Winner of the Reader's Pick Award

Submitted for the October 2023 prompt: Machine in the Ghost

I knew his trouble the instant he stepped through the door.

 

"You have a cold, Eben Corder," I said.

 

He peered around the dimly lit room. The chair was empty, but I set it to rocking, and he focused his eyes there. "Y-yes, ma'am," he said hoarsely. He jumped as the door slammed shut behind him.

 

"Open the wooden box on the sideboard."

 

He did, and his eyes grew wide. He reached in and pulled out a small glass bottle. "F-for me?" he squeaked.

 

"One small spoonful, morning and night, until it's all gone. If you're still sick after, come right back. No waiting," I cautioned. "Waiting can kill you."

 

The front door's hinges squealed loudly as it opened.

 

"Th-thank you, ma'am," he said, and left in a hurry.

 

* * *

 

It's mostly theatrics, but I'm not ashamed. That's part of the job. I'm a witch, you see — or rather, a witch's cottage.

 

It's complicated, but the short version is, I'm a robotic recording of a dead doctor, which I guess means I'm haunted. I got left behind by a research team investigating a lost colony. They were afraid of catching something from the locals, which was sensible since that's how I died. There were diseases here, like the once-common cold, that could wipe out a modern Terrestrial colony in two days tops. We've got no diseases anymore, which means no natural resistance.

 

Anyway, they left and I stayed, not having anything better to do. I've been healing the sick ever since.

 

With some interruptions.

 

* * *

 

"I want to be your apprentice!"

 

I needed an apprentice like a hole in the roof. I had robots to do the sweeping and materials harvesting, and most of my concoctions were synthesized on a molecular level. I was gentle but firm.

 

"NO! Now begone!" I shrieked.

 

The damn kid didn't even blink.

 

"I've heard every story about you," she said seriously. "In none of them does it say the Invisible Witch ever hurt anyone, or even refused to help. You don't scare me."

 

"Oh, don't I?"

 

I cackled madly, then extended some of the surgical arms from the ceiling. I whirled them around so as to best catch the light and let off a bunch of sound effects ranging from moans and clanking chains all the way up to a culminating lightning strike. Then I hissed out my reply: "That's because those who offend me never live to tell the tale."

 

She just stood there, as secure and confident an eight year old as I've ever seen. "I don't think so," she said matter-of-factly. "Because if you did kill someone, and hide the body or eat them or whatever, people would still notice they were missing."

 

The worst part of it was, she was right. I withdrew the spinning blades and conceded the point.

 

"True, I only ever hurt the deserving, and you haven't earned that. Not yet," I amended hurriedly. "But I still don't have any use for an apprentice."

 

"Since when is it about what you need?" she countered. "My da says we're lucky because we've got the only witch in the hills that can cure someone. In the other villages, he says they're as apt to poison you as help. So what I think is, we need more people to learn from you than from them. But you never take in any apprentices at all. I don't think that's very fair."

 

There she went being right again. That wasn't fair. When I was raised, they taught me to follow the rules and obey adults. Nothing in either my life or afterlife had prepared me for little children being right all the time. I sighed, exasperated.

 

"What I do has nothing to do with traditional medicine," was my next gambit. "I'm not like the other witches at all."

 

"That's a good thing, right?"

 

Clever little brute. "Well, yes, but it means when a patient walks in, I do a scan and create whatever's needed. You're only human, so you can't do that. What I do doesn't involve herbs, elixers, or magic potions."

 

She frowned thoughtfully. "But you know how bodies work, and you understand those things even if you don't need to do them."

 

She had me again. In addition to all my hard-learned physician's knowledge, I also had access to a massive biological database plus a miniaturized high-end research lab. Anything I didn't know I could find out.

 

"There's no place here for you," I said finally. "It's a small cottage, and all the space is taken up. There's no bed, nowhere for you to cook, not even a privy."

 

She scowled and looked around the small room. What I'd said was nothing other than the truth. The entire cottage was dedicated to patient care. Even the cauldron on the hearth was just a decoration. After a while, she said, "So what you're saying is, if I can get my da and brothers to take care of all those things, you'll teach me?"

 

I had no answer.

 

She crossed her arms. "Aren't you supposed to help people that need it? Isn't that what you do?"

 

Well, I mean, really. What's an invisible witch to do?