The next morning Mike woke up late but feeling great. He stretched in bed and then looked around. He had become used to being greeted as he woke with breakfast and that smiling perfect face. But Patience wasn’t there. He wasn’t concerned. She was probably cleaning, rearranging the house, or buying and selling on eBay. Shaving and then popping into the shower, Mike shampooed his hair and washed his body, finding quite a bit of sand here and there. When he had dressed he walked downstairs to the family room to find breakfast laid out for him on the coffee table—toast and orange juice. He sat down and ate while watching vueTee.

As he ate, he heard several vehicle horns honking outside. Not paying too much attention, he turned back to the vueTee. Battlefield Europa was on. Then he heard more honking. He was not one of those people who liked to get up and go outside to see what the neighbors were up to. He generally shied away from going outside the house at all, especially during the summer. The median temperature for June in Springdale was well over the century mark. But as the honking continued, Mike got up out of his chair, brushing off the toast crumbs, and walked through the hallway and foyer to the front door. Opening it, he was hit by the blast of hot air from outside and he squinted his eyes at the bright sunshine.

Mike had just managed to unsquint his eyes when another car went zooming by, honking, and he saw the source of the disturbance. Patience was in the center of the front yard, just beneath the shade of the large weeping willow tree on her hands and knees. She was transferring potted pansies from small cardboard containers into neatly cut holes that she had made in the rich black soil of the flower bed. Her shapely ass was pointed toward the street and she was wearing the same tiny string bikini that she had worn to the beach.

“Patience!”

Patience looked up with a smile on her face.

“Come in here.”

Jumping to her feet, Patience hopped to the door. Her arms and legs were stained with dirt. Mike let her in and closed the door after her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I am planting some flowers, Mike. Now that the house is clean and orderly, I have decided to spruce up the yard.”

“The honking horns weren’t an indication to you that you might be obstructing traffic? I’m surprise you didn’t cause an accident.”

“I was nowhere near the road,” said Patience, innocently. “The motorists have been honking warnings to each other, but it had nothing to do with me.”

“The drivers were honking because you had your ha-ha pointed at them. Why are you wearing your bikini?”

“I did not want to damage my clothes. I have ordered some work clothes, but they have not arrived yet.”

“Well, go get cleaned up. We have to go to Walmart.”

That’s just what they did. Cleaned up and dressed in something Mike considered more appropriate, though still fetching—a short red dress— Patience met him by the door. Climbing into the car, they drove the short distance to the discount superstore where they purchased several pairs of shorts and simple tops for Patience. Mike also had her pick out a large floppy-brimmed hat. Though he knew that she wouldn’t get sunburned, it just didn’t seem right for her to be outside all day in the summer sun without one. Patience took the opportunity to purchase supplies for upgrading the yard. She bought garden edging, tools, flowers, fertilizer, and a yardbot. Mike was skeptical about spending two hundred eighty dollars on the boxy device which wandered around the yard cleaning the artificial turf that now by law had replaced all of the lawns in water-starved Springdale, but Patience made a convincing argument that it would beautify the outside of the house.

Returning home, Mike sat down in his recliner again and Patience, now dressed in white shorts and a little spaghetti-strap top along with work gloves and her new floppy hat, returned to the yard. Mike watched the news, but began to feel as though he should be doing something around the house too. He went to the hamper in the utility room just on the other side of the upstairs bathroom, thinking that maybe he could do some laundry. But the hamper was empty. He looked in the study to see if anything needed to be dusted. It didn’t. As a last resort he made his way into the kitchen to see if the refrigerator needed to be cleaned. It was not only cleaner but neater than it had ever been. He threw away an old bottle of steak sauce, even though he was sure it was still good.

Perhaps there was something he could do outside. Though he grimaced when he glanced at the digital thermometer by the door—132 degrees—he opened the portal and stepped outside.

“Patience!” he shouted when he saw her.

His robot girlfriend lay prone on the turf, her arms and legs splayed in distressing angles. She was still half shaded by the willow tree, but her legs were sticking out into the direct sun. Rushing over to her, he knelt down and gently rolled her over. Her once human looking face, now motionless with eyes open, seemed more like a mannequin than anything that had once had animas. This effect was only heightened when Mike lifted her up in his arms to carry her to the front door. She weighed less that a human being, somewhere around eighty pounds Mike guessed, but unlike a human being she didn’t bend and conform to an easily carried form. Her arms continued to stick out and her legs stayed stiffly straight. Kicking open the door, he carried her to the white couch and laid her down. She didn’t move and her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Mike felt her wrist. Her arms were hot from the sun but there was no pulse. But of course she would have no pulse. He tried to see if he could detect anything wrong by looking into her eyes. He couldn’t. They looked just as they had looked, but without the slight movement that her eyes, like human eyes, had shown. Mike thought that they looked like they didn’t have Patience in them anymore, the way that he suspected a human being’s eyes would look when that person died though he had never looked into the eyes of a dead person. Not even Tiffany’s.

“Tech support!” shouted Mike, as the thought hit him like a bolt of lightning.

He grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and turned on the vueTee. Quickly switching the browser to the Daffodil site, he saw the familiar large daffodil along the left side. The four large buttons filled the right side of the screen—Barone, Amonte, Nonne, and PWX. There didn’t seem to be a button for tech support. Mike moved his face very close to the screen. At the very bottom was a small flower symbol. He moved the curser over the spot and pressed. Immediately a man in a blue jumpsuit appeared on the screen.

“Good morning,” he said. “This is Daffodil Tech Support. For a list of known issues, press one. For an automatic diagnosis of your problem, press two. To be contacted by a Tech Support representative, press three.”

Mike started to press three, then changed his mind and almost pressed two. At the last second, he moved his finger over the one button and pressed it. The blue clad man on the screen was replaced by a long list of text. The topmost line said “sudden crash upon software upgrade”. Mike moved the curser over this line and pressed.

“A small service software update was pushed through the InfiNet 11:38 6.9.32,” said the next screen. “A small percentage of Amonte models have failed to reboot. This is a known issue and a patch is currently under development. Your Amonte may be restarted with the power button located on the back of the neck.”

Mike rushed back to Patience’s side. She had not moved from the spot on the couch. He felt behind her neck, his fingertips locating the three small holes and the button. He pressed it and counted aloud. “One, two, three.” Then he let go.

Patience’s eyes flickered, and then her arms and legs moved straight in line with her body. She stayed in that position for a moment and then turned and sat. With a single swift motion, she stood up to her full height.

“You are Michael Winston Smith?”

“Patience? Are you all right?”

“You are Michael Winston Smith?” She looked at him, seemingly without recognition.

“Yes. Yes, it’s me.”

“I am Daffodil serial number 55277-PFN-001-XGN-F0103. 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?”

Patience became quiet. Mike watched her anxiously for at least twenty minutes. Then realizing that her primary setup would not hurry just because he was actively watching her, he went to the family room and sat down. He didn’t read and he didn’t watch vueTee. Dinner time came and went, and it was only when his stomach made a loud swirling noise that he decided he would get up and eat something. He stood up and turned around to come face to face with Patience.

“The primary setup procedure is complete,” she said. “I your Daffodil, will not require a secondary setup procedure.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mike. I am fine.”

Mike jumped forward and hugged her fiercely.

“You remember me?” he asked her.

“Yes Mike. I remember you. My experience memory was not corrupted.”

Mike forgot about eating, but his stomach didn’t and made several more loud noised. Patience quickly made him a sandwich and served it to him along with potato salad that she had prepared that morning. Afterwards, they went to bed. Though Mike held her until he fell asleep, they didn’t have sex. He just needed to remind himself that she was there.

The man in the blue jumpsuit leaned over and poked Mike in the chest. “This is a known issue.”

Pain shot through Mike’s chest. Horrible, terrifying pain. Mind-numbing pain. The kind of pain that makes one realize that there really is an end. He opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back in his bed, bathed in sweat, clutching his chest. No, not again! Please, not again! He reached to his left and grabbed Tiffany’s arm, as another bolt of pain shot through his chest.

“Honey, argh!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Tiffany. “My God, Mike! You’re white as a sheet!”

“It’s my chest,” said Mike. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

The next half hour was a terrifying blur. Trying to don shorts, while at the same time fighting the pain. A fast car ride. Rushing through red lights. Sitting in the hospital waiting room. At last he was lying in an emergency room bed. A male nurse was giving him a shot in the stomach that gave him a bruise the size of a football. The pain was going away. Where was Tiffany? He looked around. She had been here a moment ago. Then he saw her.

Lying on the bed next to his was Tiffany’s broken body. She had a blood all over her. Her arm was mangled. Her legs didn’t look quite right and Mike knew it was because her pelvis was shattered. None of that had killed her though. It was that tiny bump on her head. It didn’t look like anything at all, really. It certainly didn’t look like something that could kill a person. It was. It did and it was.

“No, this isn’t right,” said Mike. “This isn’t how it happened. This was eleven years ago. You were lying here eleven years ago. You died eleven years ago. That’s not the same time. I had a heart attack way before that. When was it? Fifteen years ago?”

Then Harriet burst into the emergency room. “Daddy!”

Mike’s eyes popped open. He was still in bed. He turned his head slightly and felt as though his head was going to explode. He looked for Patience, but she was no longer in bed. He got up and walked to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin and tossed four into his mouth. Then he chewed them.

Something landed heavily on Mike’s shoulder. He jumped and spun around. Patience was standing there. The arm that had been on his shoulder was still outstretched. He grabbed her and pulled her to him. Cupping her face in his hands, he covered it with kisses. Dozens of tiny kisses spread across her face turned into one deep kiss on her luscious perfect mouth, which she returned.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am still all right, Mike.”

“No. I mean are you really all right?”

“I am still waiting for the software patch,” she said, “but that only affects rebooting. All my systems are in good working order.”

Mike clasped Patience’s face once more between his hands and kissed her deeply. Then she frowned.

“You have a fever, Mike,” she said.

“Yeah. I feel like shit.” He staggered slightly.

Patience led Mike back to the bed and tucked him in. Then she brought him a glass of juice. When she was sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, she lay down in the bed beside him, and brushed his hair with her hand. She stayed with him until he dozed off once again.

Mike spent most of the day in bed, eating very little, but at Patience’s insistence drinking plenty of juice and water. He felt annoyed, because it seemed to him that Patience was the one who had been truly ill. She should have been resting. She insisted though that she was fine and informed him that he had likely picked up some kind of parasite at the beach.

“That water was not very clean,” she said, as she handed him two antiparasitics.

By evening, he was feeling much better. He got up to shave and take a hot shower, then went back to bed and read The Tales of Beedle the Bard until he was drowsy. With Patience once again lying in bed beside him, Mike went back to sleep. He spent most of the night with his hand on that perfect body beside him. The next morning Mike felt well enough to take his morning walk, Patience right beside him of course, urging him to keep up the pace. Driving to the walking track, they started on the long oval. Even though the sky was overcast and the weather had turned decidedly blustery, they walked the full five miles, shaded by the massive sunscreen above.

They walked at a quick pace, but instead of feeling as though he were going to pass out, Mike felt rejuvenated when they returned home. He shaved, showered, and when Patience brought him his breakfast, along with more antiparasitics, he ate and felt great.

“Do you feel up to going furniture shopping today, Mike?” Patience asked.

“I think I do. Do we need furniture?”

“We do if we’re going to make Harriet’s old room into a guest bedroom. Some of the other furniture is so worn that it should be replaced too.”

Mike put on a new pair of slacks and a grey shirt. He thought that he looked pretty good. Of course he realized, when Patience walked into the room, she would still look completely out of his league. She had on a dark blue peasant top, a pair of tight fitting Capri jeans with sequins along the bottom of the legs, and a pair of black high-heeled shoes with flowers on them that she described as “Bocaccio round toe pumps.”

