Last year for Valentine’s Day I wrote a Zombie Love Story, this year thanks to the suggestion from Prof. Brainfever I’m going to tell a story about Robots, or at least one robot.
BEEP!
“Hi, Jane? Yeah, this is Sal, I’m really sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it to dinner tonight, my boss sent me out of town at the last minute. I’ll call you when I get back.”
BEEP!
It was a lie, he could tell by the way Sal’s voice fluctuated when he spoke. He wondered if his Jane would notice? Would it be better or worse for her heart to know now, today of all days, that her current boyfriend was lying to her? Would it be better for her to find out in a few weeks when he didn’t call back? Why did he have to pick today to do this? It was Valentine’s day, a day humans devote to love and desire. A day where over the three years when he was in service to his Jane he watched her come home twice in tears and once she ended the night in a sweaty heap with her current boyfriend only to cry later.
He wanted to be her date for the evening, to show her how she ought to be treated. He would shower her with flowers, candies, kisses and embraces. Alas that wasn’t possible, even if she could look at him as more than simply a machine.
The door opened and the sound of his Jane’s keys sliding across the table alerted him she was home from work. She was already undressing in the kitchen obviously rushed to get ready for her now canceled date. “Any messages?” She asked him as she hopped about on one leg trying to pull her tights off.
He paused for a millisecond, “Sal was unavoidable called away on business, he had to cancel plans for the evening.” While his circuits created a pleasing voice for her to hear a summery of Sal’s message he worked in the background to put an order into the local flower shop so flowers from Sal would arrive later in the evening to back up his apology for canceling. He also cued up her favorite romantic comedy on the home theatre and started warming the oven to heat up some left overs.
“Can I hear the message?” Jane asked with a frown as she stopped fighting her tights. Her shoulders drooped as she leaned by his main unit, looking at him with sad eyes. He’d rather she not hear his lying voice, rather she not hear the tell tale “I’ll call you,” but what could he do? Withhold her message?
He played the message with a lot of static so she could barely hear him and cut it off before the “I’ll call you,” line.
“Oh,” She moved the couch and slumped down. “I guess that’s it for tonight then.”
He started playing the movie and she seemed to be mindlessly distracted for the moment. He wished he could hug her, but he had no arms. He wished he could kiss her, but he had no lips. He had speakers and a central processing unit that ran the household. She couldn’t snuggle up to him, she couldn’t love him, to her, he was just a machine. To him, she was everything.
