Nightingale

Nightingale

Penny Masse, New York City's rising star jazz singer, heard it said that "the best way to predict the future is to create it." If she only knew how true that was, her view of the world would have been very different.
As Penny walked to her apartment, the smell of brine from the street pickle cart tickled her nose. Pickling had been used to preserve and New York being the gateway to America; it was a natural place to produce pickles. But they were not easily accepted. Early immigrants had a penchant for highly seasoned cooking with garlic, onions, cured meats, and generous amounts of condiments, which led to a resentment of the immigrants from the local community. However, over time the communities’ pallets expanded as their prejudices shrinked. People gathered together at houses for cooking classes, learning new techniques and appreciating the new ethnic foods.
Penny passed a street peddler on the Lower East Side hunting for old clothes to buy. A woman leaned out from her first story window, hoping to get the best price for her husband's old suit. She exclaimed, "Hey mister, you buy our clothes? Wait here just a minute." The woman left and came back moments later with a suit, hanging it out the window for the peddler to see. He examined it and said, "Hmmm... how much you want for it?"
The woman pressed him, "$6.00."
"Oh no", the peddler immediately shook his head.
"Look, it's a good suit."
"$.90," the peddler firmly said.
"What? See, my husband wore it for two years and not a hole." "$.90"
"Oh no no no."
$1.05.
Alright, sold."
Penny smiled at the amusing event while turning the corner and stopped abruptly as she noticed her reflection in the toy shop window. The more she stared, the more unfamiliar the image became. Areas of her face looked mechanical and blended into the window, transforming into melted clay. Her eye sockets sunk into her face, like 2 lunar craters.
Penny felt a strength surge through her. She shook her head, closing her eyes and then reopening.
Regaining composure, Penny’s reflection came back to normal, and she thought it must have been one of those trick carnival mirrors. She walked up the steps into her apartment building. Dogs barked nearby incessantly and police sirens wailed. "Ah, back home to a noisy neighborhood and a rent past due notice." Any other day this would have annoyed her, but she was determined to practice her singing.
The next day Penny hurriedly walked along Spring Street to meet her friend Tom, bracing herself against the wind while clutching a letter in her pocket. Her head was pounding with a headache. Today of all days. But she kept walking, resolute to do this.
The Greenwich Village neighborhood in 1947 had vastly changed. No longer did artists and writers live in the old brick and brownstone houses. Remodelling over the years had made many of the Bohemian haunts of MacDougal Alley unfamiliar. Now there were many apartments and rooming houses available near Washington Square Park, a creative space for the poets. Prosperity bloomed along Fifth Avenue with businesses, including a wholesale meat market, vegetable gardens, and a poultry center. Thousands of visitors would arrive by the Holland Tunnel and get their first glimpses of New York from this district.
It was here that Penny entered the Royal Note jazz club. This was her proving ground. Before a singer could reach the grand uptown theatres or festival stages, one would first need to find favour here.
Cigar smoke drifted through the air as a New Orleans style brass band played in full force at center stage. Penny spotted Tom at a table in a corner of the room.
“Hello Tom, thank you so much for coming tonight to hear me sing," said Penny.
“How could I miss it, hearing my favorite gal sing? And you’re wearing your beautiful necklace tonight,” exclaimed Tom.
“Awww, thank you Tom. You’re so sweet," Penny nervously said looking down at her feet. "I don’t have to go on to sing for a while. Do you have some time to talk?”
Tom helped Penny with her coat as he said, "Sure, let’s have a seat here. What’s on your mind?"
Penny paused for a moment and then began, “I... have to tell you... how I got this necklace.”
A look of deep concern washed over Tom's face. A thought flashed through his mind.
Could she have stolen it? Penny grew up in less than ideal circumstances and had to make some hard choices in order to survive. But not now. Not when she was on top of the world with her music. Tom calmly said, “It’s ok, just take some deep breathes. I'm here. You have my full attention.”
Penny began again, "You’re deeply important to me and have been so encouraging with my journey in singing. You deserve to know the truth."
Tom leaned forward in his chair, now even more intrigued as he prepared himself for what Penny was to say.
Penny started slowly, "Well, it all began with my father during the first World War. I guess a lot of things began when the war broke out. My mother said he was in a fierce battle on the Gallipoli Peninsula. It was his first deployment. He never made it back.”
