Chapter Two
Lauren
I nside my apartment, I place my keys and purse on the table near the door and look around. Outside of photos of my children, I don’t have much beyond furniture. I’m not the knick-knack type.
Ashley teases that my decorating style is “just moved in” or “staged for next tenant.” There was a time when clutter was everywhere and constant. The piles of toys and things that never quite got put away reflected how thin I’d been stretched back then. I poured myself into my children and my education, leaving little to no time for myself. I don’t regret that decision. Both of my twin children are brilliant, beautiful people who have each chosen lives that make them happy. Ryan created his on the opposite coast of the US and is happiest when we see each other only on the holidays. Ashley calls me daily, both because she loves me and also, I suspect, out of a sense of duty. Their biological father left when the twins were born. He has a new family who knows nothing about us and he’s asked that it stays that way. I wouldn’t care about that decision if I didn’t know how much his rejection still affects both Ashley and Ryan. Ryan protects himself by removing himself from the situation. Ashley’s loyalty to all things that others might toss aside is admirable, but it stems from her need to be nothing like her father. From befriending discarded prototype robots to falling in love with a super soldier from the 1940s, Ashley is all heart.
I would worry that Ray isn’t good enough for her, but his ability to mentally bond with those he touches has allowed me to see not only his character, but also how much he cares for my daughter. Before long, he’ll be my son-in-law. There is so much I need to figure out for them before they decide to have a spork.
I huff a laugh. Am I losing my mind?
Giving in to the need to see tangible proof that I either am or am not, I walk to Ashley’s old bedroom and open the door to it. The floor is covered with three military-style sleeping bags. Each has a piece of silverware on it. One fork. One spoon. One knife.
I step inside the room. They call to me on a level I’ve never experienced before. It’s raw and exciting, but wrong at the same time. They didn’t ask for this and I’m sure they wouldn’t have chosen to all be bonded to one woman in her forties. We know enough about what happened to them to feel confident that it’s a mix of dopamine and testosterone that enables them to transform back to human form. Mercedes brought back Hugh the first time by eating ice cream off him. Cheryl used a more intimate procedure with Jack. Ray didn’t require intimacy with Ashley, but he was chemically compromised when he returned.
All of them can transform back to silverware form by thinking dark thoughts. Returning is trickier and requires practice. Ray taught himself to return by thinking of Ashley and how much he wants to be with her. He transforms back and forth flawlessly. Hugh and Jack are getting better at it but sometimes still require some assistance from their mates. They’re learning to control their dopamine levels, the catalyst required to transition.
My gaze lingers on each piece of silverware. I will bring these men back, but I refuse to do it through intimacy. Not even if it would feel good for them and me. It’s not right and there has to be another way. I’m confident I can find a chemical solution to bring them back and break the bond.
I have blood and tissue samples from Hugh, Jack, and Ray. Cheryl has a small lab at her place and I have the free time to run as many tests as necessary. We’ll figure this out.
Give me just a little more time, guys. I’ll get you out of there.
“Mom,” Ashley calls from inside my apartment.
“In here,” I say.
She appears at the door of the bedroom with a pet carrier in one hand and a piece of luggage behind her. If she and Ray had an argument she wouldn’t look as happy as she does. There’s a glow to her that makes it impossible for me to wish she’d never met him. I nod toward her bags and joke, “What did you do?”
She laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m not moving back in.”
I don’t believe she needs to hear it, but it’s never a bad idea to remain clear on certain points so I say, “My home will always be your home and you can move back as many times as you need to.”
Her eyes shine with emotion. “I know, and the opposite is true for you.” She looks past me at the silverware on the floor, and her expression turns guarded.
She doesn’t have to say it—I know she disapproves of my decision to take the silverware home with me. I disapprove of it as well, but I couldn’t leave them behind. This bond, as natural or unnatural as it is, is strong. I feel like I was meant to come into their lives and they were meant to come into mine. For someone like me, that’s a difficult stand to defend. Fate? Never believed in it. Life is simple. We’re born. We forge our own paths. We die.
At least, that’s what I used to believe. No one prepared me for how to deal with having everything I thought I knew turned upside down. When I reached for the silverware, I was torn between hoping nothing would happen and yearning for something to. I still don’t know what to do with that realization.
“So,” she says slowly. “You’re really doing this?”
“I have a responsibility to these men. I’ve taken time off from the hospital to research how to best do it. ”
She looks away then meets my gaze. “You’re not going to . . . you know . . .”
I shake my head. “Of course not.”
Her cheeks flush. “I didn’t think so, but...”
“But?” Sex is a normal human function and one I didn’t think my adult daughter would find embarrassing.
