by Risner, Fay
“Right now I'm kneading bread dough. A homemade loaf of white bread will be done by lunch to go with the homemade chicken noodle soup, simmering on the back of the stove,” Henie chattered. “I make my chicken soup from scratch. It's healthier for you that way. Not as much salt in it for one thing.
A light lunch is best, dear. Don't you agree? For supper, I’ll fix a good meal.” Henie noticed Karen’s puzzled expression. “Oh, unless you need to eat a more solid lunch, because you're starving by then.” The robot made a clucking sound with her tongue as she punched the dough. “You know you shouldn’t go without breakfast all the time. It’s the most important meal of the day.” She shook a floured finger at Karen.
Ignoring the admonishment, Karen fixated on what kind of nutritious meals the robot intended to fix. This was a far cry from hot-dogs, beans and chips she'd been served yesterday. She shouldn't complain. “I don’t have a recipe box I’m afraid. I usually buy a lot of prepared, processed dishes that don't take long to fix. The boxes have the directions on them for heating in the microwave.”
“Dear, that's the worse kind of meals with dehydrated vegetables and high salt content.” Karen gave her a questioning look. “I'm talking about those awful meals that come out of a box. You shouldn't have to waste your money on them.
Don’t you worry. I don’t need recipes. I make dishes like cooks used to cook in the old days.” Henie chuckled. “That's way before you were born. A pinch of this and a handful of that and all healthy ingredients makes a delicious dish,” Henie said, punching the elastic dough harder. She sent puffs of flour dusting across the table. To herself, she said, “Sure enough, just like the good old days.”
Karen finished her coffee and refrained from asking what Henie's quiet remark meant. Maybe it was better she didn't question the mechanical mind of this robot. She was pretty opinionated as Amy had warned.
As Karen walked out of the kitchen, she couldn't help the feeling that came over her. Henie's personality too drastically changed over night. Maybe something had gone wrong with the mechanisms in the robot. First she was a young girl. Now she's a senior citizen. It might be wise to call Amy and inform her of the change in case a circuit in the robot was going haywire. She might hate to see what the robot could change into by tomorrow morning, a psycho nut or someone equally scary.
Karen puzzled over that thought for a moment then chastised herself. She'd watched too many monster movies where such things happen. She should be rational. Nothing like a Frankenstein could transform in this robot.
She told herself she wasn't in danger with the robot in her house, and she shouldn't worry about it. Unless she was still asleep and dreaming a bad dream? In that case, she should wait to wake up before she sounded an alarm to Amy. Then she'd call Amy and yell at her for talking her into taking this robot home with her.
In a daze, Karen sank down at her desk. She turned the computer on and picked up the journal. She read yesterday’s entries. She couldn’t be dreaming. Yesterday she criticized a teenie bopper that fixed potato chips, beans and hotdogs instead of a nutritious meal. Today, she had a robot in the kitchen that was the total opposite and fixing her nutritious food while lecturing her about healthy eating. Weird and confusing for sure that the robot could be somebody's grandma now.
Chapter 4
At noon, Henie opened the office door and stuck her head in the crack. “Time to eat lunch, dear. It's noon, and I believe in being punctual with meals. Don't you? Best come to the table to eat before the food gets cold. You must be starved by now since you don't eat breakfast.
Eating in the kitchen will give your eyes a rest from that computer screen for awhile. Besides your meal digests better that way I think.” Henie started to leave.
“Wait! I'm curious about something. Amy told me yesterday to call you Henie. Is that really your name?” Karen asked.
“Actually, my name is Henrietta. That was shortened to Henie .... .” She fumbled for the right words. “Some time or another.”
The robot forgot a detail as important as when she got her nickname. That was really strange. “I thought you had total recall,” Karen insisted.
“Only about things programmed into me as part of my job. The history of my name is not one Amy thought was important I guess. Perhaps, you need to ask her about it if you want to know,” Henie said, before she shuffled back to the kitchen.
