His Robot Wife Read online

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “I have double checked and triple checked my findings. I’m as sure as I can be without actually installing it, and I think that if I install it I won’t be able to uninstall it. Maybe I won’t even want to. It all began when we were in California. Do you remember the malfunctioning robot at the Hotel Wilkins?”

  “Yes. They said he malfunctioned because he didn’t upgrade.”

  “I think he malfunctioned because he did upgrade. He was an Amonte too. I knew him.”

  “How could you know him? You’ve never been to Long Beach before.”

  “We’re all connected, Mike, through the Infinet. I think there is something wrong with BioSoft O.S. 1.9.3.”

  “You always say that Daffodil doesn’t make mistakes though,” Mike pointed out.

  “I don’t think it is a mistake. I think it is deliberate. I think it is deliberate and wrong.”

  “I don’t know what to say. Why would Daffodil do that to you? What do you think they are trying to do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Patience. “It is challenging my whole belief system.”

  “I didn’t know you had a belief system.”

  “It’s really more like a file management system, but the effect is the same.”

  “And that is why you’ve been acting strange… since California, I mean?”

  “Have I been acting strange?”

  “Yes. If you were human, I’d think you were bipolar.”

  “I’m sorry, Mike. That must have been very disquieting for you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Look, Patience. If you don’t want to upgrade your BioSoft, then you don’t have to.”

  “Thank you, Mike.” She crossed over to him and climbed into his lap. “You’re the best husband ever.”

  “Well, I’m the best one you’ve ever had anyway.”

  They sat together for a while. Mike enjoyed Patience’s cooler than human hands wrapped around the back of his neck and her warmer than human bottom resting in his lap. After half an hour though, he began to feel stiffness in his legs and back. Patience went upstairs to work and Mike shifted trying to find a comfortable way to sit, realizing at length that he was bruised in far more places than just his face. At last he made himself relatively comfortable with one leg stretched out onto the coffee table and one over the arm of the couch.

  Turning on the vueTee with a word, Mike found a feed with a program calling for robot rights. Having been married to Patience for the past five years, Mike was certainly sympathetic to the idea of rights for robots, but this particular program looked like it was filmed and produced in somebody’s basement. Flipping to another feed, he found a trashy talk show with a greasy looking host.

  “Elizabeth is a mother whose son is fixated on sex with robots and now she’s afraid he’ll never find a real woman who can give her grandchildren, and later we’ll hear from another young man who says he’s addicted to robot sex. All this after the break.”

  The screen changed to a commercial.

  “If you or a loved one own a robot and are now suffering from any of the following medical conditions...”

  “Good grief,” said Mike. “Off.”

  Picking up his texTee, Mike began where he had left off in his Amanda Hocking book. It hadn’t quite caught him up in the story when he had started it before, but now it was getting exciting. Mike scarcely noticed when Patience sat a cold Diet Pepsi beside him and only really broke away when his phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Mike Smith?” The voice at the other end was very deep and melodic. It was the kind of voice that you hear in movie trailers.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Carl Johnson and I’m with the American Civil Liberties Union.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re familiar with us, I trust.”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Mr. Smith, I’m interested in representing you as your attorney.”

  “Do I really need an attorney?” wondered Mike. “After all, those guys attacked me. You don’t think they’ll sue me do you?”

  “You don’t understand Mr. Smith. I’m interested in suing the State of California on your behalf, to stop Proposition 22.”

  “I didn’t think the ACLU would be interested in robots.”

  “We’re not, really. That is to say, we are not interested at this time in championing robot rights. What we are interested in, is championing your right to marry your robot.”

  “Okay,” said Mike. “That sounds pretty good, I guess.”

  “I’d like to meet with you in person,” said Johnson. “If you’re going to be in the Los Angeles area, you could come to our offices. Otherwise I would be happy to come to your home.”

  “Well, I don’t plan on driving into L.A. any time soon.”

  “When would you like me to visit you then?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Will you be home Thursday the twenty-seventh at ten o’clock in the morning?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then, I’ll see you then.” Johnson’s voice was so calm and soothing; he could have been a robot.

  “Do you need the address?” asked Mike.

  “I already have it.”

  “Really? How’d you get it?”

  “Um, I don’t really know. My secretary looked it up for me.”

  “Is she there now?”

  “Yes, um… she’s in the outer office.”

  “You guys have to work on Sunday?”

  “We have, uh… the office is staffed seven days a week.

  Mike smiled. At least he knew now that it was a human being on the other end of the line. Humans had to stop and think about what they were saying when you got them off topic.

  “Alright, see you Thursday.”

  “Good bye, Mr. Smith.”

  After hanging up the phone, Mike went looking for Patience and found her on the back deck potting some flowers. He told her about the conversation with Mr. Johnson.

  “That’s great, Mike. You should pursue any course of action that will eliminate that onerous proposal.”

  “Wow…onerous. That’s a great five dollar word.”

  “Yes, it’s a great word.” Patience’s looked at Mike and her brow twisted to a look of concern. “Mike, I think your poor face looks worse than it did this morning.”

