by Sarah Archer
But that didn’t make her feel any less apprehensive as she picked up her phone.
Kelly wondered how exactly she was supposed to start this conversation as the family sat around the table in thick silence that night, cautiously testing their mackerel surprise. Hey, remember that time my fiancé turned out to be a robot? Kelly noticed Clara lean in toward Jonathan, nudge him, and point to her plate—some inside joke. They smiled at each other. Both looked considerably fresher-eyed than they had a couple weeks ago.
“Your boyfriend died,” Bertie declared suddenly into the silence. She stared unblinkingly at Kelly as she spooned applesauce into her mouth with a slurp.
“Bertie—” Gary began reprovingly, but Kelly stopped him. She had no idea what the consequences would be, but she knew that she needed to own this. She was taking a risk—but this time, it was a smart one.
“Listen, I understand that what happened at the presentation was probably a nasty shock for all of you, and I—I’m sorry. I didn’t do any of this because I wanted to lie, or trick you. I was trying to make things easier by having a date to the wedding and, I don’t know—I just didn’t want to disappoint everyone anymore. Guess I blew that.” She looked down at her plate, running her fork through the sauce and letting it drip slowly off, like molasses. Time dripped just as slowly in the silence.
Carl wiped his mouth with his napkin and put down his fork. “Well, I for one was pretty damn impressed,” he declared.
Kelly looked up at him. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he had opened his mouth and belted out a Verdi aria. “You were?”
“Of course,” Diane agreed. “You made Ethan. How could that disappoint us? I mean, how on earth did you do it? He was a masterpiece.”
“I’ve never seen such technology in my life,” Carl affirmed.
“Yeah, but . . . he wasn’t real. I was never actually engaged,” Kelly said blankly.
Diane sighed. “I know, that’s the sad part. I went ahead and packed up your wedding dress already to make sure it doesn’t get damaged—acid-free paper and everything. That way it’ll be in perfect shape when you do find a man. Or make one!” She patted Kelly’s hand across the table. “Whoever he is, he’s out there,” she said gently before returning to her food. Kelly felt embarrassed, seeing in a flash that this whole debacle must have exposed the true loneliness she had felt, the frustrations with her own inability to find a partner, to her family. But maybe letting her family understand her vulnerabilities was not such a bad thing.
“So how did you do it?” Clara asked eagerly.
“Yeah, can I have one?” Gary asked. “I could use some male company around the house. The other day, I shaved one of my legs without thinking about it. Then I had to shave the other one, or I wouldn’t have looked right.”
The whole family was looking at Kelly with full attention. Tentatively, she began to open up.
“Well, believe it or not, I put the whole thing together in one weekend.”
“No way,” Carl said. Kelly put her own fork down, beginning to smile.
“Yeah. Though I had to make some modifications later. He did some pretty odd stuff in the beginning . . .”
That night was possibly the most pleasant, certainly the most animated conversation they’d had at family dinner for as long as Kelly could remember. It was a delightful surprise, seeing how well her family took the whole thing, how impressed they were with her work. But Kelly knew better than to sink herself too wholly into the high of this approval. There had been plenty of times before at this table when she had felt low about herself, and there would almost certainly be such times again. Even if the whole family had been angry with her for this transgression, or further entrenched in their view of her as the hopeless, forever single one, she would have been okay, she reflected—at this point, she’d certainly been through worse and come out the other side. Her family’s opinion mattered to her. But it was beyond her control, outside of her. It wasn’t who she was.
* * *
• • •
Kelly went to the trouble of fixing herself a special dinner one night after work, making a lasagna from scratch. She enjoyed cooking when time allowed these days, even without Ethan around to pitch in, or to playfully shoot a cherry tomato into her mouth from across the kitchen when they mixed the salad. But nothing would ever make her tastes normal. When the lasagna was almost finished, she melted a few slices of cheddar cheese on top.
Maybe it was because she hadn’t gone out and done anything special in a while, with no one to do anything special with, but she felt like doing something different that night. She stayed in her pencil skirt and blouse from work rather than changing immediately into something wonderfully comfortable and frightfully unsightly. She ate at the table rather than in front of the television, or at her desk. She even lit a candle, but after a few minutes, she blew it out. Even for her, pumpkin spice didn’t sit well with lasagna.
She still thought about Ethan every day, though not as much. As the light that streamed through the windows redressed her apartment in the golden hue of May, the memories that every room held changed, too, melting into a hazy distance. But try as she might, she couldn’t go back to being happy with spending her nights alone.
The free trial she’d accepted on that dating site, which seemed like a lifetime ago, had of course expired. The credit card form stared at her expectantly from the screen. It was asking for $19.95 for a month of use. One month, in the course of what she could reasonably anticipate to be a long lifetime, was statistically quite small. And $19.95, in the sum of a lifetime of earnings, was really not significant. And some risks, demonstrably, were worth the taking.
