SAD ROBOT: an autobiography of my unfortunate existence

38. GIRL IN THE RED SWEATER

38. GIRL IN THE RED SWEATER

I get into the cab that pulls up in front of the main doors of Miloʼs building. The driver, as usual also a robot, does not look at me funny, does not ask questions, and most certainly does not refuse service to me because of my robot-ness.

He is like me, he has a job and he does it and does it well. He gets people to their destinations. Sometimes he gets other robots to their destinations too.

When we get to the cafe that Ava and I, falsely impersonating Milo, had arranged to meet at, I instruct the driver to wait for me as I will not be more than a few minutes. He nods that he has understood what has been asked of him.

When I emerge from the backseat of the cab, I am prepared for the looks of the people walking down the sidewalks. Their stares, their frowns, their whispers to one another. It does not faze me, for I am a fearless robot. Let them stare all they wish at the white-plated, round-headed lower-class citizen.

I enter the cafe through the glass door beside big glass windows and search the area that is not very big to begin with, easily spotting Ava from the face in her picture. The picture rings true, it must be her. She is sitting at a table for two at the large front window, much to the accuracy of my fictional musing.

She has seen me enter. Her eyes flick up to me and then quickly away, as if you are not supposed to make eye-contact with robots or else they will take it as a challenge to engage in hand-to-hand combat.

Everyone in the restaurant is currently slyly glancing in my general direction but are pretending that I am not there, that if they act like they donʼt see me then I will go away like wildlife at the campsite. Be utterly quiet and it will lose interest and leave. That iswhat they are hoping. Also that I am not there to cause trouble, that I am not a part of the secret robot uprising, there to make a statement with a cafe full of innocent people.

If they cared to speak to me and get to know me, they would discover that I am actually just a really nice guy. Nice robot, rather. ʻGuyʼ implies physical gender, which I, of course, merely have a deep register programmed into my voice-box.

She sits at her table for two, a cup of coffee curled in her hands, glancing back and forth from it to the window every so often, checking to see if she recognizes any of the men outside as the one in Miloʼs profile picture.

Her hair has been curled and drapes down to her shoulders. Itʼs blondness is quite lovely and goes well with her red sweater and matching scarf around her neck. She is small, huddled in her chair, probably nervous, trying to come up with the perfect introductory line.

I loiter near the entrance for a moment, hoping that people will go back to their conversations instead of watching what I do.

I bring up my hand and unfold it in front of me. It is still there, the small note that I had written and folded over twice so it is no larger than the palm of my hand.

It is a note. A note that I had written to give to Ava. I did not expect her to hold a conversation with me, a robot. Least of all in a public place. She would most likely bolt from her seat and alert an employee, in which several would come at me with annoyed looks, perhaps even acting a tad hostile, to escort me from the premises.

I walk past several tables and when hers is directly to my left, I stealthily put a hand on the table as if to stop myself from tipping over, as if I had just briefly lost balance. I utter an "Oh, sorry, pardon me," and then continue walking, the note laying on the table where my hand had momentarily rested, with no one being able to notice it but her.

I go up to the first waiter I see, as if that were the purpose of my visit, and ask him if the hot beef sandwich is any good, to which he gives me a funny look, and I say that it is for a friend.

She has seen the note. She has unfolded it and is now reading it.

I apologize to the waiter for wasting his time and then casually make my way full-circle back to the front doors and out. I do not get to analyze her reaction to the note that is signed by Milo, though not actually from Milo. It is only my forgery.

The note was addressed as such: 

     Dearest Ava, the girl whom I have not met yet, 

I regretfully inform you that I shall not be able to attend our previously arranged rendezvous due to unforeseen circumstances. I sincerely apologize for this unfortunate situation and would "greatly appreciate if we could reschedule. I have sent my robot friend as messenger of this note so as you do not waste your time waiting for my arrival.
I hope it reaches you well. 

     Sincerely,
          Milo

My job finished, I duck back into the taxi and politely instruct my fellow robot friend to take me back to my original location. As we drive away, I glimpse through the cafe window, Ava watching me, note in hand, as the car pulls away from the curb. I am not able to discern her emotions from the look on her face, but I judge confusion to most likely be one of them.

I donʼt quite know what the next step will be in trying to put the two of them together in the same room, but I will have to maneuver Milo out of his depression long enough to talk some sense into him, raise his self-esteem high enough so that he can talk to another human being without massively fudging it up.

Sitting in the cab on the way back to the apartment, I realize something. If what I am trying to do succeeds, then Milo will have no use for me. He will not need a friendly acquaintance to keep him company, help him with small tasks, or act as confidant. If there is another human being to do those things, I would no longer be necessary. I would be expendable.

But it is for Milo and his best interest. He is my Owner and that is what I am obliged to do. Besides, he may even decide to keep me around based on the sole reputation of my dependability, cleverness, and my faithfulness. Yes, Milo is a good person, he would keep me. I am his friend and he is mine. That is what friends do, from what I am told.