Karen grabbed the journal and made another entry about the transformation of the robot from yesterday to today. Also, she jotted down Henie's hesitation to give information about her name. Karen felt she might be hiding something.
About the middle of the afternoon, Karen found she was having trouble concentrating because of loud noises in the living room.
The rumble of the vacuum cleaner was just a tad louder than Henie humming The Old Rugged Cross. Karen opened the door to tell her to be quiet. She needed peace to be her most creative while she worked. She'd tell the robot to find a different time to run the cleaner.
Karen stepped into the living room as a dark blur skittered at her and streaked between her legs. “What was that?” She squealed, peering back into her office.
“My gracious! What a racket you're making? What was what, dear?” Henie complained, shutting off the vacuum cleaner.
“An animal of some kind just ran into my office,” Karen said shrilly, edging backward toward the couch.
Henie peeked around her into the office. A blue gray cat perched on Karen's chair. Nervous because of all the sudden attention, the cat greeted them with a tentative, “Meow.”
Karen leaned against the couch as she pointed her shaky finger at her chair. “That’s a cat. How did a cat get in here?”
“The vacuum cleaner scared him, and he ran in your office to hide. Either, it was that or your loud voice frightened him. That was enough to scare me,” Henie scolded softly as she walked slowly toward the cat.
“I meant how did the cat get in the house. I don't have a cat.” Karen kept her eyes on her chair as Henie edged closer. “Be careful, Henie. That cat's wild. It might attack you,” warmed Karen, edging to beside the door so she'd be out of the way if the cat got away from Henie.
“Don't worry, dear. What's the worse the cat can do? Scratch my vinyl skin coating? I won't feel a thing. I certainly can't bleed,” Henie joked.
“I don't know what patching you up entails, but I don't want Amy mad at me for letting you get damaged,” Karen declared.
“If worse comes to worse, between the two of us, we might figure out a way to mend me without Amy knowing. So stop worrying about something that hasn't happened.” Henie turned back to the cat. “Naughty kitty, you shouldn’t disturb Karen,” Henie scolded softly as she snatched the cat by the back of the neck.
The cat struggled in Henie's arms and gave a complaining meow as the robot headed across the living room.
Karen followed along behind her. “You didn't answer me. Henie, how did that cat get in this house?”
“When I opened the back door, the cat must have streaked in as if it owned the place.” In a low tone as she disappeared into the kitchen, she scolded, “Sock, you have to be seen and not heard. Karen doesn't like to be disturbed, and I don't think she likes cats.”
Karen dropped into her office chair. It came to her, she forgot to discuss what time might be better for Henie to run the vacuum cleaner.
As she thought about what just happened, she remembered Henie called that cat by a name. She rushed to the kitchen and found Henie opening a drawer. “Henie, you did get rid of that cat?”
Henie smiled, “Yes, dear. I put the cat outside.”
“How did you know that cat's name is Sock?” Karen demanded.
“The cat answered to that name,” Henie said demurely.
Karen looked bewildered. “That's odd.”
“What is odd, dear?” Henie asked as she took a fork out of the dish drainer, wiped it dry and placed the fork the tray in the drawer.
“That the cat is hanging aroun
d here now. I haven't seen him in the yard before,” Karen replied.
Henie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Pooh! There's nothing at all odd about it. You ever see a country place that didn't have at least one cat hanging around?”
“That's true, but how do you know that?” Karen asked.
Henie's brown eyes shifted back and forth as she contemplated her answer. “Well …. well, that's what I'm programmed to know if I ever work in the country like now.” Putting an end to the discussion, she hustled passed Karen and went upstairs to her room.
Again it occurred to Karen, she kept getting sidetracked. She still needed to tell Henie when to vacuum. She followed Henie upstairs and found her standing in her bedroom, looking out the window.
“Henie,” Karen said. “I need to talk to you a minute.”