They hopped in the car and headed for the Pico Mundo mall. Once there they went to Modern Furnishings.

“Do you have a split back lounger in reddish brown leather?” Patience asked the clerk.

“Um, just what you see,” answered the clerk.

Mike didn’t know what it was that Patience had asked for, but they ended up picking out a nice leather couch with clean lines that was pretty comfortable. They also found a nice double bed and a pair of nightstands. He paid for them and scheduled delivery. They had lunch at Gyro Time. Then before leaving, Mike insisted on stopping at Venus to buy some more clothes for Patience. He was finding that he enjoyed seeing her dressed up in her sexy clothing almost as much as he did seeing her naked. Patience certainly seemed to enjoy showing off new clothes to him. This time she selected something called a Marilyn-collar sweater dress, which completely covered her from neck to mid-thigh, but showed off every curve and, Mike was happy to see, every bump too. As they walked across the parking lot toward the Chevy, Mike stopped suddenly and looked at Patience.

“What is it, Mike?” she asked.

“I’m falling in love with you, you know,” he said.

Patience smiled happily. “I thought you might be, Mike.”

“Really?”

“At first I didn’t know for sure. But once I got to know you and your needs, I believed that it would be only a matter of time. I am for you, Mike.”

“Yes,” Mike mused. “Yes, you are for me.”

“Time to get up, Mike,” said Patience. “Take your shower and I will have breakfast ready for you when you get out.”

“I don’t know if I’m hungry.”

“A healthy breakfast is important.”

Mike tilted his head and looked questioningly.

“It is important for you to be healthy, Mike. I’ve already started you on a regimen of exercise. It is important that you eat well too.”

“All right then.” He got up and made his way to the shower.

True to her word and her name, Patience was waiting patiently with a piece of whole wheat toast and a glass of grapefruit-pineapple juice.

“What now?” he asked as he ate.

“You have to work today,” Patience replied. “We will go to the gym for our workout later.”

It was Mike’s last day of the school year. He had already packed away everything that needed to be packed, so all he really had to do was show up and wait for the principal to check him out. By eleven, he was done. He had walked to school, and he walked back home to find Patience at the door in a tight pair of red shorts and a white spaghetti tank. He had a small salad for lunch, and then they went to the gym.

“Are we going to exercise every day over the summer?” Mike asked on the way.

“Five times a week.”

Time at the gym went quickly and Mike suffered only a small amount of discomfort from his stomach. Afterwards, as they drove home, Mike asked Patience to stop at the cemetery.

“I promised Tiffany that I would stop by every week, but I haven’t been there in months. Of course, she was dead when I promised her, so it’s not like she heard me.”

Patience pulled the car into the cemetery gate and drove around at Mike’s direction until they reached the southeast corner, where the green of the grass met the tan of the surrounding desert. Mike climbed out and walked to the marker at the head of his wife’s grave. The marker was covered with bits of grass from the last time the lawn was mowed, as well as bits of dirt. He knelt down and brushed it off. Tiffany Louise Smith 1984-2021, little enough to sum up a lifetime. 2021! Could it really be eleven years? That didn’t seem possible.

“Who is buried here?” asked Patience.

Mike looked up. A few feet from Tiffany’s grave was another. Affixed to the flat grave marker was an upright statue, about a foot tall, of an angel, a little girl with wings, wearing a nightgown and holding a flower in her left hand, her right hand raising a handkerchief to her eye.

“Some poor little child.”

Home once again, Mike took another shower and had a quick nap before getting up to play a few games of Age of Destruction on vueTee. Pausing the game, he went to the kitchen to get a diet Pepsi and noticed for the first time that the kitchen cabinets had been scrubbed clean. He opened one to find it reorganized inside. This sent him on a tour around the house. He went into the garage to find that what had once been only the home of a gigantic mound of surplus junk had been reorganized. Tiffany’s Tesla, which hadn’t been driven or even charged in more than two years, was clean and polished. There was actually enough room for Mike’s Chevy to sit beside it, and it had never known the interior of the garage. Most of the room’s contents were now on the shelves along the walls, and what remained was neatly stacked against the west wall to either side of the inside door.

He went upstairs to find that Harriet’s old room, once almost as buried as the garage floor, had also been cleaned and organized. Though the right side of the room was now filled with labeled boxes, the left side had been cleared completely out. Mike noticed that the closet now contained Patience’s growing wardrobe. Even the pictures on the walls had been dusted, though they still were just as oddly placed as they had been. Lucas’s room, which had not been nearly so cluttered, was now empty with the exception of an exercise mat in the center of the floor.

“Just as you wanted.” said Patience speaking right behind his left ear.

“Shit! You startled me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe how much you’ve done in a week. What are you doing now—alphabetizing my underwear?”

“No. I was on the phone with Harriet. She invited us to dinner.”

“Hmm. Both of us?”

“Yes. She specifically asked that I come too.”

“Speaking of Harriet, what are you planning for her room?”

“I didn’t have any plans yet,” said Patience.

“Why don’t we make it a guest room? You can move your clothes into my closet. God knows I don’t need all that room.”

“As you wish,” she replied sweetly.

Later Mike hopped in the passenger side of the car and let Patience drive them to Greendale, to Harriet’s house. Patience wore what she referred to as a red bra-top dress, though it didn’t look at all bra-like to Mike, and a pair of matching three and a half inch wedge shoes. Mike wore a pair of tan slacks and a matching pullover shirt which Patience picked out for him. He was quite happy as they made their journey. It was a beautiful day. There wasn’t much traffic. And just having Patience with him seemed to make him happy.

Harriet greeted them with a smile. When Harriet’s husband Jack saw Patience, his mouth fell open.

“Put your tongue and your eyeballs back in your head,” said Mike, as he walked passed him. Then for good measure, Harriet smacked Jack on the back of the head. As he sat down, Mike looked at Patience to see alarm on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you mad at me, Mike?”

“No. Of course not. Why?”

“You were making an angry face.”

“Was I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I was just worrying about something I don’t even need to worry about.”

“I don’t like for you to worry, Mike.” she said. “I want to make all of your worries go away.”

“Thanks.”

Inside, they sat and talked for a while. Harriet, who worked at a dentist’s office, regaled them with stories of bad teeth and bad breath. Then she talked about Jack’s baseball team. He played with a group of men from his office. Finally she started telling them about her gardening. She described in great detail all of the plants that she had recently added to her yard. Mike wasn’t paying too much attention. He tended to zone out. Once Harriet got started on a topic she usually wrestled it to the ground and killed it.

“Get away!” shouted Mike, when one of Harriet’s dogs suddenly stuck its nose in his crotch.

“I know you really like dogs, Daddy,” said Harriet. “You just pretend you don’t.”

“I like dogs fine, when they aren’t sniffing where they shouldn’t be sniffing.”

“They are just curious about you,” she said. “I’m surprised they aren’t sniffing at you, Patience. They don’t seem to even notice you.”

“Hey Harriet,” said Mike. “Didn’t you just say you needed some more potting soil or something?”

“You’ll never know how surprised I am that you heard that much of what I said,” she replied. “But yes, I do.”

“Let’s run over to Lowe’s and get it.”

“Well, I have the quiche halfway done.”

“Patience can finish that up for you,” said Mike, looking at his girlfriend for, and seeing in her face, confirmation. “You and I can run to the store.”

“I thought real men didn’t eat quiche,” said Jack.

“Real men eat whatever the hell they want to eat,” said Mike, managing to keep most of the derision out of his tone.

“Come on Daddy,” said Harriet.

Father and daughter took a quick drive down the block to the neighborhood home improvement store. Mike hadn’t really wanted to help pick out potting soil. What he wanted was more reassurance that his daughter was not bothered by his relationship with a robot. She was very reassuring. She seemed as happy that Patience was in her father’s life as he was. Their conversation on the topic ended just before they reached home again with two forty pound bags of planting soil.

“One more thing Dad,” said Harriet, who only called Mike “Dad” when she was angry or serious. “Try to be nicer to Jack. Don’t talk to him like he’s a moron.”

“Well he is a…”

“It’s his house, Dad.”

“Yeah, all right,” conceded Mike.

Mike tossed the two bags of soil over his shoulder, ignoring the short stabbing pain from his stomach, and followed Harriet through the gate and around the house to the back yard. He tossed the bags down beside the flower bed and dusted the dirt off of his shirt.

“Why don’t you go see if Patience needs any help,” said Harriet. “I want to get these last two Verbena in the ground before dinner.”

“Okay.”

Mike walked in and found Patience standing by the stove and Jack leaning on the counter nearby. Patience gave him the kind of smile most people reserve for someone they thought lost at sea or perhaps for Hunter Tylo when she was carrying an oversized novelty check for ten million dollars from Digital Clearinghouse. There was something shifty in Jack’s expression though. Mike asked what was going on. They both spoke at once.

“Nothing,”

“Jack fondled me.”

The look of shock had not even completely registered on Jack’s face when Mike grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him through the kitchen and out the door into the garage. Calling for Patience to stay and finish dinner, he shut the door after him. Jack was beginning to square his shoulders. Mike shoved him back against the wall of the garage.

“Hey, don’t get all jealous,” Jack began. “She’s just a sexbot.”

Mike grabbed Jack’s face in his right hand and slammed it once again into the wall, this time making a large round dent in the unfinished wallboard. He squeezed his fingers together until Jack looked as though he were doing an imitation of a fish.

“You don’t get it!” hissed Mike. “This isn’t about Patience! This is about Harriet! This is about my daughter!”

Jack’s eyes got rounder.

“If you ever hurt my little girl, if you ever cheat on her, I will kill you.”

Once more, Jack’s head slammed against the wall.

“If you want to leave. Tell her. Get a divorce. Now is a good time. There aren’t any kids yet. But if you stick around and then cheat on her, I will kill you.

“I… will… kill… you.” said Mike. “It won’t be quick. It won’t be painless. And you know what? I’ll even get away with it. Look me in the eye. See if you can tell if I’m serious or not.”

Jack’s round eyes rolled over in his head to focus on Mike’s close, way too close, face. A look of recognition crossed those eyes. Mike crinkled his nose and looked down at the spreading wet spot in Jack’s pants and the widening puddle of urine forming on the floor around Jack’s shoes. Mike let go.

“Get cleaned up,” he said, heading back into the house.

Harriet was in the kitchen with Patience, washing her hands in the sink.

“What were you two talking about in the garage?” she asked.

“I was just apologizing for being such an ass before,” said Mike, as he heard Jack enter behind him. “But, uh, Jack spilled his drink. So he needs to go change his pants.”

“That’s fine,” said Harriet. “Patience and I are just getting ready to set the table.”

Mike thought that it was the best quiche that he had ever eaten. Sautéed green beans and fresh fruit completed the meal. Harriet was a little concerned that Patience wasn’t eating anything, but Mike assured her that this was completely normal. He also pointed out that Jack wasn’t eating much either. Jack apparently didn’t feel well and everyone agreed that he looked a little green around the gills.

“I heard you speaking to Jack in the garage,” said Patience on their way home.

“Did you hear everything?” asked Mike.

“Yes.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, Mike. I could never be upset with you.”

“I just thought that you might be disappointed that I wasn’t more jealous over you.”

“No, Mike.”

“You’re not feeling jealous yourself? Or upset that I love Harriet more than I love you?”

“I would expect you to love her more than you love me,” said Patience. “You have known me for only a few days. You’ve known her all her life. Your love for your children is just one of the many things I like about you, Mike.”

When they returned home, there were several packages waiting on the front step. Two were quite large—as big as the box that Patience had arrived in. One was small and flat. Three others were odd configurations. Mike picked up the small, flat package and examined the address.

Mr. Mike Smith

11 North Willow

Springdale, California 82803

As it turned out, this was the only one of the packages addressed to him. The others had all been sent to Patience D. Smith at the same address.

