His Robot Girlfriend: Charity Page 2

  “This Daffodil contains corrupted experience memory. Do you wish to completely erase the experience memory?”

  “Yes.”

  “Experience memory is being erased. This will take approximately… done.”

  “Do you wish to download and install BioSoft 1.9.8?”

  “Yes.”

  “Downloading BioSoft 1.9.8. This will take approximately twenty-two minutes.”

  Dakota’s eyes roamed down the length of the robot’s body. It seemed much more real, more human, reclining on her back. Yes, her back. She was a she. She looked relaxed. She had a long neck, narrow shoulders, small, pert breasts with pointy pink nipples, and a flat, sculpted stomach with just the hint of defined abs. Somebody had carefully chosen her feature set.

  She was nothing like Rachel. Suddenly he was lost, oblivious to the robot or the increasingly hysterical game show contestants on the feed. All he could see was Rachel’s body. She was a goddess—a sex goddess. Long legs, toned, but not muscular. An ass that simply wouldn’t quit. There was no disguising it. Whether she wore jeans, a dinner dress, or a suit, that ass beckoned. You just wanted to take a bite out of it. Her waist was thin, her stomach flat but soft. And then the holy of holies, two perfectly shaped breasts that were just slightly too large for her frame. Her face was attractive, though not really pretty—a little hard maybe. She kept her blond hair cut short, usually with a streak of color on the left side. Just seeing her walk into a room made your pulse race.

  “Stand by,” said the Daffodil suddenly. Then a moment later, “Identify yourself.”

  She had a high-pitched, little girl’s voice.

  “Dakota Fisher Hawk.”

  “Are you the legal owner of this Daffodil unit?”

  He paused only a second before answering, “Yes.”

  “I am Daffodil serial number 73194-QNN-705-YHL-J0509. My software is up to date. The primary setup procedure requires approximately six hours. During this period, I your Daffodil, will be unavailable for other activities. It is recommended that during this time period you make a few basic decisions. What initial duties do you wish me to have? What clothing, if any, do you wish me to wear? What name would you like me to answer to?”

  Dakota got up and made himself a sandwich for lunch, realizing that all the ice in his ice chest had melted. He poured the water into the bathroom sink and then took the chest out and to the end of the building and filled it from the ice machine. After he had eaten his sandwich and a dozen cookies, he looked at the clock. It was 4:00. He decided that after his food settled, he would go for a run. He had tee shirts, but hadn’t packed his running shorts or track shoes. Hopping into his truck, he drove to the local Wal-Mart. He bought two packs of underwear, a package of pocket tees, and a pair of cheap running shoes. When he got back to the motel, he changed and putting his phone in his pocket, went out for a run.

  Under normal conditions, this would have been the day for a long run. These weren’t normal conditions. When your life was over, normal didn’t apply. Besides, after a mile, the shoes started to rub on his little toe. He walked back to the motel and when he got there, glanced at his watch to check his pedometer. He had gone 2.3 miles, both walking and running included. He also saw he had two more messages from Rachel.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said, pressing delete.

  He took a shower, had another sandwich for dinner, and then watched two more game shows before turning off the vueTee and the lights. He wasn’t quite tired enough to go to sleep, and he couldn’t stop his brain. A slide show played behind his eyelids—Rachel at the park, Rachel laughing across the dinner table, Rachel riding her bike beside him as he ran, Rachel reading her texTee in a bubble bath, Rachel letting some guy fuck her.

  Suddenly the bed moved again. The tiny opening in the curtains allowed Dakota just enough light to see. The Daffodil was looking at him.

  “The primary setup procedure is complete,” she said. “The secondary setup procedure requires approximately thirty-six hours. During this period, I your Daffodil, will be capable of other activities.”

  “What model are you?”

  “I am a Daffodil Nonne. Why do you, the legal owner of this unit, not know this?

  “I bought you from a charity.”

