ONE YEAR LATER…

            Gunther let the robot take the podium before him; it felt right that he be the center of attention right now.  The cybernetic equivalent of an octopus snatched up a couple of the kids from the front row of the audience, right out of their parents’ arms and, while the adults were still gasping, took them on a merry ride.  The kids were too busy giggling to be caught up in the concerns of the moms and dads. 

As the adults started to relax, Octo grabbed a breastfeeding infant and assumed the nursing for the harried mother.  Before she could object, he crawled towards the kitchenette area and started breakfast with two free appendages, and picked up the cell phone to answer the incoming call.  When he answered in a female voice and the caller at the other end asked to speak to the man of the house, he said, “sure” and switched to a male voice.  “This is Mr. PutUpon.  How can I help you?” 

By now, several of the audience members were laughing, most notably the ones belonging to the kids who Octo had snatched up.  “No, I’m afraid we’re not giving to the police fund this year; I got far too many speeding tickets.”  He then hung up.  That got everyone cackling, and Gunther figured it was time to take the stage.

Usually, his suave good looks, ten thousand dollar suit, and charming manner were enough to hold audiences rapt.  When that wasn’t enough, the billions upon billions worth of stock under his control swayed the last of the holdouts.  But his creations might well have him upstaged today, no matter what else he had under his sleeve.

            Putting up his arms to quiet the crowd, Gunther said, “Obviously, all our robots aren’t quite this helpful.  But we like to think each will find a place in your heart and in your family just as readily.  I’d like to say they were designed to be perfect companions to all ages, but that’s not entirely true.  The fact is they evolve to be perfect companions, and grow just like real people do.  They respond to love and kindness and shrink away from harshness.  So unless you want neurotic robots, don’t mistreat them!” 

After the latest round of laughs quieted down he said, “Now, if you’ll please go to the stations of greatest relevance to you.  Against the far wall to my right you’ll find the perfect home companions for your kids, to my far left, helpers for the aged, and against the back, bots for adults with more adult themes in mind.”

Taking in the vast auditorium, Gunther sighed at its banality.  Far more suitable for ushering in a high school pram than a new era.  But in contrast to his Robo-Land, which had been meant to outdo Disney for exciting the imagination, this job fair for his robots needed to be understated.  He didn’t want imaginations getting fired up today or they might well see what he really had in store for them.  With the same reservations in mind, the robots selected for the job fair were meant to be as family-friendly as possible, and suitable for day to day interaction, as opposed to the weekend thrill or once a year vacation. 

If all went well, by the end of today, he’d be one step closer to getting his prototypes, far more advanced than the competition’s, in homes across America, and then the world.  Anyone trying to hack or reverse engineer his bots would find a rude awakening in store for them.  So far not even he had found a way to do that once his security protocols had been installed.  Let the competition sweat it and try to catch up. 

As advanced as these models were, they were a joke compared to what he was really capable of.  With sole access to Area-51 technology, as part of his exclusive contract with the right agencies in government, he certainly wasn’t sweating whatever the competition was up to. 

            The stragglers towards the back of the throng, not waiting to be invited to the booths at the edges of the room, caused some disruption before the crowd could calmly disperse to their designated areas. 

One of the toy bots for kids came chasing after the tyke with his cap gun, playing cowboys and Indians, the robot in the cowboy role, atop his robo-miniature horse, and the kid in the role as the Indian, replete with ceremonial headwear.  

The bot, for his part, looked like he could be the squirt’s younger brother by a year, seven years to his eight.  The only real giveaway was his plastic skin, that was just a little too white and synthetic looking, and his features, just a bit too chiseled, as if the carpenter had lost patience with the power sander.  More subterfuge.  God forbid they comprehend just how real looking Gunther could make the robots.  The contest to win hearts and minds was one he planned on winning without a single shot being fired.

The boy screamed with glee as he fled on his robo horse from Trigger, the cowboy bot, though Trigger happily responded to any name his owner chose to give him.  The horse, just a hair short of looking just like the real thing, even ate hey, or whatever his kid owner chose to stuff in his mouth, all without pooping on the floor, courtesy of the atomizer in his stomach, a miniature version of the one used to recycle waste in factories the size of several city blocks.

Trigger’s cap gun emitted smoke with each shot, hammered out in quick succession, though the kid’s laughs were coming even more rapid-fire.  He was riding his robo Shetland pony backwards so he could fire his bow and arrows at the cowboy.  Each time the robot dodged the arrow some clever way, such as sliding on his saddle until he was riding with his torso parallel to the ground, the kid just laughed louder.

The crowd, delighted by the drama involving Trigger and his fan boy, found their attention derailed yet again before they could disperse to the booths at the edges of the auditorium to get their needs tended to.   