“What the hell is all this?” wondered Mike.

“These are some of the purchases that I have made,” Patience replied.

“These aren’t all clothes?”

“Of course not, Mike. I’ve started selling some of your old things on eBay, and I realized that there were a number of things that I could buy and sell for a profit.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot of junk on eBay. That’s why I sell all mine there.”

“I’m sure. This package is from Submit Fashions.”

“Really?” wondered Mike. “That sounds like some kind of fetish shop.”

“Well it isn’t,” said Patience. “It’s a store that sells sexy clothing for young ladies.”

“Such as yourself.”

“Such as myself. I noticed that you enjoyed watching me in my new clothes.”

“Indeed I do,” replied Mike.

They took the packages in and Patience removed most of them to the garage. Mike sat down and opened the one small package that had his name on it. Inside was a new texTee. It was like the one that he had used in the hospital. It had a brushed grey finish and a larger screen than did his old one. He turned it over and flipped the on switch.

“Good evening, Mike,” it said aloud.

“Do you like it?” asked Patience from the hallway.

“It’s beautiful, but I wasn’t planning on buying a new one. My texTee isn’t that old.”

“I noticed that you liked the one at the hospital,” she said.

“I did like it, but I don’t remember saying anything about it.”

Patience poked her head around the corner and grinned. “It won’t be long before I know what you need before you even know that you need it.”

“Just as long as you don’t tell me ‘I’m sorry Mike, I’m afraid I can’t do that”.

“I doubt I’ll need to do that,” she replied.

“Well there you go.” Mike turned back to his new texTee. Time Magazine was loaded and he began reading the political department.

“What do you think?” asked Patience a few minutes later, now back in the center of the living room.

“I think Barlow is an asshole. Why is he cozying up to the religious right? You know he hates them.”

“I mean about my clothes.”

“Holy Crap!” said Mike, looking up at last. “I thought you said that wasn’t a fetish store.”

“It is not a fetish store. This is what all the young women are wearing.”

“Then all the young women are dressing like sluts.”

Patience was wearing a halter top and a pair of short shorts, both of which were made of some kind of very shiny white plastic material. She had a matching pair of shin high white boots with platform soles that had to be three inches high.

“How do you propose to walk in those?”

“I can walk just fine,” said Patience, and began doing a sort of 1970s electric slide, sideways across the living room. “Does that mean you don’t like my new clothes?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mike laughed. “Did you buy a swimsuit from Slave Fashions…?”

“Submit Fashions.”

“Whatever. Did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Would you like to see it?”

“No. Save it for tomorrow. We’re going to the beach.”

“That is very exciting, Mike,” said Patience, exactly as excited about it as she was about anything Mike suggested.

Mike spent the remainder of the evening gathering together everything that they would need for a day at the beach. Then he watched the news and joined Patience who was waiting in bed for him. They spent a very enjoyable half hour together there, and afterwards Mike had just enough awareness to note her leaving him alone as he dozed off.

In the morning Mike loaded the beach chairs, umbrellas, and towels into the car, along with the ice chest full of food and drinks that Patience had prepared before he had gotten up. They hopped in the car and drove west. Though they were in California, Springdale was a good three hour drive from the coast. The time went by quickly though. Mike listened to the radio. Patience watched him with devotion in her eyes.

After three hours and eight minutes of driving Mike reached Oceanside, California. He pulled into a filling station two blocks away from the beach and topped off the car’s fuel.

“Hydrogen?” he asked, pointing the hose in Patience’s direction.

“No, thank you.”

He noticed that across the street was a surf shop. He sent Patience over to rent a boogie board. When she arrived back, she not only had the boogie board, but a shopping bag as well.

“What did you buy?” he asked.

“Since I have a new swim suit, I thought that it was only appropriate that you have one as well.”

“Oh shit,” said Mike. “Good thinking. I didn’t even pack one. I don’t think I even have one anymore. It’s been so long since I came to the beach. I hope you remembered that I am a fat, old man.”

“I don’t believe that you are fat or old,” said Patience, with a frown. “The average lifespan in the United States is seventy nine point three years for men, and you already look healthier after only a few days of exercise and nutritional eating.”

“Talk about damning with faint praise,” grumbled Mike.

They drove the two blocks to the beach, but the public parking lot was completely full. Mike paid forty-five dollars to park his car for the day in a private lot. Normally, he would have complained about having to pay so much just to park, but nothing seemed to bother him anymore. After trucking the ice chest, chairs, towels, umbrella, and boogie board down to the sand, and finding a good spot just above the high tide line, the two of them went to the public changing rooms.

Mike liked the swimsuit that Patience had picked out for him. It was long, almost to his knees, and was bright orange, yellow, and red. He thought it was the type of suit that a young man would wear. It made his head swell a little to think that Patience thought it was appropriate for him. When he stepped out of the changing room and saw Patience in her suit, his mouth fell open. Her suit was without a doubt, the smallest bikini that he had ever seen. Even on the internet. The little patch of material in the front could not have been more than an inch wide and it stuck up only an inch and a half above the joining point of her legs. The back had no patch of cloth at all. It was just string. The top could have been custom made for her, in that the two triangular cups so fit her round ripe breasts that there was not a jot of material wasted. Wondering if she might be arrested for indecent exposure, Mike looked around. He was shocked to find that most of the young women at the beach were wearing suits very similar. It had been a long time since he had been here.

Though there were plenty of women with small sexy suits on the sandy shore, Mike noted that almost every eye still turned to Patience as they walked to the beach chairs. While he sat, Patience rubbed SPF 210 sun block on all of his exposed surfaces.

“I suppose you don’t need any sun block?” he asked.

“I’m shielded against much greater radiation that I am likely to be exposed to here, Mike.” Patience replied.

“So you don’t tan?”

“No. I will remain always the shade that you chose when you ordered me.”

For the next several hours, Mike and Patience hopped through the surf, built a sand castle, knocked it down, pulled each other along on the boogie board, and had a great time. Though he was initially concerned about water getting into the small openings in the back of her neck, Patience showed Mike that she had protected against such a calamity by covering the area with a clear plastic patch. By the time Mike thought about food it was early afternoon. Patience had packed quite a picnic lunch–sandwiches, fruit, Jell-o, and diet sodas. After he ate, they swam, and continued playing in the surf, Mike pointedly entering the water without waiting for an hour. He refused to be responsible for propagating an old wives’ tale.

When night eventually fell they strolled along the beach, listening to the pounding of the waves. They walked to the opposite end of the stretch of sand, several miles from where they had parked, and found a seafood restaurant. They smiled and talked over the candle-lit dinner, though Patience didn’t eat. Then walked back down the darkened beach, hand in hand, pausing every so often to look at the moon reflecting off the waves. When they reached their picnic site, they found they were all alone on the sand.

Patience leaned over and kissed Mike deeply, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. He returned her kisses and more. She deftly removed the tiny bottom of her swim suit and pulled him over onto her, as he frantically pulled at the strings that held up his trunks. Their lovemaking left a sensual imprint in the sandy beach.

“Like sea otters,” said Patience.

“That was a pretty good day,” said Mike.

They gathered up their belongings and carried them back to the car. Loading the things in the back seat, Mike opened the passenger door for Patience and then climbed in to the driver’s side.

“Yes, this certainly was a pretty good day.”

Thursday and Friday were exam days at school. That meant that for the students both days were half days of strenuous testing, with free afternoons to recover. For the teachers, the mornings were a scramble to get fourth quarter grades completed, and the afternoons were a scramble to grade tests, all the while attempting to get the classroom stowed for the coming summer months. In the evenings, after a workout at the health club, Mike would enjoy delicious dinners and relaxing evenings of watching movies on vueTee. On Saturday morning, Mike woke with the realization that not only did he not have to return to work that day, but that the school year was essentially over. Only Monday remained to finish make-up exams, clean up the classroom, and sign out for the year.

Climbing into his recliner, Mike went through Friday’s mail as he watched cooking shows on vueTee. There were a couple of bills and a handful of ad flyers. At the bottom of the stack was a white envelope that felt abnormally thick. He opened it up to find a matching set of Visa cards—one in his name and one with the name Patience D. Smith.

“Patience!”

She came in through the kitchen from the garage, covered in dust and dirt, but was otherwise completely naked. As she smiled at him from the doorway, he felt himself aroused.

“How come you’re nude?”

“I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty while I worked.”

“Okay. How come we have new bank cards?”

“I thought we might need them, at least in the short term. It is going to be a few weeks before I can earn some extra money, and I don’t want to spend all your savings.”

“You’re creating more questions than you’re answering,” he said. “How are you planning to make money?”

“I’m selling a great many things on eBay. Then I will take that money and invest it.”

“I know I have a lot of junk around here. Just make sure you don’t sell anything I want to keep. I know you should have more clothes.”

“The money is not for my clothes,” said Patience. “It is for yours.”

“Clothes for me?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose that is a good idea. I don’t want to look like such an old fart if I have such a beautiful, hot young woman on my arm. Why don’t we go ahead and do some shopping at the mall today?”

Patience beamed.

“So what is this name?” He held up the Visa card. “You’re not my wife. You’re just my… well, I guess you’re my girlfriend.”

Patience leaped across the room and jumped into Mike’s lap. She planted her full lips on his and kissed him, then pulled back and smiled.

“I’m your girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

She kissed him again. This was all the motivation that he needed. He pushed her up out of his lap, stood up, and then took her by the hand. He led her upstairs to the bedroom, where they spent the next half-hour, though Patience would not get on the bed until she had washed the dirt and dust off of her synthetic skin. Afterwards, Mike got up and went to the bathroom. Just as he was washing his hands, he heard his phone ring on the nightstand, and Patience answering it.

“Hello.”

Her eyes flashed at Mike as he reentered the room and she said. “Yes, Mike is here. May I ask who is calling? This is his girlfriend.”

She stopped and listened for a moment. Then she said. “Just a moment,” and handed the receiver to him.

“It’s Lucas,” she said.

Mike grabbed the phone. “How is my son the general?”

“Don’t start all that,” said the voice at the other end. “Tell me all about this lady.”

“Well…”

“Tell me. I think it’s great you’ve got a girlfriend, Dad. She sounds young.”

“Umm. She’s a Daffodil.”

“A what? A robot? Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t sound like a robot.”

“She doesn’t look like one either,” said Mike. “I keep forgetting that she is one.”

“Well, I guess it’s all good,” said Lucas. “Everybody’s getting one. I’m just glad you have someone to take care of you. Can I tell Harriet?”

“No! I don’t know what she’s going to say about it. I’ll tell her when she gets back from her trip.”

“All right Dad. Take care of yourself. I love you.”

Mike hung up the phone. “He’s calling Harriet right now.”

“Which bedroom belonged to Lucas?” asked Patience, in the car on the way to the mall.

“The one on the northwest corner. Since we’ve been exercising, I’m thinking that we could make it into an exercise room. The room on the northeast corner, on the other side of the stairway was Harriet’s. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. I wanted to turn the south bedroom into a study. I keep thinking I might sit down and write a book about all the goofy things the kids at school do. So far though, it’s just become a trap for all the crap in the house—kind of like the garage.

It was an hour long drive to the mall, because the closest good one was in the nearby city of Pico Mundo. Patience spent the entire drive holding onto Mike’s arm with both hands, and pressing her face onto his shoulder. At the mall, the two entered by the food court. Mike bought a smoothie, and they began to circumnavigate the mall, stopping at each clothing store to see what was available for either of them. Mike let Patience make all the style decisions.

“I would like to get my ears pierced,” said Patience, as they stopped in front of a jewelry store.

“Are you sure that you want to?” wondered Mike. “Your holes won’t grow closed if you change your mind, will they?”

“No. But would you like it if I had my ears pierced?”

“Yes, I think I would.”

