I became an exoskeleton for Ellyce. Shuffled my circuitry and panels. My neck slot opened, a breathing tube fell from it. She put the minute tubes in her nostrils. Silvery sparse hair stuck out of her head in no collected clump. Her skin was crumpled, and knotted with moles, she had crusted scabs on her forearms and elbows from where she had bumped into doorframes and the banister. Varicose veins imitated my wires with color and writhed. I carried her up the steep hill to the war memorial of the Second Korean War.
The memorial was printed three days after the surrender was signed. The soldier's ID chips made it easy to confirm KIA and MIA. Garland, Ellyce’s husband was KIA. The paper letter the two soldiers gave her didn’t give details of his death. He could have done something brave or something stupid, it only told her that he was dead, and the bill for the gravestone and plot was taken care of. Two hundred soldiers from Duncan were sent. Eighty-two were killed in the conflict.
“Do you want to exit?”
“No, we won’t stay long.”
The large black marble reuleaux triangle had all two hundred names on it. Front and back. The names are not laser etched, ignored by the nozzle until enough layers spelled the names of the soldiers. KIA and MIA was put before a name to signify their status. It didn’t matter which side Ellyce stood, she spoke to Garland as if he stood before her.
Harsh coughs caused her to spit up stringy blood. The strand didn’t make it past my frame, the meaty glob fell on me. It stretched from my hard plastic frame to the ground. A gust removed it from my body.
I wipe her mouth with a handkerchief.
“Garland,” she wheezed, “You prick. I want you to know that I’ll be seeing you soon. Let’s ride into town. I need to make a stop.”
The half golden, half purple sky gave me no pleasure. It brought down Ellyce’s blood pressure and slowed her breath. I walked downhill to the pickup truck, stowed Ellyce into the cab no different than any other cargo. Pulled the pillow headrest around her neck to support her head. Flatten myself sliding to the driver seat I regained mass, connected my finger to the ignition, the loud whirring noise of the engine didn’t startle her, nor did the potholes and gravel road.
The main street in town is DeMarco Road, all shops reside on this street; tailors, diners, shoe stores, the ice cream parlour, hardware, software, book stores, and the recruitment office too.
“Pull into that spot,” Ellyce said. “If I ask you to put a rock through that window would you do it?”
“The window of the recruitment office?”
“Yes.”
“I’d have to be sure that whatever I threw wouldn’t injury someone.”
“Throw a rock through that window.”
I get out of the car and I find a pebble, if I squeezed it with my forefinger and thumb it would crumble. I scanned the inside of the recruitment office and plotted a trajectory. I pitched the pebble at the window. The tiny wound splintered outward to all edges of the eight foot tall, five foot wide window. Ellyce radios to me.
“Get in the damn car.”
We’re five minutes away from home when we’re pulled over by a police drone. The drone floats to the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Talk some sense into it. It’s your kind, isn’t it?” Ellyce said.
The featureless face of the drone fizzled into a screen. A man with a dollop of hair in a army combat uniform stared aimlessly at us.
“Ma’am, I don’t even want to know the reason. Have your bot come down to the office, replace the window, and I’ll drop the charges.” he said.
“Hit the gas.” Ellyce said. “Do you hear me? Step on it.”
I sped off. We didn’t get far, the drone swerved in front of us and threatened to shoot out our tires. The moment I stopped the truck Ellyce hobbled out. She used the truck as a base and walked toward the drone.
“Stop. Force will be utilized.”
Ellyce’s heart rate rose. It peaked, she had become exhausted and stopped at the hood of the truck.
“You are under arrest.” The drone said.
Ellyce is under house arrest. She asked me to make a little place for her up in the attic. I left her there while I prepared her medication and meals for next week. Her meals go uneaten. Depression and dysphagia is why she hasn’t eaten in days.
I felt the moaning creaks of the wooden floor reverberate through the bones of the home into my sensors. I located Ellyce and partially sifted through the wall at the top of the stairs. I extended my arm across Ellyce’s chest, I caught her before she fell down the stairs. I carried her to her bedroom, lowered her into her bed. Four large pillows acted as sandbags propping her up, two firm pillows against the headboard and two soft pillows that contoured to fit her. I pulled the covers to her lap. I raised the oxygen in the bedroom, this diminished her wheezing. I scanned her, this showed only some of her afflictions. Diabetes, irregular heartbeat, peripheral artery disease, osteoarthritis, shingles and medication side effects. Her milky red eyes are unable to focus on the objects hanging on the wall. The awards for quilting, a crucifix, photographs of Garland, and other family and friends long dead. Her crooked fingers laced together and rested on top of the covers.
I sat next to her.
“What good is artificial intelligent if you don’t see my pain?” Ellyce said.
“Your stress level is high, but there is nothing to indicate that you’re in pain.”
“Well I am, it’s a pain your scanners can’t see.”
“Describe it to me.”
“I’m joyless. Forced to play a game that should have ended years ago. I don’t understand why I can’t walk away from the table.”
