good!” he responded in an abnormally high-pitched voice and smiled. The smile looked off. “I like it, but… uh… I’m not hungry.”
“Come on!” she pouted. “I’ve made it for you…”
He stared at her for a few seconds, gulped, and muttered a shaky: “okay…” before taking a few more sips. Then, he suddenly flinched, froze for a second, threw the bowl with its contents to the floor, and dashed out of the room, all while Jenny watched with widened eyes.
Then she heard him throw up.
She looked at the darkening spots on the wet carpeted floor with the remaining charred vegetables, yet again listening to his agonized coughs and praying they weren’t as painful as they sounded. A few moments later she heard a faucet open and water stream, more coughing, the faucet closed, then the shuffling of bare feet against the ceramic floor as he made his way back. She looked at him with an apologetic frown once he stepped into the room, and he — while leaning on the door frame for support — gave her a thumb up.
“‘M ‘kay,” he whispered.
Almost as if she expected it, she stood up and extended snake-like arms to catch him before he fell, and dragged him back into the bed. She regretted it immediately, since the jolting movement made him slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from puking again as nausea clawed at him. He swallowed down and let his full weight collapse on her, and she caught him with ease.
“I guess you should just go back to sleep.”
Slowly this time, she helped him lie down again, and he pulled the blanket over his head and curled underneath it, leaving Jenny alone with her epic failure.
The strength of a million and seventy men, the military-grade weapons, and high-tech transformations all allowed her to solve any problem she faced, but not this one. This foreign, delicate situation required her sharp strength and quick-solving skills to slow and soften, and she was only learning, but learning came at the expense of Sheldon’s health.
Everything she did was hurting him, and even a multipurpose machine had its limits.
She looked at the open window again. The warm wind moved the curtains, and an orange hue painted the sky. With her super hearing, she could tell that the middle schooler was collecting her unsold lemonades, ready to go home.
Likewise, she turned around to leave, guessing that her absence would be less damaging than her presence, but then a hand caught hers, stopping her.
His grip on her fingers was feeble and fatigued, and he had his face buried into his other arm. She could hear him take shuddering breaths through clenched teeth and notice how his hair was already sticking to his sweat-drenched face.
Then his grip failed, and his arm dropped to hang limply by the bedside.
For a moment Jenny just stood there, unable to decide on what to do next, but then he muttered a barely audible: “stay.”
And she did.
There wasn’t much else to do. She cleaned the mess the soup made, brought a bucket in case Sheldon needed to throw up again, and a few wet napkins to wipe the sweat away from his face. She occasionally checked his temperature, which hadn't dropped much, and brushed his obsidian, messy hair away from his face. The magazines he collected satisfied her boredom, and the oil he kept in the garage quenched her thirst, but she didn’t leave his side for more than a few minutes, and with time, his tormented sleep seemed to deepen, finally allowing the guilt of her innocent mistakes to disappear.
But if she concentrated enough on his feverish muttering, she could make out what she guessed was; ‘don’t leave me alone’, and ‘please stay’.
Without leaving her spot at his bedside, she witnessed the sun rays shift their hue of all the vibrant colors before the night mercifully cooled Tremorton’s blazing air. She never left, even when her mother called asking for her whereabouts. Then, at some point in the serene night, she dozed off on the desk chair she placed beside his bed.
“Jen…”
The small whisper was enough to wake her. She rubbed the sleep away from her eyes, and once they focused, she realized it was still dark, and that Sheldon was sitting upward and looking at her with a worried, guilty look.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” She placed a hand on his cheek even though she couldn’t feel how hot his skin was. He still leaned into the touch, however. “Do you need anything?” she asked.
He swallowed a few times and whispered, “no.” Then kept silent for a few seconds before mumbling, “water, please.”
In less than three seconds, Jenny went into the kitchen and back with a glass of ice water. The abrupt movements made Sheldon flinch.
“Th-thanks…” He took the glass with both hands and Jenny wrapped hers around them to steady his grip before letting go. He took a few sips, and they sat in silence until he finished the whole thing and started sucking on the ice cubes.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes,” he responded after a few seconds. It seemed like everything he did required ten times more time than usual, but Jenny decided to be patient. “No one had ever done this t-to me before,” he added, voice still hoarse and barely audible.
“Huh? What?”
“I m-mean… take care of me… thanks.” He smiled. “S-sorry for the trouble.”
A blue tint colored Jenny’s porcelain cheeks. “No problem…” She rubbed the back of her head. “It’s just the favor I owe you.”
But of course, the little peaceful moment had to be cut by a fit of violent coughs. Sheldon coughed into his hand and clutched at his side with the other. Curling on himself until his forehead touched his knees. He only took a couple of sharp, hiccuped breaths in between, and Jenny didn’t know what to do. She only moved closer to sit on the mattress beside the headboard and rubbed soothing circles on his back. A worried look painted her features.
Once it all stopped — thankfully — she said, “I think we should take you to the doctor tomorrow.”
He only hummed but didn’t even bother to sit straight, still curled up and holding his abdomen.
Jenny, intending to help him get more comfortable, slid her arm around his chest to pull him closer, never expecting him to wrap his arms around her shoulders in return. She raised her arms in surprise, but he didn’t care, pressing his warm forehead against her cool shoulder and letting out a shaky, yet relieved, sigh.
“Sheldon?”
“Hmm… You’re… cold…”
“Oh.”
She leaned against the headboard and rubbed her hand up and down his back, making a mental note of helping him change into another shirt the next morning. A few minutes later, the strength left his arms and his grip on her shoulders loosened. Jenny didn’t bother to put him down, seeing how he was already asleep and not shaking or muttering. She closed her eyes as well, feeling uncomfortable with the awkward position, and oh so tired!
But content.
He will be okay.