Don’t Forget Me

Half dozing, Maisie could easily have mistaken the news presenter for one of the AI models she was reporting on. Too  perfect to be real, the presenter was reporting on malfunctions in a tiny percentage of the leading AI firm’s models.  Designed to integrate seamlessly into everyday life, they promised to eliminate boredom, loneliness, anxiety, and even grief.

Stroking her adorable Scottie, Bailey, as he nestled in her lap, Maisie heard something about a tech company removing affected units for urgent retesting, before yawning and switching to a show where a dog hell-bent on ruining its owner’s home, was being calmly retrained by a charming expert.

Maisie smiled at the memory of her first meeting with Bailey. She’d opened the door to find her son Steve, grinning boyishly. Still wearing his company’s jacket with the distinctive Soltek AI logo, he was carrying a basket.

“What have we here?” Maisie asked.

“I know how lonely you’ve been since dad passed. I’ve got the perfect surprise for you.”

The surprise had been a gorgeous, to-die-for AI dog. Since then, she hadn’t looked back.

From the beginning, Maisie was determined to care for her dog properly. She reminded herself he wasn’t a real dog, and trusted she’d manage just fine, so long as her health held and her mind stayed sharp. Admittedly, she forgot the odd thing, but that could happen to anyone.

Maisie had no hesitation in signing an agreement that her son’s company could monitor her for signs of decline. She trusted Steve, and she liked to keep pace with things. 

 Every so often when he managed to get a break from work, Steve would drop by  and check on Maisie’s progress with her new pet. One of the perks of his job as a senior AI technician at Soltek was getting to test the latest AI updates before they were released to the public.

 ***

Bailey had scraggly white fur, a little beard, and dark eyes which were lively, yet mournful. Within minutes, he’d relaxed into Maisie’s arms, rested his head against her shoulder, and had repeatedly licked her face. The tongue had the texture and wetness of a real dog’s tongue.

“Thank you so much, Steve. You don’t know what this means,” she’d said.

Steve had smiled boyishly. “So long as you like him.”

“I do. And look how quickly he’s settling in.”

“He is, but don’t forget that while he’s programmed to behave like a dog, he’s been created under lab conditions. He’s like a real dog in many ways, except the chip in his brain makes him more compliant.”

“You mean I won’t have to put up with half my garden being dug up while he goes on the hunt for small animals. The plant tubs will be left in peace.”

Steve laughed. “Here’s hoping. He seems pretty docile.”

Maisie thought of a neighbour’s small dog and its tendency to snap at the heels of delivery workers, if unsupervised.

“Is that likely to be a problem here?” she asked Steve, suddenly concerned.

“Unlikely. The chip overrides any aggressive instinct. But make sure you read the instructions thoroughly.”

“Will he get along with other dogs?”

“We’ve tested him.” Steve laughed. “You won’t have anything to worry about when it comes to chasing female dogs, or humping stranger’s legs. He’s not much of a barker either. But we can adjust that if you’d prefer some noise for security. He’s been properly house-trained too, of course. We have set him up so he feeds off the energy of food like a real dog which means he will need to pee and poop too. We decided not to fix a device to stop, and it would be costly to alter it now.”

Maisie rolled her eyes. “A bit of poop won’t kill me, Steve. I want him to live as normal a life as possible. I intend to take him for regular walks. Let him enjoy running through parks and fetching a ball. It will be good exercise for us both.”

“Have you decided what you are going to call him yet?”

“Bailey. He looks like a Bailey.”

“Good choice,” Steve said. “Now, before I go, don’t forget he must sleep on his charger bed every night. I’ll set it up for you now, then you won’t have to do anything.”

“Thank you.”

“And if there’s anything out of the ordinary with his behaviour, just call me.”

When Steve left, Maisie watched Bailey patter across her wooden floor. In the kitchen, he stopped to investigate his basket. After thoroughly sniffing it, he stepped inside as if it was made for him.

