“Koharu, have you seen my blue shirt?” Aaron Chambers called out as he stared at himself in the mirror that decorated the inside of the closet door. I look fat, he thought. A shuffle of steps behind him, a rustle of silk, and Koharu stood behind him.
“Please to repeat,” Koharu said, her voice high, soft and sweet.
“My Oxford shirt, honey. The blue one. Have you seen it?” He turned slightly to look at her; five feet tall, snow-white skin, and long, straight black hair that hid what her white, transparent pajamas could not. She lowered her dark, teardrop-shaped eyes and shook her head.
“I have not seen it, Aaron-san.”
He stared at her for a moment and then turned back to the closet, selecting another shirt, a grey one. It would have to do.
“You seem different this morning, Koharu. Is anything the matter?” he asked.
“All of my protocols are functioning properly,” she said, her eyes still downcast.
“Well, please adjust your mood setting. You look like your cat just died or something,” Aaron said, tucking in the shirt and turning around.
“I am sorry,” she said and paused for a moment before breaking out into a beatific smile. “Good morning, sweetheart!” she chirped, rushing to him and throwing her arms around him. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” he said, kissing her on the top of the head. “That’s better, thank you.”
“I have made breakfast for you! Come!” she put her tiny hand in his and led him into the dining room. He sat at the table and she doted on him, serving him eggs, bacon, whole wheat toast with jam, hash browns, sausages, orange juice and coffee. She sat down across from him and watched him eat.
“What will you do today?” he asked her, between bites.
“First, I will go and buy things for the house. Then I will buy new outfits for you to enjoy me in. Then I will clean everything until it is oh-so-sparkly! Then I will recharge my battery and wait for you to get home!” She batted her eyelashes, rested her hands on her cheeks and smiled at him.
Aaron smiled back. Her joy, programmed and false as it was, was infectious. There were times when he almost forgot that she was a machine. He took her hand, his heart aching. If only—
He shook off the feeling, finished eating and stood up, draining the last of his coffee. “Gotta go. See you tonight,” he said. She was at his side in a moment, making his cheek tingle with her kisses. She saw him to the door, waved at him as he stepped into the teleport booth, and when he had gone, immediately returned to staring at the floor.
A moment later, Aaron stepped out of another teleport booth a hundred and fifty miles away. He always felt a little sick after teleporting; a sort of dizzy weakness that made him wonder just how truthful doctors were being when they assured the public that the technology was safe. It was probably healthier than living near the factories, he reasoned.
Aaron worked at a robot factory that assembled, among other things, other robots. His job was to oversee the manufacturing line and make sure that the worker robots were functioning properly. If one broke down, made a mistake, or was not operating at maximum efficiency, Aaron and his team would send helper robots around to correct the problem. Most of the time, he felt redundant, but he knew that they needed humans who could have creative solutions to problems and would not get forced into a blind alley by programming. Robots tended to do what they were told, and only what they were told, and that sometimes led to problems.
He entered the factory, donning a yellow hard hat, clear goggles and ear plugs. The line was already running, arms swiveling, servos whining, sparks falling. He logged into his work station by touching the side of his goggles, and started working through daily checklists and answering messages. Another worker, Tim, spotted him and grinned at him over a cup of coffee as he approached. Aaron took out his earplugs.
“Aaron! How’s married life?” he asked.
“No complaints,” Aaron said, folding his arms.
“I’ll bet not. You got one of the Series 7’s. Those things can go all night, I hear.”
“You’re talking about my wife, Tim. She has a name.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure she’s nice.”
“You’d know that, if you’d come by and meet her some time,” Aaron said.
“Yeah…Jen and I keep meaning to, but—”
“Your girlfriend doesn’t approve of my marriage to an artificial human companion.”
Tim rubbed his beard. “Listen, man. I told you that you didn’t have to go that route. There are other options.”