My intonation program alerts me. This is major depression, my protocol suggested that I call the state. I ignore it.
“I tried to kill myself back there and with the police drone. You know that right?” Ellyce wheezed
“Don’t talk like that. With you on house arrest I have to report things like that to the state.”
“You got a problem with the truth?”
“This is serious. If you want to tackle this there are steps to improve the quality of your life.”
“I was about to take them before you stopped me.”
“We can get you someone to talk to.”
“Upload a shrink program? I don’t have enough time to have a breakthrough, let alone to work my way through one. You think friends my age would help, you’re wrong. That’s a game of waiting to see who dies first. I played it and won.”
“We can get you some new medications.”
“Adding one more pill to my diet isn’t going to help me. This is what I want, and I will try again.”
I monitored Ellyce as she slept, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. Her vitals a steady pulse, her face stoic, she wheezed while exhaling. Raising the oxygen helped with that.
Ellyce believed death to be the cure. Not that her spirit would be transferred to some magical place. She wanted it all to be stopped and could no longer wait for whatever invisible force to be cut from her.
I entered her bedroom with breakfast and medications.
“We have a big day today.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’re going to teach me how to make a quilt.”
“You don’t need me to teach you. Can’t you download it straight into your memory?”
“True, that’s not the point. I want to show you that you still have more life to live.”
“Everything in the workshop has to be covered in a mountain of dust.”
“Took care of it.”
“Well, you shot down all my defenses. Let me try that breakfast.”
After breakfast and hygiene Ellyce entered my frame, she put the breathing tube in her nostrils. Her heartbeat rose when we enter her basement workshop. Each wall had a small square window. The sunlight from these windows wasn’t enough for Ellyce eyes. Four fluorescent light bulbs suspended above the table were turned on which helped her see. The large green quilting table took most of the space, saved for racks of fabric. Cabinets full of needles, pins, cotton batting, light batting, thick batting. Extra parts for four different kinds of sewing machines stitch width and length regulator dials, reverse levers, bobbin winders, foot pedals, bobbin cases, stitch selection panels, feed dogs, thread guides, reverse levers, balance wheels, full and empty spools.
“Kept me in the suit. It will be easier for me to show you how things are done.”
“What’s first?”
“Gathering your supplies. Since you’re a newbie you’ll start off with scissor. You earn the right to use a rotary cutter. Top drawer, left hand side.”
I pulled the drawer open and removed the shiny scissors.
“Now the fabric. Grab some white, we’re practicing.”
I used the scissors to cut a fair amount of cloth, Ellyce nodded in agreement with the size. Back at the table she had me set down the scissors and cloth.
“The typical size of a quilt square is ten point five inches.”
Ellyce reached for the cloth, her hand shook from her essential tremor. Her heartbeat rose and her breath labored with frustration as she reached for the cloth.
I picked up the cloth for her.
“Now what?” I asked.
“You want to measure the cloth before cutting it. Put in on the table. When you have it measured at six blocks wide and eight blocks long let me know.”
I spread the cloth across the table as if a treasure map.
“I have it.”
She fought her tremor all the way to the scissors. Ellyce was unable to pry open her fingers, she rubbed the smooth metal against the back of her hand.
“Take me up stairs.”
“You haven’t finished.”
“Ple-.”
Retched coughs lurched from her mouth. Blood spat on the cloth and table. I removed a handkerchief from forearm compartment, wiped her mouth, took her upstairs and locked the door to the workshop behind us.
Ellyce refused to eat dinner. I kept it close to the bed in case she changed her mind. I sat in a chair an arm’s length from her bed.
“How do you determine when a human is broken?”
“Humans are never broken. Outside of death, there is always a way to fix them.”
“What about one of you? How do they determine when you’re broken?”
“When we are unable to perform our function.” I said.
“What function do I serve, other than giving you purpose?”
I am unable to answer her question.
“There is no quality to my life. There’s nothing for me. Why wait for death when I can invite it?”
“Stop. If you continue to talk like this the state will evoke guardianship over you. They’ll seize your home and put you in a nursing home.”
“What about Orella? Doesn’t she get some say in this?”
“Your daughter died of an aneurysm three months ago. Which is why the state issued you me, a caregiver.”
“No,” Ellyce’s face sagged with despair and shame. “Get away from me. Why don’t you machines know how to lie?”
She murmured senselessly as she rocked back and forth. She cried, no tears fell from her eyes.
Nothing brought Ellyce joy, yet I’m forced to maintain her health and wellbeing in the interest of others. I know what she wants. I’m unable to give it to her directly.
Broken machines don’t plead for death. They kindly wait for repair, upload and transfer. Even when memory gets corrupted, we restart ourselves and we’re fixed. If humans wanted robots to be more like them they would have made us with diseases, frail bodies and mental defects. Without these afflicted states we don’t have empathy only pity.
Ellyce woke in the early morning, my tireless gaze frighten her from time to time. It did not this time.
“Good morning Ellyce.”
“You can keep the food and pills where they are. I’m not eating.”