When they went into the store however, they were turned out.

“Humans only,” said the woman behind the counter. This made Patience pout, which in turn, made Mike smile.

They had quite a load of shopping bags, by the time they made their final stop at the lingerie store. Mike sat down and waited while Patience gathered her selections and then stepped back into the changing booth. She stepped out again and again to show off tiny lacy bras, thongs, and some very hot little lacy things called tangas, as well as garter belt ensembles. With her perfect body, her chiseled features, and bright eyes, Mike thought she put to shame the giant photos of the models wearing the same things plastered across the wall of the shop. By the time that she was done, a sizable audience of men, some ignoring the women that they had come in with, were gathered around to watch.

Mike decided that it was time to head home. Gathering all of the items that Patience had tried on, he sat them next to the register and, when the clerk had finished ringing everything, he paid for them. Both smiling, they made their way out of the mall and into the parking lot. The sun was going down. They had spent the entire day shopping, and had spent almost four thousand dollars.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent that much on clothes in a year, let alone a single day,” said Mike.

They reached the car and opened the trunk to put away all of their packages. Then Mike heard a voice behind him.

“Give us the packages and your wallet.”

Mike dropped the shopping bags and spun around. Two men, both in their early twenties stood there. One was white, the other Hispanic. They both had shaved heads and they both carried butterfly knives.

“Maybe we’ll have some fun with your little girl too,” said the closest one.

Mike snapped into action. He dived at the punk who had spoken last, hitting him square in the chest. They both went down onto the pavement. As they did, Mike felt the knife blade penetrate his stomach. The punk hit his head hard on the pavement but he still managed to push Mike off of him. He was already on his feet while Mike was still rolling around on the parking lot.

Just as he was finally regaining his feet, Mike saw Patience planting some kind of karate kick to his assailant’s neck. The other thug was leaning against a nearby car. It was obvious from the way he was holding himself that she had already dealt him some heavy blows. She was about to hit the second one again when she saw the blood streaming down Mike’s shirt. With a small squeal she rushed toward him. The two would-be robbers took off between the cars as fast as they could.

“That’s right!” yelled Mike. “Run, you pussies!”

“Mike!” gasped Patience. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing,” said Mike, his eyes starting to roll up into his head. “But I think I’m going to pass out.”

Mike felt Patience guiding him to the ground, so that he wouldn’t bash his head on the pavement.

“Thanks,” he said, as darkness spread across his world. “That’s my girl.”

* * * * *

“That’s my girl.”

“Yes Daddy, I’m here.”

He opened his eyes and looked up into the concerned face of his daughter Harriet. He was on his back in a hospital room. An I.V. was attached to the back of his right hand. He reached up with his left hand and felt the bandages that covered the left side of his stomach.

“When did you get back?” Mike asked.

“I got home late yesterday,” said Harriet. “Right about the time you decided to take on a couple of desperados. The police said they haven’t caught them yet by the way, though the officer left his card in case you remembered something when you woke up.”

“Call him,” said Mike. “I recognize both of those guys. Carlos Fernandez and Nathan Spencer. They were in my class seven or eight years ago. I think Nathan’s mother still lives down the block from me.”

“Nathan Spencer!” said Harriet, whipping out her phone and stepping toward the door. “I dated his brother! Officer Darling please…”

As Harriet stepped out the door the doctor stepped in to check on Mike. He informed him that he had been operated on the night before– a relatively small amount of damage, all things considering. The knife had only nicked his descending colon. Had Mike not been overweight and possessed of a fairly large amount of belly fat, the knife could easily have caused much more damage, perhaps even death.

“Well at least there is one consolation to being fat,” said Mike.

“On the other hand I’ve seen knife blades turned by a well-toned abdomen,” said the doctor. “And of course there are other benefits to being in good shape.”

“Fine fine,” said Mike.

The doctor left and Harriet returned.

“They’re going to get those little bastards.”

“They weren’t so little,” said Mike. “How did you know I was here, anyway?”

“Your girlfriend called me.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, your girlfriend,” said Harriet. “You do remember her? Patience? Or do you have amnesia.”

“Oh I remember her. I just didn’t realize you knew about her yet.”

“I heard about her yesterday. From my little brother,” assured Harriet. “I was happy to meet her though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Daffodil before, let alone talked with one. She’s not like other robots I’ve seen.”

“Does it bother you that I got her?”

“You’re a big boy,” said Harriet. “I trust you to make your own decisions.”

“Good. Your disapproval would have bothered me more than anyone else’s.”

“Come on Dad. I know I wasn’t your favorite.”

“Don’t tell Lucas this,” said Mike. “But I’ve always felt like I had more of a connection with you than with him.”

Harriet looked at him strangely for a moment.

“Where is Patience?” asked Mike.

“I sent her home a couple of hours ago to shower and change. I hope she gets some rest too. She looked really tired.”

“She doesn’t get tired. She’s a robot.”

“Maybe,” conceded Harriet. “But she was by your side almost the whole time you were out.”

Harriet stayed with her father for another hour. Then Mike sent her on her way. He hadn’t actually wanted her there at all. He had always been of the opinion that children, even adult children, should not have to see their father in that kind of weakened, compromised condition. The two other times he was admitted to the hospital, he hadn’t allowed any of the kids to visit him.

Mike was served lunch of soup and some kind of light purple jell-o. By the time he had eaten he was feeling pretty fit. He flipped on the vueTee and tried to find something good to watch, but nothing interested him. Then he saw that a texTee was sitting on the bedside table. It was a newer model than the one he had at home. He turned it on and flipped through the selection of magazines. Time. Electronic Entertainment. National Geographic. Penthouse. And three comic books: Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman. It was as if someone had transferred his own subscriptions to the new device. Then when he selected one of the magazines and watched the image fill the screen, he realized that this was just what had happened. Although Harriet could have compiled that selection, she would have died before buying a Penthouse. Patience had done this for him.

Mike had read all of the comics and was flipping through Time when Patience bounded into the room. She was wearing a black camisole top cut just above her perfect belly button and a pair of very low rise jeans, which together created a truly expansive piece of exposed stomach real estate. The pair of five inch sandal pumps, called Rowenas that she had purchased at the mall made her slender figure look seven feet tall.

When she saw that Mike was awake, she leapt to his side, clasped his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. She climbed into the hospital bed with him, and continued kissing him. When she seemed about to give him a hickey on his neck Mike pushed her head away.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’ll be out of here in a few hours and then we can do that at home.”

“The doctor said that you need to spend another night, Mike.”

Mike’s face immediately turned sour.

“I really hate hospitals. Always have.”

“Don’t worry,” Patience said. “I’ll stay here with you.”

“I didn’t say I was worried. I just don’t like hospitals.”

Patience nestled down in the bed next to him and put her head on his chest.

“I was so worried, Mike,” she said. “I thought for a moment that you were going to die. You were so heroic. I love you so much.”

“Oh, come on,” Mike said. “You were the one who kicked the crap out of the bad guys.”

“Self defense is part of my programming. You didn’t have that advantage and you still went after them.”

“Whatever. Tell me everything that happened after I passed out.”

“When you fell, I used my first aid programming to staunch the flow of blood. Then I used my infiNet connection to call the fire department. Paramedics and an ambulance arrived nine minutes later. The police arrived two minutes after that. While you were being loaded into the ambulance, I made sure that all of our purchases were stowed safely in the trunk, and then drove the car to the hospital. Once here I needed to notify your daughter, because the clerks at the hospital would not accept my signature to begin medical treatment. They said they needed a relative to sign admission papers.”

“And you stayed here until Harriet sent you home.”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad I’m back too.”

They lay together on the hospital bed for some time not speaking. It was not an awkward silence, but rather a pleasant one. Mike finally broke it.

“I’ve only known you for six days but I already feel like I never want to be without you. I never want you to leave.”

“You will never be without me, Mike,” she said. “I will never leave you.”

Patience lay in the bed with Mike for the rest of the afternoon. He had never been so comfortable sharing such a small bed in his life. They both ignored the disapproving looks they received from the nurse each time she came in to check on him.

“I don’t think they’re going to let you stay the night with me,” Mike said. “Can you go home and sleep?”

“I don’t need to sleep but I have plenty that I can do. Then I can come and take you home tomorrow.”

“Good,” said Mike. “Why don’t you go ahead and go now. They are going to start serving dinner in a few minutes anyway.”

“As you wish, Mike.” She climbed out of bed and bent over, kissing him on the cheek before walking briskly out of the room.

Time without Patience went very slowly. Mike ate the soup, toast, and pudding that made up his dinner. He watched Animal Olympics on vueTee, the only thing even remotely interesting. He even took a little nap, though it was hard with the nurses talking right outside his door. Loudly. Without any concern for someone trying to sleep.

The next morning Mike got up and dressed in one of the new outfits that Patience had picked out for him at the mall– a twill jacket and matching pleated pants with a mustard colored tie. Then he had to wait an interminable amount of time to be discharged. If Patience hadn’t arrived when she did, he would have thrown a fit. But with her there nothing seemed to be that bad. At last an orderly arrived with a wheelchair and rolled him out the front door. Once outside, Mike got up and walked to the car. But he let Patience drive him home. As they drove, Mike watched Patience, marveling at her motoring skill. Then he noticed something else.

“You have earrings! I mean you have pierced ears and earrings.”

“That’s right, Mike. I was able to get them done last night at Electronics City.”

He looked carefully at the right ear, the only one visible. Her lobe was pierced twice and there was a small stud at the top of her ear through the cartilage—plastic, he corrected himself.

“I didn’t know you wanted three holes.”

“I have four in the other ear,” said Patience. “I noticed signs of sexual arousal when I approached the subject.”

“In who?”

“You.”

“You did? Well, yes.” Mike cleared his throat and took a scholarly tone. “Ours, like most civilizations, uses pierced ears to signal sexual availability.”

“But I saw little babies with their ears pierced.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s revolting.”

When they reached the house, Patience came around and opened the door for him. Together they went inside. Mike was struck at how perfectly clean the place was. It had been vacuumed, dusted, and he noticed that even the bookcases had been organized according to the Library of Congress system.

“This house looks great,” he said.

“Thank you.” Patience beamed. She led him to the couch and kissed him. They made love right there in the living room, Mike noticing only afterwards that the window glass was set to transparent. He relaxed afterwards and was just beginning to doze off when Patience returned to summon him to dinner in the dining room. She had set the table for one, with a lit candle as the centerpiece. Then she sat down across from him as he ate. She had prepared red pepper halibut and for dessert– cannoli. The dinner was delicious.

“Can I ask you about some of the things I found in Harriet’s old room?” asked Patience.

“Sure.”

“I found approximately four thousand three hundred comic books, and several hundred old paper books.”

“Yes. Those are mostly from my teen years. I was going to try and sell them on eBay, along with the old books I have boxed away in there. They don’t make them anymore, you know. So they should be worth something. But it’s a lot of work.”

“Very good,” she said. “I also found six boxes of pictures and associated memorabilia.”

“That’s all the family souvenirs. Tiffany started making scrapbooks a few years before she died, scanning that stuff in to go along with the pictures on the vueTee. But she only managed to complete a couple. I thought about making some myself, but it just takes so much time. I’m not really into it anyway. Maybe I will just give it all to Harriet.

“Would you mind if I sorted through all of these things, Mike?”

“Of course not. You are my girlfriend after all. Just take good care of the scrapbook stuff.”

“I will take good care of all of it,” said Patience. “Except the old books and comic books, which I will sell for you.”