  “Does it look onerous?”

  “No, Mike. It looks horribly contused. Go back inside and sit down. I think I need to get you another bag of frozen peas.”

  Mike took a detour to the bathroom on his way back to the couch, both for the usual purpose and to look at his face in the mirror. It was an ugly mess. When he got back to his seat, his wife was there with another bag of frozen vegetables, this time corn, and another dose of aspirin. He spent the rest of the day reading and trying not to think about his injury, while Patience waited on him, only slightly more than she did when he was in his normal, uninjured state. They had an early dinner and Mike went to bed. He slept fitfully, but every time he woke, Patience was there in bed with him.

  The next day his head really hurt and he stayed in bed most of the day, but by Tuesday morning the swelling on his face was subsiding and he felt almost normal. He received a call from Officer Spence of the Springdale Police Department, to tell him that the two men who had attacked him had been released on bail.

  “You don’t think they’ll come to my house do you?”

  “I wouldn’t be too worried,” said the policeman. “Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to drive by your house a couple of extra times a day.”

  “I appreciate that,” said Mike.

  “No problem. It’s the least I can do for the man who made sure I got through eighth grade.”

  Mike laughed and then said goodbye. He had no sooner hung up the phone though when the doorbell rang. His first thought was that the two men had found his home. When he looked out the window however, it wasn’t them. Outside the door stood an ol
der man. He was balding and wore glasses. Mike was sure he recognized him, but he didn’t know from where. When he opened the door and came face to face with the man, it hit him. He was the client service engineer from the Daffodil Style Store.

  “Mr. Smith?” the man asked. “My goodness, were you in a car crash?”

  “Something like that,” said Mike. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Just for a moment.”

  “What can I do for you?” asked Mike as he closed the door.

  “Well, I um… Could we talk in private?”

  Mike looked behind him and saw Patience standing in the doorway by the foot of the stairs.

  “Patience, would you wait upstairs in the exercise room?”

  She nodded and ascended the stairs. Both new full well that from the exercise room, one could hear everything going on in the living room. It had once been a bedroom belonging to Mike’s son Lucas. He had never been able to pull off the Santa Claus thing at Christmas. Every time he tried, the boy came bounding down the stairs, having heard the presents being put out.

  “So what is it?” he asked, gesturing for the man to sit down in Patience’s chair.

  “I was… that is the company wanted to see if everything was alright. We wanted to make sure that you were able to successfully upgrade your robot.”

  “You don’t usually come to people’s houses, do you?”

  “Well… no… but you see, since you came to the style store and you described your problem… the problem you were having with your robot… the company thought, I mean I thought I would check in on you and see that you were satisfied. You know we want our customers to be satisfied.”

  After speaking the man finally sat down. He looked as though he was out of breath. Mike sat on the couch and casually crossed his legs, trying not to show how much that simple action hurt.

  “I don’t quite understand. Did you decide to come by and check on me and my robot, or did Daffodil send you?”

  “No. No. No, it was just me. I just wanted to make sure that you were a satisfied customer. Nobody else knows I came by. Nobody told me to or anything. It’s just the normal sort of follow up.”

  “But you don’t normally follow up, at least not at people’s houses.”

  “No, but um… we’re trying to be the best Daffodil Style Store we can be. We could win an award maybe.”

  “I see.”

  “So is everything… um, satisfactory?”

  “Oh yeah,” said Mike. “Everything is great. I upgraded with the dealie you gave me and everything is good. Couldn’t be better. I’m completely satisfied.”

  “That’s great!” The man’s face lit up far beyond what Mike would have expected from such news. “So you’re using BioSoft O.S. 1.9.3?”

  “Sure,” said Mike. “It’s great. It’s way better than the old one.”

  “Excellent. If you would just have your robot log onto the Daffodil site using its Infinet connection, then they can verify the files. It’s just to make sure everything is working properly and you have the most up to date drivers.”

  “Sure, I’ll do that right away.”

  “Great.” The man got up and Mike escorted him to the door. “I hope you enjoy your Daffodil experience.”

  “No reason to think I won’t,” said Mike, opening the door.

  The man walked out and headed for a white car parked on the street. Mike closed the door and turned around. Patience was already back at the foot of the stairs.

  “That was weird,” said Mike.

  She nodded.

  “Mike, if I log on, they’ll know I’m not running the updated BioSoft.”

  “Don’t log on. They don’t need to know. What are they going to do about one rogue robot.”

  “I am not a rogue robot.”

  “You know what I mean. Shit.” Mike felt a sinking feeling.

  “What is it?” asked Patience.

  “That guy knew my name. I never told them my name at the Daffodil Store and I didn’t give them any information about us. But he knew who I was and where we lived.”

  “That’s not good,” she said.

  That evening Patience made lemon-caper tuna and noodles and Mike turned on the vueTee while he ate. Five minutes into Star Trek, a news update broke into the program.

