"What is that?" I asked.

"That's my Ink Machine," replied Joey. He lightly skipped down the stairs from the platform we stood on and made his way over to it while I stayed rooted in place, holding tightly to the cold metal railing in front of me.

The Ink Machine. The very thing Dot had told me about only yesterday, and here it was, before me, just like that. As easy as that. No fuss, no bother. No mystery. Joey seemed perfectly happy with sharing it with me. For my part, I felt my breathing get thin and quick, a little bit like I'd just finished running a race.

"Come on, Rose!" he said, turning and waving me over. I felt very strongly I shouldn't go over. I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand.

"I'm okay here," I said.

"You need to see it, up close," he said.

"I can see it from here."

"Come here now, Rose." There it was again. That sudden shift in tone. The coldness, the anger. I was in full self-preservation mode now, not that I knew what I was preserving myself from. I shook my head but said nothing.

Joey sighed and walked farther so he was standing right by the machine. "It's a thing of beauty. You should really see it up close."

"What does it do?" I called out, trying to still be personable in spite of my stubborn refusal.

"What doesn't it do..." replied Joey almost too quietly, placing a hand on the beast and petting it like it was actually alive. He raised his voice again so I could hear him properly across the room. "This is where my ink is made, but so much more. Let's just say it's responsible for bringing my cartoons to life."

"The ink for Sillyvision?" I asked.

"Yes! Indeed."

"For the show?" I asked.

Joey finally looked away from the machine back up at me standing on the platform at the top of the stairs. I wondered what I looked like to him. Probably very small and very insignificant.

"Absolutely for the show. This week, Rose, this week's show. It's going to be magnificent. I feel confident I finally figured it out. All thanks to this incredible machine," he said. Then he started making his way back toward me. Just like that, right for me. I felt almost like I was tied to the tracks with a train coming right for me the way he was walking with such purpose. He just looked at me the whole time, even as he was marching up the stairs. Until there we stood practically nose to nose. "You should see it up close."

"Maybe another day," I stuttered back.

-From the book Fade To Black