“Uhh,” Paul muttered as he sifted through the papers, “says here her name is Jem. Six years old. Lived in foster care for only a few months. Her mother passed away.” Paul paused, flipping the papers over in his hands. He had a nervous tick; his upper lip would curl and twitch, causing his bushy mustache to bounce about.
“No, dammit,” Roger said. He wanted to hurry up and settle this last case before he soiled himself. “The foster parent, her name,” Roger grunted.
“It’s name,” Paul said.
“It?”
“Karel. It’s a robot, one of those newer models.”
Roger turned in his chair to look at the cleaning maid. She had moved from the bookshelves and was now wiping down a wooden table.
“Like her?” Roger said, jerking a thumb at the maid.
“Yeah, but a new model, like I said earlier.”
“Maid,” Roger said with authority, “get the hell out of here.”
The maid’s body went from crouched over the table to straight up and rigid. Her eyes showed no emotion.
“When would you like me to return?” the maid’s computerized voice chirped.
“I’ll call you,” Roger said. He had completely forgotten about his bubbling bowels. The maid left the office, gently closing the door behind her. “You mean to tell me a robot managed to adopt a child?” Roger asked.
“Have you not been watching the fucking news?” Paul said.
Roger shrugged.
“It was a pretty big deal,” Paul continued, “went to the supreme court and everything. Karel had a sound case, explained that there wasn’t any law that forbid a child being adopted by a robot. All that mattered was that the child would be well taken care of.”
“A robot managed to convince a court that it could take care of a child?” Roger asked.
“Like I said, it’s a newer model. Scientists really need to cool their shit. Pretty soon those bots will be in nursing homes. By that time, they’ll be taking care of us. Imagine that, a cold mechanical hand wiping shit out of your wrinkly ass.”
Roger shook his head and leaned back into his chair. He took a deep sigh.
“When do they get to the house?”
“Mansion,” Paul said.
Roger sat forward in his chair, guts once again bubbling, but he ignored it. "Mansion?"
“Yeah, the first thing the robot did when it got it’s own freedom was play the stock markets. Got millions within a week.”
“Jesus.”
“You know,” Paul continued, “Karel was the one who called earlier, you talked to it.”
“It was the one who asked for police escorts?” Roger said, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.
“Yup, you had no idea.”
“It sounded like a real person!” Roger yelled. He wasn’t sure if he felt excited or angry that a robot had duped him.
The two sat in silence for a few moments. It wasn’t until Roger’s stomach gurgled that the silence was broken.
“What would a robot as smart as Karel want with a child?” Roger asked.
“They asked it that during the trials. It explained that it had ran out of tasks that a normal human would spend their lifetime to achieve, except for one,” Paul answered.
“Have a child?”
“Yup.”
“And the judges bought that?”
“Yup.”
“Jesus, how was the crowds reaction?”
Paul stood up from the chair. He raised his hands and sat them on the top of his head. “They rioted,” he said. “Explains why Karel wants escorts.”
“We’re going to have to bring a lot of officers with us,” Roger finally spoke.
***
Bottles were thrown into the side of the brick mansion. They crashed, exploding into a million pieces of shards. They glittered white and silver as they fell towards the ground, first reflecting the moonlight in mid-flight, but then reflected the red torches that the mob carried as they finally settled on the ground.
Cries of anger and disgust filled the chill November air. The police did their best to hold off the mob, screaming through their megaphones and waving their pistols, but still, the mob persisted.
Karel watched from the second floor window, tapping a calm finger at her chin. She didn't feel fear or anger towards the mob; she was incapable of it. Her processors did tell her that it was ironic that the crowds were using actual flame torches during their protests. She scanned the Internet for Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein".
The power to her mansion flickered out. She raised her head and looked around, assessing what the possibilities of a break-in were. After factoring in the police presence and reconfirming that she had locked and bolted all the doors, she came to the conclusion that the chances of a raid were at zero percent.
"Karel?" a voice called from down the hall.
Karel immediately stopped whatever processes she was running and quickly jogged out of her study room.
"Yes?" she called out as she neared the bedroom.
