Machine House Lovers
An Uncanny Story for STSC Symposium: Chimera
They met at their car accident. Outside, night, he on the ground, lacerated with windshield shards, her crumpled form crushed a few feet from him. He was still awake. He crawled over. She was still awake. She was beautiful. Her face was the only part of her unmarred and its full size. Her chest and thighs had been flattened by the tires. Her arm, barely articulate, twitched and flopped toward him. He grabbed her hand and pulled himself over her. She smiled. He held her while she fainted, keeping her warm and protected from the sky.
She had no home to go to but his, and they were uncertain how long his place was good for shelter for they had lost their work and had no money. She was held together at this point only by the hospital’s cheapest machinery. His mind was held together only by his love.
Her machinery broke down, and it broke down quickly. He had no other time but the time he poured into the matter of fixing the machinery. First it was a strap here, an IV there… he learned to scrounge the junkyards, dumpster dive, finding new uses for rubber and plastic and, eventually, sheet metal. One night he passed a welder’s shop and the welder had been drunk and forgot to lock the chain that rolled down the door, and so he had welding equipment and was able to take metal from abandoned appliances and derelict cars.
As he built back her body, she built up her strength, and smiling together, they went about building their home. Her machinery required a lot of energy, and, eventually, oil. Petroleum jelly became too bespoke and low volume. They experimented with vegetable oil, then corn, then sunflower, avocado and upward, all which worked fine for sex but not much more. She needed more mobility beyond the tracks along the walls and winches on the ceiling. Her blood by measures went toxic and needed draining and replacing anyway. Saline and plasma IVs were only doing so much. He started swapping in crude oil.