\n\u201cAnother coffee?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe robot looked down at the middle-aged man who was still busily drawing. This time it was a large purply fruit, bumpy, like a blackberry. Or\u2026 \u201cBoysenberry?\u201d the robot asked.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe man looked up, frowning. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cBoysenberry. A cross between a blackberry, raspberry, dewberry and loganberry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe robot\u2019s voice was female. Pleasant.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cAnd this one?\u201d the man asked, now showing her another of the various pictures littered across the table. There was a pause for a few seconds while the robot said nothing. Then, \u201cLooks like the inside of a kiwi fruit. And a little like a gooseberry.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I thought.\u201d The man huffed. \u201cAnd I suppose this one looks like a strawberry?\u201d he said, pointing to another of the pictures.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cA cubic strawberry,\u201d answered the robot. \u201cBut the pink coloring is most attractive. In my opinion, at least.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe man stared at the contraption serving him. \u201cYou things have opinions now?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe robot hesitated.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWould sir like some more coffee?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nThe robot bent her smooth white arm downwards, the coffee jug held firmly in her long metallic fingers. The jug hovered above the man\u2019s cup but failed to pour, awaiting his orders.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cSo, in your opinion,\u201d the man asked, eyes fixed on the drawings, seemingly unaware of her action, \u201cwhich of these fruits strikes you as the most original?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOriginal?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThe most like no other fruit that exists.\u201d He spread the drawings across the table, lining them up. \u201cWhich of these says to you, Now that\u2019s a fruit I\u2019ve never tried.<\/em>\u201d He looked up at her blank face. A visor over a head of shiny white. The visor glowed in a warming tint of amber-orange. \u201cOkay, want<\/em> to try,\u201d the man said. \u201cI mean, you\u2019re a robot with opinions, and I\u2019d like to hear them.\u201d Noticing the hovering coffee jug, he gestured for her to top him up. \u201cCome, come,\u201d he said. \u201cLet me have it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot\u2019s visor flickered.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell\u2026 as a robot<\/em> who is unable to eat real<\/em> fruit, I would say the strawberry is the most aesthetically pleasing.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man huffed. \u201cThe strawberry<\/em>.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI like the color. And the shape.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe square shape.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd the speckles. I like the speckles.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut it\u2019s still a strawberry<\/em>. That\u2019s what you\u2019re calling it.\u201d The man took a sip of his coffee, looking again at her smooth, oval face. \u201cIf you\u2019re already calling it a strawberry,<\/em> then that\u2019s what it is and I\u2019ve failed already.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHow about pink square berry<\/em>?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cPink, square\u2026\u201d The man laughed. \u201cA robot with a sense of humor, eh? If I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d say you were making fun of me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cJust trying to cheer you up,\u201d came the reply. Incapable of smiling, the robot just stared at the man, and in spite of himself, in spite of his tired mood and the stress of having to come up with something original by dawn, the man was beginning to warm to her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSo what d\u2019ya say we work with that? Give it some fancy Latin name. What\u2019s Latin for pink and square?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019ve no idea.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThought you robots could access the net in an instant?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI\u2019m not that sort of robot.\u201d She hesitated. \u201cBut I could do a search.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNot that sort of robot, she says.\u201d The man gazed down at the picture of the square pink strawberry. \u201cSeem to know a lot about fruit though; for a robot who never eats.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot\u2019s visor flickered again in the orange tinting. \u201cI work in a diner. Food is my expertise.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe watched as the man huffed, pushing the picture to one side, then gathered up the others into a neat pile which he folded together and handed to her.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTrash,\u201d he said. \u201cIf you please.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd get me a\u2026 what do you serve in this joint?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe waved a robotic hand over the tabletop\u2019s IR and a holo-image of blueberry pancakes on a large white plate spun slowly in front of them.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou choose this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s the most popular serving for this time of the morning.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man looked at his watch. \u201cFive-fifteen a.m,\u201d he sighed. \u201cTwo more hours.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou have to come up with something by seven fifteen?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMeeting\u2019s at eight. But I\u2019ll have to go home and change. Pod to my building, pod to the office. Even two hours is cutting it fine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer visor flickered again. \u201cAnd you have to present a drawing of a fruit?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d the man said. Reaching out, he swiped away the pancakes and a menu appeared. With a series of further swipes he brought up a Key lime pie, a fat slice with cream that now spun in front of them. \u201cIt\u2019s a winner,\u201d the man said. \u201cOriginal recipe, never bettered.