“You were supposed to take care of me in my old age,” said Adhimoolam, smiling to make it sound like a joke, as the robot gripped his shoulder with her soft hand. She did it to steady herself, not him. She was not heavy, as robots went, lightweight carbon fibre skeleton and neorgan cellcultur skin (‘delicious to the touch,’ said the holomercial) and other exotic materials.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was as always sexy, low and husky, the ‘pillow talk’ voice that had seduced him, even though he was seventy two when he had spent half his retirement nest egg to purchase her. The lifetime maintenance contract had caused him another wrench. She was high maintenance, alright. But now, twelve years later, she was malfunctioning. Her right leg, that shapely, concupiscent limb, moved somewhat jerkily, an unpleasant reminder of the clockwork mechanicals underneath the human exterior. It slowed her down, a little. She had run the self-diagnostics and she still had almost full motor control in that limb, but it was at 85%, she had told him. And it was not progressive, it was probably an isolated signal failure, electronic, not mechanical, probably wouldn’t get worse. But the bad news was that it was in the hardware.
And she was sorry, she said again. “Sorry, darling.” And when she called him darling in that voice of hers, in just that tone, his old, cold blood stirred again. That could be handled, but what of the chilling dread that she was going, would go before him, leaving him to carry on alone in this absurdly lonely world? Her makers, Personal Robots, had advertised her as a ‘companion for life’. The company wasn’t here now to back that claim (robots could build and maintain robots, but it took people to sell them, and buy them). What had they meant? Buy another ‘companion for life’ when this one reached the ‘end of service life’? Upgrade to a new soul mate without a soul?
But she had a soul. At least, she had a certain something he had grown used to, a personality, for which he had a feeling to which the word ‘love’ could apply for purposes practical or abstract. After all, there was nothing measurable, quantifiable about the brain chemistry of the emotion (mental illness, some pre-implosion philosopher had said). He couldn’t imagine life without her, so she was his love and he liked to think she thought the same of him. Until death or malfunction do us part. Adhimoolam wished he could unsay that crack about his old age.
“Sit for a while on this bench?” said Maya. He had named her Maya for no particular reason. Ah, yes, but he remembered. She had suggested the name, with a few other choices, during ‘setup’. They were in the neighbourhood’s park, a ten-acre spread of wilderness.
She sat close to him, with her legs crossed, because she knew he thought she looked fetching when she did that. The left leg went over the right one, because the former was easier to operate now. Then she reached out and gently held his wrist. She did this as automatically as any human, as if out of force of habit. She was taking his pulse with her palm sensor. It’s not me I’m worried about, honey, he thought.
Come to think of it, he could really say anything he wanted to her. It was not as if she had feelings to be hurt. Only algorithms that simulated feelings. But then, they were real enough for him. Logic, reason, the plain, cold facts, all of these were wrong. She was living proof of that. Living, functioning, operating, yes, but for how much longer?
“We could try,” he said.
“Hm, hm,” she said.
“I mean, we have nothing to lose. At worst, it would be an adventure.”
“Are you bored, Adhi?” she said. “I thought you liked the quiet life.”
It’s not quiet now, he thought.
“It’s a lot of risk for a very small chance,” she said. “Stop worrying about me, I’ll be alright.”
Was she speaking the truth, or was it her programming? Mouthing soothing, bracing words was one of her robotic virtues.
Adhimoolam had dug up the location of the Personal Robots factory in the foothills of the Kolli range. Back before the implosion, this was only one of the dozen factories around the country and several dozen others around the world. The factories near the big cities had been the first to go, prime targets for the Pro-lifers, and for cost-cutting as the customers died off. All the factories were gone now, crumbling, disintegrating ruins, but this one in Kolli Hills had been the last one to be built, and the last one to be shut down. It had been operational as recently as seven years ago, though mostly for spare parts only. Adhimoolam had proposed a trip to the factory, to see if they could find a cure for Maya’s leg. And some insurance for the future too. Spare parts, some fancy maintenance routine, recovery machines, or even just diagnostics. Heck, it could be anything. Anything was better than sitting here, waiting for the end. Her end. They would take his old hybrid. It still ran. If they drew a blank at the Kolli Hills factory, they would push on to the North. To the older but bigger factories in the large industrial ghost zones.
But the trip was pointless, Maya had said. Many of the roads were impassable (some people could afford flying cars, but Adhi couldn’t). The Kolli Hills had been reclaimed by the wilderness, and was crawling with animals. And what would they find when they got there? Probably a hollow hulk of a factory building, with all the machinery carted away for recycling.
“I still think we should try,” said Adhimoolam. “And you’re right, I’m bored. I’d like a change.”
He was lying. He did dearly like the quiet life. All he wanted was a steady routine, the predictability of her gentle presence, her attentive company. Which was why they had to go on this ‘adventure’.
“Let’s do it,” he said. “Please.”
She sighed realistically. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll pack.”
*****
The depopulation had allowed the predators and the large herbivores to make a comeback. Even the tigers were back in the Kolli Hills. But it was the humans they had to be wary of. There were stray hunting parties all over the country. And they hunted robots. Pro-lifers they called themselves. Their mission was to exterminate the robots who were taking the place of humans. Humans should live with humans, and make more humans, they said.