“Yes, dear. Come look out the window. Isn't this the prettiest view? This high up we can see for a long ways,” Henie said admiringly.
“I agree. This is a view that must have been treasured by the people who built this house. I'll bet they stood right here often and looked over their land,” Karen said as she studied Henie's back. The robot reminded Karen of someone's grandma. She even smelled like a grandma, a mixture of vanilla and cinnamon. There wasn't anything wrong with that.
“I'm sure of it,” Henie answered softly. “They saw that nice big red barn that now needs painting. I'll bet they had a chicken house and hog house behind the fence, and the green yard had a row of peonies along the edge.
Years ago, you could have seen a pond in the pasture and just past the dam, the brambles of a blackberry patch.” She stopped looking out the window and turned to find Karen watching her. “I'm sorry to ramble on. You should interrupt me when I do that. Did you want me to do something for you right now?”
“No, I just wondered if I could suggest you run the vacuum cleaner early in the mornings while I'm asleep. I think I can sleep through the motor noise, but it's most disconcerting when I'm trying to write,” Karen said.
“That is what I'll do if that's what you tell me to do, dear,” Henie agreed amicably.
Karen nodded. “Good, I'm glad we got that settled. Now I need to get back to work.”.
She took one more look over Henie's shoulder. The only outbuilding was a large barn in bad need of repair. How was it the robot knew about all those other things like a chicken and hog house that wasn't there now? The pasture was hilly and green with spring grass, but she didn't see a pond.
The phone rang just as Karen sat down at her desk. “Hello.”
“Hi, this is Amy. How are things going with the robot?”
“All right, I guess,” Karen said half heartedly.
“Oh no, something is wrong. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?” Amy demanded.
“I can't put my finger on it exactly. Out of curiosity, how did you decide to name the robot Henie?” Karen inquired.
“Well, I don't know for sure. We came up with a bunch of names. I wasn't the one that settled on the name for your robot. I think Joe did,” Amy said.
“Isn't Henie a strange name?”
“It is now that you mention it. I can check with Joe and see how he came up with that name. I'll let you know if you're really interested,” Amy assured her. “That doesn't seem like much of a concern. What else is wrong?”
“Were the robots programmed to appraise furniture? Henie said she liked my fifties couch.”
“She wasn't appraising your furniture cost wise. The robots were programmed to compliment the owners when they could,” Amy explained. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I've been keeping notes in the journal you gave me. You know the personality the robot had yesterday like a teenager? I said she needed to be reprogrammed.”
“Yes. What about it?” Amy asked guardedly.
“This morning I woke up to an entirely different robot. She'd changed to an elderly woman that could pass for someone's grandma. Can the lab techs change the computer works in a robot from miles away? This transformation seems too much of a switch from one day to the next without someone helping it along. Sort of freaks me out,” Karen admitted.
“No, the techs could have done anything to a robot from miles away. I can't explain how that could happen. You want to bring the robot back and exchange her? We have a cute man robot left. His name is Bruce,” Amy offered.
“No, I don't want any man named Bruce, a robot or human. I'll get along with the grandma robot you gave me. That is if I don't get up in the morning and find she's evolved into some sort of wicked witch,” Karen said.
“No danger of that, but her personality changing any at all is strange. She was programmed to stay the same way all the time until a tech changes it. Give me a call if you want me to come out there and examine the robot. I can bring a tech along to check out the computer in her and tweak it to work differently.” Amy said, accommodating.
“I just might do that, but give me a day or two to get used to her and see if she's going to work out like she is. I must admit I like the robot's personality better now than I did the way she was yesterday,” Karen said. “That's why I'm willing to keep her and go through with this experiment.”
“That a girl,” Amy cheered.
Chapter 5
That afternoon, strange thumping noises in the living room brought Amy out of her concentration. She opened the office door to investigate. She was ready to chew Henie out again for making so much noise after she'd asked for quiet in the afternoons.