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI see,\u201d the robot said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSee what?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI understand,\u201d she answered. \u201cI think I know what you\u2019re doing. You have to design a fruit. Something unique, like an original dish.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cExactly, doll.\u201d The man hit at the pie and in turn the robot beeped. Her visor turned green. \u201cRight away, sir,\u201d she said, and spun around, heading for the kitchen.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWait\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot stopped in her tracks, turning back to face him. On her feet were a set of rollers; it was the way the robots here moved. They were short but not dwarf-like, the perfect height to be standing next to a table talking down to the seated customer. Their bodies were fat and round, their legs stocky.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes?\u201d the robot asked.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019ll be you bringing it to me, yeah?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man gestured around the diner, to the other booths and other robots serving.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course, sir. I am yours for the night.\u201d\n<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \nWhen she returned with the pie, the man had begun on a new picture.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLooks like a chocolate apple,\u201d she remarked, handing him his desert.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGoddammit.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe screwed up the paper \u2013 watching him, the robot held out the jug of coffee. \u201cAnother top-up?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man sighed, tapping at his cup appreciatively. He took the pie and sliced off the nose with the dessert fork provided, shoving the morsel into his mouth, chewing.\n<\/p>\n \nShe topped up his coffee again.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou\u2019d think it would be easy,\u201d he sighed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTo design a fruit that doesn\u2019t exist? No,\u201d she stated. \u201cI would say, that wouldn\u2019t be easy at all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHe looked up at her flickering visor. \u201cThere you go again with the opinions.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nBending down, she placed the coffee jug next to him. \u201cSo, this task of yours is important?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cCould say that.\u201d The man was slicing off another portion of pie. \u201cBut only if I\u2019m chosen.\u201d He chewed again, hungrily. \u201cIf my design\u2019s chosen, I\u2019ll be getting a fat bonus. Could even end up leading the team.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nShe stood straight again. \u201cSo, there are others, competing for this bonus? You\u2019d like to be the winner, I think.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man appeared irritated for an instant. \u201cDoll,\u201d he said, \u201cin business the competition never ends.\u201d Looking across at her blank expression however, the man\u2019s temper began to melt. He smiled. \u201cLook, doll,\u201d he said, \u201cthis is kinda hush hush, but I\u2019ll tell you anyway. What the hell?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot waited.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWhat we\u2019re working on. It\u2019s a new idea, selling them the fruit first, before the flavor. You understand?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot\u2019s visor flickered.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cTake this pie, for instance,\u201d the man continued, gesturing at the Key lime. \u201cNow you can\u2019t tell me that this is just about the taste. Got hardly nothing to do with it at all. It\u2019s about the design, you see. What\u2019s on the outside. The aesthetics. And the name. Key lime pie<\/em>.\u201d The man smiled. \u201cHas a ring to it, don\u2019t you think? Brings up an image?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAn image.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSell them the image and the taste will follow.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAn original flavor,\u201d she confirmed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, but give them a new flavor and they\u2019ll say it tastes like sweet blueberries with a hint of lime and ginger. They\u2019ll say it reminds \u2019em of mangoes, of pineapple. But sell the image first and you\u2019re on to a winner. An original fruit. Original flavor.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot said nothing again, but with a silence that seemed encouraging to the man.\n<\/p>\n \nHe went back to his pie.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know apple flavoring\u2019s nothing like real apples,\u201d he mused. \u201cAnd banana flavoring\u2019s based on some breed that went extinct some two hundred years ago. But they associate\u2026\u201d the man trailed off. \u201cLook at me here, talking like this to a robot. What would you know about flavoring anyway?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOne can imagine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, that\u2019s just it.\u201d The man huffed, sticking a fork into the last morsel of pie. He shoved it into his mouth, washing it down with a hefty gulp of coffee. \u201cThe power of association,\u201d he said.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cA first impression, that one cannot forget.\u201d The robot\u2019s visor flashed green. \u201cAnother customer,\u201d she said. \u201cCall me if you need anything else.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man watched his new friend slide across the room. Taking up a fresh piece of paper, he began to draw her; at first slowly, but then feverishly. Her body was elegant, smooth and white; her joints shaded silver and her face a pleasant oval. Her visor tinted into a deep shade of amber as she addressed the new customer.