In Transit

The stamp on the side of the box says, “Handle with care.” I carefully remove the overwrap and open the box. I have waited more than two weeks for the box to arrive at the house, and I am in a hurry to see what is inside. I remove the protective layers from inside the box to reveal my order from Pearson’s Robotic Company - a robotic child.

The robot was advertised as a good substitute for childless couples in the year 2045. My husband and I work overtime most days, so we have little time for social interaction. My husband received a $20,000 bonus from his job at Jepsen Aeronautics, and he agreed to order the robot so long as it did chores around the house. He did not want to have an expensive robot just sitting around the house.

I smooth the brunette hair away from the robot’s face, and I note the tag hanging around its neck. I lean in closer and read, “Hi. My name is Micah. I have been made to your specifications and I am ready to use. Just open the back panel and press the ‘on’ button.”

I flip open the panel and press the ‘on’ button. The robot yawns as though rising from a long winter’s nap and opens its eyes. I peer into eyes that are similar in color to mine, and I say, “Hi.” Micah continues to come alive by flexing his arms, hands, and feet before rising from a seated position in the box.

I help him to get out of the box. Micah stands in front of me, waiting for orders. “Micah, this is your new home. I am your mother, and my name is Justine. Your father’s name is Mark, and he is not home right now. He is at work.”

Micah blinks rapidly, but does not speak. I take him by the hand and show him around the house. I lead him from room to room, carefully explaining the house’s layout, before finally stopping at his room. “This is your room, Micah. Go ahead. Take a look inside.”

Micah lets go of my hand and enters the room. He looks at his bed, the pictures on the wall, and large toy box before returning to my side. “Are you hungry, Micah? I can make you a peanut butter -and-jelly sandwich.”

Micah nods again, so I take him by the hand and lead him into the kitchen. I prepare a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich, and I hand it to him. “It’s okay. You can eat it. Pearson’s says you are able to eat organic food like real people. Go ahead, Micah.”

Micah gobbles down the sandwich, as though he has been starved his entire life, before drinking the glass of milk I provide. Once he is finished, he hands me the empty plate and glass. “I sure hope you talk soon. The manufacturer said it takes mere minutes for you to generate a vocabulary and to start communicating.”

Micah takes me by the hand and leads me to his room. Once inside the room, Micah speaks. “Thank you for my new room and for adopting me. I will be a good boy and do chores for you and Daddy. I will study and make you proud of me.”

“I know you will, Micah.”

Micah wraps his arms around my waist, holding me tight, and says, “I love you, Mommy.”

I wrap my arms around him, flip open his back panel and press a switch. Micah gives me a startled look before shutting down entirely.

Mark enters the room at this moment and says, “How’s it going?”

“I had to press the ‘off’ switch. The robot was entirely too emotional. I am sure the robot was damaged in transit.”

Mark and I repackage Micah for the return trip to Pearson’s Robotics. We did not care for the results, but we are hopeful. We know that Pearson’s Robotics will make good on their promise to provide us with the perfect child. However, next time, we will buy a showroom model instead of ordering one from the little black notebook.