by Sarah Archer
“Yes,” Kelly blurted before she knew what she was saying.
“Oh my gosh, can you imagine how Mom’s going to be with three sets of grandkids? She’ll be in heaven.”
“She’ll be reserving their wedding venues the day they’re born.” Kelly laughed too. She located the silverware drawer, grabbed a handful of cutlery and started sorting it in. As she and Clara talked, she marveled at how easy it was—so often they talked as shared offspring of the same parents, not as sisters. Maybe they were finally at an age where the “wolf cubs competing for the same scrap of meat” instinct could be put aside for friendship.
But something held Kelly back from truly enjoying the moment. The golden future Clara was outlining with her words was a fantasy. Kelly could never have children with Ethan. More and more, she was wondering what she could truly have with Ethan. Logically, she had known all along that she couldn’t stay with him forever, though she may have entertained some hypotheses to the contrary out of wishful thinking. Now, finally, her emotions were beginning to accept the same truth.
On her drive home, she pieced her thoughts together in the silence of the dark car, the streetlights fanning over the dashboard in waves. Clara and Jonathan chose each other every day. And every day, by refusing to destroy him, in spite of the risks, Kelly was choosing Ethan. But he could never choose her. It was true, she reasoned, that at any given moment, he empowered his own words and actions. But every action is guided by a want, and she could distinctly remember programming in his every want with her own hands. And she knew, in the pit of her stomach, that love couldn’t be love without free will. His love toward her was so unfaltering. Maybe that was because it could never be love at all. Someday, some robot might have that ability. But not Ethan.
Suddenly, Kelly felt sick. She pulled over and rolled the window down so she could take deep, heaving breaths of the night air. A sob lurched north in her throat. She knew that real love, the kind that Clara and Jonathan had, was out there, and as much as she had always thought it wasn’t for her, she wanted it. She had put up walls against it, she had run from it, and finally she had tried to build it with her own two hands. But if engineering was a human discipline . . . then love sure as hell was too.
A sports car zipped by Kelly, nearly sideswiping her. She wiped her eyes, checked her mirrors, and pulled back onto the road.
When she walked in that night, she expected to see a dark apartment. It was nearly midnight. But the lights were on and Ethan was wide awake in the living room, a notepad and several torn-off pages full of notes on the coffee table, a blouse and skirt laid out carefully on the arm of the couch beside him. He popped up when she entered.
“Kelly! I was wondering where you were. Not really, you’re always at work. Hopefully after tomorrow you can take a break, right? Of course you’ll be busy when you win and get to make Confibot into a global phenomenon. But you’ll at least get a weekend, right?”
“What’s all this?” she asked tiredly, strolling to the couch.
Ethan’s face took on an excited grin. “I wanted to get everything ready for your big day tomorrow. I thought this would look great on you.” He gestured to the outfit. “Professional, but still sexy. Just like my lady. Then I did some research on the investors who are going to be there and put together some talking points in case you have to chat them up or something. I know you hate that schmoozing stuff, so I thought this would make it easier. Like, hmm, let’s see”—he picked up the notepad and riffled through the pages of his perfect penmanship—“Alfred Cochran from Pine Capital is also on the board of the National Beet Growers Association. So you could talk about that beet salad you had last week at Karma Café, only leave out the part where you hated it. Oh, and I want you to have a good start in the morning so, madam”—he located a fresh page on the notepad, pen in hand—“may I take your breakfast order?”
Kelly’s heart squeezed as she took in all his work. She took the pen and paper from his hands and laid them on the table. “We’ll worry about the morning in the morning.” Then she kissed him. “Tonight I just want to be with you.”
twenty-five
• • • • • •
Kelly was so consumed with anxiety on the day of the presentation that she briefly entertained the idea of retreating to the hills, never to be seen again except by hikers who would forever after boast of having glimpsed the Hill Crone. The plus side of this was that she didn’t have any room for her feelings about Ethan. The investor reception prior to the main event passed in a blur of alpha-firm handshakes, understated but overpriced power suits, and anxious titters of laughter from the engineers. These people held Kelly’s future in their expensively smooth hands. They were so uniformly polished, eternally smiling-yet-not-smiling, that it was impossible to tell what they thought of Ethan’s schmooze lines as she spouted them. If nothing else, at least she remembered not to mention her distaste for the beet salad.