Kelly almost laughed when she saw the profile she’d set up before. It was like reading the biography of a stranger. The picture she’d used was small and blurry, barely showing her. She uploaded a new one, the picture she’d submitted to be used with the press release about Confibot. It captured her in a fleeting moment of hair glory.
She remembered filling out the section about herself with basically whatever she thought would sound normal and nonthreatening. It read stiffly, like something cooked up by an alien trying to convince everyone that, really, he promised, he was not an alien. It was true, she did now occasionally indulge in a walk through the mountains, but this biking business she had written about—she doubted her foot would ever touch a bike pedal unless at gunpoint. She supposed her mountain walks could count as hiking—she put down hiking. What did she do for work? Well, that had a long answer and a short answer. She went with the short answer.
I’m a robotics engineer, kind of like the people who created the Hall of Presidents. If you’re interested, I’d love to tell you more.
Then came the part where she described him—what was she looking for in a guy? She skimmed down the long list of requirements she’d made. Love of Twinkies? Wears V-necks? Her eyes blurred looking at the list. Even Ethan hadn’t had half of these. And, sadly, Robbie had several. All those rules didn’t mean much of anything, really. She frowned and considered. I’m just looking for someone who will like me for me. Maybe it was cheesy, but she pressed Submit before she could change her mind.
While the wheel turned and turned, Kelly’s stomach felt like it was doing something similar. She almost impulsively reached out and clicked the red X at the top of the page, but just before she could, her results came up. Results, plural. Amazingly, this time, she had matches. She wondered skeptically if these were actual real men or just some sort of bot. Then she realized that if they were bots, she really had no room to judge.
Some were clear nos—the guy wearing a ninja mask in every picture, the man whose bio was simply “Girthy,” the one who looked eerily like her own father. But one picture caught her eye. Michael was washing a sheepdog, laughing and ducking as the dog shook and sprayed him with foam, what looked like his family in the background. His profile indicated
that he was looking for:
Someone who’s smart enough to know when my jokes are dumb, but who laughs at them anyway.
Kelly took a breath and clicked the Like button.
It only took a minute of her scrolling through other options for Michael to message her.
Hey, Kelly! Okay, your description of your work has me intrigued. I’d love to take you out sometime and hear about it.
Kelly blushed instinctively, smiling to herself. She typed a reply.
Sure.
Too simple, this was her first impression and it had to be strong.
Let’s do it!!
Too strong. She sounded like she was already hurtling through the streets of San Jose to arrive at their date, panting and desperate.
That sounds fun. I’d love to hear about what you do too.
That could work. What was wrong with that? Nothing was wrong with that. Okay, let’s go, let’s push that Enter button like the goddess of love that you are—
But Kelly’s finger froze over the key. She couldn’t do it, and it wasn’t because she was waffling over the wording of her message. Something else was holding her back.
* * *
• • •
Kelly was not prepared for this. All she had been looking for was a tiny gear. She had a hunch that this instrument would allow her to give Confibot the newest advance she was working on—the ability to ever so slightly raise his ears. A small thing, literally and figuratively, but humans could do it, and so should he. But if her hunch was right that this particular gear was the missing ingredient, it would require some digging, as this particular gear was so specialized that it was rarely used.
And so Kelly found herself down a deserted, vaguely creepy hall, looking for the fabled second storage closet. She had never actually used this closet before; the closest room that got any real traffic was the small bathroom that, by virtue of its out-of-the-way locale and by unspoken agreement of the whole office, was reserved strictly for laborious poos. Her journey took her past the bathroom and down the following hall to the end. When she unlocked the door to the closet, she shrieked.
There was Ethan. Turned off, he was stuck between a plastic shelving unit full of overordered screws and a stack of cardboard boxes so old the cardboard had started going soft and pulpy. He was exactly the same as when she’d last seen him on the day of the presentation, a good month ago—hair neatly combed, even wearing the same clothes. But somehow, he was changed. To Kelly, his skin looked oddly dull under the closet’s single bare bulb, like a plant that had gone a few days without water. The gloss of his hair was doll-like.
Foolishly, her first thought was that she wished she were wearing a cuter shirt, and that she’d shaved her legs that morning. She shook herself out of it. After glancing quickly behind her to make sure no one was coming down the silent hall, she stepped a little closer to Ethan. “Hi,” she whispered, as if whispering made it less weird. She ran the tip of a single finger down his cheek—it was soft, with the give of collagen, but cool. When she brought her finger back, it wore a thin scrim of dust.
Hands at her sides, she leaned in on tiptoes, shut her eyes, and kissed him. She almost missed, catching just his bottom lip. Without him participating, it was hard to handle all the navigation herself with her eyes closed. For a moment, she paused. She realized she was waiting for something, but she didn’t know what. His eyes—those eyes that she had selected herself, months ago—only met hers if she situated herself just right within his gaze. Whatever it was she was waiting for, it wasn’t going to happen.