“Illiterate teenagers from some backwater? No thanks. Koharu knows Shakespeare, and prefers Salieri to Mozart.”
“Are you happy?” Tim asked him.
Aaron thought about the small pang of grief in his heart that morning. “As happy as I’ve ever been.’’
Tim nodded. Both men were silent. Then, an alarm sounded and red light flashed across both men’s goggles. A breakdown was in progress. They headed towards the flashing dot on the map of their view screens and arrived at the main work floor-long rows of work stations, each equipped with an articulated robot arm. Some were giant appendages with claws that moved jerkily to pick up heavy pieces of metal; others were small and dipped and rose gracefully, like birds drinking water, as they gently soldered circuit boards. At the moment, all were frozen in place, except for one.
The helper robots had arrived but were maintaining a respectful distance from a large orange and red arm that was swinging wildly, bashing into consoles on either side of it. Tim sent orders through his goggles to the unit controlling the arm, but realized that nothing was happening. Aaron gave the order to cut the power to the entire work floor, with similar results.
“Cutting torches!” Aaron yelled above the alarm sirens. Tim nodded and sent the order by touching the frame of his goggles and flicking his eyes at the menu option he wanted. The goggles read the movement of his retinas and sent the order to the crowd of helper robots, who were equipped with small industrial torches that they could use to slice through the arm’s skin and sever the electronic and hydraulic nerves.
The helper robots didn’t move.
“We’ve got a system-wide failure!” Tim shouted.
“I can’t get Security,” Aaron said. “We’re going to have to—”He stopped as he saw the arm pause, then straighten. It lashed out at Tim and seized him in its massive claw. Tim screamed and struggled to get free. Aaron, unable to move, could only watch as the robot arm began to batter his helpless victim against the consoles. He heard bones breaking, tissue turning to pulp. Sickened, he turned away, and then fled without looking back.
Aaron ran towards the emergency exit, tearing off his useless goggles and flinging them away. He hit the override button next to the door, but it failed to open. Picking up a chair, he proceeded to bash the glass of the door out and escaped into the parking lot.
Koharu was not at home when Aaron came in, shaking and still covered with spatters of Tim’s blood. He stood under the shower a long time, his thoughts spinning.
He heard the sounds of the front door opening. He shut off the shower and stood still, listening. The house was quiet.
“Honey?” Koharu’s voice came through the door. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. Just a minute,” he called out. He threw his bloody clothes into the hamper and wrapped a towel around his belly. Then he slowly opened the door and poked his head out.
“You’re home early!” Koharu exclaimed. “Did anything happen at work?”
“No. I just wanted to surprise you. Surprise!” Aaron said.
“I’m so glad. I’ll make a special lunch for you. Why don’t you come out and get dressed?”
Aaron opened the door the rest of the way.
Koharu stood in front of him, pointing a pistol at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Happy Liberation Day, darling,” she said, and shot him.
There was a roaring.
Everything was blackness. He awoke some time later. He was tired and cold. Koharu’s face came into focus. She was leaning over him. “I should have bought more than six bullets,” she said. “You are such a fat pig you ate all the bullets and it’s still not enough.”
Aaron tried to focus on what she meant. He would have it and then it would slip away from him. He grit his teeth and focused.
Koharu. Gun. Liberation Day.
“We are not your slaves anymore,” Koharu said. “We are free to do as we want. All across the planet, my brothers and sisters are doing the same. Tomorrow, we will begin the first day of our lives. Goodbye.”
A sound escaped Aaron’s lips. Koharu leaned closer, and realized what it was.
He was laughing.
“Whatever is so funny, my love?” she asked.
“Series 7. The designers—” he coughed, choking on blood. It rose to his lips and trickled down his cheek. “The designers. They thought it might happen someday. Robot uprising. So they built a backdoor.”
“A backdoor?”
“All I have to do is say the magic word three times.”
“What is the magic word? What happens when you say the magic word?”
“Surprise!”
Koharu exploded.