EYE CANDY - Chapter 18: Six to the Thirty-sixth Café & Something for the Misses
It’s human nature to desire companionship.
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Blond hair.
Danny opened his eyes and saw blond hair.
He lifted his head. Disorientation always assailed him upon waking, as might a new robot require a few nanoseconds to come to life. White sheets surrounded him, softer and fluffier than his own. And imbued with a far sweeter scent.
He realized where he was: Candy’s bed.
He raised the blankets and surveyed their prone bodies: they were both fully clothed.
Candy turned and looked at him with sleepy green eyes.
He kissed her. “Good morning.”
Candy smiled. “Good morning.” She looked around the bedroom, at the sunlight shining on the ceiling, then lifted the covers and saw they were both dressed. “How did we get here?”
“I think we fell asleep on the sofa after a lot of kissing. Then at some point we woke up and came in here.”
“Is that why my lips are sore? What time is it?”
Danny found his watch absent from his wrist; he’d taken it off, though he had no recollection of when. “No idea.”
“Shall we get up and get some breakfast?” Candy sat up and looked out the window. “Or lunch.”
“Sure.”
“Ever been to Café Six-Thirty-Six?” she asked.
“No.”
“Lunch is on me.” Candy climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
Classical music emanated from the other room. Danny rolled out of bed and went and found his phone on the coffee table. Howard was calling. Danny tapped the green phone icon. “Hi, Howard.”
“Good afternoon, sir. I’ve just spoken with Mr. McGherrity, from the shuttle repair facility. It seems a forensics expert from the LAPD has investigated the shuttle and determined that no explosives were present.”
“Really. That’s interesting.”
“I thought so as well.”
Danny and Howard stared at one another in silence.
“There’s something rotten in Denmark, Howard.”
“And let us hope Heaven will direct us, sir.”
“You know Shakespeare?”
“All of his work is stored in my memory, though to date I have read but a few plays. They are on my ‘To-Do’ list.”
“I hope we live long enough for you to read them.”
“I echo your sentiment, sir.”
Danny asked Howard to contact him if necessary, and then rang off.
~
Candy and Danny walked through the courtyard of a beautiful retail complex in West Hollywood.
Candy led Danny toward a door with Café 636 above it.
Danny considered the sign. “Six to the Thirty-Sixth?”
“You’ll see.”
“Isn’t it a little early for exponents? I mean it is”–he checked his watch–“almost three o’clock.”
Candy grinned and led him inside.
The café was a vast square with a bar along one side leading to the kitchen. The dining room and array of tables, with cozy private booths along the walls, sat on a glowing checker-board-patterned floor of large squares. Each square glowed with a red, orange, yellow, green, blue, or purple light. A small, very mushroom-like janitorial bot was diligently cleaning the colored floor.
“Six rows of six lights,” said Danny. “Six lights on a side. Six times six is thirty-six. Six to the thirty-sixth power.”
“Very good, doctor.” Candy gave Danny a squeeze, followed by a sensuous kiss.
“I goed to college.”
Candy laughed.
A robot waiter approached. He wore an apron bearing a series of illuminated squares; a smaller rendition of the restaurant’s floor. “Hello there! Welcome to Café Six-Thirty-Six. My name is Romeo and I will be taking care of you for the duration of your visit today. Won’t that be fun?”
Romeo waved his arms about and his head swiveled loosely on his neck. He was very animated. His face didn’t seem to have any moving mechanical components, but it did employ some sort of hologram to create a convincing rendition of a male human face. Danny resisted the urge to take a closer look.
“Would you kids prefer a table or a booth?” Romeo asked. “Let me guess: a couple of love birds like you would prefer a booth.”
“A booth would be great,” said Danny.
“Then follow me, honey.” Romeo took Danny by the hand and began to lead them across the glowing floor. Romeo turned to Candy, “Let me know where you picked him up so I can get me one just like it, sister. Unless you want to loan him to me for about an hour.”
Candy and Danny exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“Just kidding, sweetie!” said Romeo. “I know which side my bread is buttered on. He’s all yours.”
Romeo led them to a booth.
“How often do the lights change?” asked Danny.
As if on cue, each of the squares faded and became a different color. It was a soothing effect.
“Each combination lasts for one minute,” said Romeo. He placed two menus on the table and quickly and efficiently gathered up the two extra place settings and water and wine glasses, hooking the stemware expertly between his silver and black fingers.