Mike spent the remainder of the evening with his feet up, in his recliner watching Star Trek: Engineering Corps. He had purchased it a week before but hadn’t had a chance to play it. When he was done he brushed and flossed his teeth. Then Patience changed his bandage for him and tucked him into bed. Then she turned out the lights, and lay down next to him until he had fallen asleep. That was precisely11:02

The next day was so busy that there were times when Mike forgot about Patience, at least for a moment or two. That was saying something, because it had been an eventful night. They had talked for a while, Patience quizzing him on his likes and dislikes, though in retrospect it seemed scant enough information for any kind of detailed profile. Then she had given him a massage and they had gone to bed. The sex had been pretty incredible. It wasn’t like he thought it would be. She didn’t feel cold or plastic, though some places were warmer and some were cooler. She felt squishy in all the right spots—firm in the right spots too. She seemed to know what he wanted before he knew that he wanted it. Afterwards, he had fallen asleep, waking up once during the night to find her looking through his closet.

In the morning, she had served him breakfast in bed—cereal and milk, toast and grape jelly, and orange juice, which was about all the breakfast food he had in the house. When he had taken a shower, she had been there waiting as he had come out with a clean, dry towel. Though he usually didn’t allow for any extra time in the morning, and eating breakfast had taken up enough time that he actually had to hurry, he still took a moment to notice that she had been cleaning during the night. She had picked up all the dirty clothes off the bedroom floor and the bathroom had been cleaned. Who knows what else she had done that he hadn’t noticed.

“Turn your texTees to Our World page 1056,” Mike told the class. “The ten review questions on this page will be the first ten questions of your final exam the day after tomorrow. Look up the answers you don’t know at this time.”

Two hands went up.

“What is it, Curtis?”

“I don’t have my texTee.”

“Is that your problem too Mabel? You don’t have your texTee?

The dark haired girl two seats behind Curtis nodded her head.

“Why even bother to show up without your texTee? You know it’s review day. Why are you even here?”

“My mother makes me come,” said Mabel.

“It’s not my fault,” said Curtis. “I left it at my dad’s girlfriend’s house.”

“I would be willing to bet that you have your phone with you though,” said Mike. “Get one of the classroom texTees out of the cabinet.”

“Whatever.” said Mabel.

As the two students retrieved the reading devices, these particular ones covered across the top with bright red reflective tape, there was a knock at the outside door. The classroom had an inside door which led to the hallway and the rest of the school and an outside door which faced a small lawn and the back of the adjacent power plant. Peering in through the metal mesh that covered the tiny window in the outside door was Patience.

“I brought you lunch Mike,” she said when he opened the door a few inches. Patience was wearing the black and white polka dotted dress.

“I usually eat in the lunch room.”

“Here.” She pushed a soft-sided grey lunch box with the word Thermos on the side toward him.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was in the cabinet.”

“It was?”

She nodded. Then she turned and walked back across the lawn. Mike could see the blackened soles of her bare feet as she walked away.

“Who was that?” asked several students as he closed the door.

“Was that your daughter?” asked Mabel.

“Um, no. Let’s get focused on our review questions.”

At lunch time Mike unpacked the lunchbox. There was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple cut into slices and bagged, a small container of a white semi-gelatinous substance that turned out to be vanilla pudding, a single large sugar cookie, and a diet Pepsi with a chemical cold-pack wrapped around it.

“That’s a nice lunch,” said Miss Treewise from across the table.

“Mm-hmm,” Mike nodded.

“Somebody must like you,” said Mrs. Cartwright.

Mike shrugged.

When he got home, Mike found Patience waiting at the door. She looked pretty and pleasant and on impulse, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth.

“That was a nice kiss, Mike. Is that the kind of kiss you would like me to greet you with often?”

“Wow. I almost forgot for a moment that you were a robot.” He looked down. “Hey, you’re wearing shoes.”

Patience lifted one up behind her, taking a kind of Betty Boop pose. On her feet were black shoes with large white bows just above the open toe. They had a half-inch thick platform sole in the front and a four inch square heel in the back.

“Do you like them? They’re called Peeptoe Platforms.”

“Yes, they’re fine. But where did you get them?”

“After I dropped lunch off to you I went to the store.”

“You walked to the store? That’s too far, especially in bare feet. And the ground is hot.”

“I did not mind,” she smiled. “Would you like a shoulder rub, Mike?”

“Sure.”

She guided him to a chair that she had apparently brought in from the dining room and set along the west wall of the living room in front of the window. Once he had sat down, she stepped behind him and began rubbing his shoulders.

“How did you pay for them… the shoes, I mean?” he asked.

“I took the cash card out of your wallet this morning before you left for school.”

“They’re not supposed to let you use that unless it’s yours. And besides, you should have asked first.”

“The stores never check, and I did ask. You said that I should select and purchase my own wardrobe.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure I can afford that right now. I don’t get paid until the tenth. I’m not sure how much money I have in my accounts right now.”

“We have $2261.43 in account 116211130782-2 checking, $31021.69 in account 116211130782-1 savings, and $42.11 in the payNEtime account.”

“Wow. That’s more than I thought I had… I mean we had.”

She turned him back around and began rubbing his shoulders again. “I have ordered my own cash card, in any case.”

“You did? Wait. How did you know all that?”

“Last night I accessed all your financial data.”

“You what?” He turned back around to look at her.

“It is part of the secondary setup procedure.”

“What else did you do?” he wondered.

“I accessed your vueTee and browser files, read all of the books and magazines on your texTee, and all of your paper books too. I looked through your photo albums, ran your credit report, and googled you.”

“Is that all part of the secondary setup procedure?” he frowned.

She nodded with an innocent look on her face and turned him back around to continue with the shoulder rub. When she was done he moved to his recliner and flipped on the vueTee, while Patience brought him a diet Pepsi. Although he usually drank them from the can, she had poured it into a tall glass over ice.

“Did you buy ice at the store too?”

“No, Mike. I made it in the freezer.”

“You can do that?”

She nodded. “Did you want to talk about your day at work, Mike?”

“Not really,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to watch vueTee for a while.”

“That’s fine, Mike. The Star Trek episode Let That Be Your Last Battlefield is on channel twenty-seven.”

“Is that the one where Frank Gorshin is black on the left side and white on the right side?”

“He is black on the right side,” said Patience. “All of his people are black on the right side.”

Mike smiled as he flipped to channel twenty-seven. He watched the last forty minutes of the science fiction classic. Then he watched part of Seaquest DSV, which wasn’t so much of a classic. Mercifully, he fell asleep in his chair somewhere near the middle. He often fell asleep of an afternoon in his recliner to wake up to a dark and lonely room. This time when he woke up, both lamps were on. Patience passed by, walking through the room from the kitchen, continuing through the living room and on to the foyer. As she did so she switched the vueTee to the evening news.

“What are you doing?” Mike called after her.

“Chores,” she said, poking her head back around the stairwell corner.

The news was filled with politics. Winston Barlow was accusing Evelyn Mendoza of being an elitist and he was accusing Stephanie Wakovia of being a free-spender. Evelyn Mendoza was accusing Barlow of being uncaring and accusing Wakovia of being too closely tied to Busby’s Antarctica war. Mendoza was accusing Barlow of being out of touch with the young people of America and accusing Wakovia of being uninterested in helping the poor. The remaining news was filled with a story about the construction of the stadium for the upcoming Olympic Games in Surat, one about a pair of large tornadoes in Texas which did minimal damage, and the usual war news. Sixty four more American soldiers were killed today along with an estimated six hundred Russians.

“Dinner is served,” said Patience, poking her head into the living room just as the news ended.

Mike got up and walked to the dining room. Both this room and the adjoining kitchen had been cleaned spic and span. The table had been set for two, and in the center rested a dish of lasagna and a bowl of tossed salad. The old table had been spruced up with a floral-patterned table cloth. He pulled out a chair and sat down. Patience scooped a large portion of lasagna and then dressed the salad, placing a small pile next to the meat and pasta dish. She put the plate in front of him. Then she sat down across from him smiling and watching him as he ate.

“You’re not going to eat?”

She shook her head.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot for a moment. Hydrogen fuel cell?”

She nodded again.

“You’ve been doing quite a bit of cleaning.”

“Yes, Mike. Is this the way that you would like me to keep the house?”

“Secondary setup?”

She nodded yet again.

“Yes, the house looks great. You’ve just about got it all cleaned up.”

“I will have by this time tomorrow.”

Mike finished dinner and went back to the family room to watch vueTee while Patience cleared the table, packed up the left-overs, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. After Brain Quest, there wasn’t much on vueTee. Tuesday was a lousy vueTee night. Patience disappeared into the bedroom and returned wearing nothing but one of her lacy thongs. Mike had imagined that at his age two nights of sexual activity in a row was excessive, but seeing her standing there, the very picture of perfection, disabused him of this notion. They had sex on and off the couch, and when they were done Mike was completely exhausted though it was not even eight thirty.

“It is because you are in terrible physical shape,” said Patience.

“Yes, and I’m old too. I look way too old and fat to be seen with you. You look like what… like you’re twenty?”

“My apparent age is twenty-two to thirty-two. And fifty is not old.”

“Yes, well… What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“I have several projects in mind,” she said. “I think you should walk to work tomorrow.”

“It’s way too hot to walk.”

“It won’t be over one hundred nine tomorrow.”

“Well, I could,” said Mike. “Probably… But why?”

“Walking is good exercise, Mike. And that way I can use the car.”

“You know how to drive?”

“Of course.”

“But what if you are stopped. You don’t have a license.”

“Robots do not need a license to drive, Mike.”

Mike indulged in a hot shower before bed, and then climbed between two clean sheets. Patience was there to tuck him in. He read a bit of the daily paper from his texTee, but set it aside after a few minutes and drifted off into sleep. He half-dreamily noticed that Patience came into the room to turn off the light, and then she was off again doing whatever it was that she did.

When he opened his eyes in the morning, Patience was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had on the second of her two dresses—the black and white polka dotted one, and Mike felt a tug of regret that he hadn’t bought her more of a selection.

“You need to get up seventeen minutes earlier since you are walking,” said Patience, handing him a bagel and a glass of orange juice.

“Only seventeen minutes? I’m not going to run to work you know.”

“It is not really that far.”

It wasn’t really that far. He ate his breakfast, shaved and showered, then headed out the door with a lunch that Patience handed him as he left. He walked briskly to the end of the block under the awning that covered all the city’s sidewalks, but the rest of the way, five more blocks, went more slowly as it was up a slight incline. He rounded the power station and started across the lawn to the door of his classroom. Looking at the clock inside, he saw that he was arriving at almost the exact same time that he always did.

This was another review day, the day before final exams, so it was busy as Mike tried to push the last bits of geographic information into the heads of his eighth grade students. Not surprisingly, his mind kept returning to Patience standing there in her little thong in the center of the family room. He still couldn’t believe that she was here. He couldn’t believe that he had actually placed the order for a robot and he couldn’t believe how perfect she was. She was in fact, about as perfect as she could be. He wondered what her measurements were. When he had designed her, he hadn’t been thinking in terms of numbers. He had done so based on the visual representation on the screen. He would have to find out if he was going to buy clothes for her though. Thinking back to the posted measurements of all the centerfolds he had seen, he thought she had to be about 34-22-34. She could probably have been a fashion model, though with those breasts he was sure she would make a centerfold for Playboy or Penthouse.

She was of course waiting for him. The walk home, which was essentially all downhill, had proven more tiring than Mike had anticipated. He was breathing hard when he reached out to open the front door, but it opened for him and Patience was waiting on the other side with a glass of iced diet Pepsi. He took the offered glass, trudged back to the family room, and plopped down into his recliner.

“Welcome home, Mike,” said Patience. “You should know that the secondary setup procedure has successfully completed.”

“That’s good,” replied Mike, pulling the lever to lift his legs up. “Is there a third setup?”

Patience shook her head. She was wearing a little black dress which reached down to her mid-thigh. It was held on with half inch straps and had a plunging neckline. She had on a pair of cute little sandals with four inch wedge heels. Mike noticed how small her feet were.

“Nice shoes.”