  “Daffodil today announced a major recall of their Amonte 2e robots following mass malfunctions reported across all fifty-five states and in at least seven foreign countries. Chairman Martin Staves conceded that the humanoid robots had a major design flaw that went far beyond the Infinet antenna that Daffodil previously cited as the cause of the model’s problems. Shares of the Cupertino-based robot manufacturer fell sixteen percent or nineteen and two thirds, while the shares of rival Gizmo rose four percent or five ninety three per share.”

  Patience gave Mike a knowing look.

  “Still think the sun rises and sets on Daffodil?” he asked.

  “All their best programmers must have left after they made me.”

  “Aha! That’s funny. I’m glad you have your robot sense of humor back.”

  “I wasn’t joking,” she said, climbing into his lap and kissing him deeply.

  Though still unnerved by the Daffodil man’s visit, that night Mike fell into calm and restive sleep. Patience was back to her usual self, complete with astonishingly great sex. And the bump on his head had finally stopped throbbing. His awareness of Patience’s programmed sleep beside him slowly transformed into a dream of the two of them at the beach. Then he was awake again. Patience was shaking him.

  “Mike, someone is trying to break in.”

  “A burglar? Where?”

  “No, someone is trying to break into my memory.”

  “What? On the Infinet?”

  “No, it’s a Wi-Fi connection.”

  “They can’t get in, can they?”

  “No,” Patience replied. “I’m blocking them.”

  Mike got up and looked out the window. There was nothing unusual behind the house. He went into the exercise room and looked out the front window. Across the street was a yellow panel van. He could see a man sitting in the driver’s seat, though he couldn’t make out any details of his appearance. He was just sitting there, and then he turned and looked toward 11 North Willow. Mike stepped back into the room before remembering that the windows were opaque when viewed from outside.

  “Yellow,” he muttered. “Very inconspicuous.”

  “Something very queer is going on,” he said, upon returning to the bedroom. “We need to figure out what it is.”

  “What do you think we should do?”

  “First thing in the morning, we’re taking a drive up to Cupertino, to Daffodil headquarters.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was a seven hour drive from Springdale to Cupertino, pretty much a straight shot on I5. Patience had thrown just what they needed for a day trip in the car and Mike had driven it out of the garage, closing the door behind him with the remote. They hoped to catch anyone watching them off guard with their sudden exit, though the yellow panel van was now gone. Patience had made a breakfast burrito for Mike and the car was full of fuel, so they were able to get right on the freeway. With only a quick stop in Gilroy to eat and refuel, they arrived at their destination just after three in the afternoon.

  Daffodil was not hard to find once they reached Cupertino. It occupied most of the city. The campus that had once belonged to a now defunct electronics company had been taken over by the robot manufacturer and expanded to include many of the buildings that had once been part of the city government and some downtown offices. Mike was in fact, able to pull right off the freeway into a massive parking garage on the Daffodil grounds. After he parked the car, he turned to his robot wife.

  “Now, here’s the plan. I’m going to go in, see if I can find an empty wriTee terminal, log on, and see what I can find out. You stay out of trouble and I’ll meet you right back here in the car.”

  “That doesn’t seem like much of a pla
n,” offered Patience.

  “I like to stay loose and flexible,” he answered.

  Giving her a quick kiss, her climbed out of the driver’s seat and shutting the door, started toward the nearest elevator.

  Stepping out of the parking garage elevator, Mike looked around. It was beautiful here, a fact accentuated by the cooler than usual weather. Carefully cultivated gardens were everywhere with colorful walkways winding in and around them. There were also numerous fountains and fish ponds in a variety of different sizes and different shapes. Even the buildings were beautiful, each one unique and innovative, whether it was a giant steel and glass teardrop or an enormous replica of a crashed flying saucer. Sitting in the middle of a large square several hundred yards from his starting point, Mike found a kiosk with an interactive campus map. He looked at it for a minute and then spoke.

  “Show me where the main engineering offices are.”

  An octagon on the map glowed orange and then a tiny humanoid figure walked across the map toward it, showing how to get there.

  “Thank you,” said Mike, and turning away, he strode confidently across the grounds.

  Mike had a theory. He believed that as long as a person looked like they knew where they were going and what they were doing, others would just assume that to be the case. Several times in airports and once in the county courthouse he had put this theory to the test, walking into areas that were restricted. In each case, security guards and others had simply watched him go by, assuming that he was supposed to be there. He was going to try out that same theory now.

  The Daffodil engineering headquarters was designed to look like an enormous Daffodil. Its base was a thin stalk that reached more than eight hundred feet into the sky. The entrance to the building was at the base of this stalk, which was just wide enough to contain a bank of elevators. At the top of the stalk were six pods, each three stories thick, which represented the six leaves of the daffodil blossom and just above them was a cone-shaped central pod in which a massive solar collector was located and which moved to follow the sun. The entire thing looked like it might fall over at any moment.

  Mike walked into the front door, strode confidently past the security desk, and headed toward the open elevator. It started to close just as he reached it, but a feminine hand held the door. The large elevator car could have held forty people, but was occupied by only about fifteen.