\n<\/p>\n \nFinishing his sketch, the man placed it to one side and began a new one. An oval white fruit with checked lines of amber tinting. He drew a dissected image beside it, with pips of bright green and a warm, silver stone at the center that blended in with the white, fleshy pulp. It was basic, but the design was clean \u2013 all it needed now was a little personality; a little flavoring.\n<\/p>\n \nThe man sat back, satisfied. Scanning the picture to his pad, he looked around for the robot to thank her. But she\u2019d disappeared into the kitchen.\n<\/p>\n \nHe looked at his watch.\n<\/p>\n \n \n\u201cIt makes no sense,\u201d said his boss. \u201cIt\u2019s got pips, it\u2019s got a stone. Unnatural colors. And what are these lines for?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man hesitated.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut that\u2019s exactly why I love it,\u201d the boss continued. \u201cIt\u2019s subtle, it\u2019s mysterious. And like no other, no other fruit at all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThey were sitting in a small think tank on the seventh floor of the company building. The other designers had been dismissed \u2013 in a matter of no less than five minutes the boss had walked past each and tapping at their designs, naming the fruits that one and every image reminded him of, he\u2019d called, \u201cOut, out, out!\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nBut when it came to the checked white and amber offering, he\u2019d stopped.\n<\/p>\n \nNow it was only the two of them, the man and his boss that were left in the room.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know what I like most about this?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man sat silently, holding his breath.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s that it says nothing to me,\u201d the boss continued. He began to laugh hoarsely. \u201cI mean, it\u2019s attractive, sure, but in an unfamiliar way. It\u2019s incomprehensible. It\u2019s like a\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cA clean slate?\u201d the man offered.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cExactly right!\u201d The boss patted the man on the shoulder, hitting him hard, enthusiastically.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAll it needs now is a little personality.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe boss grinned at the man. \u201cPersonality<\/em>. That\u2019s exactly what I\u2019m going to say to our flavoring department. \u201cGive this shell some personality\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nWith bonus credits now deposited, the man could have dined out well that evening. He could have afforded a grade one restaurant, and had in fact received a company voucher for himself and a plus one to do just that. But he returned instead to the diner. He wanted to thank the robot. Sure, it was just a hunk of metal with wiring and algorithms, but it\u2019d helped him.\n<\/p>\n \nBesides, he wanted to see her again. He wanted to hear her voice, and tell her what had happened.\n<\/p>\n \nWhen he arrived at the diner, there were a dozen robots scuttling around the tables. He sat down and one came up to him.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGood evening, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes. I\u2026\u201d the man hesitated. \u201cThere was another\u2026 another of you,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd I wanted to, to thank her for something.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot stood motionless. It seemed to be computing this information. \u201cOh, you mean Sheila,\u201d it said suddenly. \u201cYes, I\u2019ll get her for you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nIn a short time the robot was replaced by a model of the exact same appearance. Only the voice was different. Sure, it had the same synthetic twang, but there was something warmer about this one. More feminine.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd how did it go?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man laughed. \u201cYou remember me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe robot\u2019s blank expression seemed to smile at the man. \u201cCoffee and Key lime pie. The fruit man. Did they like your drawing?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes, yes they did.\u201d The man fumbled around at his pad and brought up the image of his design. \u201cI wanted to show you. And thank you. Last night, or rather this morning, before you talked to me, I really didn\u2019t think I could do it. But\u2026 you like it?\u201d he asked.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI do,\u201d she said warmly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou know I based it on you. On your appearance.\u201d The man held his hands out wide. \u201cI guess one could say you inspired me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe next evening the man returned to the diner.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBack again?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nHer voice was as affectionate as ever.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cHere I am,\u201d the man replied. He ordered something or other. It didn\u2019t matter. \u201cSo tell me,\u201d he asked jovially, \u201cwhat a robot like you does on her days off.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t have any of those.\u201d She paused and it seemed she was happy to linger around his table.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou enjoy your work?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIt\u2019s all I\u2019m capable of.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAll you\u2019re programmed to do?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell, no, not exactly.\u201d The robot\u2019s visor turned green. \u201cBe back in a moment.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSure. I mean, you don\u2019t have to.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI want to,\u201d she replied. \u201cI like our conversations.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThey began talking of what he would do next in his project. As he continued to go there regularly, he\u2019d give her updates on how things were progressing. There was much talk of what the texture of the fruit should be like. \u201cAlthough,\u201d explained the man, \u201cthe fruit itself will not be created.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, not at all. That\u2019s a given. It\u2019s purely the idea<\/em> of the fruit. That\u2019s what we\u2019re selling. Getting that idea into the mind of the consumer. The image, but not the fruit itself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cA shame though,\u201d she said. \u201cThat it won\u2019t physically exist.