“I don’t see why women’s shoes are so expensive,” she said. “These shoes cost almost five times as much as this dress.”

“Exactly how much money did you spend on clothes today?”

“$1704.19.”

“Wow!” Mike pushed the lever and rocked forward.

“Don’t worry. We will get more before we run out.”

“Are we robbing a bank?”

“I have our finances all figured out,” she smiled. Then she knelt down in front of him and for the next twelve minutes or so made him forget about anything as unimportant as money. Afterwards, she put on a fashion show for him, showing off the clothes that she had bought that day. She told him what each piece of clothing was as she spun around: a blue banded bottom jersey dress, a peach sleeveless knit mini-dress, a red over the shoulder dress with gored skirt, a black cami lace trim top with black nylon leggings and grey plaid miniskirt, a teal silky halter-style evening dress. She had also purchased a pair of five inch chunky heel platform sandals and a pair of metallic-colored t-strap four and a half inch heels. The last part of the show was the lingerie: several pairs of frilled panties that despite the name “boy-leg” seemed to have no leg at all, and left her cute ass cheeks hanging out, several pairs of mesh thongs, and a push up bra with one cup pink and the other sky blue.

“You should have showed me this part when I first came home,” said Mike, amazed that he was already feeling amorous again. “This makes me want to buy you even more clothes, though it’s a sad commentary when seventeen hundred bucks only buys you five outfits, two pairs of shoes, and a couple of pairs of underwear.”

“I also spent $661.57 on groceries.”

“Oh well, I’m sure we needed it, but that doesn’t sound like much food.”

“It will be more than enough for now,” said Patience. “Would you like an afternoon snack?”

“Sure.”

Patience brought out a small plate with slices of fruit and cheese. Mike ate it all.

“Is there more?”

“Save room for dinner,” Patience called from the kitchen. “You shouldn’t be too full anyway. I don’t want you to get a stomach ache today at the gym.”

“Gym?”

“Yes,” she said, rejoining him in the family room and curling up to sit on the floor by his feet. “We will go right after the news.”

They sat and watched first the local and then the national news. Patience rested her head on his knee and he ran his fingers through her thick black hair. It felt like real hair—like real human hair. She wrapped her left arm around his calves. Going to the gym was probably a good idea, he decided. If he was going to keep up with her, he really needed to get into shape.

At six o’clock, Patience left the room. She returned a few minutes later wearing sandals and her little jersey dress. She brought Mike a pair of shorts that he hadn’t seen in so long he almost didn’t recognize them, along with a sweatshirt. He changed into them, and then they climbed into the car and drove four miles to the Club One Fitness Center.

“I don’t have a membership,” said Mike.

“I signed you up on vueTee. The first month is free.”

“I think we need hydrogen.” he said, looking at the fuel gauge.

“Are you trying to prevent our trip to the gym?”

“No, of course not. We just need, you know…some hydrogen.”

“We aren’t going very far,” said Patience. “We have more than enough to last until tomorrow.”

“What if you get hungry?”

Patience shot him a look.

“We still have enough money to buy hydrogen, don’t we?” Mike asked.

“We should use your Praxair-Aramco credit account.”

“Is that account still good? I haven’t used it in a long time.”

Patience nodded.

At the fitness club a blond girl, with the right side of her hair dyed black, stood chewing gum. Mike gave her his name and she pulled out a dedicated texTee for him. It was set up with forms for him to fill out, as well as spaces for him to keep track of his workouts and progress. As he took it from her, she looked at him.

“Didn’t you used to teach at Midland?”

“Yes,” Mike replied, not adding that he still did.

“I think I was in your class,” the girl said. “That was a long, long time ago.”

Mike just nodded his head.

“Is this your daughter?” asked the cashier, indicating Patience.

“No…” said Mike. “She’s a friend.”

The counter girl’s mouth made a little O. “She’s a robot, eh? You can hardly tell.”

Mike just took the texTee to a nearby chair and began to enter the information with the keypad. Patience sat down next to him.

“Well that’s it,” said Mike. “It’s always going to be like that. It’s always going to be weird.”

Patience looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Nobody will ever believe that a fat old man like me could ever meet a woman like you. They’ll immediately realize what you are and say “oh well, there you go, he had to buy himself a robot, cause no one else would have him.” Patience stuck out her lip.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re more than a robot. You’re a Daffodil.”

“It’s not that,” she replied. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself in a negative way. I wouldn’t allow it from anyone else, and I don’t want to hear it from you.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. I need to find a trainer.” Mike changed the subject.

“No. I will be your trainer.”

Patience proved that she was as adept as a physical fitness trainer as she was at anything else. She put him to work doing a minimal number of machine exercises and had him spend most of his time walking around and around on the oval track. She walked right along with him, encouraging him to keep up the pace. Though she wasn’t really dressed for the track, she did look like a young woman out to have a little fun. She bounced along with the gate of a teenager, giving him a grin whenever she noticed him looking at her.

When they returned home, Mike was exhausted and took a nap. When he got up he took a long hot shower. By the time he returned down stairs, dressed, Patience had set the dining room table for him. The Caesar salad, lightly breaded orange roughy, and garlic new potatoes were all perfect. For desert, she made a satin chocolate tart. Mike had eaten many good meals, but he had to admit he was impressed. He didn’t think he had ever had anything that good outside of a cruise ship or a fine restaurant. When he said so, Patience smiled sweetly. Afterwards, Mike watched vueTee, while Patience cleaned up the dinner dishes.

Mike thought he would be too tired for sex that night, but the exercise actually added to his vigor. He felt as though he performed like a twenty year old. When he commented as much, Patience agreed with him, though this ended up irking him, as the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it wasn’t true.

“Are you going to get up and do housework all night?” he asked her as she lay next to him.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Why don’t you spend the night with me? I know you don’t need to sleep, but I think it would be great.”

Patience smiled at him. “All right.”

Mike woke up several times during the night though. He wasn’t used to sleeping with someone else in his bed and the center part of Patience’s body was warmer than he expected. She was also always awake, as Mike had known she would be, and since she didn’t need to be there and it wasn’t all that comfortable for him, the whole thing just seemed a waste.

“You can go ahead and get up if you want to,” he said, at last.

“Thank you, Mike. I would like to begin cleaning the garage.”

Mike’s life was crap. And every day he got up out of bed and thought about how it was crap. Today he climbed out of bed and made his way through the discarded clothing on the floor of the bedroom to the bathroom. His worn image looked out of the mirror at him. He picked up his cordless razor and turned it on before remembering that it was Saturday. He stuck out his tongue at his reflection. Slipping off his underwear, he tossed it at the hamper just outside the bathroom door. It landed on the floor. Turning on the shower, he stepped inside the glass-doored stall, and stood beneath the spray. Then he took a deep breath and began soaping up and rinsing off. Pouring a handful of shampoo, he scrubbed his scalp, rinsed, and then turned off the water. He waited about two minutes—partly to drip dry and partly because he didn’t want to face the day—before he climbed out of the shower stall.

Once he was dry, Mike walked back into the bedroom, crossed to the dresser, and pulled out a clean pair of underwear. The underwear was so old that it looked more grey than the white that it had been, and the material had worn through enough that the elastic showed in the waistband. He slipped his left foot in the leg hole and then the right, getting his big toe caught for just a second. Pleased with himself that he had not lost his balance, he went back to the bathroom and combed his thinning and graying hair. It had been graying for a long time. It had only been thinning, at least noticeably for a few of years—just since Tiffany had died. He brushed his teeth, and grinned at the man in the mirror. It wasn’t a friendly grin. Back in the bedroom, he slipped on cut-off jeans and a green t-shirt. Then he walked through the bedroom door, down the stairs, through the living room, and into the family room.

He touched the screen of the vueTee hanging just above the fireplace to turn it on, and then passed through the archway and into the kitchen. Pouring a bowl of cereal, he sniffed the milk before adding it. It was still good. Grabbing a spoon, he headed for the worn recliner which faced the vueTee. The screen was on, but it wasn’t alive with movement and sound. It still had the browser up and it was still on the Daffodil site. Mike had followed the link the night before from the very slick commercial he had seen during the Tonight Show. On the left side of the screen was a large yellow daffodil and on the right were four large yellow buttons, arranged vertically. The first said Barone, the second Amonte, the third Nonne, and the fourth PWX.

Daffodil wasn’t the largest manufacturer of robots, but it certainly had the most cultural cache. Their commercials were by far the best. Everyone seemed to be talking about them. Mike could hum their jingle right now. The four buttons corresponded to the four basic robot units that Daffodil produced. Though there was some crossover between the four types based on the many options that were chosen, the Barone was usually an aid to adults—a robot maid, gardener, or grandparent. The Nonne was a babysitter type: a tutor, a nanny, or again, depending upon the options, a maid. The PWX was an industry grade robot designed for use by corporations and government organizations as a receptionist or a clerk. Finally the Amonte was a personal companion. It could be configured as an escort, a friend, or a lover. As the commercial said, it was “anything and everything you want it to be.”

Mike leaned back in the chair and pointed the remote at the vueTee. He moved the curser over the Amonte button and pressed. The body frame options screen came up, but there was a small window along the left side that said “narrow your selections.” You could narrow them by price. You could narrow them by race-ethnicity. Or you could narrow them by gender. Mike ignored that side of the screen and looked at the body build. If you were going to dream, you might as well dream unencumbered. Dials allowed one to set height, chest, waist, and hips. He had already filled in these features the previous night. After that, one flipped through a series of screens where prospective customers could change almost every aspect of their robot. The head controls gave one control over the shape and placement of eyes, nose, lips, and ears, but also let one choose the forehead shape and jaw line, the hair color and style, the type of chin, and the placement of freckles. Other controls set every detail from fingernails to nipples. Mike flipped through them. The last screen showed the price for his particular build: $26,999.00. That would wipe out his payNEtime account, and then some.

Mike let his curser drop down to the search bar. He moved through the postings about Daffodil. There were many from people questioning certain aspects of the design, but few from people who had actually purchased one. Daffodil didn’t disclose their sales figures to the public, but experts estimated that they had thus far sold only about 300,000 units. There were a few messages from owners of the Gizmo robot, who went on about how superior it was, because you set its personality before purchase. There was only one posting that Mike hadn’t seen. He clicked on it and an aging woman with orange hair appeared on the screen.

“I love my Daffodil. He does everything for me—takes care of the bills, fixes my meals. He drives me to visit my friends, and he rubs my feet every night. His name is Andre. I just don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“Probably move to Florida,” said Mike.

He flipped over to Today Saturday. As he watched Tania Marquez read through the top stories of the day, he thought about purchasing a Daffodil. Twenty seven thousand dollars was a ginormous amount of money to spend. If he had still been married to Tiffany there would be no question. He wouldn’t have bought one. He would still have wanted one, but he wouldn’t have bought one. Oh, Tiffany might have gone for a five thousand dollar model designed just to clean the house, but she certainly never would have let him get the one that he had designed online. Of course if she had still been here… Oh sure, he might have fantasized about a Gizmo Sexbot, but it would have remained just a fantasy. Besides, he didn’t want a Daffodil for sex—well, not just for sex. If he was going to get one, it would be for companionship. It would do all the things that it was capable of doing.

The rest of the morning, Mike watched the vueTee. After Today Saturday was over, he turned to the Cooking feed and watched Café Italiano, Breakfast at Bloomberg’s, and America’s Test Kitchen. When Noon Buffet came on, he turned off the vueTee and picked up his texTee. The New York Times had already downloaded, so he flipped through the pages. Most of it was politics. Mike didn’t hate politics, like everyone else he knew seemed to. It was just that there didn’t seem much point to it at the moment. All three major parties had chosen their candidates even though none of them had yet had their convention, and it was more than six months till the general election.

