ONLY HUMAN

    Jack Lukan settled down into his favorite leather chair, feeling self-satisfied with his day's work as a technician.  He was just reaching for his TV remote when the doorbell rang with its shrill chime.  Gritting his teeth, he glanced at his antique grandfather clock standing solemnly in a corner.  It had been passed down through his family to him, and he loved it, even though it was a stark contrast to his modern, streamlined apartment.  It was just past 11 p.m. and a small frown touched his youthful face.  He scratched idly at his shaggy brown hair, wondering who it could possibly be at this terrible hour. Heck, he thought irritably, I just got home; can't I have a moment's peace?

     He strode to the door, buttoning his wrinkled shirt, and pressed his palm against the cold door-side panel of his identifier.  With a gust of cold air and fall leaves, a tall figure stumbled in the small entry way.  The figure was disheveled and trying vainly to writhe out of his over-sized red trench coat, as the door slid shut.

     Jack gave a sharp intake of breath as the newcomer removed his wide crimson hat and peered back at him through a curtain of drenched black hair.  The man's face was youthful, incongruous, and smooth, appearing only twenty or so.  Peircing eyes, one an icy blue like an arctic landscape and the other as green as spring grass looked into Jack's own hazel eyes.

     "Kiz?" Jack whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse as his mouth went dry. 'How are you?"

     Kiz pulled off his jacket awkwardly, his right arm hanging uselessly at his side.  Jack helped him shrug off the heavy coat and helped him to the living room and the coach.

     "Sorry to bother you so late, my friend," Kiz said, his voice highly musical and pleasant.

     "No bother," Jack lied, glancing at the limp arm, "but what on earth happened to you?"

     "This? I got into a bit of trouble, and you were the only one I could think of," Kiz replied in his precise way, his kind weren't known to mince words.

     Kiz tugged off his oversized lime sweater and then pulled the leather glove off his right hand, revealing the skin on his hand had been torn away up to his wrist, the metallic skin underneath glinting.  As Jack watched squemishly, Kiz began to sytematically peel off his synth skin up to his elbow. Kiz then pushed back his long bangs, revealing a rounded triangular horn on his forehead.

     Kiz glanced at him and gave him one of his lopsided grins, saying, "Could I bother you for a toolbox and laptop?"

     "Yeah, sure," Jack muttered distractedly eyeing the discarded skin. He shuffled off to his personal workshop.

     When he returned, laden with tools and such, he saw that Kiz sat pulling a long thin wire from a jack inside his horn.  Jack set the tools on his coffee table and lifted down a flat panel with a keyboard attached and handed it to Kiz.

     "Ah, it's old. It'll do though, I suppose," Kiz mummered, plugging the wire into the USB port on the laptop.

     "Sorry," Jack replied, feeling indignant, after all, it was only three years old.  Of course, at the rate technology progressed, everything was out of date after a year or so.

     Kiz smiled disarmingly and keyed up the antiquated diagnostic check on the laptop.  After a few minutes, the laptop pinged and a list of notes scrolled across the wide screen.

     "Thought so," Kiz muttered as he reached for a small solder and commenced to tinker with the miniscule wiring on his lower arm.

     "So what was your bit of trouble?" Jack finally asked as he flipped on the news.

     "I got into a fight. Let's say my humanity was called into question."

     "A fight? But you can't fight. Did someone figure out you weren't human?" Jack asked in mild suprise.

     "Not exactly, I never defended myself. I was accused and attacked, but they didn't prove anything. I got out of there after things turned ugly." Kiz replied as he continued to work, never missing a beat.

     "It's inevitable, you know," Jack said, as he absently flipped through the news channels.

     "So is change, but why are humans so against it?" He retorted, his voice never changing from its cheerful pitch.

     "We fear what we don't understand, new things, uncertain things....." Jack replied with a shrug.

     "Utterly infuriating," Kiz grumbled, "such foolish creatures."

     Jack laughed, a sharp bark. "We're enigmas to you, then?"

     "You're just soo......irrational. You kill each other callously and hold each  other's lives at such a low value!  Humans only seem interested in getting ahead.  You drink alcohol and smoke tobacco even though you know it's bad for you. You seem to spend most of your time trying to outdo each other, or finding new ways to kill yourselves. I just don't....understand...how can some thing as intelligent as you obviously are, be so stupid. Look at how quickly you mastered flight, space travel, and atomic fusion!! Your species is so young, but also so suicidal!"