  “Charity,” said the robot. “Generous actions or donations, usually in the form of money, to aid the poor, ill, or helpless. Something or some form of aid given to a person or persons in need. Alms. A benevolent feeling, especially toward those in need or in disfavor. Leniency in judging others; forbearance. That is a good name. What should I call you?”

  “I didn’t say it was your name,” said Dakota. “Oh, hell, it’s as good a name as anything. My name is Dakota, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that thing that robots usually do where they try to wear it out. I don’t really need to hear it five thousand times.”

  “You are named for the proud Native American people of the Great Plains.”

  “No.”

  “Is this your home?”

  “No, it’s a shitty motel.”

  “Is there a bathroom which I may use to wash up?”

  “Right through there.”

  “During the secondary setup procedure, I will be adjusting my diction and vocabulary so that I am better able to communicate with you, Dakota.”

  “Do whatever you need to do. Just do it quietly. I’m going to sleep.”

  Chapter Two

  Despite what he had told the Daffodil, Dakota didn’t really sleep very much. He dozed a few minutes here and a few minutes there. He could have blamed it on the robot. He was conscious of her presence all night. He probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. He wasn’t as exhausted as he had been the night before, and without utter exhaustion to aid him, there was just no way to stop his brain from running.

  Why? Why? Why did she do it? Had she ever told him that she no longer wanted him? Had she ever given him any hint that she’d been unhappy? No. Had she ever expressed an interest in anybody else? With the exception of that actor in that movie with the bear, no, and Dakota was sure the guy in bed with her was not the famous actor from the movie with the bear.

  “Why?”

  “Can you be more specific, please?”

  He started even though he knew the robot was there.

  “What time is it?”

  “The time is 8:03 AM.”

  He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. After relieving his bladder he brushed his teeth with the tiny tube of provided toothpaste. The Daffodil watched him when he came out and dressed in his shorts and shoes.

  “I’m going for a run.”

  “Is there something you would like me to do while you are gone?”

  “No. Yes, put these on.” He pulled a pair of his underwear and a pocket tee from the open suitcase and tossed it to her.

  He had a much better run than the day before. He busied his mind taking in the scenery, as he ran to the ocean and then cut north along the large homes that leaned out over the private beaches. Then he cut east. Here too he had little time to think. He had to concentrate to keep from being run over by four lanes worth of traffic squeezed into two narrow lanes. When he got back to the motel he saw that he had run 4.9 miles.

  “Nice.”

  He stepped inside and found the robot sitting on the bed with her legs pulled up close to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. The pocket tee fit her like a tent, but the underwear still sat on the bed. He pointed to them.

  “They were too big. They wouldn’t fit.”

  “Why do you have that accent?”

  “I don’t have an accent,” she said.

  “Yes, you do. It’s like New York or New Jersey. You sound ridiculous.”

  Peeling off his clothes, he went into the bathroom and took a shower. When he got out he looked into his suitcase to find the last clean shirt and jeans. He’d have to get more. Picking up his phone, he checked his payNETime account. $4,192 and change. That wasn’t going to las
t long.

  “Would you like me to make you a sandwich?” asked the robot. “Bologna and cheese must be your favorite. It is all you have.”

  “No, I’m going to eat at the diner.”

  “Would you care for company?”

  “Suit yourself. You’ll have to put on my running shoes. No shirt, no shoes, no service.”

  “They will not mind that I don’t have pants?”

  “Stand up,” he directed.

  She did as she was told. The bottom of the tee shirt reached to mid-thigh.

  “Just don’t bend over. You’ll be fine.”

  He walked across the parking lot, the Daffodil trailing behind him.

  “Welcome back,” called the slim robot waitress with big frosted hair. Dakota took the same booth that he had the day before. The Daffodil sat across from him, tucking in the bottom of the shirt around her bottom.

  “Coke, right?” said the waitress. The two robots locked eyes for a split second. “What about your friend?”

