One night I sit on the floor on the side of my bed. I’ve got my headphones on, trying to slip away into the music coming off the record player. I’ve gone through several tracks before I open my eyes and notice Lance standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” I say, slipping the headphones down around my neck. I clear my throat.

“What’s up?”

“I could not find you inside of the house, so I decided to double check the other rooms.”

“Oh, alright,” I start to slip my headphones back on.

“Are you alright?” the robot asks.
“Huh?”

“You appear…” he searches for the words, “…spaced out. Are you fatigued?”

I’ve been told by my parents that I take on an almost ‘high’ look when I try to slip away into the realm of the music I listen to. I guess if a robot can notice, it must be really noticeable.

The rain outside my window taps incessantly upon the glass pane, and I look from the window to the robot. I shake my head, then I get an idea.
“Come here a minute, Lance…” I pat the wood floor next to me.

The lapin machine obediently plops himself beside me on the floor.

“Yes, Shaun?” He looks to me, an expression of mechanical curiosity on his face.

I pull the curled cord of my old headphones out of the jack on the stereo, and Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb gushes out of the stereo at an almost overwhelmingly strong volume. I shut my eyes, the music enters my mind, and I start to slip away again.

“Shaun, what is,” He starts, but before he can say anything else, I place a finger over his plastic lips, my eyes still shut. I shush him nonverbally and the guitar starts to slide easily out of the warm toned speakers. The machine sits silent, staring at me a while, then he perks his ears and shuts his own eyes, mimicking me, and perhaps attempting to get the same experience I feel; the same euphoria and reality escape…

And perhaps he also escapes…