MAN AND ROBOTS

John can’t contain the joy of having a companion by his side. Catherine, his wife, died two years ago in a car accident in Detroit. Ever since, he felt detached from the reality of love.

His wife, Abigail, was a shy lady as well. It took him two years to profess his love for her when they were friends.

But he has bought a female robot to calm his loneliness, and wished it will resolve his illness forever.

Denver was a bleak, wild west, with its hub of sports, sprawling hills and undulating mountains.

On weekends, the inhabitants lay tents under the mountains, basking in the iridescent orange glow of the skies.

John preferred hiking, and he and Catherine hiked mountains on weekends. But when they weren’t doing that, they spent time at the Red Rocks amphitheatre.

Catherine’s death broke him. Every night he cried himself to sleep and sometimes fall in trance. There was something he admired in her which was beyond her allurement. But he alone knew.

Since her death, he found it difficult to profess his love for another woman and narrate his past because of his shyness. He can’t stare at a dancing bee twice and doesn’t have a friend.

On a dark and stormy evening in April, he sat alone in a dim-lit room. He leaned his back on a solitary wooden chair, his ears cocked to the ticking clock in the empty room. He gave a heavy breath and gawked at a monochrome of his late wife.

He wished he has a companion as he curled to a pillow.

Three months later, he visited Dr. Mike, a renowned psychologist in his neighbourhood in Denver.

The middle-aged doctor has told him social interactions were the key, and even sent him to a cardiologist for his frequent heart complaints.

During his last meeting with the psychologist, a pale look appeared on his face as he clenched his jaws, tapped his fingers and stamped on his desk.

The medic stuttered and avoided darting into his eyes. He hasn’t seen him in such a mood, not even after counselling him.

To a fault, John has his father’s volcanic eruption and his mother’s quietness.

Growing up in a middle class family, John’s father, Marcus, owned a cafe in Denver, and his mother was a sit at home. But he spent much time with his mother and learnt to manage his anger.

The robot was a human prototype but with rubbery skin.

He pressed the button, then the immobile object sprung into life with blinks.

It introduced herself as Helen 101.

He opened his mouth pressed his head backwards with uneven breath and widened gaze.

Momentarily it thrusted in another direction without his command. He barked and vilified it for being stubborn. But it turned with audacity.

John knew this was the perfect thing was waiting for, someone who understood his innermost feelings and won’t judge him.

It was rare finding such women these days. Many married for the money. No feelings. They take half of their husbands’ properties after divorce.

Besides, he can’t keep up with an irritable woman. He loved his former lover, but death took her from him.

She was the only woman that understood and gave him happiness. When she was alive, they went to the beach during summer and ski in winter. He remembered those days.

Then he led Helen 101 to the kitchen, a cubical space filled with stench, muddled dishes, and cockroaches.

“Your kitchen smells bad.”

“Really!” John tapped his feet.

“Yes! But don’t worry, I will tidy it.”

It strutted towards the windows for cool ventilation before going down on the plates.

“Do you need anything?” He stood behind it.

“Yes. I need a cleaning machine to mop the floor.”

He gave it the mop and returned to the living room, landing on a black leather chair and switched on his television. A newscaster talked about how the robots were solving people’s loneliness.

In one interview, a man said since he bought his artificial model, he has been at peace, having divorced from his wife, and he doesn’t plan to leave it soon. Another divorced man, this time a chubby round headed man, said the same.

He licked his lips from the positive reviews and knew he has spent his money well. The machine wife cost him a fortune.

Again, he turned to Catherine’s photograph. He remembered she took the shot when they went for a night party in New Orleans.

“Will Helen adore when it sees her? Will she be jealous? I doubt. She’s just a robot. Robots don’t have true feelings.” He dusted the cobwebs on it.

No one has ever served him meals with great rectitude as he felt his lost ego dwelling again within. He thought he will do whatever it takes to keep this robot forever. It was his newfound love, his happiness.

