Random Story :
A Mother Knows
Author: Andrea Goyan In the stark examination room, I cradled …
Deecee
Author: Susan A. Anthony
Voice slow and deliberate, the bot squatted beside their table added to their list of dessert options. “You may choose from blueberries, raspberries or cranberries.”
“Is the fruit fresh?” whispered Martha to Ermintrude, her birth parent.
Ermintrude barely opened her mouth to speak. “Only the cranberry,” replied the bot.
Ermintrude, no doubt hoping to allay Martha’s fears, jumped in. “Real fruit is over-rated. I like the tang of Artefacto’s raspberry. I assume it’s the Artefacto brand?” her attention still on Martha, curling her tiny body into Ermintrude’s side. It was Martha’s first-time outside of the incubator.
“Yes,” confirmed the bot. “The origin manufacturer is Artefacto out of Mars, not their Jupiter plant. I am told Mars makes the better product.”
“And for you, miss?” The bot addressed Martha in her hiding place behind Ermintrude.
“Cranberry…please.”
“An excellent choice. Those berries are fresh grown right here beside the oceans of Io.” The bot pointed to the sprawling bog on the other side of the Perspex.
Martha peeked around Ermintrude and gazed towards the water. Whirring bots hovered above small shrubs loaded with pale pink flowers, arms ending in clippers and tongs, darting about the plants, pausing to delicately remove ripe red berries, dropping them in baskets slung beneath them.
“How are you liking your outing?” asked Ermintrude.
“It is very nice,” said Martha, rather formally. Then she added, “The robots don’t usually speak to me. Only one robot speaks to me.” And she pointed at the tall bot in the faraway corner wearing an apron, and a small flat cap, sitting on a bench with other work bots ready to be called.
“Oh, the DC-9. Your matron.”
“Yes. Deecee,” said Martha. Hearing Martha, the DC-9 turned. Martha waved and the DC-9 waved back.
Ermintrude guided the child back to look at her. “It’s just a bot, Martha. Don’t wave to it in the restaurant.”
“Why not?” asked Martha.
“Well,” said Ermintrude, “it’s like the berries. You like fresh berries, don’t you?”
Martha nodded.
“The DC-9 is not a fresh berry. I’m your birth parent and so I’m the fresh berry and the DC-9 is artificial. You don’t like artificial, do you?”
Martha was confused. She looked back at Deecee, who waved again. Martha returned a weak smile.
Ermintrude stood. “I just have to go the bathroom. I’ll explain more when I get back. Don’t move child. You’ll be safe while I am gone. I’ll be back in a minute,” and she left the table.
More people came into the restaurant, shouting and laughing. One crashed against Martha’s table. A glass broke, spilling water across the surface, making Martha jump back against the window. The serving bot rushed over, gathering up the glass splinters and re-filling the water glasses. The DC-9 was standing, craning its neck to see Martha. Martha looked out the window as the bot fussed about her, tidying up the table. She stared at the bots picking the cranberries so carefully.
“Excuse me,” said Martha.
“Yes,” said the bot.
“Can I change my mind about dessert?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can I have the raspberry instead of the cranberry?”
“You betcha,” said the bot. “Coming right up.”
Ermintrude appeared back a few minutes later, to their spotless table, so did their desserts. Two bowls of sponge pudding coated in Artefacto raspberry sauce and bright yellow custard.
“This is wrong,” said Ermintrude to the bot.
“No, I changed my order when you were away,” said Martha softly, “I think I prefer artificial.” And she turned to smile at Deecee who waved, sat back down on the bench and waited.