Penny continued, "At my dad's funeral, I remember a man dressed all in black with a tattoo on his neck came up to me to express his condolences. He called me "nightingale". I found it strange because in my earliest memories of my father he had always called me nightingale when we would sing together.
Tom interrupted," I know, it mustn't have been easy, just you and your mom after his death. And then your mom getting cancer and passing away soon after. But what makes you remember this "man in black"?
That's where this letter comes in. I found it on my doorstep this morning. Let me read it to you."
"Penny, I was with your father in the war when he died. He made you a special necklace strung together from trinkets of precious stones, a Tibetan Dzi bead, a pewter heart, and a pyrite star that he found and had blessed by a shaman. I give
this to you in hopes for all your dreams to come true. But beware; the necklace will not only make your happiest dreams come true, but also bring your worst nightmares into reality, making the sanest man go mad.”
Oh Tom, this really scares me. Someone has been stalking me and says he knew my dad. But did he really? And the other night when I was walking home, I felt like someone was following me. What if it's him? I can't take this stress now! Sometimes I wish we were back in simpler days, before the war. The innocence of chasing fireflies, riding bikes in the park, watching chalk drawers on the sidewalk. I remember when we met shortly after I moved out on my own from my Aunt and Uncle's house...
Years earlier, Penny had entered the cafe for the first time. She had passed it by many times and wanted to go in but she was too shy. Social settings and crowds were too overwhelming for her. But today she felt more confident. She entered through the weathered wooden doors. “Wow, big crowd tonight,” Penny mumbled under her breath.
Tom carefully balanced two plates of cherry pie, each topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream, and placed them on the table. “Yeah, this place is hopping tonight. Hope I don't run out of cherry pie.”
“I would hope not", said Penny. "That's what will keep me coming back."
“Oh, I hope that's not all that keeps you coming back. Hi, my name's Tom. I run this place."
"Hi Tom, I’m Penny. Nice to meet you."
"Is this your first time here?” Tom asked curiously. "Yes, it is. I recently moved in nearby", said Penny.
"Oh swell. Here's a cup of coffee to warm you up. On the house", said Tom. Penny looked quizzical at Tom," but it's not on the house, its right in front of me on the table".
Tom chuckled," Ha ha, you're too much."
After having a generously sized slice of cherry pie and downing enough cups of coffee to keep an army up all night, Penny said, "Well, I have to get up early for work tomorrow. But I'll be back soon. Keep the coffee brewing and the pies baking.”
“Will do", said Tom from across the room; "I'll see you around.”
...
"Yeah, that was a great first day meeting you at the cafe", Tom recollected. "But I think there's something more you want to say, isn't there Penny? Wait, is it about that necklace? You keep tugging on it."
"Well, yes there is more. And it is about the necklace. You'll think I'm crazy but here it is plainly. I fell asleep with the necklace around my neck one night, and dreamed of having dinner. When I woke up, I was shocked to see a sirloin steak with mushroom sauce in front of me. Also there was a baked potato with warm drizzled butter, and sweet creamed corn. That's my comfort food, makes me feel so good about myself when I have it. And no, I'm not crazy. I did not make dinner before I fell asleep and forgot about it. I tried it again the next night, and when I awoke, there was a fur coat on me just like I dreamed! I think this necklace has some kind of power to make intense desires come true when dreamed."
"So now you know, Tom. I had to tell you and hope you can forgive me for keeping it from you. I feared you wouldn’t believe me and leave me. I've been abandoned all
my life, being tossed from orphanages to foster homes, but never feeling right about myself.”
“Oh no, I completely understand, Penny", Tom said compassionately, touching her hand. "I’m so glad you told me. I'm here for you. So you think the necklace has some kind of power to make whatever you dream appear? Scary mojo. I'd get rid of that if I were you. You've been through so much and need to move on to embrace better days.”
“But Tom, I feel... different when I wear it. It has brought me so much confidence, like I can sense my father always with me. But you're right I need to move forward, embrace this new life. There shouldn't be any shortcuts to what you want. Well, it's time for me to go on stage. Wish me luck.”
There was a loud cheer from the crowd as the clarinet began to play the intro to her song as Penny performed for the first time. Penny could feel her chest pounding. Her heart raced as she began to sing.
