Night Of The Robot

My brother and I are eight years apart. When I was little, he used to tease me incessantly, a fact he'd likely deny today. Many younger siblings, I'm sure, can relate to this abuse as a rite of passage, a part of growing up in the big city, so to speak.

He did, however, allow me the luxury of being a silent partner in listening sessions. Our basement was sparse, but both he and I slept there part of the year, so naturally that was where you'd enjoy listening to music the most. In our minds, taking up space in a different part of the house gave you a whole different perspective.

I was twelve by the time he picked up "I Robot". In fact, between '76 and '82, he sucked up everything APP put out, which I could respect. It's nice when you dig an artist that much. Anyway, this particular listening party took place at night in total darkness, or only by the light of a sizeable receiver he'd set-up on the mantle above the fireplace.

Towards the end of Side Two - back when you had to flip your own music, that is - the music turns dark. It's a muddled symphonic ramble with a crescendo, either emphasizing the classic theme of the book by Asimov, or signifying the end of the world, I'm not sure which. My brother was privy to this thematic shift in tone, and lay in wait for the right moment, to sneak up on me in the dark and scare me out of my skin. Halloween was approaching - people were tense.

We were on opposite sides of the room now. I saw his shadow slip off the bed, crawling his way toward me, reclining on cushions on the far wall. Even though I knew what he was doing, I was paralyzed, like in a bad dream. I didn't say anything until he was close, didn't want to admit the fact that I was more than a little freaked out. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I jumped up and grabbed him as he reached for me, and we shared a nervous laugh.

We've never spoken about that moment since, but I bet if I asked him he'd remember it just as vividly as I still do. Consequently, I don't force myself to listen to this song very often; it's still a little hard to sit through without squirming in my seat.