Robert

“Robert, would you get me a glass of water please?” called out Jim. Then immediately followed with a “Damn” under his breath for forgetting that Robert was no longer with them.

Sitting next to him on the sofa, Connie chimed in “Yes, I miss him too”; even though neither of them really liked Robert and were secretly glad he was finally gone, “I guess you are going to have to get that water for yourself. While you are up, will you get me a glass of orange juice?” Robert wasn’t around to help Connie either.

Just last week, Robert was always in attendance listening and waiting for some request. It was great when there was something to be done so Jim and Connie would not need to do mundane things like fetching, vacuuming, or laundry. At such times Robert would leap into action and take care of the task.

The novelty of having someone to do every bidding you could imagine was alluring. Early on, Jim would spend considerable effort trying to come up with things for Robert to do. He was so eager and cooperative, Jim felt sorry for him just sitting there listening for the next request. Not to say he did everything perfectly. Sometimes the colors and whites would get mixed up in the laundry, or the sweaters that shouldn’t go into the dryer ended up in there. Robert was not perfect, just perfectly eager to help, always listening, listening for the next request.

Connie was never that interested in Robert. The implementation of AI was not something that attracted her attention. It was Jim’s idea to adopt Robert and welcome him into the house. Connie was satisfied with their situation as pensioners enjoying the leisure after all the years of them both working so hard to create their household. They raised two wonderful children and were set on enjoying their twilight years in relative comfort. It has been two years since Jim heard about Robert being available for adoption and brought him home. Connie had her reservations about having Robert in the house after they were finally empty nesters. The kids were grown with their own families.

Back then it had been quite an adjustment with the feeding and maintaining of Robert taking almost as much time as tasks he was able to do. Over time they both learned how to care for him and he learned the ropes. After all, he was always listening for instructions and never forgot. He became more and more capable of helping them. Life was good. Gradually, Robert was integrating himself into their daily existence without them even being aware of it.

After the first year, Jim realized that many of the things Robert did were the building blocks of the structure of both his and Connie’s day. They had become lost in the search for leisure. Robert took care of anything that needed to be done. For distraction, Jim started coming up with requests for Robert to do impossible things. Once he asked Robert to clean the ceiling. This put Robert into a tizzy trying to accomplish the task until he finally gave up. This gave Jim great satisfaction, but even that lost its entertainment value especially when Robert would, without judgment, be always listening, listening for the next request.

Connie reacted by staying out of the house as much as possible. Without even realizing it, she needed to be out of Robert’s earshot. Jim spent most of his time in the house, continuing with his writing. The royalties from the books he wrote years ago had given them the wherewithal to retire as early as they did. This new writing had not been particularly successful, but it gave Jim something to do. Jim also began to look for distractions away from the house and often found himself in the driveway scrolling through his phone even though it was only Robert patiently waiting inside listening, listening for a request.

As a consequence, their marriage was deteriorating. Jim missed spending time with Connie and their conversation at home became stilted because Robert was always listening, listening.

Then, out of the blue, they got a notification that Robert’s fuel pods were no longer being made. Jim had adopted Robert from another family and was actually a few generations old. They had only a two month supply of fuel left and knew that every time Robert said he was hungry, they were getting closer to the end. In deference to his energy consumption, both Jim and Connie reduced their requests. Jim stopped sending Robert on impossible tasks. In fact they were quite gentle with him. Jim scoured the internet looking for fuel pods but all had been snapped up. There were none available. Each day they began doing more and more of the mundane tasks Robert had been doing for them over the past years.

For his part, Robert was ever eager, always listening, listening for the next request. This disconcerted Jim as being so aware of Robert’s imminent fate, while Robert was oblivious to his own demise. Connie became morose at the prospect of this cohabitant passing away in the face of his cheerful response to any request.

Finally, for the last time, Robert said he was hungry. There were no more pods. Robert continued his listening, listening punctuating the silence with occasional requests for food. The vigil began. It actually brought them closer together as they hung around the house while Robert’s indicator lights grew dimmer and dimmer. His requests for food remained matter-of-fact, never plaintive. Jim and Connie sat together talking softly, as if at a hospital bedside. They became more and more distressed as the life gradually drained out of Robert and he went totally dark and silent. Jim checked Robert; he was dead.

Connie approached Jim with tears in her eyes and they hugged closely, the first time they had done that in a while. Jim said, “I love you, Connie”, relieved that finally Robert was not there listening, listening.