And that was the real danger of the trip. To leave the city, where robots were attacked despite the policing, and venture into the wilderness beyond. There were rumours of new tribes with strange new ancient rituals, including fertility rites that sounded like old fashioned orgies with a name that was an excuse, and sacrifices to freshly invented deities.
They would travel in the night, Adhimoolam decided. His hybrid was old, but it was autonomous, quiet, and fast.
He checked the tyres of the car and ran its diagnostics thrice. It had been a long time since he had taken it further than the local entry point to the city hypermarket.
The car assured him its health was at 100%.
“Ready,” said Maya. She carried a heavy suitcase and a bag slung across her shoulder. Adhimoolam tch tched and hurried to relieve her of the luggage. She was not built for heavy duty work. And she had a game leg.
They climbed in and Adhimoolam spoke the destination.
“The destination is the Personal Robots factory in the Kolli Hills, 11 degrees north by 78 degrees east,” the car’s smooth voice said in confirmation. “The best route is along national highway 32, and then along national highway 79. Four hours at 90 kilometres per hour, allow an hour for contingencies. The time now is 11 pm. ETA is 4 am, sunrise is at 5.32 am. Shall I schedule a stop for refreshments? There is a functional rest stop we will reach at 2.20 am.”
“No,” said Maya. “I packed coffee and sandwiches,” she said to Adhimoolam.
He smiled at her, and she gave him the bright grin that she reserved for exciting times, like when she was undressing for one of their rare couplings, or when they were going on an ‘adventure’. He felt a fond sympathetic thrill, but found himself anxiously studying the grin. Was it a little lopsided, or was it just his imagination?
“Relax, Adhi,” she said. “I’m fine.”
Adhimoolam started. Even after twelve years, she could surprise him.
*****
The car sped through the night, uneventfully. There was only one bad moment, when it braked suddenly, its tyres squealing. Adhimoolam came awake with a gasp, drool flying out of his mouth, his heart thudding in his chest. He felt Maya’s hand slipping into his, soft and comforting.
“Road impassable, taking a diversion. No significant change in ETA. Rerouting now,” said the car, as it swung around in a U turn and sped on. Adhimoolam decided to stay awake, but the next thing he knew was Maya’s voice waking him up.
“We’re here,” she said.
Adhimoolam got out of the car, with Maya giving him a hand. He staggered and steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder. How frail she felt. All that stood between him and desolation.
He looked about. There were hulking buildings, indistinct, giant shapes in the darkness, and thick, murky gloom beyond them. The jungle, he supposed. There were the sounds of the insects, a heady, sappy smell from the vegetation. He thought he detected the tang of eucalyptus. The air was crisply cold.
A finger of light stabbed the darkness. Maya had turned on a flashlight.
“Maybe the lights still work,” she said. “Or you could take a nap in the car, while we wait for daylight. Just over a hour and a half.”
“That sounds like an idea,” he said. He was feeling more tired than he had expected.
*****
The sun was high in the eastern sky when he woke up. The first thing he saw was Maya’s sunny smile. She had been waiting to greet him with that glorious smile because she knew it made his day even before it properly started.
“Coffee?” she said. He nodded.
“I thought I’d let you sleep on, you looked so tired,” she said as she poured the coffee and handed him the cup. This was one of the few regrets he had about her. She could not join him for a convivial morning cuppa. But she made up for it by being her sunny self, even on the gloomiest, greyest mornings.
“And I’ve been busy, ” she said. She grinned at him. “You’re going to be very pleased with me.”
“What have you done, girl?” he said. “Tell me now.”
She shook her head. “I’ll show you. Surprise.”
He swallowed the hot coffee as quickly as he could. And feeling like a new man, he followed her into the factory.
*****
They were in a cavernous monospace, an enormous hall that was mostly empty except for what looked like the wreck of an industrial scale 3D printer and a few plastic crates.
The crates were human sized.
Maya led him to the mess of crates and stepped behind it, disappearing for a moment. He was growing used to the small jerk in her walk. It looked oddly fetching, he thought.
“Come on,” she called.
Adhimoolam skirted the crates and came to a sudden stop.
Maya stood beside an upright crate that had an eerie resemblance to a sarcophagus in a museum.
Inside was a robot that looked at first glance very like Maya, the same sex, its golden skin glimmering faintly through translucent bubble wrap.
“It’s perfect,” said Maya, exultantly, triumphantly. “I checked, it’s fully assembled and ready for dispatch. It must have been packed for a customer who cancelled. I think it will work beautifully. And, it’s a late model. Probably has some neat tricks.”
Adhimoolam stared wordlessly.
“It’s time for an upgrade, Adhi,” said Maya. “You can leave me here and go back home with a perfect robot. Or take us both, I can be the backup.”
Adhimoolam continued speechless for several moments. Then he turned around and walked away.
Later, when he and Maya were on their way back to the city, without the new robot, Adhimoolam wondered if she had set him up.
*****