  “Water for her.”

  “Thank you,” the Daffodil told him, when the waitress had gone to get their drinks. “This seems like a nice restaurant.”

  “Listen GoodWorks, I said you could come along. That doesn’t mean I want to hear your stupid cartoon voice.”

  “You don’t seem like you like me,” she said. “And my name is Charity.”

  “I don’t know you, but what I do know, I don’t like.”

  “May I ask why you purchased me?”

  “Maybe I bought you just to torture you. Maybe I want to take out the aggravation I feel toward… certain women, on you.”

  “I don’t believe I would accept that kind of behavior.”

  “You’re a robot. You do what you’re told.”

  “I’m not a robot. I’m a Daffodil.”

  “What will you have today?” asked the waitress, setting down their drinks. “Same as yesterday?”

  “Steak and eggs. Steak medium rare, eggs over hard, whole wheat toast.”

  “Well, you’re an unpredictable fellow.” She smiled and hurried off.

  “Have you always been an avowed misogynist, or is this something new?” Charity tilted her head and stared at him with her abnormally large eyes.

  “I’m not a misogynist. I don’t hate women… I didn’t hate women until Rachel.”

  “Rachel?”

  “Rachel Pine, my fucking whore slut ex-girlfriend.”

  Charity tilted her head the other direction. “Searching.”

  “No, don’t search.”

  “I find nothing to indicate that she has ever worked as a prostitute or even that she is notably promiscuous. She is highly respected among her legal peers. Oh, here you are. She mentions you in her social media posts. She says she loves you and she mentions the possibility of marriage. Ah, here is a picture of you just waking up in the morning. Someone has drawn a penis on your cheek.”

  “That was grad school, believe it or not.”

  “She has left three messages on your wall. Haven’t you checked recently?”

  “No,” he said. “I don’t do that social media shit.”

  “The first message says ‘call me right away.’ The second message says ‘answer your messages.’ The third one…”

  “I don’t care what it says.”

  “The third one says ‘what did you do with my grandmother’s glassware, you fuck’.”

  Despite himself, Dakota smiled.

  “I guess I found something she cares about. She didn’t care about me or our relationship.”

  “Evidence to the contrary.”

  “Evidence? You want to hear evidence? How about me coming home and finding her fucking some guy in my bed?” He looked around, suddenly realizing his voice had grown unacceptably loud, but there wasn’t anyone else in the diner.

  “Oh,” said Charity. “Infidelity. It’s unfortunately common among humans.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Divorce records are public information.”

  “Hmm.”

  The waitress returned with his steak and eggs.

  “Tabasco again?”

  “Heinz 57.”

  “We have A-1.”

  “Nothing then. Thanks.”

  The steak was tough and not particularly tasty, but the eggs were fine. Dakota spread the toast with strawberry jam from tiny little packets in a stand on the table. He was half finished eating when he was reminded that the Daffodil was watching him.

  “What?”

  “So, you found Rachel having sex with someone else. You stole her glassware and left. Then what?”

  “I didn’t steal her glassware. Well, I didn’t keep it anyway.”

  “You donated it to GoodWorks.”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “That’s where you purchased me. You have thought about buying a robot in the past, but never have. You saw me and decided you wanted me.”

  “Something like that.”

  “You are in the midst of a crisis of faith.”

  “I’m not religious,” he said, cutting the last two bites of steak.

  “Your world has been turned upside down. Things that you believed to be true have turned out not to be. You don’t know what to do next or whom to turn to.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” said Dakota. “I just bought you as a sex slave.”

  “You would have been better advised to purchase a Daffodil Amonte. They make excellent sex slaves—also girlfriends, wives, and over-familiar aunts. I am a Daffodil Nonne. We are known for our nurturing. We make excellent babysitters, nannies, and chaste companions.”

  “You can have sex though, right? You have all the parts.”

  “I am anatomically correct.”