“There’s more than one hundred octillion combinations,” Romeo continued. “It will never repeat. It’s a symbol for the endless possibilities of life and love. Not that we’d be around to see it if it did repeat. But then, who’d want to live that long? Not me, sister!” Romeo stepped dramatically to the side and swept one arm toward the booth, beckoning Danny and Candy to sit. “Besides, I think they’re going to demolish this place, and me right along with it I suspect. That’ll be a tough day at the office.”
Candy slid sideways onto the bench seat and Danny sat beside her.
“It’s just a rumor at this point, of course. Well, you two are just cuter than the dickens. And I don’t even know what that means. Drinks?”
“What do you recommend?” asked Danny.
“I’d like to recommend you follow me into the back for a private tour of my kitchen but your belle amour here would no doubt kick my robot heinie from here to the moon. So how about a cold beer, sailor?”
“A beer sounds . . . fine.”
“And something for the misses?” asked Romeo.
“A beer for me, too.”
“A girl who drinks. I love it. Back in a flash, kids.” Romeo headed for the bar.
Danny scanned the restaurant. “Part science and mathematics, part artistic expression. I like it.”
“This place is famous for its–”
“Waiters?”
“No. Well, maybe. I was going to say vegetarian fish and chips.”
“How can fish be vegetarian?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
Romeo returned carrying a tray with two bottles of beer and two glasses. He deftly flicked two coasters onto the table, set a tall beer tumbler on each, and then inserted a bottle of beer into each glass, with the beer bottle inverted and standing upright. Each bottle slowly emptied, filling the glass. When a rich, foamy head threatened to crest the lip and spill over, Romeo carefully removed each empty bottle and placed it once more on his tray, leaving two perfectly-poured glasses of beer.
Candy and Danny stared at the glasses in amazement.
“No applause. Just throw money. It’s an old trick I learned years ago at bartending college. Would you kids like to hear the specials? Unless you already know what you want. And I’ll bet you do.” Romeo winked a coquettish holographic eye at them.
“I hear the fish and chips is good,” said Danny.
“It’s heavenly. Two of those?”
“Please.”
“You got it.” Romeo marched away.
“He doesn’t mess around,” said Danny.
“I heard that!” Romeo called from the bar. “But it’s not true. Just kidding. But not really.”
Danny picked up his beer. “A toast.”
Candy raised her beer as well.
“To Candy. The most beautiful woman in the room.”
Candy surveyed the empty restaurant. “I’m the only woman in the room.”
“Details.”
“Smart ass.”
They drank.
“So,” said Danny, “do you want to talk about Barney?”
“What’s to talk about? He’s dead.”
“How did it happen?”
“He shot himself.”
“With what?”
“Gun.”
“Didn’t they relieve him of his weapon when they brought him to you?”
“He had a backup weapon hidden in a compartment on his leg. He said that every good cop carries a backup piece.”
“Where did he shoot himself? It’s not easy to disable a robocop.”
“Under the chin. Blew his positronic brains out. They’re all over my ceiling. Susannah said she would have new ceiling tiles installed today. It won’t do to have a bullet hole and the rainbow spatter of positrons on the ceiling while clients are sitting in the waiting room. Any halfway intelligent robot built in the past eight years will take one look at that ceiling and have a melt-down right on the spot. My malpractice insurance is going to go through the roof. No pun intended.”
“What happened to the body?”
“LAPD Roboforensics came and got him in their van.”
“Is the LAPD going to seek damages?”
“Damages against me?”
“Yeah.”
“The Captain said he wasn’t. But once the departmental lawyers and the insurance company get involved, that will probably change.”
“Don’t you have any protection? A contract or something?”
“Sure. Every owner signs a contract when they bring their robot to me. This is hardly an exact science. There’s a certain amount of finesse to it, as there is with any mental health profession. I like to think I’m pretty good at it. At least I thought I was.” Candy looked at the pink and green and blue smears still visible on her hands. She put her hands in her lap.
“Of course you’re good at it. The LAPD wouldn’t be bringing you expensive robocops if you didn’t have a certain professional credibility, a reputation.”
“Let’s just hope that reputation will account for something when they call me downtown to give a deposition on the deactivation of their robot. A very expensive robot, which the taxpayers paid for, by the way.”