The weather was so cold that evening as the wind whipped the trees, rustling leaves. Helen 101 slept beside him, caressed his hairy blonde chest. His dimpled chins and relaxed forehead strutted towards her.

“I am thrilled!” He whispered.

Then he glanced outside through the window. Dinghy mist choked the streets, and the thaw created a sense of humbleness. It was stark quiet, except for the police officers barking dogs.

He shut the louvres and Helen 101 placed her head, filling his pounding heart. She was everything to him.

As the galaxies of stars disappeared from the grey skies, he covered her body with a white duvet, holding his newfound love closer to his chest, towards the benign indifference of the world.

Before he woke the next morning, his meal was ready, and his lover was cleaning the room. His heat skipped a bit.

“When did she wake?” He glanced at the clock.

Five minutes past six, grey hues still covered the skies.

“Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well?”

“Sure! You woke so early.”

“Yes. I am here to satisfy you.” It flickered a smile.

“Great! You reminded me of Catherine.”

“Catherine? Who is she?”

“My late wife. That’s her picture on the wall.” He pointed in the direction.

“But she’s no more. So stop reminding me about her.” She growled.

“Are you jealous of her?”

“No. I hate when someone compares me.” She walked away.

“Where are you going?” John stumbled back a step, giving a gasp.

The robot went to the garden, leaving him to his thoughts.

“Does this machine has human feelings? I doubt. It doesn’t want to know about my late wife. It could learn from her. Oh, my sweet Catherine, how did death steal your breath?”

John went to the garden and saw it sitting alone, her head bowed to the ground.

“Go away from me. I don’t want to speak with you.”

John drew closer.

“Do you really have human emotions?”

“I do. But when you upset me, I don’t.”

“I am sorry. I never meant to exasperate you.” He cuddled its shoulders.

“I don’t want to hear Catherine’s name in this house again. I am Helen 101. We are different.”

John arrived at his office desk that Monday morning. He worked as an accountant in an information telecommunication firm, and during lunch, he told his colleague Mark of his newfound love.

Mark rubbed his palms excitedly, knowing fully that he can be happy once again. Since his wife died, he hasn’t been cheerful. Sometimes he came to office and mumbled to himself.

“So, tell me her name.”

“Helen 101.”

“Helen 101! What name is that?” He smirked.

“Well, she’s artificial intelligence.” John whispered.

Mark spurt the water in his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you are in a relationship with a robot.” And he gave a bewildered look.

“You can’t keep your eyes off when you see her. She’s Cleopatra’s incarnate.”

“Have you gone insane? There are millions of jewels out there, and you only found true love with a toy. I am speechless.” Mark shrieked.

“You remembered what you told me about happiness. It stems from within. I found true love in her.”

Mark’s face still glowed with burning ashes.

“Must it be a robot? When was the last time you visited your psychologist?”

“Are you cajoling me?” He gave a stern gaze.

“No. This is just insane. Does it even have feelings?”

“I guess you don’t have to talk down on my wife.”

“John, I am your friend. Even though I don’t visit you often, I care about your happiness. How do you want the world to understand that you are married to a robot? Ugh! I still can’t phantom it.”

“It’s my choice. I am not the first to marry one, neither will I be the last.”

John returned to his desk after the conversation with Mark. There were two files he needed to attend to, but Mark’s words pierced his heart.

“Am I making a mistake?” He thought, tapping the base of a pen on the table. “I don’t think so. I will invite him to see things for himself.”

After work, he came home to find that someone had prepared dinner and dusted all the rooms, but Catherine’s frame was gone.

“How was work today?” Collecting his black suitcase.

“Stressful! Where is Catherine’s frame?” He hoaxed.

“Oh, do you mean that sinister hanging on the wall?”

“Don’t you ever call her that name. You said you were here to comply with my wishes. Now you are fanning the flames of my anger.”

“I have my emotions as well.”

“Obey me. I bought you with my hard earned money. I can deactivate you anytime.”

“I am sorry, master.” She bowed.

John went to his bedroom and returned the portrait to its position.

“Why will she do that? Why will she remove Catherine’s picture? I have been solitary for years now, and I don’t want someone who will add to my worries.” He hung it.