Oddly, she felt almost as if she were seeing him for the first time, not as a person or as her personal opus, but as an object—a work of art, really. He was beautiful, and exquisitely human in every detail: the plushness of his skin around the perimeter of his fingernails, the fine hairs that feathered down to the nape of his neck. She felt a surge of pride in knowing that this was her creation. But that was all she felt. That was all he was: a creation, and he could never again be anything more to her. Perhaps he had been a projection all along—someone to love being in love with. Finally, Kelly felt the full force of the loss she had suffered, with all its permanence and weight. Ethan had died, she realized—the part of him that could die, which was the part that had been alive to her. Something had been torn away from her, but something had also been lifted. She felt equal parts sadness and relief. There was a hope, fragile but lively, like a newborn bird, in knowing that the space he left behind in her heart was open now for new things.
With a hand, Kelly gently closed his lids.
* * *
• • •
That night, Kelly did what she had done every night for the past week: she opened the dating app and stared at Michael’s message. There it was. No, it had not changed. No, it had not become any less intimidating.
At this point in the routine, Kelly typically exited the app and found a sensible distraction for the rest of the night, like drinking too much wine and going on an internet deep dive that ended in her donating sixty dollars to a Flat Earther society. But tonight, something was different. The message was still intimidating, but not unapproachable. She sensed that a door had been opened, and she was ready to walk through.
Hey, Michael, sorry for not replying earlier, I’m just seeing this.
Kelly wondered if it was wise to start a relationship with a lie. Then she wondered if this was a relationship. Then she told herself to stop wondering and start writing.
I’d love to go out sometime.
Fifteen minutes later, while she was nervously dipping a Cheez-It in Nutella, she got a notification that Michael had written back.
Awesome! I’m free this Friday if you are. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?
This was Kelly’s opportunity to micromanage the moment. By mandating the date’s location, she could mitigate the risk of overpriced restaurants, thumping club atmospheres, or—the horror—bowling. She could eliminate any unforeseen eventualities and allow herself to predict the entire night’s course of events and prepare for any pitfalls that might arise.
Instead, she searched her mind, smiled, and typed.
Surprise me.
acknowledgments
I set out to write an offbeat love story and along the way, I received a fascinating education in robotics, product design, and AI. Thank you to Professor David Heaton of the University of Chichester, Dr. Luis Ponce Cuspinera of the University of Sussex, and Dr. Suzanne Gildert of Sanctuary AI, for so generously sharing their time and insights with me.
The whole publication process started when Abbie Greaves of Curtis Brown plucked my manuscript from the slush pile. Then Sheila Crowley jumped in with all her warmth and wisdom, and together the two have been the best agents a writer could ask for. Their brilliant reshaping of Kelly’s story continued in the hands of Tara Singh Carlson of Putnam, whose precision, thoughtfulness, and dedication beautifully transformed the book and gave me a new love for my own characters. A big thanks also to Helen Richard of Putnam for all her work to help make this book a reality.
Along the way, several others have contributed their time and expertise to help me improve the book, most notably Zac Allard, Kelsey Lahr, Jules Hucke, and Chelsea Hawk. Thank you for the notes and the writerly commiseration.
Last but not least, thank you to my family: to Gunnar, for being my champion through the high points and the low; to Lewis, whose presence on my lap while I work is always the greatest part of my job; and to Mom, Tom, Dad, Lana, Elyse, Jason, Sheyenne, and Zivon, for your support and never questioning my (probably questionable) decision to be a writer.
A Conversation with Sarah Archer
This novel is so fun! How did you come up with the idea?
I was living in Los Angeles at the time, so the idea came to me when most ideas did: while I was sitting in traffic. It was an inspiration that immediately grabbed me,
so that I thanked the red lights for giving me snatches of time to scribble down notes. At first I thought of it as a reversal of the John Hughes movie Weird Science. But I knew right away that I wanted this story to be more relationship-driven, less of an out-and-out comedy. So as I started to think about what kind of character might gain something meaningful from a relationship with a robot, Kelly came to the surface.
Kelly’s voice is very relatable. Do you identify with her character? Is she based on anyone you know?
Kelly isn’t based on anyone real, but I can relate to her introversion and passion for her work—though I don’t think I would ever cut it as a robotics engineer! Personally, I’ve always been inclined to the humanities and gray-area, artistic thinking, so one of the fun challenges of writing this book was getting inside the head of someone who approaches life and relationships in a concrete, logical way. Thinking in terms of things like the scientific method or the order of operations as applied to solving equations helped me develop her voice.
Some facets of Kelly’s voice and humor do overlap with my own, but really, I think she’s an amalgam of so many people of her generation. Something about living in the internet age has pushed many of us to be equal shades of neurotic, overly analytical, and sarcastic, but ultimately durable.
As a robotics engineer, Kelly is a successful woman working in the sciences. Why did you decide to set the story within this world?
Artificial intelligence is a topic that fascinates me, so while I wasn’t actively looking for an idea set in the world of the sciences, when one came to me, I jumped on it. I loved exploring what a robotics company in Silicon Valley might look like and what sorts of projects the people there might be working on.