She clears her throat. “I haven’t handled this well. You’ve never judged me for whoever I chose to spend time with and... and I’m sorry I freaked out at the idea of you in a ménage à quatre or whatever you call one woman and three men. If you want to bring them back the traditional way and have a little fun, I want you to know I’ll fully support that choice as well.”
That makes me smile. “That means a lot to me, thank you, but it’ll be better for them as well as me if I approach this as a medical issue that I can find a cure for.”
“Cheryl told me you asked to use her home lab. I would offer you my lab at Acceller Robotics, but even though Edward has made it possible for Ray to buy out the business, it’s a slow process.”
“That would have been too public of a place anyway. The tests I intend to perform are best done away from potential prying eyes. Cheryl’s place will be sufficient, at least for now.”
“That’s true.”
I know my daughter well enough to know when she’s stalling, but I’ve also learned to give her the time she needs. So I wait.
When I can’t take the silence any longer, I ask, “How’s Ray?”
Her smile returns. “Wonderful. He’s coming to terms with how he got here and is hopeful about starting over—with me.”
“I’m happy for him and for you.” I don’t worry that Ray isn’t being honest with my daughter because they’ve bonded so closely that they can read each other’s thoughts. Would that type of bond be possible between me and the men I’m seeking a way to free? Did it require sex? Even if it didn’t, I can’t imagine sharing my thoughts with someone almost half my age.
“We’re in what people call the honeymoon phase of our relationship.”
My eyebrows raise. Once again, happy for her, but not sure why that sounds like a lead-in to whatever favor she said she came over to ask for. “But?”
The expression on her face reminds me of the one she’d give me when she found a toy in a store she wanted. “We need to talk about George.”
“George?” Had she gotten a pet I didn’t know about?
“He’s the curious robot who wears the purple cowboy hat. I’ve shown you photos of him.”
“Oh, yes. Him.”
“Ray negotiated for them to be part of the buyout deal. Mr. Simmons let me have them in good faith. He still thinks they’re nothing more than failed prototypes.”
“But you consider them your friends.” I could have said that nicer than I did. My daughter is brilliant. I couldn’t be more proud of her, but I would have thought she’d outgrown toys—even those she programmed to speak.
“They are my friends.” Her eyebrows furrow. “And they’re sentient.”
“Of course they are.” People and AI. Just because something can speak doesn’t mean it can think. AGI, Artificial General Intelligence is the holy grail that all major tech companies are racing toward. None have achieved it yet. Do I think my daughter can create a convincing Language Learning Model—yes. Do I believe she’s granted robots true sentience? No.
She rolls her eyes skyward. “Mom, for once, could you just believe me?” She waves her hands for emphasis. “ Before you prove for yourself if I’m right or wrong. Trust that I know what I’m talking about.”
I run a hand over the back of my neck. She and I don’t require telepathic abilities. We can already read each other too well. “Okay, you’ve created the world’s first sentient robots. If so, that’s huge. Are you looking for advice regarding what to do with George now?”
“In a way.” She makes a pained, somewhat apologetic face then looks from me to the bag in her hand and back. “I came to ask you to do something for me. Promise me you won’t say no before you give me time to plead my case. ”
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my daughter if she needs my help, but there isn’t a lot of time in my schedule for silliness. I put my hands on my hips and stare her down. “Whatever you want, Ashley, just say it.”
“I need you to watch four of the robots. Just for a little while.”
“Watch them?”
“Let them stay here at your place. They wouldn’t be any trouble.”
I shake my head. “You know I don’t even like my smartphone.”
“This is different.”
I shrug. “I suppose you could store them in your old closet.”
“That would be torture for them. They require daily human interaction or they get sad.” She glances around. “You don’t have to take them anywhere, just let them roam your apartment.”
“I’m sorry, Ashley, I have too much going on to worry about robots scurrying around at my feet.”
She sighs. “Having all eight of them at my place is too much.”
I shrug. “Turn some of them off for a few weeks.”
“They don’t turn off. They’re alive.” There is a scuffle in the larger bag and some beeping sounds. “Mom, I wouldn’t ask you if this wasn’t important. George is... well, think of him like an eleven-year-old boy who just heard about sex. He can’t be allowed free access to the internet or the TV remote.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. He’s a sweetheart; he’s just a little obsessed with how people procreate.”
“Only you, Ashley. And why does he need to be here?”
“You’ve said you’re going to find an alternate way to bring the men in the silverware back so it’s not like any sex will be happening here.” She lowers her voice. “And it freaks out Ray when we’re being romantic and George wanders into the room.”
“I imagine that would bother many people.”
“He’s funny. You might discover you enjoy the company.”
How honest should I be with her? “Ashley, I’m feeling more than a little overwhelmed. You’ll have to find someone else to watch your robots.”