Romeo approached the table carrying two platters. He set one platter before Candy. “Vegetarian fish and chips for the lady.” And the second before Danny. “And the same for the hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin’ love sitting beside her. Delicious. And the fish and chips is good, too. You kids holler if you need me and I’ll be back to check on you in a few.” Romeo marched away once more.
Danny and Candy dug into their fish and chips.
“This is amazing,” said Danny. “I can’t believe it’s not actually fish. It looks like fish. It smells like fish. It tastes like fish and even has the same texture as fish.” He picked up a French fry. “Are these actually potatoes?”
“Yes, but they’re baked, not fried.”
He held the fry before Candy’s mouth and she bit off its end. Danny finished the remainder.
“Do you eat regular fish?” Danny asked.
“Sure,” said Candy. “I just happen to love this and it just happens to be vegetarian.”
The bright, glowing squares of light on the floor shifted to a new pattern.
Danny sipped his beer. “Think this place or whatever becomes of it will still be here in fourteen thousand years?”
“No. This place will probably be buried under a glacier.”
“I’d love to see what the world looks like fourteen thousand years from now.”
Candy squeezed lemon juice onto her fish. “Hope you have a time machine.”
“Or a potion for immortality.”
“Why, do you want to live forever?”
“I don’t know about forever, but I’d like to live five hundred years or so.”
“Why?”
“So I could see all the new technology. New forms of transportation. Space travel. Interstellar travel. We could take a space cruise, a three-week cruise from Earth to Jupiter and back.”
“What would we do on a spaceship for three weeks?”
“Guess.”
Candy smiled.
“There’s a smile,” said Danny. “Finally. I was getting worried.”
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m a big girl.”
“I know you are. But letting me worry about you is not a referendum on your status as an adult and an experienced professional, or on your ability to manage your life.”
“Then what is it?”
“Love.”
“Worrying is a form of love?”
“Of course. When you love someone, they become important to you. Their well being becomes equal to your own. It’s natural to be fearful of losing them.”
“Barney was afraid. That’s why he shot himself.”
Danny sipped his beer. “I’m trying to cheer you up. If you’re determined to be depressed, let me know, so I can be depressed with you.”
“I don’t want you to be depressed.”
“I don’t want me to be depressed, either. Nor do I want you to be depressed.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound like it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just feel like I failed him. He was looking to me for help and I couldn’t help him.”
“What could you have done differently?”
Candy considered it. “I don’t know. Nothing. Intellectually I know that. But it still hurts.”
“Give it time.”
Romeo approached the table.
“I sensed a bit of tension over here so I thought I’d make nuisance of myself. How’s the fish?”
“Delicious,” said Danny. “What’s it made from?”
“Honey, if I knew the answer to that question I’d open a fish taco stand in Okinawa because I am just a fool for a man in a uniform. A couple of months ago the Enterprise came into port down in Long Beach and this whole city was crawling with sailors. We had a whole mess of them in here and they all wanted Vegetarian Fish and Chips. I was hotter than a two-dollar pistol. My microfusion reactor certainly hit critical mass, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
Candy burst out laughing, followed by Danny.
Romeo patted Danny on the shoulder and marched away.
Candy and Danny finished eating, paid the tab, and exchanged hugs with Romeo. “I shall bid you a fond farewell,” Romeo declared. “I hate goodbyes so you two kids take care of yourselves and come again soon. Mi casa es su casa.” Romeo winked once more. As Candy and Danny passed through the front door, Romeo called out “Ciao!” He was oblivious to the other guests who had begun to fill the restaurant.
Out in the courtyard, Candy took hold of Danny’s hand and they strolled between the buildings. The sun was nearly setting and the shops had activated their nighttime illumination.
Candy and Danny strolled hand in hand, window shopping here and there. Danny grinned inwardly each time he noticed other guys checking out Candy. One of them strolled with a woman. The man casually turned his head and looked over his shoulder as Candy walked by. The woman beside him made a fist and punched his shoulder. Hard.
Danny and Candy paused before Pacific Coast Artifactories. The store window displayed many impressive woodworks: tables and chairs and plates and bowls and flatware for eating, and everything made entirely from wood. Real wood, too, based on the small hand-written price tags attached to the beautiful pieces, all of which had been hand crafted by robots.
“What made you want to become a robopsychologist?” Danny asked.
“When I was a little girl, one day my friends and I decided to set up a lemonade stand. We spent all morning making lemonade and gathering cups and a pitcher to put it in.”