“You do look cosy,” Maisie said, gently covering him with a blanket. The dog yawned and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing turned slow and regular and he fell into a deep sleep.

***

The next day, when there was a knock at the door. Bailey cocked his ears, barked a little, then waited calmly. No flying off the handle.

“Well done, Bailey. You’ve passed the test,” she said.

Later, he wagged his tail enthusiastically at the word “walk.”  In the park, he raked through leaves, sniffed the grass, cocked his leg against trees, but avoided the puddles. They came across various dogs, but other than a brief sniff, there were no dramatics.

As the weeks turned into months, Bailey was proving to be an ideal companion. The pair looked forward to their walks together. Maisie threw Bailey sticks which were loyally returned all wet and chewed. His senses were sharp. On days when Maisie seemed off – dropping things or faltering slightly, he’d pick them up and linger to make sure she was alright.

One day, on their way to the park, they were about to cross a busy road when Maisie’s phone rang. It was Steve. Distracted, she didn’t see the bus speeding past to the crossing. The next moment there was a screech of brakes as it juddered to a halt. Maisie’s small figure was sent flying beneath one of the wheels.

Screaming, she ended up sprawled on the road. In a flash, Bailey ran over barking and nudging to see if he could help. Even though one of his legs was damaged by some broken glass, he refused to leave.

Maisie lay crumpled in the road, limbs askew, her pale blue eyes staring blankly at the sky, unseeing. A silvery trail – too bright and too thin to be blood – leaked from her temple. A faint grinding of gears clicked and stuttered inside her. Bailey stood beside her puzzled, one leg gashed, quietly whining. 

By now, a small crowd had gathered. 

Maisie tried to tell them that Bailey was a good boy, that he hadn’t meant to run out, but her vocal synthesisers failed her. Instead, a series of pre-recorded messages came out as broken bleeps.

Don’t forget…

Your…

Steve…

Don’t. 

Then as something gave way, her chest opened slightly with a mechanical crack – just enough to reveal a lattice of fine circuitry woven into synthetic tissue. Beneath sun-tanned skin, the exposed rib cage gleamed with carbon alloy. The brain inside the skull was a hybrid of silicon and stem cells fused to a microchip.

Maisie had existed: part machine, part memory, part woman.

No one had ever asked her.

When Steve arrived flashing his Soltek credentials, the paramedics stepped back. One of them gestured to Maisie’s shattered form.

“Maybe better not get too close, Steve. She’s… well, you can see.”

But Steve crouched beside the figure who had, for all intents and purposes, become his second mother. Part of him remained detached: a technician scanning the damage to a valuable piece of equipment. As if to confirm it, a piece of synthetic skin hung loose, revealing the artificial bone beneath. But her eyes – those perfect sky-blue eyes – were still open. Like his mother’s, but Maisie’s own eyes too.

For a moment, Steve’s breath caught. He had watched his real mother fade from cancer three years ago, helpless to save her. When she’d refused to see a doctor, there had been nothing they could do. He’d always known there was a risk in “resurrecting” a version of her in the form of a replica, but the temptation had been irresistible. The Maisie lying on the road had been his salvation, and until now, his greatest mistake.

As he touched her still warm face, he whispered, “Are you real? Was any of this real?”

One of the engineers standing behind him placed a hand on his shoulder. “She might still be salvageable – if that’s what you decide you want. Either way, she’ll have to go back and be reassessed.”

 Steve reached over and gently closed Maisie’s eyes.

Then he saw Bailey watching him.

He turned and carefully picked him up. 

“I’ll take him,” Steve said firmly. “He’s mine. He always was.”

The technician hesitated, not looking at Maisie directly.

“Do you want her… decommissioned?”

Steve forced himself to look at Maisie’s broken body. Then he rose. 

Cradling Bailey in his arms, he walked away as the depot van’s lights blinked behind him. Cold, white, clinical and empty.