The reception ended and the engineers moved backstage, clustered in the awkward funk of being forced to share a small area while not wanting to interact. Today, the competition that had overhung their usual camaraderie for months could no longer be ignored. They skated by on thin surface statements and avoided eye contact like it was catching. But Kelly escaped even the obligatory “good lucks,” being in the fortunate position of having scouted a crack in the curtain through which to peer out at the intimidating audience. She could be using this time to take deep breaths and visualize success. Or she could do what she was doing: staring relentlessly out at the descending horde.
This auditorium, with its broad, curved stage and state-of-the-art lighting, was considerably more slick than the site of her third-grade play, yet flashbacks of that day haunted her. If she couldn’t even play a convincing tree, how was she going to convince these international, billionaire investors that they should pay attention to her, let alone give her their precious money? But Confibot did look great, propped and waiting in a chair backstage, his hair immaculately groomed.
She felt her phone vibrate and pulled it out to see a video call from Diane. “Mom, I can’t talk right now,” she said as soon as she pressed the green icon. “My presentation’s about to start.”
“I know!” Kelly squinted at the image pixelating into focus on her screen and realized it was her entire family—Diane, Carl, Clara and Jonathan holding hands, Gary and his girls—all gathered in the Suttles’ living room. They waved at her, the image jostling violently as Diane waved with her non-phone-holding hand. “We’re all here watching the livestream,” Diane went on excitedly. “The kids got a day off and I made chickpea chili. It’s just like the Super Bowl! But without the little tight pants or the halftime show. Is there a halftime show?”
“Just us nerds,” Kelly replied. “I didn’t think you guys were going to watch.”
“We wanted to surprise you!” Part of Kelly was piqued to see her family assembled: if she flamed out spectacularly, in true third-grade-stage-fright fashion, knowing that they were watching would only make her demise that much worse. But she couldn’t help but be touched at their interest. She wondered in particular how her dad might respond to her work, if he would be impressed.
“Well, you did.” She laughed. “Thanks for watching. I’ll try not to bore you.” They waved good-bye.
Robbie was up before her, which was at least a distraction, though he displayed a level of self-importance heretofore unachieved even by Robbie. He began with the stage washed in darkness, the spare notes of a sitar playing in what was presumably a reference to his project’s name. “Brahmaaaa.” A recorded voice echoed over the audience as a single spotlight appeared, aiming down at the contraption itself, positioned center stage on a pedestal. The curves of the machine’s arms glinted, half lit, half shadowed, making the robot look hulking and spidery. As the rest of the stage lights faded up, revealing Robbie, Kelly almost laughed at the contrast between him, with his neat shirt and pleated pant
s, and the Batmanesque machine beside him. He appeared to have scrubbed his face so hard that morning that he had revealed a fresh, naked layer of skin.
“Welcome,” he began, spreading his arms, as if today’s whole event were his. “I thank you for joining me here today for a very special birthday. The birth not just of Brahma—but of a whole new era of robotic technology.” He began putting the robot through his paces on a mock kitchen set, demonstrating that his glinting carbon-fiber arms could lift a whole refrigerator, yet also had the fine motor control to separate an egg. The crowd murmured appreciatively—the display was impressive. Kelly practiced her calming breaths.
“As if Brahma weren’t special enough, I have another special guest for you today. Please welcome Melvin to the stage.” Robbie gestured to stage left, and Kelly waited. And waited. Finally, Melvin made his way to the center of the stage with the help of his walker. He had the pace of a tortoise, as well as the shriveled, benevolent face of one. “To truly appreciate Brahma in action, you need to see how he interfaces with a user. So our guest, Melvin, is going to demonstrate how much simpler his life will become with Brahma in his home. Melvin has never seen Brahma before, correct?”