Lips pressed together, Ashley gives me a stubborn look then says, “Hugh gave me a hard no, and considering how new he is to technology, I can’t really blame him. Jack and Cheryl offered to take them in, but they’d be in the same situation as Ray and I are. I don’t want to do that to them.”
“That’s rude,” a male voice mutters from the large luggage.
“No, it’s the truth,” another male voice responds. “I told you to stop creeping around trying to watch Ray and Ashley fornicate. I told you it would upset them, but you didn’t want to listen. Well, look where you landed us—we live in luggage now.”
“Our situation may partially be my fault, but you didn’t help. If you didn’t make me apologize every time you caught me watching them, they wouldn’t have known. You’ve proven that snitches don’t just get stitches; they also get tossed to the curb.”
The pet carrier starts to shake in Ashley’s hand. She leans down and softly says to it, “He’s joking. No one is tossing anyone anywhere. I brought you to meet my mom. If you like her, you can stay with her for a little while.” Ashley straightens. “If you won’t take George, could you please let these two stay here? There’s a lot going on at my place right now and they aren’t handling it well.”
She places the pet carrier on the floor and unzips a flap. Two small spider-like robots, both about the size of a fist, emerge. They’re white with gold trim. Their tiny dog-shaped heads swivel as they take in their new surroundings. They cling to each other, moving in sync, their large, reflective eyes flickering as they skitter under the bed. I recognize the signs of fear instantly; it’s something I’ve seen countless times on the faces of my patients. The idea of a machine experiencing any emotion at all is foreign to me. Still, seeing it mirrored in these delicate machines tugs at my heart and makes me wonder if my daughter really has made them sentient. I bend to look more closely at them, disbelief shifting to curiosity and an unexpected sense of protectiveness. “ They look scared,” I say, surprised by the gentle tone in my voice.
Ashley murmurs with a slightly sad smile. “They’re still adjusting to being... more than they were. I didn’t consider consent when I changed their coding. I wanted them to be able to feel happiness. They don’t, though. I don’t understand why. I used the same coding for all of them. John played around with his own programming and gave himself anxiety. At least that was his choice. I don’t know what to do with these two. They won’t let me back into their program, but they also don’t want to be sentient.”
I crouch down, observing the delicate, timid little machines. They both look up at me, wide eyes reflecting the light, searching my face nervously. “Do they speak?”
“They weren’t designed to, but they can communicate with the others.”
“So, what do they do?”
“Hide mostly.” She shakes her head sadly. “I thought bringing them home would help, but it made them more nervous.”
I straighten. “I don’t know what you think I can do for them.”
“You could calm a tornado out of spinning.”
“I’d like to come out now,” a male robotic voice announces from inside the luggage.
“Please,” the other voice adds.
“Oh, sure.” Ashley turns and bends then opens the luggage. The first robot to appear comes up to about my knee. He has wheels instead of legs and multiple retractable arms. Oddly, he’s wearing a purple cowboy hat.
“You must be George,” I say.
“I am. Nice place you have here, Ashley’s mom. She has told us many stories about you.” He wheels about proudly with the enthusiasm of a pre-teen.
He continues around the room stretching to look at things on the wall and on Ashley’s old desk. He pauses to inspect the silverware on the sleeping bags. “Ashley calls you my mom , is that what we should call you?”
“Lauren is fine.”
He spins and rushes toward me, looking like he might crash into my legs, but stopping before he does. “Do you like being a mother?”
“It’s the most important job I’ve ever taken on.”
He tips his little hat back and cranes his neck to see my face better. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.”
“So the pain was worth it?”
I exchange a look with Ashley. “Pain?”
“Birthing her. You had twins who were each seven pounds. That’s a lot of human to come out a cervix, even if it’s dilated.”
I can’t help but smile. “You are correct.”
He spins again, looking around the room as he says, “I’ve watched many birthing videos of all sorts of mammals. It seems unnecessarily painful.”
“I didn’t design the process,” I answer without skipping a beat.
He freezes and meets my gaze. “That’s funny.”
“Things that are both painful and true often are.”
He adjusts his hat. “Laughter is healthy.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So is sex.”
I nod. “That is also true.”
“If you do have sex with any of the soldiers, may I watch?’ George asks with the earnestness of a child inquiring about bedtime stories.
The sheer absurdity of the question dislodges a laugh that bubbles up before I can stop it. My gaze shifts from George’s hopeful expression to Ashley’s pained one. It’s been too long since anything has amused me this genuinely. I’ve always encouraged curiosity in my children and miss seeing the world through their eyes. Neither had ever asked this particular question, but I do remember Ashley once demanding to know in detail the difference between a penis and a vagina. Appeasing her required showing her diagrams of each with an explanation of the function of all the parts. I’ve always considered her need to understand how things work a strength. It made me wonder if George’s fixation with the act of sex is an attempt to understand the complexity of human relationships. If so, it could be redirected in a more positive direction. “I appreciate that you asked for permission,” I say with a hint of amusement, “but my answer is no.”
