His Robot Wife: Charity briefly made it onto the Sci-Fi & Fantasy best-seller chart at iBooks, at one point up to #68. It has since fallen, but I’m very excited about it being there. The original His Robot Girlfriend continues to appear at the top of the Free books list, currently #10 on the Sci-Fi & Fantasy iBooks best sellers.
“Are you thinking of moving to Big Bear City?” asked Mindy.
“It’s a great place to live,” said Tag.
“They have nice parks and excellent schools,” said one of the girls, marking the first time that Dakota had heard either one of them speak more than a single word.
“Oh, do you go to school?”
“Of course not,” said Stephen.
“The children are homeschooled,” said Mindy.
“Of course. No, I don’t think we’ll be staying.”
“Dakota needs to find a position in which he can reach his potential,” said Charity.
“Yes, and I need a job too,” he said, smiling at his own joke.
“Sometimes they hire threaders at the Sherriff’s Department,” said Stephen. “I could check an see if there are any openings.”
“I’ll let you know.”
When they finished eating, the robots all retired into the house, leaving the two men on the deck.
“Great meal,” said Dakota.
“Yeah, thanks. So, I think this is as good a time as any to talk. What’s going on with you?”
“There’s really not much to tell. I was living with this girl. I thought it was true love, but I caught her cheating on me, so I left. I was pissed, so I took a bunch of her stuff and donated it to GoodWorks.”
“Illegal,” said Stephen, nodding. “But at least you didn’t shoot them. I’d say she deserved it. Use the account I gave you and in a few days, she’ll give up looking for you, I would think.”
“Probably.”
“So how’s your mother?” asked Stephen.
“Dead.”
“When?”
“Four months ago. She’d been in a home for the past five years. She had Alzheimer’s. For the last two years she didn’t even remember who I was.”
“Shit. That’s really tough. I’m sorry. Those places are expensive. If you had let me know, I could have helped pay for part of it.”
“She was my mother. Her social security and her pension paid for about half.”
“She actually treated me very well,” said Stephen. “I didn’t appreciate it at the time. First I was so unhappy because I had lost my own mother. Then I was upset because Nora drove my father away.”
“You’re fucking kidding me. She didn’t drive him away any more than your mother drove him away. He ran away—chasing a fucking skirt. He was a worthless piece of shit that never did anything for anybody and the only two things he left us were his genes and the inability to maintain a relationship.”
“That’s not true. He was a good man. He was a good father. I remember him before he left Mom. We had fun. He took me to the see the Angels. He took me to Knott’s. He built me a swing set.”
“Yeah, well I guess I just got shit on then, because I didn’t get any of those things.”
Stephen was quiet for a minute.
“Yes, I guess you didn’t get what I got. He was different after he left Mom. That doesn’t mean we can’t… what you said—maintain relationships.”
“It must mean that. Look at you. You have a robot wife and robot kids.”
“I… well, I never really wanted kids. They just grow up and disappoint you. As for Mindy… well, it’s just easier.”
“Easier than a relationship with a real person,” said Dakota. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Being married to a real person is work. Even living with another person is real work. Did you even have a serious girlfriend before you custom ordered a lover?”
“Yes, I had a few girlfriends… but none of them were long-lasting. Yes, I suppose you’re right. So, I’m messed up. But I’m thirty-nine years old. I can’t lay all of that at Dad’s feet, or Mom’s or Nora’s either. When you reach my age, you have to take responsibility for your own faults.”
“Well, I still haven’t reached that age yet.”
“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?”
Robotics engineer Dakota Hawk has problems. His life is falling apart. And even he doesn’t know why he bought a used, and seemingly non-functional, Daffodil Nonne. When your life turns to crap, which should you worry about more– your past or your future? How easy is it really to remake yourself and start over? And will having your own robot girlfriend help or make things even more difficult?
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity is already garnering some great reviews. Check it out now available wherever fine ebooks are sold for just 99 cents!
Robotics engineer Dakota Hawk has problems. His life is falling apart. And even he doesn’t know why he bought a used, and seemingly non-functional, Daffodil Nonne. When your life turns to crap, which should you worry about more– your past or your future? How easy is it really to remake yourself and start over? And will having your own robot girlfriend help or make things even more difficult?
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity is now available wherever fine ebooks are sold for just 99 cents!
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity at Smashwords
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity at iBooks
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity at Amazon
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity at Barnes and Noble
Robotics engineer Dakota Hawk has problems. His life is falling apart. And even he doesn’t know why he bought a used, and seemingly non-functional, Daffodil Nonne. When your life turns to crap, which should you worry about more– your past or your future? How easy is it really to remake yourself and start over? And will having your own robot girlfriend help or make things even more difficult?
His Robot Girlfriend- Charity will be available January 16, 2015.
Like most writers, I put some of myself in just about every character. You can’t help it really, can you? In the original His Robot Girlfriend, the character of Mike really was me– about five years older than me, when I wrote it. Now I’m several years older than him. We’re both middle school teachers, both pretty snarky, and like him, I have a grown up daughter and son. The big difference is that he gets into shape, and I continue to get more out of shape– but then, I don’t have a Daffodil.
In the new robot book, His Robot Girlfriend: Charity, I wanted a character who was very different. So, the main character, Dakota Hawk, is young, blond, and athletic– all things which I am not. He runs marathons– something I never did, even when I had two good knees. He has very different relationships with other people than I have ever had, with one exception. Part of his back story is a mother suffering from Alzheimer’s. That is something we share.
Unlike his mother, mine is alive and physically healthy. She currently lives in a memory care facility. If you’ve ever had a family member or friend suffering from this terrible disease, I don’t need to tell you how difficult it can be for you or them. If you haven’t, then you can’t understand.
In the story, Dakota’s relationship with his mother plays a small but ultimately pivotal part. But this is something that I never would have included in any story, if I hadn’t experienced it myself. I simply wouldn’t have understood.
His Robot Girlfriend: Charity is live for preorder at Amazon. Unfortunately it already has two 1-star reviews. How did this happen? Well apparently, some unscrupulous individual tried to publish a plagiarized version of my first His Robot Girlfriend book and a couple of observant and wonderful people posted reviews warning everyone what it was.
Somehow though, those two reviews got stuck to my new book. This has happened before at Amazon. Some reviews for His Robot Wife, got stuck to His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue. It has something to do with their automatic review process. Not really a problem, except in this case.
Anyway, you can rest assured that His Robot Wife: Charity is my book and I’m not plagiarizing myself or anyone else. After the book comes out, please feel free to review it, good or bad, based on the correct book.
City of Amathar 