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI guess so,\u201d the man admitted. \u201cBut like I say, that\u2019s not the idea.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThere was much debate at his workplace over the flavoring\u2013whether it should be sweet, bitter, sour\u2026 and because of the importance of this, a final decision was taking its time, a decision not made easy by the flavoring department daily offering up new samples.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSo you\u2019re waiting?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cMostly. But the design department are kept busy with producing visual images for possible commercials.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh, yes?\u201d She poured him some more coffee. \u201cThey\u2019re not overworking you, I hope.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, no,\u201d he waved away her concern. \u201cIt\u2019s simple really. A young girl drinking juice with a picture of the fruit on the carton; a man biting into a donut with a green and white centering; a mechanic holding out a slice of pie\u2026 a cartoon grape cracking a joke to an animated lemon and then our fruit comes in with the punchline\u2026\u201d He laughed. \u201cLook at me, going on.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThey have a name for it yet?\u201d she asked, interested, encouraging.\n<\/p>\n \nThe man paused. Then, \u201cWell, if it were up to me, I\u2019d call it Sheila.\u201d He began to blush, but then covered his blushes with a friendly wink. He looked away.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cFunny name for a fruit,\u201d she remarked, taking in his blushes. Her visor flickered.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cBut of course it\u2019s not, not up to me at all.\u201d The man sighed, looking back at her. \u201cOut of my hands. Flown the nest.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cFlown the\u2026?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, you know. When you have kids and they grow up. Become independent and fly away.\u201d The man did a little motion with his hands. \u201cLike a baby bird going out on its own.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd as its parent<\/em>, you have to let go.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man grinned. \u201cYou\u2019re a smart one, Sheila, a smart one indeed.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n \nIt was about a month later when he was called into his boss\u2019s think tank.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOh, yes,\u201d the boss coughed, waving the man in. \u201cI wanted to pick your brain.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man bowed. \u201cOf course, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes, the\u2026 goddammit, can we get this music to stop?\u201d There was an opera concerto coming from the walls, which halted as the automated response picked up on the words music<\/em> and stop.<\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThank God for that.\u201d The boss went over to a pad in the wall, to the controls for the holo-projector.\n<\/p>\n \nIn the center of the room an image of the fruit now displayed itself, white and speckled with subtle amber-orange checkering, it grew in size to that of a watermelon, then shrank to the size of a small lime.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLike that,\u201d the man said. \u201cBut slightly larger, a little. Yes, that\u2019s right.\u201d Suddenly he was by the holo-image, commanding it and the boss watched him, impressed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cAnd the taste?\u201d the boss asked.\n<\/p>\n \nThe man turned to face his superior.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe taste? You\u2019re asking me<\/em>?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cOf course I\u2019m asking you, man.\u201d The boss chuckled. \u201cAmount of snazzy ideas coming at us\u2026 tangy, fizzy\u2026 that seems to be the most popular; but I\u2019ve gotta admit,\u201d he said, looking at the man, \u201cI gotta be straight in saying that I\u2019ve no confidence in putting through any go-ahead without asking you first.\u201d He smiled, showing the man the palms of his hands. \u201cIt\u2019s your baby after all.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man bowed again, this time gratefully. \u201cThank you, sir.\u201d His eyes sparkled, growing in confidence. \u201cYou know what?\u201d he said, looking back at the holo-image. \u201cI\u2019d kinda imagined it sweet. Like\u2026\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe boss watched the man circling the fruit. He watched him hesitate as he appeared to remember who he was talking to.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cCome on, man. Let me have it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nFinally, the man spoke. \u201cAs it is with love,\u201d he said, the words falling from his lips almost accidentally.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cLove?\u201d the boss boomed. \u201cLove<\/em>?\u201d He was on the verge of laughing out loud.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes, I mean, no, not exactly love,\u201d the man stuttered. \u201cNot mushy, not that kind of love. Just, warm, you know? Friendly. Companionship.\u201d He was muddling his words. \u201cIt should be luscious, and pure,\u201d he tried. \u201cBut something to cheer you up.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSounds mushy to me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, no\u2026\u201d More determined in his expression, the man looked his boss in the eye. \u201cOver time I\u2019ve thought about it a lot. And I can\u2019t help associating this fruit with something strong, warm, sweet, addictive. Something new and wonderful. But long-lasting. A flavor that never loses that power of the first bite.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou sound like an ad man.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cWell surely that\u2019s what we are?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe boss walked over to the man, putting a hand on his shoulder. \u201cAs a designer I can\u2019t fault you,\u201d he said. \u201cBut\u2026 love, love he tells me. My man, you need to get yourself out more.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYou married?