SAD ROBOT: an autobiography of my unfortunate existence

34. A VISIT OVER TEA

34. A VISIT OVER TEA 

Miloʼs mother, whose name I found out was Ida, is actually rather sweet and I can not see why Milo insists on his stubborn familial neglect by not coming to sit and have tea at the small, round coffee table as I am now doing. Although Ida is the only one having tea, I still understand the sense of this human custom and of its warm invitation of conversation and friendship. Ida very sweetly is soon asking me many questions about my initial observations of being outside of the city for the first time. She asks my opinion on whether isnʼt the country lovely, and wouldnʼt I enjoy a vacation here sometime, even just a short visit once in a while, to which I say that yes I think I would, but I leave out the fact in saying that Milo would have to be the one to bring me out here because train tickets are expensive and, after all, Milo is their son and he is my connection to this small family and it would be strange if a robot made routine countryside visits to an elderly couple all by himself, which would sooner-or-later end up with many questions directed at myself by persons deemed to find this activity suspicious or, even worse, too normal.

I will admit the conversation started out a bit rocky, as I would expect with anyone who has never really had a sit-down chat with a robot before. I understand the concept might be rather foreign to those that donʼt interact with beings like myself on a daily basis if even at all. But the stigma is soon shed and I even make her laugh once when I say that Milo shouldʼve listened to his mother more often because she is a very smart lady and could certainly show him a thing or two about cooking things that require a little more effort than the punching in of a few numbers on a timer and then the start button.

I ask where Miloʼs father is and Ida says that Harry is outside doing what he does, which at the time I thought was unusually vague, but that he would come in if she called him. It turns out what Harry does is, for the most part, his idea of yard maintenance. He tends to putt around on a lawnmower or garden tractor, ministering to the yard as he sees fit which is most often more than what is necessary, this being what makes the coupleʼs yard look like it is consistently tended to by the worldʼs most prolific groundskeeper.

I am not able to meet the man, say hello, and offer to improve my first impression of me by showing him my charming personality, as he did not come inside the house during my visit, instead choosing to continue his daily chores while probably knowing that Milo most likely would be a no-show anyways so why even bother. I even offer to Ida to go out and greet Harry, but Ida says not to disturb him while he is working. If he comes in, he comes in; and if he doesnʼt, he doesnʼt.

Ida grew fascinated by me and I with her. I have never sat down and spoke this long with anyone other than Milo and my therapist. It gave me a chance to use my perception abilities in collecting personality information about someone, like when I first did with Milo but had seldomly had another first-time encounter with anybody long enough for me to learn anything of substance.

These are the things that I learned about Ida over the course of my visit: she is nice, willing to give people second-chances, a good listener, a thoughtful speaker, a welcoming aura that invites almost instant likableness, and, oh have I mentioned, is very, very nice.

"Youʼre very nice, Mrs. Sparks," I say.

She hides a smile. "Thank you, Hiram, youʼre much too nice yourself."

I wave a hand, "Oh please, I am privileged to be in your home and thankful for your acceptance. Itʼs more than I could have asked for. Thank you for not mistaking me for a killer robot."

"How could I? Youʼre practically harmless."

"True. I do not have the physical spryness necessary to wield a weapon, nor the mental immorality to actually use one."

"Youʼre the oddest but most pleasant robot I have ever seen or met."

"And you are the most charming and kind-hearted lady I have had the privilege of sitting down to chat with in all of my years of sentience."

This statement seemed to only push her opinion of me above and beyond what it already was. My delightful character really is the only thing I have going for me, so it is always wisest that I milk it for all Iʼve got. Not that I am doing this as an act, it is very much sincere! It is just that I am aware of my strengths, you could say. My strength is in words, and sometimes all a robot has are the words to portray how he feels.

A short while later before I know it, our visit is concluding and I am saying good-bye and nice to meet you to Ida, who waves at me kindly as I trudge down the flowery driveway to the waiting cab that has come to retrieve me and take me back to a less wonderful place where there are less friendly people and much less colorful blossoms. She tells me to tell Milo that she misses him and that I need to drag Milo with me the next time I come to visit and sheʼll show me how much bigger her garden has grown and maybe I could even help pick some of the vegetables if I wanted to, which I replied that the idea sounds lovely and I would be delighted. She says she has never met a more well-mannered robot before and apologizes for her initial first impression of me at her nieceʼs wedding barbecue. Next time, she says, she would gladly re-introduce me to the family and give me the chance I deserve. She says that she looks forward to seeing me again. Nobody has ever said that to me before. It was kind of nice.

I think that the biggest regret I will always have as a robot, is that I will never have a parent, nor ever know the love of a parent. The connection between kin in humans is constantly observed as remarkable beyond mere rationalization. Itʼs just there, incredibly strong and binding, no matter what. Forgetting that I am robot for just one moment; if I had a parent, or even more wonderful - if I had two! - I would cherish them. For they would have been the ones to have brought me into this world, chosen to bear this child no matter the ups and downs of parenthood and bear the weight of attempting to create a life worth living for this pure, innocent newborn, to see it raised well and, in turn, grow into a proper and respectable individual and, what I could only hope for would be to see their expressions as proud parents, to see it in their faces that I had indeed grown up and attained the life that they had strived to make for me. That I had made them proud.