Only the noise didn't come from Henie. She was no where to be seen. Instead, it was Sock. The cat had a sugar cookie in its mouth. The animal dropped the cookie and batted it, leaving a trail of crumbs on the freshly vacuumed carpet as the cookie scooted a few feet. Sock pounced on the mangled cookie and snatched it up. The cat turned over on its back, growling and screaming like the creature was in a fierce fight with another tom cat.
“Henie!” Karen yelled.
Her voice scared the cat. The animal came up on all four feet, arched its back and hiss at the space in front of it. When the cat spotted her, it raced past her to hide in her office.
Henie peeked out of the kitchen. “Yes, dear.”
“That cat is in the house again. Get him out of here now. He just stole a cookie and made a mess on the floor,” Karen protested.
“Sock would never do that. He’s housebroken,” Henie defended.
“Not that kind of mess. He had a cookie he broke into crumbs on the carpet when he batted it.” Karen stopped to think about her last grocery purchase. “Wait a minute! I didn't buy cookies. Where did he get it?”
“Well, you can have a sugar cookie now if you would like one. Just come in the kitchen and sit down. Take a break. It will help you think better to calm down. I can brew you a cup of coffee in a jiffy to go along with that sugar cookie.” Henie sounded like she was talking to a child as she took Karen by the arm. “I just baked a fresh batch of sugar cookies like Grandma used to make. You will like them.”
The kitchen smelled like vanilla, butter and sweetness. Baking cookies explained the scent on Henie. It had been a long time since Karen tasted the homemade sugar cookies her mother used to make.
She weakened as she studied the plate, mound high with large cookies. “All right, but on one condition. You go catch that cat and throw him out the door before I go back in the office to work. He has taken over my chair again.”
“Anything you say, dear. Right away.” Henie set a cup of coffee in front of Amy, pushed the plate of cookies closer and hurried after the cat.
Henie came back with her arms wrapped tightly around the struggling cat. After she placed the cat on the back step, she closed the door on him. “How's the cookies?”
“Very good,” Karen said around the mouth full she was chewing.
“I'm glad you like them,” Henie said.
Karen took a swallow of coffee. “I thought I might as well eat a few before that cat mysteriously gets back in and gets the rest.”
&
nbsp; “Hopefully, that doesn't happen. I didn't think cats liked cookies other than to play with them. Now I better go vacuum the crumbs off that rug before you have company.”
Karen's hand with the half eaten cookie in it stopped in mid air. “What makes you think I'll have company?”
“Oh, in a house like this one, with a nice parlor like yours, in the old days company was just a given. We have to keep the parlor looking nice for when the company does come,” Henie said in a knowing manner.
Later, an ominous feeling stuck in Amy’s gut as the robot's remarks swirled in her head. For one thing, how could Henie know anything about what she called the good old days? How did she know what to put in a recipe for bread or cookies? How would she know what kind of cookie a grandmother baked?
After she finished her cookie and coffee, Karen went to her office shut the door and called Amy at the lab. “I’ve got a question about this robot.”
Amy immediately assumed the worse. “Aren’t you getting along with her yet?”
Karen rushed on. “It's iffy to say the least. How much memory did you program into Henie?”
“Enough to function from one day to the next as a maid and obey commands given to her,” answered Amy.
“Does she have memory about history or how human beings lived life sixty or seventy years ago?” Karen probed.
Amy's voice sounded skeptical. “No, no need for that. Why?”
“Just curious,” Karen said evenly.
“It's about time I came out to visit, but you haven't emailed or faxed me directions to your house. Why don't you do that right now so I can find you?” Amy asked.
“Sure, I'll do that. Talk to you soon. Bye.” Karen hung up. Sending emailed directions wasn't going to happen yet. She didn't need Amy to come out until she figured out the inner workings of the robot. After all, the robot was cleaning the house and cooking like she was programmed.
Karen walked into the living room and listened. She couldn't hear movement in the kitchen. “Henie?”