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGirlfriend?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man paused. \u201cNo, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cSure, sure. A romantic.\u201d The boss smiled. \u201cSo where you get the idea from anyway?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe idea, sir?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe fruit. The fruit, man. It\u2019s a goddamn inspired design, I\u2019ve gotta say.\u201d The boss gestured to the circling holo of the fruit. \u201cYou know they\u2019re still trying to come up with a name for it. Why I asked you\u2026 love, you say. I guess we could work with that. Amour, Eros<\/em>\u2026\u201d the boss twirled his fingers theatrically and laughed. \u201cWhat you do, base it on a girl?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNo, not exactly. It was a robot. Downtown, there\u2019s this diner. The robots there\u2026\u201d The man looked away, embarrassed. Then, \u201cThey just happened to be around me when I was working on the design.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cA diner you say?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cRobots.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYes.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe boss chuckled. \u201cWell, wouldn\u2019t you know. All this time.\u201d He stared back at the fruit. \u201cNow you mention it, I think I even know the ones. Been to places like that myself. Some of \u2019em can even be quite chatty.\u201d He smiled. \u201cBut you understand they\u2019re not robots, right? Is that why you\u2013\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cNot robots, sir?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe boss looked back at the man, puzzled at the expression of perplexity he was receiving. \u201cThey\u2019re cripples. Disables. Most of them, no not most, I think it\u2019s all of \u2019em. No control over their bodies. You know the type. Motor neuron disease\u2026 out in the country hospitals, tubed up and bedridden.\u201d The boss did a vulgar impression, screwing up his face and holding his arms out crookedly. He did an \u201cAhhh<\/em>,\u201d sound and laughed some more, then caught himself and attempted a more solemn expression. \u201cBut it\u2019s a great thing, sure, enabling those unfortunates\u2026 giving them something to do. Some can only move their eyelids, you wouldn\u2019t believe it. But the technology these days. Rigged up at their remote locations, they control the robots just fine. \u201cCan I take your order?<\/em>\u201d the boss said in a comically robotic voice, squinting his right eye and holding his arms out rigid. He began to laugh again, amused at the man\u2019s expression of horror. \u201cAll this time,\u201d he said, turning back to the revolving fruit, while beside him the man shrunk slowly into the padded flooring of the think tank.\n<\/p>\n \n \nThe man spent the rest of the day in a haze. He was unable to draw anything. He got off work early, went home and showered. Later, turning on his bed, the man said out loud that he\u2019d never go back there, that he couldn\u2019t\u2026\n<\/p>\n \n \nAt eight o\u2019clock the city neon sparked. Through the bustle of pedestrians, the man pushed his way through to the diner\u2019s entrance, swiped his pad over the IR. Behind him the setting sun was large and a deep orange while wispy clouds moved slowly in the twilight.\n<\/p>\n \nThe man entered the diner.\n<\/p>\n \nThere they were, the white robots, shifting from one table to another while way out in the country, in God knows what hospitals and facilities, those patients, all but comatose.\n<\/p>\n \nUnable to eat real fruit. <\/em>\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cGood evening, sir.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, sure. Sure,\u201d said the man, bleary-eyed, dazed.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cThe usual table?\u201d The white robot looked at him blankly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cYeah, yeah, sure,\u201d the man replied. \u201cUsual table. Usual one of you. Where is she, anyway?\u201d The man huffed, looking around. \u201cSheila here? She busy?\u201d\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cI am Sheila.\u201d\n<\/p>\n \nThe man turned back at her. He opened his mouth but the words wouldn\u2019t come. He just stood there, awkwardly.\n<\/p>\n \n\u201cIs something wrong?\u201d she asked. Her smooth white body was also motionless. Her visor flickered and for a long time neither man nor woman said anything.\n<\/p>\n \nThen slowly the man took her robotic hand in his own. \u201cNo, nothing at all,\u201d he replied, the words finally coming to him, finally making sense. Her synthetic shell seemed to quiver in response as he clutched her hand tighter. \u201cIn fact,\u201d he smiled, \u201cI have good news. A promotion. Let\u2019s go find a table and I\u2019ll tell you all about it.\u201d\n<\/p>\n Chris Morton is the author of two sci-fi novels, one collection of short stories and a few other scribblings. For more information you can check out his blog : newadventuresinscifi.blogspot.com<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cAnother coffee?\u201d The robot looked down at the middle-aged man who was still busily drawing. This time it was a large purply fruit, bumpy, like a blackberry. Or\u2026 \u201cBoysenberry?\u201d the robot asked. The man looked up, frowning. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d \u201cBoysenberry. A cross between a blackberry, raspberry, dewberry and loganberry.\u201d The robot\u2019s voice was …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":107669,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20090],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-138563","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-40-summer-2021","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138563","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/107669"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=138563"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138563\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":138564,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/138563\/revisions\/138564"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=138563"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=138563"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=138563"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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