“That’s right,” Melvin replied, looking warily at the robot.
“So you can all see just how easy and intuitive it is for even an elderly person to use Brahma. All you have to do is talk to him. He’s just like a person—only far better.”
“Brahma, will you make me an omelette?” Melvin asked the robot. He practically yelled it, enunciating each word loudly and slowly.
“Of course,” Brahma replied. He began making preparations, switching the stove on and whipping eggs, smoothly and rapidly.
“That’s pretty neat!” Melvin said. Robbie beamed. “Can you make it with cheddar cheese?”
“Cheddar cheese has six grams of saturated fat per ounce,” Brahma replied. “I will prepare it with spinach.” Melvin’s face fell slightly.
“Brahma is designed to not only help you live your life, but to live your best life,” Robbie explained to the audience.
Brahma thrust a plate with an omelette and fork on it at Melvin, who reached out slowly to take it, his old elbows creaking. Almost before he had it in his grasp, Brahma pulled away and shot over to the cabinets. Melvin was just managing to grab the plate when Brahma was back, shaking pills into his hand. “Your medication must be taken with food,” he instructed rapidly.
“Thank you,” Melvin said, struggling now to juggle the plate and the pills, but Brahma was already across the kitchen again, filling a glass with water, then wheeling back to hand it to Melvin.
“Ten ounces of water should be consumed at every meal,” the robot said.
“See?” Robbie enthused. “Under Brahma’s meticulous care, users will reach optimal health.”
Melvin dropped a pill to the floor with his shaking hand as he tried to grasp the cup. “Could you—” he began, but he started when the screen on Brahma’s torso lit up with a flash.
“Notification: your daughter is calling,” Brahma intoned.
“Ooh, I’d like to talk to her,” Melvin said.
Instead, a lightning icon blazed onto Brahma’s screen with a sound like a thunderclap. Melvin jumped and spilled his water. “Alert: thunderstorm watch in the area,” Brahma said.
“But where’s Jennifer?” Melvin asked.
“GPS request. Would you like me to locate Jennifer?” Brahma said rapidly while zooming around the kitchen, cleaning up after cooking.
“Yes—no—I’m not sure.” Melvin was clearly getting overwhelmed. It was too much, too fast. “I—I don’t think I want to live my best life anymore.”
A few bursts of laughter ascended from the audience. Panic washed over Robbie’s face. “Don’t be absurd, everyone wants to live their best life.”
Melvin shook his head, setting his plate and cup down on the counter and gripping his walker to make his way offstage. “Slow down! Read a book!”
Now the audience erupted in laughter. All color had drained from Robbie’s face, leaving him as white as his shirt. Part of Kelly knew that Robbie had brought this on himself in his hubris. Part of her knew that his failure here meant a surer chance of her own success. But mostly she felt sorry for him: he had gotten the technical part of his project down perfectly, but had missed the mark on the human element. She could relate.
The tap on her shoulder from behind scared her so much that she jumped.
“Ethan!” There he was when she whirled around. His hands were held behind his back. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, his voice low. “I snuck in. The guy at the door thinks I’m Alfred Cochran from Pine Capital. All that research paid off. I just had to wish you luck and give you something before you go on. I know you like all those bouquets I make for you on the computer, but I realized that I’ve never brought you actual flowers before and, well, digital is not the same as the real thing, right?” From behind his back he pulled out a bouquet of poppies, all velvety reds and pinks.
Kelly took the flowers, looking down at them. “Ethan, they’re—they’re—I love you.” She looked up. It wasn’t until the words had spilled from her lips that she realized she had never said them before, not to Ethan or any other man. She wondered how long she had been feeling them.