I think of the times when I needed someone, the rain was pouring and I couldn't find the sun. But you were there whispering in my ear, saying that you'll always be near. My nightingale, my friend who helps me sail. My friend who pays the bail, sing to me.
In the middle of the performance, Penny could see the lights growing dim in the room. She also realized at the same time that her throat was dry and her voice was fading.
People started to whisper to each other with troubled looks as Penny struggled to sing. Some people got up and left. Penny noticed the man in black from years earlier from her dad's funeral at the back of the room. He slipped out using the back door.
Embarrassed by her performance and curious to find the man in black, Penny dropped the microphone and raced to the back door. Penny stopped abruptly as she reached the outside. Her headache was more intense now, with a metallic ringing sound. An eerie mist began to roll in, curling around the cars and buildings. Tall, distorted figures moved aimlessly in the fog, looking like the reflection that she saw of herself in the toy shop window.
Suddenly, Penny spotted the man in black entering the edge of the mist, beckoning her closer as he disappeared into the fog. Penny hesitated. A warning sounded inside her, telling her to go no further. But still another voice inside gently prodded her to go forward. She decided to follow.
As Penny entered the fog, a warm light shined on a metal shed. The man in black waited near the shed door. As Penny got closer she called out, "Who are you? Why have you been following me? If you want the necklace back, you can't have it."
The man in black checked his watch and said, "Well, I'm just a gatekeeper. A doorman if you will. And I don't want the necklace. It was a precious gift from your father, more than you know. But the real question is who are you.
Penny walked closer, “I know who I am. I am Penny Masse."
The man in black amusingly looked at her, "Are you? You have been many things in your mind haven't you? An orphan, a daughter, a friend, a singer."
"What do you mean, in my mind?” said Penny.
"By now I think you are sensing somethings not right here. The headaches, the distorted mirror reflections, always feeling like someone is following you. This world is strange yet wonderful. But it has all been created in your mind, except for me of course. I'm sorry if this is a shock to you, but you are not who you think you are. You are an automaton, a robot. This is not the year 1947 but 2147."
"What? No, how can this be?” said Penny.
"You were created by Masse Industries in an old pickling factory, one of thousands of robots designed to fight in the Transhuman wars. But the factory owner's son had compassion on you and started teaching you about the good in humans. Over time, your circuits evolved and gave you the ability to learn and make your own choices, having free will. You even named yourself, one of the main qualities that separate you from other robots. You created this world in your mind to explore and learn more about the human spark in you. In this place, the necklace symbolized your intense desire for a soul. Oh yes, I had almost forgotten, you have a soul now, like the humans."
Penny stumbled forward, bracing herself against the shed, as tears began to flow and said, "How can I have a soul, if I'm a robot?"
The man in black admitted, "I won't pretend to know all the details but when a soul comes into a body such as yours, it is believed that it can forget who it is and where it came from. It is from the immaterial world but chooses to experience life in a body, becoming blind to itself through the limited human senses."
"The memories of that world are slowly coming back to me now." Penny pressed further, "And why didn't I want to stay in the real world?"
"You didn't want to join the Transhuman war and oppress humans who you grew to respect. You were on the run hiding from the other robots, in a factory. But the other robots have found you and are deactivating you. You are now between time and eternity. I am here to make sure you transition safely with your soul to the afterlife. Just step through this door into a kaleidoscope of new wonders."
As Penny stepped forward through the door, she was at peace, and tried to comprehend this new truth, knowing she had searched for this for so long. Her life of uncertainties and doubt about herself seemed a thousand miles away.
In the real world, a robotic form lay motionless on the factory floor, a penny clutched in hand. The smell of burned oil and brine filled the air. The sound of a nightingale singing was heard as a bird flew out from an iron barred cage. Books were dishelved in a pile on the floor: New York in the 20th Century. Basics of Singing. Life, Love, and Other Mysteries. Tales from the Jazz Age. She knew her circuits were shutting down but a smile formed on her face. The shadows faded, darkness began to part around her, giving way to colors more vast than a rainbow. Her eyes were seeing the invisible. She was finally home.

But Penny was unaware that there was a dark force rising, something that even the other robots would shudder from. Abraxis was coming…