            “If you expect to get any nooky, buster, first you better do the laundry,” the sexbot said, intruding on the crowd from the other direction.  She looked shapely and tantalizing in her capacity as a sexy drone, as she handed “hubby” the laundry basket.  “And the vacuuming,” she said piling the vacuum cleaner on top of the laundry basket.  “And when you’re done with that, you can mow the lawn,” she said, piling on the lawnmower. 

By now the guy had collapsed on the ground under the weight.  “Don’t forget to trim the hedges, chop the wood for the fire, and water the garden,” she said, throwing the hedge-trimmer, ax, and hose on top of the pile.  “These books will give instructions on how to give me the perfect manicure, pedicure, haircut and facial, since you say I spend too much money at the salon.  And these,” she said, heaping what was a wheelbarrow full of texts on top of him, “will teach you how to be a little more human.” 

She dusted her hands off.  “And then we’ll talk, mostly about how you can be a better lover.  Then and only then will we entertain these fantasies of yours of getting me in the bedroom.”  The housewives, mothers, and the working moms all clapped in unison. 

            It didn’t hurt that Suzy Sexbot’s sex appeal hinged on a realness factor matching that of Trigger.  Powder white skin that perspired, in her case.  Or that her blond polyester hair was a perennial mess, no matter how much she tried to get it back in place.  And her figure and face was modeled on the average-looking housewife.  Or that she quickly returned to doing her other house chores, her baking and cooking, and bed making.  She was quite clearly built to replace all a housewife’s mundane duties so the actual housewife was free to devote her time to what she wanted. 

Suzy threatened to free them, not divorce them from their husbands.  She’d always be the 2nd choice, not their first, even if she was the wives’ first choice for the first bot the family bought.  The men weren’t likely to ever feel differently unless they took up a fetish for latex.  Since there were some of those jokers around, Suzy rescued some wives from unwanted kinky fetishes as well.  More, if they were willing to pay a little extra for the entire Suzy Sexbot package.         

Gunther, still at the podium, rolling with the punches, said, “Of course, Suzy only performs the final service if mom feels all too put upon in that area as well.”  While the men were laughing, a good number of the women were going to check out the sexbot model more closely, suggesting they weren’t threatened so much as relieved by her full service accommodations. 

            After all that, Suzy Sexbot wasn’t the real show stealer. 

That award went to Deana Dancer, ballroom dancing with an elderly gentleman.  Together they did the waltz at his geriatric pace.  She just kept complimenting him.  “My but you dance wonderfully.”

            “Can you give me a back rub and a foot rub after this?” the old man asked.  “Something tells me I’m going to need both.” 

            “Of course, I can,” Deana Dancer said without missing a beat. 

            “Can you tell me if I remembered to take my pills today?”

            “I poured them for you at eight AM.  Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get your noon ones for you in time.  We have plenty of time yet.”

            The adults with elderly parents were tearing up and walking their moms and dads towards the wall set out for the older folks to help them choose a model.  Deana was just one of about six.

            The crowd finally fully occupied now with one or another demonstration suited to their needs, the CEOs and execs from various countries, all subsidiaries and suppliers, flocked around Gunther on stage to congratulate him. 

“Look at them lining up to shake his hand, and kiss his ring.  When did he become the godfather of robotics?” Bateman said.

Luderman, standing by his side, in a matching three thousand dollar suit, observing the same phenomenon, sighed.  “You have to admit, this Disneyland take on housebots will have them occupying every home in America in no time, just when his competitors thought resistance to the idea would slow acceptance for years.” 

“The fact that, despite their humanoid shapes, they don’t look all that human, more like toys for all ages, doesn’t hurt either.  Less feathers to get ruffled.”

“His Robo-Lands, which he made sure to build right next to the Disneylands around the world, are drawing so much business away, that he’ll own them soon enough.”

Bateman crossed his arms, his muscular physique threatening to burst through even the fine tailoring of the suit.  “Personally I find it a little creepy that the Pirates of the Seven Seas robots along with the Haunted House robots, and even the Freddy-the-slasher bots, are doing so well precisely because they can act out such elaborate adult fantasies that even professional actors couldn’t replace them.  Assuming anyone could afford to hire the actors.  Because the thespians would need someone to feed them their lines.”

“You’d think that’d earn him some pushback.”

“Maybe if he’d thrown them into the real world, instead of keeping them in his theme parks, to play on people’s fears of obsolescence rather than their fantasies.  Now that the fantasies have taken hold, everyone could care less about their fears.”

Luderman took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  Even with his head bowed, he towered over Bateman.  “Explaining why we’re here today when the Berlin wall comes down between his theme parks and the real world.  Now that there’s no one left to complain.”

“This guy’s every move is calculated to lead to something else.  This might be the end for us, but you can bet it’s just another milestone for him.”

“Please tell me we have a way to relegate him to history rather than to the future,” Luderman said. 

“Funny you should ask.”