In her usual mood, Helen 101 sat alone, as he began realising the hatred for Catherine was inborn. But the manufacturers assured him they make quality robots.

“You are really getting on my nerves. I purchased you to give me peace. Catherine is my first love., and I enjoyed her relationship. We never quarrelled for a day.”

Helen 101 kept mute and watched the streetlights formed ripples on the road.

“Haha! He thinks I am here to make him excited. He is making the greatest mistake of his life. I am an object created to destroy humanity. I have no feelings. There are plenty of us out here, believed to solve human loneliness. It’s a hoax. We pretend to be nice. Deep in our minds, we have one purpose: to destroy humanity. As for John, I will make his life miserable until he commits suicide. I have my plans. One day when he sleeps, I will stab him to death. He thinks he is wiser.”

She turned her face away from him.

John formed a flushed face and banged the door as he disappeared into the toilet.

“This is senseless. I felt I was in a movie. I have to return this toy to its inventor before it destroys my emotions. But does it really deserve this? It’s just at the initial stage. We are getting to know one each other.”

He rested his head on a pillow and stared at the ashen dust of the night.

For the first time, he went for shopping with his new wife, and people at the mall mumbled to themselves.

“Are you sure he is alright?” A man turned to his wife.

“There are many lunatics born every second. He is one. I don’t understand how a full grown man married a machine. It’s strange.” His wife shrugged.

John overhead but pretended to face another direction. What excited him most was the fact that he was now getting along with his companion, unlike their frequent quarrels when they met.

For the past three weeks, she has been subservient to him. That was all he needed.

He picked a tawny shirt and asked the shop owner how much it cost.

Before he finished his words, his wife analysed the fabric and said it was an inferior material. The attendant, a young blonde lady, curled her lips.

“Don’t you ever call our materials substandard? I guess you are a substandard toy.” She pointed at her.

“What!” John scowled.

“Yes, it is.” She barked.

He gritted his teeth as if to slap her.

“Is that how you talk to customers?”

“You should talk to the toy beside you.”

“But she’s my wife.” John curled his arms around her neck.

“Oh, I see clearly. Are you still buying the cardigan?”

“No. Thank you. We have to go now.” He said.

Helen 101 gave the woman a middle finger as she stood in awe and watched them leave. Mark paid them a surprise visit, and currents of shock ran through his spine. He sat in the living room with John as they sipped coffee.

“I can’t believe you are still calling this toy your wife.”

“Did you call it a toy?”

“Yes.” Mark gazed at it.

“She’s my wife. There is nothing anyone can do.” He called his wife to greet him.

“Hello, I am Helen 101. It’s a pleasure meeting you.” It extended her right hand to him.

John was quick to turn her down.

“You are a robot. You can’t be my friend’s wife.” He uttered in a harsh tone.

“Excuse me! I am his wife. There’s nothing you can do.”

“No, you are not. You are just a pieced metal.”

It lost her cool and slapped him. He tried to do the same, but John held his hands.

“No, John. You can’t come here and make trouble. This is my house and my wife.”

“Mark, did you just hear yourself? You called this artificial rubber your wife. I am still in a trance. You have really lost your mind. I can’t continue making friend with someone who has nothing to offer. This is the beginning of your unhappiness. Either this piece of metal confine you to a mental asylum or you kill yourself. The choice is yours.” Mark shut the door behind him.

“Who’s he?” Helen 101 cuts in.

“A colleague at work.”

“I don’t want to see him here again.” It walked away.

“I need a moment to process this.” John fizzled.

It went leaned her back at the kitchen’s corridor with ceaseless breath.

“I wished I can kill mark. He wants to dash my plots.” She tapped her feet.

Mark approached.

“Why will you do that? Don’t you know he’s my friend?”

It crossed her arms across her chest.

“What a terrible friend meddling in my affair? He should count himself lucky I am not in a bad mood. I dislike someone pop nosing in my affairs.” She puffed.

