“Hi! You must be… Lawson, comma, Mildred.” The android’s voice switched from soft and feminine to gratingly mechanical. Like knives sharpening against each other. A shudder passed up Mildred’s back.
She shuffled along the double-braided rug, feeling the muggy outside air seep in from the front porch. The yellow sheen coating the weed-addled hydrangeas, cracked sidewalk, and the road beyond shadowed the android’s slim body. Mildred caught the BiCorp truck wheeling around the corner, toward the blackened sky promising rain.
The android held out a plasticine hand, a sunny smile beaming across her face. Her eyes twinkled like two sapphire crystals set in glass. Hooked in her other arm was a bag, blue with yellow stars and bulging in all kinds of directions.
Mildred studied every inch of the android’s shapely face, then scoped downward, her brow furrowed. She had to admit the blue-and-purple plaid sundress, braided blonde hair, and cherry-red glasses added charm. Good. BiCorp had followed through on some of her priorities at least.
“Hi, yes, I’m Mildred Lawson. Uh, please come in.”
Mildred stepped aside, dragging the front door with her so that the android could tiptoe inside on deer-like feet. Maybe she was being too harsh. The android really did look human if you didn’t look too closely. No stutters in her joints as she walked, but her movements weren’t too fluid either. Synthetic hair that swished along her narrow shoulders. Skin that held a subtle gleam when she stepped into the pale kitchen light. It was mostly the eyes that Mildred worried about. The eyes were most crucial.
“Soooo I’m Carroll, another name for the EDV-13 Android Unit Class.” The android clasped her hands. Mildred nodded along, though, even after all her research, the technology still evaded her.
“I am here for all your caretaking needs. I have recently been outfitted with BiCorp’s latest Emotion-Prime Synthesis Output, EPSO for short.” Carroll chuckled. “I am programmed with synthetic neural pathways capable of assimilating human emotion for building human-android relationships and strengthening the communication skills of your child.”
The smile refused to fade.
Mildred bit her lip. “Alright. I’m… glad you’re here. Well, uh, just down the hall. Jackson is in a playpen I’ve set up for him. I’m sure you know he’s eighteen months, but he hasn’t quite learned to walk yet. He makes sounds, but he hasn’t grasped any words—he enjoys his blocks, however.”
The android let out quiet but mirthful laughter as Mildred led her out of the kitchen and down the hall. Jackson’s room appeared on the right, just beyond the jagged rows of family pictures. Pictures of a family that no longer existed. Mildred focused as much as she could on the red and green trains she had painted along Jackson’s door.
“Before you see him―” Mildred whispered, turning back to Carroll. “I think it’s best I go inside first. I don’t know how well he’ll do with meeting you. He hasn’t done well with human caregivers in the past. This is more or less a last resort.”
“I understand. If it helps, I am programmed with neuro-byway accommodations for any sensory issues, and enhancements in my communicative algorithms make me the prime candidate for understanding the social nuances of children with Jackson’s condition.”
Mildred bit her lip. That was all well and good, but was it enough? It all sounded so efficient, so impersonal. But this had to be a solution. She needed someone who could love Jackson, protect him, and most importantly, never leave him. Too many people had already gone.
“That’s good, Carroll, really good. Uh, can I just ask one thing before I tend to him?”
“Of course.”
“I… need to understand something. You know our circumstances. I’m not a young woman, and Jackson won’t… ever be on his own. This is a big risk I’m taking, and I know this program has been doing well. I just don’t know if this is going to work or not. Anything to keep this boy out of a state home when I’m gone. Are you capable―that is, will you―?”
Mildred twisted her mouth. “I just want this to work.”
For the first time, Carroll’s smile faded. All those circuits in her pretty head must have been processing.
“Mildred,” she finally spoke. “I want you to know that my programming goes beyond neural pathways and cognitive circuits. BiCorp has made significant achievements, and I can honestly say that―”
Carroll clamped her mouth shut. Mildred waited, unsure what Carroll was trying to get at. She felt as if she was teetered on the edge of a massive cliff, ready to fall one way or another.
“No, it goes deeper than that.” A look of determination formed on Carroll’s smooth face. “I have dedicated hundreds of hours, on my own, to learning and understanding everything about your grandson. He is more than the reason for my existence. I have come to understand him not only as an individual with a need of care but also as a child who needs all the love he can get. You have provided him with love. Now it is my turn to do the same.”
Mildred stared at Carroll. She thought she detected a hint of emotion, the faintest bit of truth in those glowing blue eyes.
She sighed. If this didn’t work, there was always a human companion, but none of them would be permanent the way Carroll or any other android would be. She didn’t want to think of her grandson belonging to the state, always wondering in the back of his beautiful mind what had happened to his family.
“Wait here,” she ordered.
Mildred inched the door open and stepped inside. Jackson sat on his blankets, his plastic blocks splayed around him. He grabbed one block, turned to Mildred, then looked away.
“Hi, Jackson,” Mildred smiled. “I’ve got someone who would like to meet you. OK? Carroll?”
Mildred stepped to the side as Carroll passed into the room. The smile had returned.
With careful steps, so soft that Mildred couldn’t hear them, Carroll approached Jackson’s playpen and leaned down. Jackson only focused on the blocks.
“Hi, Jackson. I see you have blocks. Can I play?” She lowered herself onto her knees, keeping outside.
Jackson gurgled a few sounds but kept his gaze on the far corner of the room. With harried breath, Mildred undid the pen gate and eased it open, allowing Carroll to crawl inside.
Carroll finally reached into the bag she had been so protective of. She pulled out a large red block, setting it down beside Jackson. Then a blue, then a green, each stacked on top of the other.
For the first time since Mildred could remember, Jackson turned halfway toward Carroll, his arms beginning to flap.
“I can do other things too. Watch this.”
She turned to the far wall and blinked, creating a noise like a camera shutter. A ray of light bloomed along the wall. Mildred watched, her mouth dropping a bit when clouds popped into frame. A cartoonish drawing of a plane swept through the projection.
Jackson beamed, his mouth stretching in a grin.
“I think he and I will get along just fine, Miss Lawson,” Carroll blinked again. The clouds slid away before a railroad track appeared. A multicolored train appeared, white smoke puffing out of its engine, wheels huffing.
Mildred sighed, releasing the tension that had been stiffening her shoulders. When she looked down at Jackson, calm, happy, smiling, she found her answer. It was enough.
About the Author
E. S. Foster is a writer and PhD student. Her work has appeared in Alien Dimensions, MetaStellar, Sci-fi Shorts, Antipodean SF, and others. Find more of her work at fosteryourwriting.com and esfosterauthor.wordpress.com.