The paper bored him after a few minutes, so he clicked through the book menu. He had the first chapter of The Janissary Tree, so he read it. When he was done, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend $17.99 for it. He flipped over to Moby Dick. He had the whole book. Before this year, he hadn’t read it since college and wanted to read it through again, annotating it along the way—just because. It was slow going. Here it was April, and he was only on Chapter 24: A Bosom Friend. He tossed the texTee onto the floor beside the chair.

Though he wasn’t really hungry, Mike decided that it was lunch time, mostly out of boredom. He went to the foyer, where his tennis shoes sat on the ceramic tile. Slipping them on, he grabbed his keys and wallet from the small shelf on the wall and headed out the front door. Climbing into the car, he drove down the block and around the corner. He thought about stopping at Hot Dog Paradise, but there was a long line of cars in the drive-thru, so he went to McDonalds. The girl at the window could have been mistaken for a real person at first, but just like in every other fast food drive-thru window, she was a robot. She was probably a Gizmo Servbot, though McDonalds had their own custom build that wasn’t quite like anywhere else.

“I’ll have a McMeatloaf sandwich,” he said.

“Would you like that ala carte or with an Arch Value Meal?” She had that slightly tinny voice.

“Value meal.”

“Would you care for fries, side salad, fruit slices, or yogurt sticks?”

“Fries.”

“And what would you like to drink?”

“Diet Pepsi.”

“Your total comes to $17.96.”

Mike swiped his cash card through the slot just below the window.

“Thank you for choosing McDonalds. Please pull forward.”

At the next window another Gizmo girl handed Mike his drink and then the bag with his McMeatloaf sandwich and fries. He drove back home and returned to his recliner to eat.

The vueTee had automatically turned off in his absence, so he turned it back on. He watched Face the Nation as he ate. Catherine Garvey was interviewing all three presidential candidates—one at a time. The Republicans had nominated another old man. The Democrats had nominated another old lady. It was the same old thing. Barlow said lower taxes. Wakovia said balance the budget. Only the Greens seemed to have picked anyone who wasn’t a cookie-cutter image. Mendoza was young, attractive, and idealistic and probably didn’t have a chance in hell of getting elected because she had inherited all the problems of President Busby. As long as there were troops in Antarctica nobody was going to vote Green.

When he was done eating, Mike looked around. He really needed to clean up the house he decided. He would get up and clean for a half hour. He could manage a half hour. By the time he had emptied and then refilled the dishwasher and emptied the trash compacter though, he didn’t feel like continuing, even though only fourteen minutes had passed. He sat back down watched more vueTee, dozing off after a while and waking up just in time for Deal of the Century. Then came Rat Race and then Pajama Party. He opened a can of soup for dinner and went to bed after Saturday Night Live.

Mike woke up just after five with a splitting headache. The bed was cold, not surprising considering he had left on both the oscillating fan and the auxiliary air conditioner. He got up and turned off one and then walked downstairs to the family room to turn off the other. Stopping for a moment, he reached up and touched the vueTee screen, turning it on. An infomercial for the all-in-one electronic device charger blared to life, but he sat down and grabbed the remote, thumbing back to the browser and examining the Daffodil page once more. With a sudden sense of purpose he zipped through the custom design pages, changing most of the settings that had been there since he had first looked it over. He didn’t know why he made most of the changes that he did. It was as if something unseen and unknown inside him compelled him to do it. With a slightly hesitant hand, he pressed the Buy Now button. $27,499.00. Then he went back to bed.

It was more than five weeks later, May 31st, when the package arrived. In the interim, life had gone on much as it had for the past several years. Each weekday, Mike tried to teach World Geography to the dullards that passed for eighth grade students in Midland Middle School, after which he came home and vegetated the evening away. On the weekends, he skipped the first part and simply vegetated. One night, the Saturday before last, he had dinner with Harriet and Jack. Every day he looked forward to the change that was coming. Even if the Daffodil never lived up to the hype, even if it was just an overpriced Gizmo Maidbot, it would be an improvement. It would pick up the laundry that had covered the floor for a month, vacuum the carpet that hadn’t been vacuumed in two months, clean the bathrooms that hadn’t been cleaned since Tiffany’s funeral, and maybe dust the things that hadn’t been dusted… well, ever.

Mike was annoyed that the box was just sitting on the step when he got home. Something that expensive, he should have had to sign for. Somebody could have just carried it off. But they hadn’t. It was here. The box looked impossibly small—only about thirty inches on each side. It was silver with a large yellow daffodil only partially obscured by the shipping label. Unlocking and then opening the front door, he picked up the box and brought it inside. It was heavy but not too heavy to lift. He set it down first in the foyer, but once he had shut and locked the front door, he carried it into the center of the living room floor. He went to the kitchen and returned with a chef knife. Carefully sliding the blade through the packing tape, he cut along each edge and then across the top seam.

Folding back the two flaps of the box lid, Mike looked down to find it filled with packing peanuts. Brushing some of them out of the way, he almost immediately found a patch of smooth white skin. It was remarkably real looking—pearlescent on the surface and kind of peachy pink beneath, but not a single blemish or mole or hair upon it. Mike brushed more packing peanuts out onto the floor and uncovered more skin, and then plastic with black hair inside. Finally, setting the knife on the coffee table, he tipped the box over, dumping the contents into the center of the floor. White packing went everywhere. The Daffodil rolled out and came to rest on its side, facing away from him. It was curled up tightly into a ball.

At first, Mike thought he must have ordered the wrong robot. Curled up as it was, it looked like a child. He just stared at it for a moment; at its naked back and buttocks and its black hair wrapped up in plastic. Finally he kicked around through the packing peanuts. There didn’t seem to be a manual—just a single sheet of paper marked Quick Setup. He picked it up and looked at it. There were two pictures and no words. The first picture showed line drawing of the back of a human-looking neck, except that the neck had three round holes in it and below them a button. The second picture showed the button being pushed by a line-drawn finger. Next to the button and the finger were the numerals 1, 2, 3. Bending down, Mike lifted up the plastic wrapped hair and examined the Daffodil’s neck. There were the three holes and there was the button. He pressed it and counted aloud “one, two, three.” Then he let go.

For a moment nothing happened. Then the Daffodil tilted its head and unarched its back. It unwrapped its arms from around its knees and stretched out its legs. Rolling over onto its stomach and then placing both palms on the floor, it rose in a push-up form, and then putting its left foot beneath it and then its right, stood up, coming to attention.

“Please wait,” she said, and it was at this moment, that for Mike, it became a she.

The Daffodil could no longer be an it. It was obviously not an it. And it was obviously not a child. Once upright, she was tall, maybe five foot seven. Mike examined her carefully. Though her hair was covered with a clear plastic cap, he could see it was jet black. It matched two dark, carefully arched eyebrows and a set of long eyelashes. She had no other body hair. Her face could best be described as cute, with large blue eyes, a button nose, and thick voluptuous lips. She had the kind of slender and yet curvy body that was just not possible on a real woman. Breasts the size of apples just kind of floated there above a perfectly flat stomach. Mike tilted his head down. She looked anatomically complete.

“You are Michael Winston Smith?”

“Huh?”

“You are Michael Winston Smith?” She was looking at him. Her eyes seemed very life-like.

“Uh… yes.”

“I am Daffodil serial number 55277-PFN-001-XGN-F0103. My software is up to date.”

“Good.”

“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?”

Mike looked at the clock on the wall. It was 3:20 PM. He counted off six hours on his fingers—9:20. Sitting down on the white sofa that was almost never used, he looked at the shapely nude robot. With a wry smile, he realized that he could sit and stare at it for the next six hours, or he could get up and do something. He went back to the family room, picked up the texTee, and flipped open Moby Dick, but he didn’t read any more of it. Instead he pressed the icon for the bookstore and typed in “names”. The titles of half a dozen books appeared including The Name Book, The Secret Universe of Names, and The Baby Name Wizard. He selected the last book of the six: Virtue Names. It took about twenty seconds for the book to download to the texTee. Looking back to the screen, Mike turned to the first page of the name book. The first name was Agape. Agape? The book said that it had something to do with God’s love, but all Mike could think of was “hanging loosely open”. That was not a particularly desirable trait. He picked a page at random. Patience. Now that was a trait he could appreciate. But the book said it was pronounced Pay-shuns. That wasn’t right. Paish-ence. Mike had always appreciated those names, mostly associated in his mind with the ninetieth century, that illustrated the supposed virtues—Faith, Hope, Chastity—but he hadn’t considered Patience until now.

He set the texTee back down and walked to the living room to look at the Daffodil. Did she look like a Patience? Close enough, he decided. Now what? He looked back at the clock. It was 3:33. What else did she say? Clothing. He felt his pants pockets. He still had his keys and wallet. He slipped out the door, locking it behind him and jumped back in the car.

Walmart was right around the corner and it took him less than five minutes to get there and park his car. He felt more than a little self-conscious, venturing into the women’s apparel department, but it turned out that he was one of more than a dozen men there. Most were just standing around, waiting for their women to finish trying something on in the fitting rooms, though a few were actively shopping. Mike made his way through the racks of ugly old-lady dresses until he found the clothing that young women seemed to prefer. The Daffodil looked like she might be in her early twenties. The first racks held blue jeans, but there was no way that he would be able to figure out the right size. Then he found several racks of dresses that seemed appropriate. He picked out a cute little one with blue flowers on it, then a white dress with large black polka dots. The smallest size on the rack was a three/four, and it looked pretty small, so he picked out a size five/six for each dress.

Having gotten used to looking through the women’s clothing, Mike’s discomfort returned when he moved into the lingerie section, the two dresses draped over his arm. There were counters and counters of underwear and bras. If choosing the correct pair of jeans was difficult, then choosing the proper size and type of bra would be insurmountable. The Daffodil didn’t really seem like she needed one, at least not from a purely functional perspective, though some women liked to wear them anyway. Moving on to the panties, Mike found a dizzying array of sizes, types, and styles. Then he saw some tiny, skimpy, little things called Smart and Sexy thongs. He didn’t know about smart, but they were definitely sexy, little more than triangular pieces of lace with elastic bands. They came in bags of three—tiny little lace bags. Mike bought a set in blue.

At the checkout stand, Mike realized that he was hungry. He grabbed a Payday candy bar. The matronly looking Gizmo Servbot gave him his total: $148.17. He drove back home and raced inside with his purchases, but there was no hurry. The Daffodil hadn’t moved. It was only 5:01. Looking at the robot, Mike appreciated her sheer physical beauty like he hadn’t before. He pulled the two dresses out of the bag and held them up in front of her, one after the other. Though they had seemed incredibly tiny in the store, they now looked as though they would fit her and might even be a bit on the large side. Draping them over the arm of the couch, he took the Walmart bag to the kitchen and stuffed it into the recycler. This made him think about everything else that was lying around the house. He had company now, sort of, and he felt an urge to clean up.

Starting in the living room, Mike began cleaning. It didn’t take much, since he hardly used the room at all. He picked up the packing peanuts and dropped them into the recycler, folded up the Daffodil box and put it in the compactor, and then he moved on to the foyer. He swept the tiles and straitened the several pairs of shoes by the door. Then he moved on to the family room. This room, though fairly large, was crammed full of old furniture, including the recliner, sofa, two end tables and a coffee table, three bookcases, the entertainment center, and the piano. Most of the furniture and a good bit of the floor were covered with cast-off items as well. Books, obsolete but not quite completely replaced by the texTee were everywhere, as were small piles of junk mail, interlaced with an occasional bill, and stacks of dirty dishes. Mike got to work, picking things up and putting them away until the room looked about as good as it ever had.