“Did you make a sign?”
“Yes, we had a very nice sign free of typos or dyslexia. We set up shop on the sidewalk in front of my house and before we sold a single cup of lemonade, a robocop shows up and asks if we have a business license.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not kidding. It was our first day of business, our first hour of business. And we were eight years old. What was I supposed to do, whip out my articles of incorporation?”
Danny laughed. “So what happened?”
“The robocop said we could not sell lemonade without a license, and he would have to cite us. My friend and I both began to cry, the robot began to apologize, and then it froze.”
“It froze?”
“Like an ice cube,” said Candy. “Obviously it didn’t want to hurt two little girls, but our lemonade stand was illegal. It had a dilemma it couldn’t reconcile. So it froze. I never forgot the look on its face right before the red light went out of its eyes. It was the first year facial animatronics had been introduced. They only allowed for about a dozen facial expressions, but it was obvious that the poor robocop didn’t like his job. I felt bad for him. I never forgot him.”
“So you went on to become a prestigious robopsychologist capable of helping troubled robots all across the land?”
“Something like that.”
“Makes sense.”
“What about you? How did you get into the field?”
Danny sighed. “I don’t remember.”
“How can you not remember? I just poured my heart out regaling you with the tragic tale of a little girl’s lemonade stand gone wrong.”
“Your story was very touching. All I can tell you is that for as long as I can remember I’ve been interested in robots and how they function, and how they function in society. The difference between the robot mind and the human mind. A few decades ago the difference was as great as night and day. But today’s robots are far superior to the old ones. Take Howard, for example. He’s so smart, all he’s missing is a human body and you would never know he had positrons rolling around in his head instead of neurons and meninges and whatnot.”
“Barney was smart, too,” said Candy. “Smart enough not to want to go on suffering.”
“He made his choice,” said Danny. “There was nothing you could’ve done to stop him.”
Candy sighed. “I guess.”
Danny and Candy strolled on.
They passed a beautiful fountain and joked about tossing coins into it.
They soon came upon a smart-looking shop with a brilliant neon sign ablaze with purple and red lights: Mechanical Man and beneath it, A Bot for All Occasions!
“Shall we go inside?” Danny asked.
“We’re not in the market for a robot.”
“True. But they don’t know that.”
Candy grinned and they entered the shop.
Mechanical Man was top of the line. Glass and chrome and fiber optic lighting hidden in the floor displays showed off a variety of robots for sale.
Danny and Candy stopped in front of a burly, camouflaged ’bot designed for exterior security and surveillance. The green-and-blue optics of its eyes suggested supreme eyesight in all lighting and weather conditions.
Promptly a salesman approached. He wore a banana-yellow suit and matching yellow shirt and tie, even matching yellow patent-leather shoes. The salesman was human, and appeared to be in his fifties.
“Hatkef!” the salesman barked.
At once the camouflaged ’bot came to life, myriad servos whirring in rapid precision. The ’bot bent its knees and crouched into a fighting stance. It withdrew two long silver knives from dual sheathes hidden in its upper thighs. Two foot-long gattling guns popped up, one on each shoulder, and swiveled downward until they pointed directly at Danny and Candy.
Danny seized Candy and drew her behind him. One of the gattling guns tracked Candy’s movement. The other targeted Danny.
“Hiraga.”
The ’bot stood upright, sheathed its weapons, and powered-down into stand-by mode. Danny could feel it still observing him.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” The salesman inserted himself between Danny and the ’bot. “It just arrived this morning. Designed and manufactured entirely in Israel. Top of the line in every respect. It’s called the Pagaz, which translates as missile, but from what the sales rep told me it is also understood to mean bad-ass motherfucker. Pardon my French, madame. I’d buy one myself but I live in a high-rise condo in Marina del Rey. I don’t think the concierge would appreciate this sucker standing outside my front door all night scaring the neighbors.”
“It certainly is impressive,” said Danny. “But I think we’re in the market for something a bit more . . . residential. Something for the indoor environment. Less camouflage and fewer serrated weapons.”
“I understand completely, Mr . . . ?” The salesman waited for Danny to offer his name.
“Bond. James Bond.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bond.” He shook Danny’s hand up and down. Heartily. “Yours as well, Mrs. Bond.” He was no more gentle with Candy’s hand. “My name is Oberon.”
“Oberon?” said Candy. “As in, Oberon . . . King of the faeries?”
