RoboNomics

Chapter 22

I spot Lilly in her front yard as I approach home. I dread the encounter. I wave as I turn up my driveway and Lilly looks up from fussing with her Christmas lights. I’m about to duck into my walkway when Lilly suddenly drops the entangled cords that she is feeding to her HomeBot.

“Goddamnit,” she shouts. I've never heard her swear before and the volume of it stops me in my tracks. “Stupid thing,” she continues. I glance to my periphery to see what’s happened.

Her angry face is illuminated by the front porch lamp. She prods at the screen on the torso of her HomeBot. The machine is looking at her with blank eyes. I want to go inside. I want to back away from the scene before I am involved, but I am stepping down the driveway. I am walking towards her yard. I am at her side, asking her what’s gone wrong.

“Oh, I don’t know. This thing is acting up again.” My hands are already on the machine. I poke at its chassis and open the white chest panel. I peer at the tiny computer screen with its scrolling lines of blue computer code.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asks. I don’t answer. I don’t look up at her.

“That should do it,” I say after a couple minutes. I slip my icy hands back into my heavy gloves.

“Oh.” Lilly’s HomeBot springs back to life. “Um...perfect.” The bot continues unwinding the string of lights, its servos whining as it does. “I guess they weren't built for the cold.” I nod and head back towards home.

“Oh, Andrea, by the way. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, Lilly?” I am freezing from standing in the snow while editing code. All I can think about is getting inside. “I want to talk to you about a job I might have for you.”

My shoulders drop with relief. “Do you?” I try to keep desperation out of my voice.

“Yep. As long as you're interested in it,” Lilly replies. “I've been getting into home selling lately and I've discovered this company called Shining Beauty. They sell jewellery. Look!” She de-gloves and displays two large glittering rocks on the index and middle finger of her right hand. They are over-large pale pink and emerald green stones. Both are surrounded by crystal accents. Glass, comes my one thought at the sight of them.

“Aren't they absolute treats?” Lilly asks in a rush. “And look.” She shoves aside her scarf to reveal colored crystals arranged in the shape of a butterfly. They dangle from a silver chain. “What do you think?” she asks with a dimpled grin. There is no doubt about what answer I’m supposed to give.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, embarrassed by my lie.

“So, listen.” Lilly rearranges her scarf and puts her glove back on. “Shining Beauty needs home sellers and I know you need a job. The perks are great. You get all sorts of jewellery rewards for selling. I got those rings for free. And you get first crack at the new releases.”

I'm not sure that those are helpful perks. I’m really hoping I’ll never arrive at that stage when women lose all sense of style and began to wear matching leisure suits with scenes of ducks swimming across the chest or other equally tacky outfits. I classify this company, this Shining Beauty, as a step in the duck-sweater direction. But she’s right about one thing. I do need a job.

“So what would I have to do?”

“You just have to throw a party! A party with fabulous jewellery and a little soft sell of course. They’d be no way you’d ever lose that job. Who ever heard of a robot throwing a party? As soon as you sign up, we can get you started,” Lilly continues. “You could throw a party this weekend. You’d be making money in two weeks.”

I’m about to open my mouth to reply when Austin’s car pulls up across from our house. The headlight beams illuminate snowflakes as they fall.

“Well, I have to go.” I point to Austin’s car.

“All right, I’d better get back to my decorating,” says Lilly. I walk back down her walkway and onto ours. I squeeze between the edge of her house and ours. But before I disappear into our backyard, she calls out. “Give it a think. We’ll talk soon.” I wave and head to the back of the house, Austin following me.

We're on the back patio when I notice that he looks unusually tired. “Did your shift end earlier than you expected?” I kiss his cheek as he unlocks the back door. “How was it?” I ask the question every time he comes home. It’s the key that opens up our conversations.

“Horrible,” he says shortly and heads straight into the house. I follow him. An uncomfortable silence fills the back hall as we remove coats, hats, scarves, gloves and boots. We dance around each other in the confined, cluttered space. I try to catch his eye, to gauge his mood, to find out what’s gone wrong.

He avoids my gaze and marches past me as I finish taking off my boots. I hear him run upstairs to the bedroom to change. He doesn't wait for me. I slowly make my way up the narrow stairs and enter the room just as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his socks on. He springs up and heads towards the staircase. I put out my hand to stop him.

“Austin,” I look into his face. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?” He finally meets my eyes.

“You know...” I say quietly. He continues to gaze at me as if he were perplexed. “Why won’t you talk to me? Why aren't you looking at me? Why won’t...” I stammer.

He sighs with exasperation, drawing me to him and resting his head on mine. “I've just had a long shift. A really, really long shift.”

“You've had those before. It’s always better when you talk about it.”

“Not this time, Andrea. It was different.”

“How? How is this different? Did you lose a patient? We can get through that. We have before.”

“No, it was just different, all right?” He pulls away from me and stomps down the stairs.

“Austin,” I call after him but he keeps going. There is nothing I can do but follow. Down the hallway and into the living room. I find that he's collapsed onto the couch that sits under the windows. He is flicking his wrist in rapid succession to flip wildly through the channels of the InvisiScreen TV.

I stand leaning against the door frame. “Maybe you just need some sleep?” I suggest. “You must be beat.”

He says nothing but continues to stare at the TV. Its noise nearly blocks out all thought.

“Austin, you have to talk to me,” I try to talk over the television. When he doesn't reply, I hit the power button. The sound and images disappear and the white wall instantly replaces the television screen.

“What?” Austin asks roughly. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to talk to me,” I reply, matching his stern tone. Then I remember the neighbors. “What could have gone so wrong today that you can’t even talk to me about it?”

Austin slams his hand onto the chocolate colored cushions of the couch and stands.

“Fine! You want to know what was so wrong about today? I’ll tell you. I lost my job, that’s what. Are you happy now?” My mouth hangs open, but I don't know what to say. “You want me to admit that I lost my job to a robot with six arms? There, I said it. My career has ended because of a machine."