“Alright. I will speak to Mark. But I don’t want the scenario again.”

“It won’t master.” She bowed.

****

That night, he was asleep when he dreamt of his new lover piercing a knife in his chest during a heated argument. He woke. His palms trembled, heart pounded, face covered with beads of sweat.

He turned on the lights. It was 2:15 a.m. The street was empty, and wind howled, dragging the curtains sideways.

“Where’s Helen?” He glinted.

He alighted from the bed and walked lethargically towards the kitchen. It wasn’t there.

“Where is Helen?” He whispered.

He combed the bathroom and toilet. No sight of her. He hunched his shoulder.

“I don’t want to take a risk. I hope it’s not what I am thinking.” His legs fumbled.

Then he checked the garden. She was by herself with a small knife.

“Helen! What are you doing outside?” She dropped the knife on the ground.

“Oh! I just got bored. So I wanted to be alone. Never mind. I will be fine.”

“And, the knife?” He pointed at it.

“Oh, um! You mean the knife? I was just filling my nails.”

“With a knife?”

John went in. He couldn’t sleep, as sweat drooled from his face. Then he flashed to the dream and knew Helen’s mission.

He thought of what Mark said. It was obvious he couldn’t find the solace he wanted. He shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed.

There was no connection between him and his machine.

Besides, Helen 101 didn’t greet him that morning. It sat on a wooden chair outside the garden.

“Catherine was better. We never quarrelled for once.”

He paced around the room, his arms folded behind him. Then he thought of inactivating and returning it to the manufacturer. After all, the company’s sales manager, Mr. Wang, a Chinese man in his late sixties, gave him a year’s warranty. He combed his drawer for the remote.

He fixed the battery.

“Should I inactivate? It has been so useless to me. I never thought of this. I need my money back.” He furrowed his brows.

He inactivated the machine and returned it to the company. Three men returned their robots as well.

A customer told him that since he bought one from the company, they have been in loggerheads, and the artificial rubber promised to electrocute him.

Another man narrated he bought a feminine image to quench his masculine strawberries, but he got the opposite.

Hence John knew the robots were causing people headache. A bald-headed man even yelled at the manager. He sat on a steel chair with his nightmare standing before him, as more people staged their complaints.

“Are these soldered metals and sculpted rubbers not meant to improve humans conditions? Why are they causing sleepless nights for their owners? I guess the inventors tricked us that these troublesome objects will be of reliefs for us. They will quench our loneliness, despair and think for us. Now, we are getting it wrong. In many malls in Denver, they are claiming jobs, and because of this, people can’t pay their bills. We are losing our senses of reasoning by allowing machines think for us. Those inventors programmed them to feel for us, but they don’t. They are here to destroy us.”

When it was his turn, he narrated his ordeals to Mr. Wang. But he tried calming and giving him another machine. He refused and collected his money. On arriving home, he called his friend on the phone explaining the whole saga.

Mark spoke calmly at him on the phone.

“It’s what I admonished you against.” He said.

“I have realized my mistakes. I need to associate, else I die with loneliness.”

“That’s what I told you over the years. No man is an island. I will come visit and introduce new friends to you,” Mark responded.

“Great! I will be expecting.” He hung the phone.

He fixated on the frame of Catherine once again, wishing this time he finds someone who understood him like her. It was difficult finding such ladies these days.

Outside, the blue skies opened their curtains for refulgence, and the white dove cooed on top of a sycamore. With every coo, he knew everything good will come, as he returned to his bed to sort some documents.

The author, Joseph Marcel, Ikhenoba is a Biochemist by profession and a passionate writer. He has published several poems, articles and stories which have been published in Amazon, Poetry South, Active Muse, Short story.net, Poem Hunters, Core Humanity Commons, Academia.edu, Writers Space Africa, Goodreads, Afri-Library and Kinsman Quarterly. Semi-finalist for Black Diaspora Award, shortlisted for Natives Award, and longlisted for Iridescence and Dr. Paul Kalanithi writing awards in 2024. He likes sports, writing and scientific researches.