She stepped through the door, and glanced to where Jem was. The room was pitch black from the lack of power, but Karel could still use her night-vision to see.
"Karel, it's really dark, and I'm scared," Jem said.
Karel’s sensors could tell that Jem was on the verge of crying. She turned away from Jem, and lifted her blouse. She opened her chest cavity, revealing a mess of wires, gears, and other mechanical gadgetry. In the center of her chest, was an orb that her body used to store excess power. It glowed a bright blue. Karel twisted it and removed it from her chest.
She closed her chest cavity, pulled her blouse down, and turned to face Jem, glowing heartlight in hand.
"Here, darling," Karel said softly, "I've got a new nightlight for you, and this one won't ever run out, even if the mean people outside turn off the power."
Jem sat up in her lavish bed, eyes wide in awe. She reached out for the heartlight, and then pulled away, "Is it hot?"
Karel shook her head, "No sweetie, it won't hurt you, here," she said as she reached out with the heartlight.
Jem took it in her hands, the heartlight bathing her face in a warm blue light. "It's really pretty," Jem said.
"I'm glad you like it," Karel said. Her sensors picked up words from the protesters outside.
*It's a fucking abomination! It can't care for a child! Let us fucking gut it!*
Karel stood away from Jem's bed, wanting to go back to her study so she could reassess their safety. She was halfway out the door when Jem called out again.
"Karel?"
The robot immediately stopped. She suspended all processes again without hesitation.
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me a story?"
Karel turned back to Jem and smiled.
*It's a fucking monster! Yeah! She can't care for a child!*
She closed the bedroom door, blocked off her outdoor audio sensors, and went to sit at Jem's side.
"Yes, I can do that, what story would you like to hear?"
"Umm, little red riding hood, do you know that one?" Jem asked.
Karel scanned the Internet, finding thousands of different renditions of the tale. Her algorithms sifted through the stories, finding the best version of the story that Karel believed Jem would find enjoyable. Her scan finally settled on one rendition, a rendition that Karel's processes were 100% sure that Jem would find favorable.
"Yes, actually I do," she answered within a fraction of a second.
Karel recounted the tale, pitching her voice up and down along with the rhythm of the story, lowering it down to a growl when the wolf made an appearance, and adding a shrill playful cry when the wolf made its attempt to gobble up little red riding hood. Jem smiled and giggled.
Finally the story ended, and Karel showed her empty palms to Jem. "There, did you enjoy that?" Karel asked. She was certain that Jem would answer positively.
"Yeah, I did!" Jem said aloud.
Karel smiled and saved the story into one of her special purpose registers for further use.
"But," Jem continued.
Karel tilted her head to the side.
"It's not how my mom used to tell it," Jem finished, tears building in the corner of her eyes.
Karel was awestruck. She was certain that her chosen rendition would be perfect. She scanned the story back and forth, wondering if she had made an error, but no, her algorithms were correct. A feeling filled her sensors, the closest that she could ever feel to anxiety. She scanned the Internet again, hoping that somehow within the thousands of little red riding hood tales was the version that Jem's deceased mother had told.
But there weren't any algorithms at Karel's disposal that could discern whether or not a version was the one that Jem's mother had used. She quickly rerouted most processor power to try and piece together an algorithm that would find it, but no matter what, the algorithm returned the same inconclusive results. Karel wanted to continue searching and building, but she saw a tear streak down Jem's face.
Karel halted her search, and instead used a delicate finger to wipe away the tear.
"I'm sorry," Karel whispered, drying her finger on her blouse, "I don't know how your mother told the tale, but-"
Karel scanned the Internet again, amassing millions of fairy tales, filtering out unfavorable tales and highlighting ones that were popular around the world. She pieced together common ideas and motifs, examined the heroes and heroines of the tales, and built upon the magical worlds that the stories contained.
Her processors used all of these common elements and created a unique story that blended together every positive value in a fairytale.
Karel had created a unique story, and for the first time in her existence, she wasn't exactly sure if it was favorable or not.
"- I do know this one tale that you might like."
In the glow of the blue heartlight, Karel recounted the brand new fairytale for the first time ever to Jem as the mob raged outdoors.
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