  “Come on,” he said, sliding out of the booth.

  He swiped his phone as he went out, paying his bill. He didn’t bother looking back to see that his new ‘chaste companion’ was following. When he got to the motel room, he held the door for her.

  “Get on the bed. We’re having sex.”

  “As you wish,” she said, kicking off the oversized shoes and peeling off the tee shirt.

  She took a position in the center of the bed, on her back, knees bent and slightly spread. She looked very small. He stripped off his own clothes, leaving them on the floor and then climbed between her legs, which she parted even more. She had perfectly formed labia, spread open like the petals of a little pink flower. He tried to will himself to arousal, but he felt nothing but sadness. Swinging around, he got up and stood beside the head of the bed.

  “Suck me,” he ordered.

  Scooting up next to him, she took him in her hand and leaned forward. Sticking out her tongue, she licked him, and then sucked him into her mouth. It was warm and inviting, but then he looked down at her. She was looking up with those gigantic eyes. And his growing erection dwindled away.

  “Fuck,” he growled. He shoved her head away from him. “I’m going back out.”

  He picked up his clothes and slipped them back on. He opened the front door and stepped out. For just a moment, he caught a glimpse of a figure on his left. Then he felt a stinging pain in his neck and everything went black.

  When he woke up, he was laying on the floor inside the motel room. The door was closed and there was a man standing over him.

  “Don’t give me any trouble,” the stranger said, holding up a stun gun.

  “What do you want?” Dakota pushed himself into a sitting position.

  The man reached down and hit him on the side of the head with the stun gun. This time he didn’t pass completely out, but he couldn’t control his spasming body and he lost the ability to speak.

  “You just sit quietly and this will all be over soon.”

  When he had recovered, Dakota looked around the room. Charity was sitting on the bed. She had the shirt back on and she was sitting with her legs pulled up, resting her chin on her knees. He began to think of it as her default position.

 
“If you promise to be good, you can sit on the bed with your robot,” said the guy with the stun gun.

  Dakota slowly got to his feet and took two steps to the bed, sitting down beside her. He kept his eye on his new mortal enemy. Shifting his stun gun to his left hand, the guy pulled out his phone and made a call. He didn’t seem to be that tough. He didn’t seem particularly muscular, though it was hard to tell—the guy was wearing a suit.

  “Yes, I have him. I’m sending you my GPS. A couple of hours probably. All right.”

  When he had finished his call, he put away his phone, shifted the stun gun back to his right hand, and leaned against the wall. Dakota watched him through half open eyelids. Stupid shit. If he had been the one with the stun gun, he would have made the other guy stand while he sat.

  “Are you all right?” asked Charity.

  “I’m great. I love being tased. I notice you didn’t do anything to help.”

  “Why would I?”

  “You’re my robot.”

  “I don’t think I even like you, and I’m not a robot. I’m a Daffodil.”

  The guy with the stun gun laughed. “I like it when they say that.”

  “Yes,” said Dakota, with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “It’s endearing. So what now?”

  “Nothing,” the guy said. “You don’t do anything. Somebody just wants to talk to you. That’s all. All you have to do is wait.”

  Dakota nodded and shifted so that he was slightly turned away from the man. They remained where they were for about thirty minutes.

  “You mind if I go to the bathroom?” Dakota asked.

  Stun gun guy backed up to the front door. “Go ahead.”

  Getting up slowly, Dakota walked around the bed and into the bathroom. He closed the door. He didn’t really need to go. He had some vague idea of finding something in there that he would be able to use in this situation. There wasn’t anything in there though. Toothbrush. Tiny toothpaste. Tiny soap. He went ahead and used the toilet and then slowly washed his hands with the tiny soap. He walked back out and sat on the bed.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Yeah.”

  The guy moved back by the vueTee. Dakota leaned back on his hands and rolled his head around. He wasn’t planning anything, but something about the movement made the guy nervous.