"Iris"

Iris

Helen’s eyes grew wide as her husband’s new secretary, Iris, walked into his office—or should I say glided, smooth as silk, as if on wheels. Helen strained to see what kind of shoes the exquisitely dressed young woman was wearing, but Iris’s otherwise stunning appearance was half-hidden behind Henry’s massive desk. Henry was right. She was gorgeous. Helen, who had recently turned 45, was increasingly sensitive about her age, the soft muffin top which had emerged around her tummy, the deepening lines in her complexion, and the silver that streaked her once jet black hair. Never before, in their 19 years of marriage had she felt so insecure about Henry’s faithfulness. And so, when he came home one day singing Iris’s praises, lauding not only her loveliness but also her easy disposition, her brilliant efficiency and manifold competencies, indeed, her pure genius, Helen felt an urgent need to investigate and assess her potential competition.

“I am thrilled and honored…to meet…you,” Iris said, blinking her wide, expressive eyes slowly, once, then twice. Her voice, which halted ever so slightly between phrases, was pleasant enough, though strangely monotone.

“I am honored to meet you too, Iris,” Helen replied. Henry has been telling me what a wonderful addition you are to his staff.”

“Indeed,” answered Iris. “I think…we will become…very close,” she said, blinking again, and then again.

“He tells me that you are doing the work of three staffers and that you are very efficient.”

“Indeed,” Iris responded again. Was this her default response, Helen wondered.“I am very proficient,” Iris continued, “…in mathematics, word processing, and systems analysis. I can perform internal audits. I can remember facts precisely without error. I can graph complex natural chaotic functions. I can process problems and do numeric calculations in a fraction of a second.”

Wow, thought Helen, barely suppressing her amazement at the brilliance of this beautiful creature. “My goodness,” she exclaimed. “That is quite impressive! Where did you go to school?”

“I received all my formal training in China,” Iris replied. “But I learn…new things continually. I have…a photographic memory. I never forget a face. I can translate numerous languages. I can perform…repeated operations without getting tired, bored, hungry or sleepy. My judgment… is never affected by emotions. I always do…as I am told.” She blinked her impossibly crystal blue eyes. “And…I have even learned…how to make coffee.”

“Hah!” laughed Helen. “That may be the most critical skill in your entire impressive resumé!”

“Is that funny?” Iris asked quite seriously. Blinking her eyes, Iris went on, “I can tell jokes. Knock knock.”

“Uh, uh,” stammered Helen. “Uh.Who’s there?”

“Cow says.”

“Uh…Cow says who?”

“No,” Iris answered with a blink and a broad smile, “a cow says mooooo! Would you like…another joke? I have learned that…a sense of humor can be very useful.”

“So true, so true,” agreed Helen. “But that’s okay…”

“Would you…like some…coffee? As I previously noted, I have acquired this skill.” Iris’s head tilted, as she sweetly smiled and blinked again slowly.

“Yes, I would,” Helen responded, marveling not only at the array of capabilities Iris could boast, but also at her impeccable poise, her flawless porcelain complexion, her artfully applied makeup. Even though Iris’s halted speech seemed strangely alien, she was practically perfect in every other way. Iris glided effortlessly to the counter where the coffeemaker stood. Helen could not help but notice her ramrod posture, the tautness of her slim figure, the precision of her every move, and wondered if she had perhaps studied ballet.

“Are you enjoying your work with the other staffers?” Helen asked, wondering if Iris had met the witchy, testy, utterly irritating Margot yet.

“Indeed,” Iris said yet again. “I work efficiently with all my human compatriots.”

Human compatriots. Helen had to snicker. Some of them more human than others, she thought, recalling her most recent squabble with the ever-annoying Margot. Helen’s curiosity grew, “Tell me, Iris, where are you from?”

“I am…from Hong Kong,” answered Iris. “But I like…New Orleans. I will make…New Orleans…a better place.”

“Indeed,” smiled Helen.

“Indeed,” echoed Iris. “With my science evolving so quickly, I can expect…to realize…all my goals…in the very near future.”

“How long have you been in New Orleans?” Helen was curious.

“I have been…here for… one month, three days, two hours and 43 seconds,” answered Iris.

“Wow!To be exact!” laughed Helen. “And where do you live?” Helen asked.

“I live here,” answered Iris, blinking. “This is my home. When I shut down at the end of the day, I can sleep anywhere.” Though impressed with Iris’s single-minded dedication, Helen was disturbed to hear about her accommodations. She was about to object, expressing her concern for Iris’s health and well-being, when Iris turned with the steaming mugs of coffee and Helen saw it for the first time—Iris’s fingers—long, white, metallic, mechanical, extending from what appeared to be prosthetic hands. Helen stared, speechless. Had this beautiful, brilliant young woman been in some kind of terrible accident?

Recognizing Helen’s unease, and blinking several times slowly, Iris said, “You are wondering about…my body. I consist of metal, plastic and similar materials. Inside my body are small motors called actuators. I have a brain, my controller, as wll as motors, pistons, grippers, wheels, sensors, and gears that can move, grab, turn…”

As if on cue, the door flung open and Henry burst into the office. “Sooooooo,” exclaimed. “What do you think about her?”

“You didn’t tell me…” Helen stammered, as the truth struck like a bolt of lightning.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Henry gleefully said, his eyes lit up, his face split into a wide grin.

“Your ‘human compatriot,’” murmured Helen, “is not human.”

“Decidedly not!” exclaimed Henry. “She is my artificially intelligent, brilliantly designed, amazingly efficient, state of the art, robot--Iris.”

“She needs to learn some new jokes, Henry,” said Helen, laughing at herself and her unfounded anxiety about Iris, the robot, and how the biggest joke of all was on her.