     "Finished with that lovely rant?" Jack asked, smiling wryly.

     "Yes, quite," Kiz muttered, finishing his work as well, and standing up stiffly as he flexed his metal fingers.

     Jack watched as new skin began to form over his metal arm and Kiz unplugged himself. 

     Jack suddenly snorted and Kiz glanced up sharply, as Jack no longer could suppress his laughter.  "Sorry, "he laughed, "I'm only human after all."

IMAGINE

     A small jet soared through skies of ruddy blue shot with contrails.  It looped lazily, then raced high above a great ocean, then wheeled toward the ground.  It angeled away, as far below, its pilot spotted a huge lion.  The lion looked up and roared, a long pink tongue lolling between razor sharp fangs.  The jet sallied for the lion, and let loose missiles, for the lion was approaching a wounded soldier.  The lean emaciated man in his tattered uniform was cornered.  The jet fired again and the discouraged lion turned away, bounding off.  As the jet landed, its wings became small pink arms and the jet itself became a small boy with short blonde hair.  The boy scooped up his G.I. joe and called his small yellow kitten to him. 

     The little boy stepped into the small trickle of water left by his mother's hose as she watered her flowers.  He peered closely at his G.I.Joe, scrutinizing it.  He glanced around boredly and spotted a small blue salamander.  Suddenly, a brave knight in shining armour, led his faithful yellow steed around a vast lake into which spilled a large waterfall.  High above on a cliff, a huge dragon took to flight, smoke roiling from its nostrils.  

     The boy's mother turned at a noise and peered a the little boy as he shrieked and raced around a tree stump, waving his doll.  She shook her head and smiled lovingly.                                                                                                                    The knight raced forward as the huge dragon settled before him and roared........

BLINK

     "-d'ya hear what happened the other day?"

     "Naw, I didn't," replied a tall man.

     The shorter one grinned, "Was a beaute.  I mean, this huge riot broke out."

      "Where at?"  Asked the other.  He had neat black hair and a prim mustache.

     "Oh, you know.  THe old mill?"  THe shorter said with a shrug.  He was a small, balding man with sharp small eyes that were a hazel color.

      "What was it about?" Asked the other, whose name was Holiday.

      The other, Williams, shrugged.  "Ah, some thing with the workers.  Ya know, over those tin cans."

      Holiday nodded solemnly in understanding.  What good are they?  They just take jobs from decent hard-working folk."

    "Too true!"  Williams argued vehemently, thumping his fist on the company work table.

     Holiday dully took a bite of his sandwhich, then said, "I got no use for 'im myself."

    "Who does?"

   After work that day, Holiday stepped onto one of the Walks.  Walks were a series of strips that went in various directions at varying speeds. Each strip that made up a Walk, was suspended side-by-side on levels.  Holiday was on the third level, which had a twenty-foot drop to the next Walk.  The few that bothered to use the outdated Walks knew the risk they took in using them, after all none of them had been repaired in ten years.

     So Holiday knew all too well how dangerous it was.  Luckily he wasn't one of the few who became so dizzy they fell from the strips.  Moving from strip to strip was very complicated, move too suddenly onto a too much slower strip from a fast one would mean overbalancing which would lead to a plunge to your death from the dizzying heights.  Kids, teens mostly, liked to play a game where one would try to outrace the others on the strips; not only was it highly dangerous, but many fell to their deaths. 

    Holiday happened to glance to his right and saw a robot moving on a slower strip.  He watched it disgustedly, wondering who would let it loose unsupervised.  Surely it had no right to travel on the Walks like your real person.  He was so caught up in scowling at the robot, that he failed to see the young strip runner racing up.  The boy bumped into Holiday's shoulder as he passed. 

    Holiday had a split-second of gripping fear as he lost his balance.  He flailed helplessly as he went over, but at the last minute a hand clamped on his wrist, painfully hard.

   Looking up, blinking in the sun's glare, he couldn't make out his rescuer.  As he was pulled to his feet on the strip, Holiday panted out the words, "Thanks, pal."

   "Excuse me, sir," a metal-tinged voice answered, "You need not thank me."

    Holiday's heart sank and his throat tightened.  A robot.  Holiday gaped at it a moment, then laughed harshly, startling the robot