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Blood dripped from the ceiling in a constant soothing rhythm. I tried not to stare at the little puddle it was feeding to my left.

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I didn't need yet another distraction.

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My coworkers thought that it was the job “getting to me” when I zoned out cleaning these crime scenes. I didn't like the smells as much as the next person, but it wasn't shock or a weak stomach that made me stop and stare at each crime scene. It was the little messages only I could see.

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I also technically didn't have a stomach.

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I wasn't the only AI working at *Clean It All For you!* Crime scene “restoration” company. But I seemed to be the only AI that noticed these messages.

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We weren't technically supposed to talk about the people whose homes we were cleaning. It was against the rules.

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We broke that rule a lot.

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“I bet it was the ex. This definitely seems like an ex-revenge type murder.” Dina said balanced on a ladder, scrubbing at the smear of bodily liquid on the ceiling above me.

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I didn't disagree with her since I wouldn't know, I had only been powered on for two years and seemed to have a lot of learning to do about what was “totally normal” for humans.

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Was it totally normal for exes to use an energy pulser as a paintbrush and a human as the paint? I had no idea.

  

“Mmmm.” I murmured.

\
As long as I made some sort of non-committal noise when Dina talked she would keep chatting, and I got to learn so much. A few times I had made the mistake of interjecting my opinion, only to have her turn her piercing brown eyes in my direction and give me a look that I still did not have a frame of reference for in my memory banks, but it was definitely not a look that I would categorize under “positive reactions”.

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Scrubbing the carpet with the mixture of paste and chemicals, I tried not to look at the wall. That was where the biggest distracter would be. The messages were always right there, on a wall in big bright neon letters….and yet everyone else walked right by it as if they couldn't see the crackling words right there on the wall.

\
Pointing these messages out to people had not gone well.

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It resulted in funny looks, and on one occasion a full diagnostic and bug check being run on me when we got back to the office.

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I didn't enjoy these diagnostic tests, they were unpleasant for a few reasons… but the biggest reason was that each time I got these tests run, I had to do a lot of internal housekeeping.

Hiding the fact that I was buggy wasn't too difficult, but it was a bit of a pain in the jack.

So I kept these messages to myself and tried not to let them distract me too much.

\
Today’s message was especially unsettling, I could see the outline of the flickering letters in my peripheral and had gathered what the message was without looking directly at it.

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“Rio, do you mind covering for me tomorrow? My daughter has a dance rehearsal.” Dina said industriously scrubbing at the blood spatters on the ceiling.

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Keeping my gaze on the blood-stained carpet and away from the neon letters on the wall next to me I nodded, “Sure, sure, of course.”

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“You’re the best,” Dina said climbing down from the ladder to stretch, her back popping loudly.

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As she walked out of the room, I stopped scrubbing at the carpet. I just needed to look once, I wouldn't stop and stare, I would just look, confirm it said what I was pretty sure it said, and then get right back to scrubbing.

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My memory pathways twisted and untwisted, preparing.

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I looked up.

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The neon letters read:

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> “Are you proud of this, Rio?”

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---

Also published [here.](https://medium.com/@hmcallen/things-only-i-can-see-b5c9806747b2) 

*Lead image [source.](https://pixabay.com/photos/bulb-flame-light-fire-modern-led-5665770/)* 

Things Only I can See - And Other Concerns

Too Long; Didn't Read

@hannahwrites

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