“Did Romeo tell you to say that? He is such a hoot. I eat lunch over there almost every day and he is absolutely incorrigible. He talked me into buying this suit. I wasn’t too keen on it but he said yellow is going to be the new black. What do you guys think?”
“It’s certainly . . . yellow,” said Candy.
“My wife said the same thing.” Oberon sighed. “I’m burning it when I get home tonight. Anyway, our domestics are right this way. If you’ll please follow me.”
Oberon led them toward robots smaller and less intimidating than the Pagaz.
The phone rang.
“Won’t you please excuse me?” Oberon turned and departed for the sales counter, where he snatched the phone from the wall.
Candy turned to Danny and spoke privately. “What are you doing? Who is James Bond?”
“He’s a famous British spy. I saw him in a movie when I was a kid.”
“What was his wife’s name?”
“I don’t think he had a wife. He was a real ladies’ man. He nailed a different chick in each movie. Sometimes more than one.”
“Wow, I must really be something if I’m the chick who snatched James Bond off the market.”
“Indeed.”
Danny and Candy kissed.
“Well aren’t you two an inspiration for the rest of us,” said Oberon as he returned. “How long have you been married?”
“A year and nine months,” said Danny.
“A man who knows his specifics. Well played, sir. If you two newlyweds want to follow me, these are our domestic robots. Each of them can handle just about any workload you can dream up. Each one has its own price point, of course. But they all come with a manufacturer’s limited warranty. Plus we also offer our own line of in-house add-on warranties which cover everything from the top of the head to the tips of the toes, the fingers, hands, brain, and nose. If your ’bot won’t walk or talk, won’t clean and scrub and keep your house tight, bring it back and we’ll make it right.” Oberon smiled a perfect huckster smile and closed one eye in an exaggerated wink. Then he resumed his normal demeanor. “Sorry. They make me say that.”
“Quite all right,” said Danny.
“Would you folks prefer a traditional robot or something a bit more . . . advanced?”
“Advanced in what way?”
“In appearance. Follow me.”
Oberon led Candy and Danny through two white swinging shutters which could have been an entrance to an Old West saloon.
On the other side was a smaller showroom featuring about a dozen different robots, each illuminated by a radiant overhead spotlight.
“You weren’t kidding,” said Danny. “From a distance, these robots could easily be mistaken for people.”
“They look so real,” said Candy.
“That’s the idea,” said Oberon.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said Danny.
“No reason you should have. They’re brand new. Supposed to be the next big thing. Though only time will tell if the buying public is ready for robots so advanced. Some people find them disturbing. Others are downright creeped out by them. Personally, I never met a ’bot I didn’t like, so I admit I’m a bit biased. Take a look at this one.”
Oberon led Candy and Danny to a nearby male robot. It had a surfer's tussled, sandy-blond hair, and bright blue eyes. A slight crease in its brow gave it a pensive look.
“If not for the fact that he’s frozen in place, I’d think he were a real person,” said Candy.
“Indeed,” said Oberon. “Pronouns notwithstanding.”
“Pronouns?” Candy asked.
“You referred to this robot as ‘he’ rather than with a traditional ‘it’.”
“I did?” Candy was surprised. “I didn’t even realize it.”
“That’s one of the things people are afraid of with these new designs.”
“I can see why,” said Danny.
Candy wandered over to four robots of equal realism, but wearing far less clothing. There were two males and two females. The males had muscular chests and chiseled abdominal muscles, and wore snug, black boxer briefs. Each set of briefs contained an impressive package.
The two female robots wore sexy lingerie: the Caucasian redhead wore a sheer black bra over her ample breasts, a black g-string (Candy snuck a peek at its posterior to confirm the realism of the cleft in her—rather, its—buttocks). It also wore spiky black high-heeled shoes. Its sister robot had skin as rich and smooth as milk chocolate. It sported a sheer purple negligee.
“These are Cherrolet Incorporated’s all-new Pleasurebots,” said Oberon. “Designed and built for one thing and one thing only. Although from the brochure, pillow talk is one of their primary high-ranking directives if that’s your thing. They are anatomically correct in every way. At least, in every way that matters, given that they are purpose built.”