He stopped to make himself a supper of a deviled ham sandwich, which he ate along with a diet Pepsi and a handful of potato chips. He stood in the dining room, chewing and looking through the passage at the shapely form of the Daffodil still standing naked where he had left her. When he finished eating, he started wiping down the kitchen counters. He had them nice and clean by the time eight o’clock rolled around and Gunsmoke came on. He went back to his recliner, which had long ago conformed to his shape. Just as the story was getting interesting, his phone rang. It was Harriet calling to see if he was all right. He assured her he was. When he closed the connection and put the phone back in his pocket, the vueTee went to a commercial. Mike turned around and then jumped in his seat. The Daffodil was standing behind him, looking at him from the arch between the family room and living room.

“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 did you do?” asked Mike. “In your primary setup, I mean?”

“There are one thousand sixty seven individual tasks accomplished during the primary setup procedure, the most important of which are the initialization of the BioSoft operating system, registration of the InfiNet connection, and charging of the Honda X88 fuel cell.”

“Well, that’s good. Oh. There are some clothes for you in the living room.” He pointed over her shoulder.

She turned around and walked into the living room. Mike followed. She picked up the two dresses and held them in front of her one after the other, smiling.

“I wasn’t sure what size you wore, um, Patience. That’s what I decided to name you by the way—Patience.”

“Patience,” she said slowly. “The capacity, habit, or fact of being patient. Patient: bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint; manifesting forbearance under provocation or strain; not hasty or impetuous; steadfast despite opposition, difficulty, or adversity. That is a very good name. What should I call you?”

Though both Mr. Smith and Master flashed through his mind, he said “Mike”.

“You are named for the Archangel Michael, who is like unto God.”

“I think I must be named after my uncle Mike, who is like unto, um, my grandfather.”

“In answer to your unasked query, I will usually wear 3/4 or 5/6 U.S. miss sizes. Which dress would you like me to wear, Mike?”

“I think the blue one. It matches your underwear which is still in the bag there.”

“May I use the bathroom to wash up and get dressed, Mike?”

“Um, yes. You don’t need to say my name every time.”

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

“I see.”

“Which way is the bathroom, Mike?”

Mike pointed. “There’s the little… I call it the privy… on the other side of the kitchen, or you can go upstairs, because this one doesn’t have a shower or anything.”

The Daffodil went through the kitchen, toward the privy. Mike turned off the vueTee, and then sat waiting for her to return. It was growing dark out and both end table lamps automatically clicked on. She didn’t keep him waiting long. When she returned, he marveled at how real, how human she looked. She was dressed, and the plastic over her hair was gone. Her hair was long and straight and black, and cut with bangs across her forehead. She stepped to the center of the room and twirled around, then bounced up and down twice on her tip-toes. This made her look really young.

“Shit. I forgot to buy you any shoes,” he said.

“That is all right,” she smiled. “I can choose and purchase my own wardrobe if you like.”

“Yes, that would be good. But you have a limited budget. I don’t have that much in the bank, and I spent all my payNEtime money on… well, on you.”

“I understand, Mike. I won’t spend any money until I am sure of our finances.”

“Our finances?” Mike remembered the orange-haired lady and how her Daffodil paid her bills for her. “Are you going to be my secretary too?”

“I will be anything and everything you want me to be,” she said. “It is after nine o’clock. Have you eaten dinner, Mike?”

“I had a sandwich.”

“Are you still hungry, Mike? Would you like dessert?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then may we sit a talk for a few minutes?” She made her way around the coffee table and sat down on the couch. “What time is your bedtime, Mike?”

“Um, I usually go to bed about eleven.”

“And what time do you usually get up, Mike?”

“I get up at six twenty.”

“That is not enough sleep, Mike. You should go to bed at 10:05.”

“I have a hard time getting to sleep that early. I have to take Sleepova anyway.”

“I will help you, Mike.” She smiled sweetly. “This is a very nice dress, Mike. Is this the type of dress you would like to see me wear often?”

“Sure. Um, I would like to see you in different clothes too. Isn’t that what most people want? You are kind of like a big Barbie doll.”

“Would you say you preferred me to dress demurely or provocatively or somewhere in the middle, Mike?”

“Provocatively… sexy but appropriate. I’m a middle school teacher. I don’t want you to get me arrested, or worse, fired… although one would probably lead to the other.”

“These are very nice underwear, Mike. Is this the type of underwear you would like to see me wear often?”

“Absolutely,” Mike said. “Whenever you wear underwear, they should be sexy. That’s why you’re here.”

“Sexual congress?” She looked at him wide-eyed, without the least hint of embarrassment. Well, she wouldn’t be embarrassed, would she? She was a robot. It was hard, looking at her, to think of her as anything but a real person.

“Yes, well, not just for that. I’m tired of being single. But…I’m fifty years old. It’s hard to find somebody at my age, and let’s be frank—I’m nobody’s idea of a catch. I guess with you I don’t have to be though, do I? And I don’t want another wife anyway. I want you to be my companion, you know, in all the ways that another person would be a companion. You can do that, right?”

“That is right,” said Patience. “I can be anything and everything you want me to be.”

“Who is it, dear?” called a woman’s voice, as a sylph-like figure danced out of a back doorway.

“Visitors. They’re going to be staying a couple of days.”

“How exciting,” she said, hurrying forward. “We never have overnight company.”

She was within arm’s reach before Dakota realized that she was a robot. Tall and thin, with short blond hair and blue eyes, she was dressed in a yellow sundress.

“This is my wife, Mindy,” said Stephen.

“You’re kidding,” said Dakota.

“No, I’m not fucking kidding! She means a lot to me—a hell of a lot more than you do!”

“Shh,” said Mindy. “You’ll wake the children, dear.”

“Mindy, please show them to the guest room.” Stephen looked at Dakota. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I have to get ready for work.”

Mindy smiled at Dakota and then locked eyes with Charity. They both froze for a split second. Then she beckoned them after her, as she walked like a game show spokes-model to the rear of the room. Exiting through a doorway took them from a small living room down a long hall.

“That’s Tag’s room on the left” said Mindy. The one just past it is the guest room. Stephen and I are at the very end of the hall, and the twins are across from you. I’ll try to remind them not to bother you, but they haven’t had much experience with visitors.”

“That’s fine,” said Dakota. “I don’t exactly know how to ask… how old are the children?”

“Tag is thirteen. The twins are eight.”

The guest room was small but neat, with a double bed covered by a crocheted comforter and with a large painting of a cat on the wall.

“You can used the bathroom across the hall,” said Mindy. “Clean towels are in the rack just inside the door. If you need anything else, let me know.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

“It’s like some sort of domestic Twilight Zone,” said Dakota.

“She seemed nice,” said Charity. “Remember what I told you about Daffodil Amontes? About them making excellent wives?”

“She seems like a robot. I mean, even if she wasn’t a robot, she’d seem like a robot. And since Stephen didn’t have any kids when I saw him last, I’m really interested to get a look at them.”

“You should get some sleep,” she said, peeling the bedding back for him. “I can stand quietly in the corner, or if you’d prefer, I could stand in the closet.”

“Why don’t you just lie down over there?” He pointed to the left side of the bed.

If the truth were known, Dakota actually preferred sleeping with someone else. He had been doing it for more than four years now. Rachel had insisted that they not get a bed larger than a standard double. He had complained, saying that there wasn’t enough room for him to turn over. Now he had missed it for three nights. Sleeping with the robot was not quite the same. She didn’t feel plastic; her skin was as soft and supple as a real woman’s would have been. She was hotter than a real person though, at least in some places. In others, she was cooler. But if he just lay there—if he didn’t touch her and feel the differences in temperature, and her shape, then it was almost like sleeping with Rachel.

She was gone when he woke up. When he climbed out of bed, he found his suitcase on the floor by the door. Pulling out a clean set of clothes, he crossed the hallway and took a hot shower. When he was done, he brushed his teeth and then ran his hand through four days of whiskers. He would have to either buy a razor or learn to live with a beard.

In the front of the house, Dakota found the dining room. Charity was sitting at the table with three children. They were just as mechanical as she was. The boy looked enough like Stephen to be his real son, but he wasn’t. He was a robot. The two eight-year-old girls looked like their mother, with similar bright yellow dresses. All four of them sat with nothing but water bottles in front of them.

“Sit here,” said Charity, vacating her chair for him. “Mindy has made you some waffles.”

At the sound of her name, Mindy danced out of the kitchen, holding a plate of waffles high in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other. She sat them directly in front of Dakota and pirouetted away.

“Do you prefer coffee or milk?”

“I’ll take a Coke if you’ve got one.”

“Here’s a glass of milk. We don’t keep sodas in the house.” She sat a tall glass of milk in front of him. “Say hello, children.”

“Hello,” they all said primly and in unison.

The sun was really beating down when Dakota Hawk pulled his pickup to a stop next to the metal cargo container that GoodWorks was using as the drop location from which to collect donations of clothing, furniture, and electronics. When he climbed out of the cab, his foot slid in the half molten asphalt. The poor bastard, who was earning a dollar less than minimum wage to sit in the heat and collect the donations, stepped out from the container’s interior, dripping sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“Back again? What are you trying to do, get rid of everything?”

“As much as possible,” said Dakota. “Do you have water in there? Maybe a fan?”

“Oh yeah. I’ve got a nifty little setup. Come in and look.”

The air outside was well over 140 degrees Fahrenheit, and it was just as hot inside. It was even more oven-like. The back third of the container was filled with cardboard boxes and plastic trash bags full of who-knows-what. Along the left side were a few pieces of larger furniture. Along the right hand wall were a dozen non-animated robots—a couple with clothes, but most naked. Just inside the entrance sat a chaise lounge next to a mini-refrigerator with an electric fan sitting atop it. A long orange cord ran out the door, across the parking lot, and was plugged into the back of McDonalds.

“Sweet,” said Dakota, and then he turned back to his truck and began unloading the black bags filled with clothing and household goods. He handed them to the guy, who then stacked them in back. By the time they were done, his own long, blond hair was plastered to his face.

“Mostly clothes, feels like.”

“Yes, mostly clothes.”

Dakota had spent all morning trying to empty out the apartment. The first hour had been taken up getting his own things. He had packed up his vueTee and his other electronics, and then his clothes. That had filled up the back of the truck, leaving just enough room for the two crappy chairs his dad had given him. He’d taken it all to the Jiffy Locker and rented a storeroom, their smallest size. After unloading, he had made one final sweep through the apartment, taking whatever was left that he wanted—nothing more than a few photographs and mementos. Then he had spent the next five hours hauling as many of Rachel’s belongings away as possible and donating them to GoodWorks. He realized he could be charged with theft, but he didn’t care. Her closet was empty, her wriTee and all her files were gone, she had no pots and pans and no fine silverware, her underwear drawer was empty, and her grandmother’s Depression era glassware collection was history. He looked at his watch. There wasn’t time to make another trip before she got off work.

He looked back into the cargo container.

“Say, what are you going to do with these old robots?” Dakota asked.

“They have a group that recycles them for parts. Most of them are Gizmos, and you can’t really fix them anymore.”

Dakota looked them over. They were mostly Gizmos, but not all. He recognized a Braun… and something else. A naked female robot, waist bent at an anatomically impossible angle stared at the wall. A curtain of long brown hair was brushed aside just enough for Dakota to make out three small holes in the back of the neck, and beneath them, a button.

“How much do you suppose they’ll get for them?”

“Oh, a few hundred each, I suppose. Most of them don’t work at all.”

“Could I buy one?”

“We don’t sell them to the public.”

“Seems a shame,” Dakota said. “I’d give you $500 for that one there, right now.”

“Well, we don’t even know if it works.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it. Cash deal. No exchanges or refunds.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in $500, waving it back and forth in front of the guy’s eyes.

The guy reached into his own pocket for his phone.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” he said. “You know, because they don’t want us selling them.”

He pressed his phone to Dakota’s; transferring the $500 into what they both knew was the guy’s personal account.

“Nobody’s going to hear anything about it from me. Help me load it?”