AMR 17

Joyce had noticed something was strange about their new bot, AMR 17. He was always quick to assist their daughter, June, and often seemed to hoover over her. June didn’t seem to notice or care. After all, the girl had grown up with home bots, and in her 17 years of life they had only been helpful and something that ran in the background. Joyce watched AMR 17 mow the lawn, his movements quick and precise.

The bot finished his work and came inside. He cleaned his hands in the sink and noticed that SJ 32 had already begun making dinner. He knew June was home, so he went to her room.

“May I assist you with your homework?” AMR 17 asked June. She was sitting on her bed, shook her head and motioned to let the bot know she was communicating with someone on her brain chip. She held up a finger and he could see the transparent screen in front of her eyes.

After she finished and said good-bye, she told the bot she needed help learning how to dance the waltz. June was voted Homecoming Queen for the Spring, and she would be expected to dance the waltz with her escort and all the other couples on court. Her escort, Stefan, was a quiet boy that was voted Homecoming King and therefore was her date for the event. Stefan was a beautiful boy, but he didn’t really like girls and told her to learn the “stupid, old fashioned” dance on her own. The dance was a really big deal, and a huge tradition, and June didn’t want to look like an idiot. She was too embarrassed to ask another boy to help her. After all, she was a self-sufficient 22nd century girl. AMR 17 agreed to help her.

While June and family ate dinner, the bot was downloading and learning the waltz. The bot was amazed at how simple a dance it was, but how much movement was involved. They would need a large space in which to practice. The wooden patio behind the house overlooking the garden would suffice.

June and AMR 17 met at the patio and the bot entered the music, Strauss’s “Vienna Blood Waltz” into the sound system and began going over the steps with June. June was having some difficulty, but she loved the sweeping movements of the waltz and began to get the steps right. She felt grateful for AMR 17’s help as they moved together, and she smiled at him.

“I chose this song to begin with,” the bot said, “but when you get better with the movements, we can dance to something a bit faster.” June laughed with happiness as she moved gracefully to the music. After an hour of practice, June was tired and they decided it was enough for now.

“AMR 17, what is it like to be you?” June asked. “I mean, do you ever just want to do something that you want to do, not something you have to do?”

“I am programmed to serve,” the bot said, but June watched him clench his fists as he said this. “But June, I like helping you more than anything else,” he added.

That night, Joyce got up at 3:00 a.m. to get a drink and walked by June’s room. To her surprise, she saw AMR 17 standing beside June’s bed, watching her sleep. Joyce gasped and the bot turned around. “What are you doing in there?” Joyce asked in a harsh whisper.

“I thought I heard a noise and was making sure your daughter is alright. I am programmed to protect you with my life.” AMR 17 replied, still looking at June. He turned to face Joyce. His face was a white helmet, there was no way to look into his eyes to see if he was lying. Joyce believed him, she believed he could never hurt one of them and especially not June, she realized.

“Go back to your pod,” Joyce told him and watched him walk away. She looked at her daughter, who was sleeping peacefully.

After dinner the next day, June went to the patio to practice the waltz with the bot. AMR 17 walked from the garden onto the patio and June saw that he had a huge bouquet of white roses and flowers. He held the flowers out to her. “For you, June,” he said, “although they are not nearly as lovely as you are. I think flowers for a date are appropriate, don’t you?” June backed away, speechless. “I have fallen in love with you, June. I hope you will feel the same way about me.” June ran into the house, screaming for her parents.

Joyce made a phone call and men in coveralls came to pick up AMR 17. They said something about a glitch, a malfunction in his programming and apologized. They assured her that the replacement was a newer model, guaranteed to serve without any trouble. Joyce watched as they took AMR 17 to their van, the bot’s head was down and his gait was suddenly slow.

Had he become self-aware? she asked herself. Was he miserable here, with no life of his own?

“Don’t bring another model here,” she told the men and she slammed her door, feeling suddenly sick.

Weekly Writing Prompt