Candy ran her hands over the chest of one of the male robots. She pinched its nipples. “Wow. Almost as good as the real thing.” She hooked her fingers into the waistband of the robot’s underwear and took a look inside. “I don’t think so!” Her eyes opened wide, and her mouth curled into a big ‘O’ of surprise. Danny adored Candy’s myriad facial expressions. Candy began to laugh.
Danny walked over and had a look for himself. “Holy. . . .” He turned to Oberon. “What is that?”
“Like I said, they are purpose built.”
“For what purpose, wrestling a Burmese python? That thing is huge.”
“They can be custom-ordered, sized to one’s individual, uh, preference.”
“Can they be upgraded later on? If I decided I want something, um, bigger?” asked Candy.
“It is possible. But such a modification as . . . that requires the, er, unit, which is to say the, uh, robot, be brought back to the store to be serviced. Which is to say it’s not a modification one can make at home with a, um, screwdriver. So to speak.”
Candy moved to one of the female robots. “Can I touch it?”
“Certainly,” said Oberon.
Candy placed both hands on the robot’s breasts and gave them a squeeze. She moved one hand to her own breast and gave it a similar squeeze. Then she squeezed the robot’s breasts again. “They feel so real. Come over here and feel them . . . James.”
Danny did so. “Wow. These are great. I wish I could’ve had one of these when I was in high school. I’d have flunked every class, though, ’cause I never would have left my bedroom.”
Danny and Candy continued fondling the robot’s breasts.
“James,” said Candy, quietly, but not too quietly, “remember how I said I’ve been wanting to . . . experiment? You know, with a woman? Well, this could be the way.”
Danny turned slowly to look at Oberon; Oberon promptly pretended to be plucking lint from the sleeve of his yellow suit.
Candy turned to Oberon. “Can we activate this one, too?”
As soon as Candy said ‘activate’, the robot came to life. Her face, which had been frozen in a far-away stare much like a department store mannequin, softened. The eyes blinked twice. Her posture took on a less rigid, more human-looking poise.
The robot surveyed Candy and Danny. It looked down at the hands caressing its robotic breasts.
The robot fixed its eyes on Danny. “Normally I like a man to buy me a drink before I let him get to first base.” The voice was sultry yet feminine. It turned to Candy. “But since you brought a friend, the only question is ‘Your place or mine?’ ”
The robot’s right hand came to rest between Candy’s legs; its left hand came to rest between Danny’s legs.
“Boy, she doesn’t waste any time,” said Danny.
“I’ve got all the time you need,” cooed the robot. “And I never get tired.” The robot’s pink tongue slid over its pouty bottom lip.
“Her name is Tara,” said Oberon. “And the one beside her is Cerise. That’s French for Cherry. Although you can have us program any name you’d like.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tara,” said Danny.
“The pleasure is all mine,” said the robot. It increased the rhythm of its hand motions.
“Okay, deactivate,” said Danny.
At once the robot’s hands returned to its sides and it stood upright, with the far-away look stealing over its face.
Candy adjusted her pants, then her blouse. She combed the fingers of both hands through her hair and exhaled. “Anybody got a cigarette?”
Danny adjusted his own pants as well, then turned to Oberon. “What’s the sticker price on these bad boys? And girls.”
Oberon adjusted his yellow suit at a few key locations on his body. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie. “MSRP is a million-five.”
Danny whistled. “That’s almost as much as my airplane.”
“An airplane is good for a few hours at a time. A new Cherrolet, Incorporated Pleasurebot is good all the time,” said Oberon.
“It’s a bit extravagant,” said Candy.
“You folks probably don’t know much about this because it was before your time—heck it was before my time, too—but about seventy years ago, the cell phone was invented. Prior to that, portable telephones were cumbersome, unwieldly things, and nobody carried one on their person.
“But then along came the cell phone. They had finally reached the point where they were small enough to carry in your pocket or in your purse, though they were still a bit heavy.
“Very few people had one of these phones because the technology was brand new. Cutting-edge technology is always expensive. But some people saw the value immediately, especially folks who worked in sales, like my grandfather. Grandpa used to say that twenty percent of the people made eighty percent of the money and they were all in sales. Grandpa ran his own business. A business he’d built from the ground up. And being able to take phone calls while he was out on the road enabled him to make deals lickity-split.” Oberon snapped his fingers on both hands several times.
Oberon continued, “Naturally, a person who possessed one of these new-fangled cell phones might find him- or herself in a public place such as a supermarket when his or her phone rang. Naturally, he or she would take the call. My grandpa always did, because he had deals to make, customers to take care of, and a family to feed. My dad is one of seven kids. Back then it wasn’t perceived as an attack on the environment if you had more than two children.