“George,” Ashley says like an exasperated mother. “We talked about this.”
His little shoulders rise and fall before he answers. “Yes, and you told me not to sneak around and try to catch your mother doing something sexual or in the nude. I’m not sneaking. I’m asking for permission.”
Yes, I can see why having this robot in the same house as Ashley and Ray would be difficult. “Although asking for permission is better than not, my answer is the same as Ashley’s–no.” I lean down so my face is just above his. “So, tell me, George, what consequence should I give you if you break that rule?”
“Consequence?” He rolls back a foot.
“Absolutely. If you’re truly sentient, you understand right from wrong. If I lay down a rule and you break it, what do you think should happen to you?”
He looks to Ashley for help. “We don’t have consequences.”
I tip my head to one side. “That’s probably why you feel it’s okay to keep sneaking around, despite getting caught. Personally, I’d stick you in the closet because I see you as a machine, and that’s where I put my vacuum. Prove to me that you deserve to be treated better than that by coming up with a plan we can both live with.”
A robotic drone flies out of the luggage and hovers in the air beside Ashley. “I understand why you brought us here, Ashley. He needs structure.”
“I do not,” George exclaims. When none of us agree with him, he slumps a little. “If I choose my own consequence, you won’t put me in the closet?”
“That’s the deal,” I say.
“One day, no porn,’ he says in a monotone voice, and I blink and gain some understanding. If he’s been watching porn looking for insight into humanity, he’s been misled. “There will be absolutely no watching of porn in my home, so choose a different consequence.” My tone is gentle because I feel for this creature. He’s outspoken and inquisitive but no more or less lost than many of the people I treat daily. I catch Ashley’s gaze. She knows I’m wavering about whether they can stay.
“So, you have two rules?” George asks.
“I have many,” I respond. Some people try to be their child’s best friend, but that has never been my goal. I provided love, structure, and, I hope, a moral compass. That can lead to uncomfortable clashes, especially when a child wants something that isn’t healthy for them, but I’m proud of who my children have become. I wasn’t a perfect parent, but I made every decision with love in my heart and a sincere desire to see my children follow their hearts and soar. So, given the chance to do it all over, I’d probably make the same mistakes again.
He wheels forward and back. “I could sit in the luggage by myself for five minutes. ”
“Would that be enough of a deterrent?”
“No.”
“Then choose something that would make you want to follow the rules.”
He pauses to process the request. “I enjoy when Ashley tells us stories. I would enjoy if you tell us some as well. If I misbehave, perhaps that is a day you withhold storytelling from me.”
I didn’t expect to feel anything toward these robots at all, but when imagining George as a child trying to make sense of the world, he is endearing. “If I decide to let you stay, that sounds like a consequence I could agree with.”
The drone flies closer. “I’m John.”
“Hi, John.”
“I’ll tell you if George breaks a rule.”
I glance down at George, then return my attention to John. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Besides, isn’t he your friend?”
Lights flash within John. “Yes, he’s my friend.”
“Then your loyalty should be with him. Instead of reporting what he’s doing, encourage him to stop the behavior.”
“Loyalty,” John repeats, more lights flashing within him. “I have been morally gray on this matter. We keep secrets from others but not from Ashley. I will do better. Ray explained that morality is complicated. He would give up his life to save a child or an innocent but would wipe half of humanity off the face of Earth for Ashley or his unit.”
My eyes fly to meet my daughter’s. I believe John. Ray is a wild card, and a potentially dangerous one at that. Even though she has found happiness with him, I worry that love might not be enough to stop things from going very wrong if the government comes for him.
Ashley steps forward and takes my hands in hers. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.”
“I know.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to take them in if I didn’t believe this would be good for you and for them.”
“You don’t think I have enough on my plate?”
She gives my hands a light squeeze. “Don’t let them fool you. They can also be incredibly helpful when it comes to researching topics online.”
“How long will they be here?”
“A few days?” She gives me another apologetic smile. “A few weeks?”
I remember imagining how peaceful my apartment would be when my children moved out. It’s tidier. And quieter. But I don’t find peace in isolation. Is that why I work as many shifts as I do? Adding precocious robots to my daily life has the potential of returning a level of chaos to my home. That might be a good thing. “Not a damn thing in my life makes sense right now, so why not? Sure. They can stay.”
“Yippee,” George exclaims, tossing his hat up into the air and catching it as he spins.
“Thank you,” John says in a somber voice.
Ashley gives me a tight hug, before stepping back. “If you have any issues, I’m only a few minutes away.”
I take a deep breath and look around at my little houseguests. “I do have one question.”
“Sure,” Ashley responds easily and with visible relief.
“Do they require a kitty box?”