“I love you.” He smiled at her. She searched his face: the trusting eyes, the lips so ready to smile her way. His words were an exact reflection of her own.
“Kelly Suttle!” Anita’s voice drummed her out of her reverie, pulling her up as if from underwater. She hastily set the flowers down.
She reached the center of the stage laboriously. In the lowered lighting of the auditorium, the faces of the investors stared back at her, all watching eyes, like creatures lurking at the edge of a forest. Kelly caught herself, trying not to think about forests, anything but that stupid third-grade play. She paused under the spotlights, forcing herself to inhale and exhale. The audience could wait for her for one second. Everything was going to be all right.
And then somehow, amazingly, it kind of was. She turned to the watching crowd. “Thanks for joining us today,” she said. “I want to show you something I’ve developed—actually, more like someone. There are other caregiver robots on the market, but there’s nobody quite like Confibot. I think you’re going to like him. I sure do. Of course, I’m kind of biased.” The investors laughed.
“Confibot started as a machine, but he’s developed into so much more. He truly has the potential to develop substantive relationships with human users. Trust me when I tell you that I know how meaningful that can be.” Kelly couldn’t resist glancing back, stage right. There was Ethan, expression alight just in watching her.
“So—let’s meet him,” she said. A light came up on stage left, carving Confibot out from the sheath of darkness. He was seated facing her, hands resting on his thighs, face molded to a pleasant, neutral smile. And he looked good. Kelly heard the audience murmur and stir—after all the functional wizardry they had witnessed today, there was still something viscerally impressive about the level of human realism she had achieved. She felt a little warmth—this reaction was good, this was what she had counted on all along. Fleetingly, she hoped that Confibot’s appearance translated through the video feed so her dad could see. She suddenly imagined Priya watching, too, probably crunched into a conference room at AHI with the other engineers from her division, all cheering and jeering in turn.
She had his routine all cued up—all she had to do was start the conversation. “Hi, Confibot, how are you today?” she asked.
Like a flower sprouting in a time-lapse video, the robot stirred to life. “I’m great, Kelly, how are you?” This time the audience’s reaction was louder. It was one thing to make an android who looked good from onstage, but the subtle fluidity of Confibot’s movements, the ease o
f his intonations—this was not the Hall of Presidents. In the wings, Anita glowed. She looked positively hungry.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions,” Kelly continued.
“I’m great, Kelly, how are you?”
The script was so entrenched in Kelly’s head that it took her a second to realize he had gone off it. There he was, still smiling blithely at her. “Sorry, you must not have heard me,” she said, more to the audience than to Confibot. “I said, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m great, Kelly, how are you?”
The audience was talking, all right, but their tone had changed. They maintained a polite hush when they were making positive remarks, but apparently forgot to bother when things turned negative. Kelly couldn’t help herself; she glanced at Anita, who had descended with frightening speed into full-on “off with her head” mode. Kelly’s gaze went irresistibly back to Ethan, who was knitting his forehead. His whole being was focused on her success.
“Confibot, I wanted to ask you a few questions,” Kelly repeated more slowly, as if that would help. The adrenaline surging through her body made every muscle feel weak and loose. She had no other moves. She had no clue what was going wrong. After all the preparation she had done, all the thousands of simulations she had run, he chose this time to develop this problem . . .
“I’m great, Kel—” Kelly took her phone from her pocket and used it to switch him off before he could finish the sentence. Now she wasn’t just confused, she was lost. And scared of the look on Anita’s face. But just as Anita swooped forward to come out from behind the curtain and call the disaster off, Kelly looked at Ethan again. She had built him just to service her as a wedding date, and at every turn, he had done so much more for her than she had asked or anticipated. But it was time that she started doing the right things for herself. She had to ask him to do one final thing.
“It looks like we’re going to need the help of one more person to pull this off,” she said. Anita hesitated. Kelly faced Ethan squarely. “I’d like you all to meet my fiancé. Ethan, can you come out here?”