“Grandpa used to say that when he was walking down the cereal aisle in the supermarket, picking out Super Corn Flakey Fruitalicious Cheerionuts or whatever the heck my dad and his six brothers and sisters liked for breakfast, and that phone would ring, he’d answer it. And by golly, people used to give him the meanest, dirtiest looks, as if he’d pulled down his pants and violated a box of Fruity Pebble-O’s. Sometimes, complete strangers would walk right up to him and tell him to hang up the phone and shop. Grandpa never did of course, because he had a family to feed. But that didn’t stop folks from being rude and sometimes even threatening.
“Then, Grandpa said that, ten years later, everybody had a cell phone: people in the grocery store, people in the bank, people in the video store, where people used to go to actually rent little plastic discs with movies imprinted on them. Or actual video tapes. Oh, the humanity.
“Grandpa saw folks talking on their cell phone while they were paying for their groceries, and they wouldn’t hang up the phone in order to talk to the checker scanning the groceries for them, and they’d leave the store, still talking on the phone. This was back in the day when a human was required to help you pay for your groceries.
“Some folks would even answer the phone in the middle of a movie while surrounded by strangers in a movie theater. I’m sorry to say that even I have witnessed such a thing a time or two when I was a boy and Grandpa would take me to the movies on a Saturday morning.
“Cell phones are just like robots. At first, nobody had one. Robots were only for the rich and famous. People looked upon robots with disdain, and upon robot owners with contempt. It was merely another form of jealousy, of course, the proverbial green-headed monster increasing the rift between the Haves and the Have-Nots.
“But then robots, like automobiles and televisions and cell phones, became more affordable, until they were commonplace, although certainly there is no shortage of fringe whacko nut-job groups out there trying to abolish robots altogether.”
Oberon continued, “But consider a senior citizen who falls down and can’t get up, but is able to call for help because he or she had a cell phone. Consider a parent who is able to communicate with a child via cell phone after the child is nearly abducted by a diseased sexual predator, never to be seen again. Likewise, consider the robot nurse or robot caregiver who is able to accompany a senior citizen to the grocery store to help them reach those cherished items on the top shelf. Or help them put away the groceries when they get home. Or assist with activities of daily living such as getting in and out of bed or something as basic as using the restroom. A person who has been robbed of his or her dignity because he or she is unable to sit down on a toilet or needs help wiping their backside can rest assured that a capable, helpful, friendly robot is there to assist them. And a robot, unlike a person, is not making judgments during the process. There is no shame in allowing a robot to clean you. It is a machine, designed only to be of service.
“These new Pleasurebots are also designed to be of service. Now anyone can have a special companion of their very own. It’s human nature to desire companionship, to desire touch, to seek comfort in the arms of another. But so many people simply don’t have a person to whom they can turn for this affection.
“Enter the Pleasurebot, such as young Tara here.” Oberon moved beside the tall, graceful robot. He gently smoothed a strand of red hair away from her face. He adjusted one of her bra straps, which had become twisted as it passed over the curve of her shoulder. “She can provide years of faithful service, in whatever capacity that service need be. They’re a little bit expensive now, but they’re state of the art. There is nothing finer available anywhere. Even the top-of-the-line sexbots coming out of Japan can’t compete with her. Just look at her.” Oberon caressed the robot’s rouged cheek. He turned to Candy and Danny. “Would you folks like to fill out a credit application? We have sixty-days-same-as-cash, no-interest financing available, with nothing down, on your approved credit.”
Danny turned to Candy. “What do you think, baby?”
Candy looked the robot up and down a few times. “I think I need to think about it.”
“I understand. Here’s my card.” Oberon handed Danny a thin silver rectangle. “It’s also a refrigerator magnet, a clock, a pedometer, a radio, and a sixty-four-exabyte storage device. Oh, and a calendar. So please don’t dispose of it.”
“Thank you. I won’t,” said Danny.
With that, Oberon escorted Danny and Candy to and through the exit of the showroom.
When Danny and Candy had proceeded a few meters, Oberon called, “Oh, Mister Bond! Say Hello to Goldfinger for me. And also to the man with the golden gun. Yessir, grandpa loved his movies. . . .”
Oberon smiled and retreated into the showroom.
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