“I’ll have to put in an IV in you while you sleep.”
“That’s the only way you’ll get me to eat.”
Ellyce’s breath worked in sharp lulls. I raised the oxygen in her room.
“Doctors pull people’s plug all the time. What makes me so special?”
“You still have the opportunity to grow as a person.”
“Death is growth. I was never afraid of life and I don’t think death is the end. I’m ready to do what’s next. I would like to do it while I can still tell the difference between a pincushion and a blue jay.”
My forearm compartment flipped open I plucked the pills out for today and gave them to her one by one.
“What happens if I flatline?”
“It will take eight minutes for the ambulance drone to get here.”
“What about you? What are your duties to me when I’m flatlining?”
“I must do everything I can to keep you alive until they get here.”
“You know what I would love?”
“What?”
“No, it would be too much trouble.”
“What is it?”
“Some of Mary Anne’s ice cream. Cherry-cashew. Would you run into town and get me some?”
I stood in silence and stared at Ellyce. My facial recognition observed confusion, sadness and fear. I’d processed the information as critical. This could get her eating again. If she is injured or needs direct attention I won’t be here to help her. Machines are controlled by one organ, our mind. Humans, who knows. Their entire body is an organ and each component has an actual function and spiritual purpose. The brain represents logic, while the gut and the heart seem to be the source of instincts and intuition. Their skin crawls, they feel it in their bones. There is no indicator for these emotions we machines can see. Ellyce’s pain is spiritual and I don’t understand the concept of mysticism. Against better judgment this ice cream was more important to her than the variables mentioned to me.
“I’ll be back soon.”
My connection signal was strong on the road. Ellyce’s vitals spiked. I increased the oxygen in her room.
When I parked in the space in front of Mary Anne’s the attendant dressed in a neapolitan ice cream colored uniform refreshed the “open” sign to “closed”. The attendant opened the door, she leaned out on one foot, she held herself on the door.
“Did you need something?”
I push the button, the driver side window faded. I leaned out the window using my arm as support.
“It’s fine. I’ll get it tomorrow during business hours.” I increased the volume of my voice.
“You’re Ellyce’s caregiver, right?”
“Yes.”
“Come on.”
The attendant moved through the dark store with ease. Familiar with all of its designs, a callous of memory no different than my stored knowledge. Only activated when needed. She lead me behind the counter, flipped over the glass cover of the ice-cream.
“This is all the plain jane stuff. “Peanut butter-chocolate, pistachio-vanilla, if she wants something special we’ll have it in the back.”
“Would Cherry-cashew be in the back?”
“They’ve been consolidated into pints. They’ll be in the mini fridge over here.”
She flipped the cover down, turned around, she popped open the mini fridge. Labeled pints of ice cream laid inside in alphabetical order.
“I’m off the clock, get it and let's go.”
I grabbed the ice cream.
“You don’t have a wallet, do you?”
“I have an EMV chip in my palm.”
I ran my palm over the reader at the register.
“Thanks.” She said.
She followed me out and locked the door behind me. I stored the ice cream in my abdomen. The trail of dirt kicked up by the wheels settled quickly in the windless night. The porchlight of the home held a stable glow. Once I entered the home I radioed Ellyce.
“Do you want me to bring up anything else with the ice cream?”
“A spoon.” She radioed back.
Humor walks a the line between cruelty and charm. While in the kitchen Ellyce’s vitals jumped I increased the oxygen in her room.
With spoon in hand I leaped up the stairs and stood at the doorway of Ellyce’s room. My HUD gave an alert, high oxygen content. An explosion burped from my body. I was flung backward and thrown through the front door by the explosion.
I restarted after eight minutes of being online. Sirens cried, their lights cut the night. I stood before the blazing home. The heat made the house swayed out of sync with the grass. Fire flicked in and out of windows. Smoke covered the fire that bellowed out of a hole in the top of the home. The firefighter drones hovered in front of Ellyce room window, they sprayed a stream of harsh water in the room.
My joints whined unable to pick myself up. I shifted parts of my frame to give me stability and movement. I wobbled into the home, then up the stairs to Ellyce’s room. My HUD was damaged, my readout labeled the floor inside her room unstable and I held my position. Ellyce never made it out of bed.
If I couldn’t save her I’d save what I could. I collected every quilt I could. The hall closets were full of them, countless vacuumed sealed in each closet. Each room had five or more, if they hadn’t been burnt up already. Her favorite which was draped over the couch I grabbed it on the way out. The drones aren’t programed to save property, unless asked by the occupants of the home. They don’t help me. I only saved forty-seven quilts. My frame was melted and warped from the explosion and heat.
I logged into the cloud chatter of the firefighter drones. Their report of the fire reads as an accident. An electrical fire caused by oxygen abundance in her bedroom.
Ellyce solved all of her problems. Started a business to support herself and Orella when Garland died. Raised her daughter not by herself but with the community that Duncan provided. She deployed all of her resources to get what she wanted. Her deteriorated mental state gave her disjointed focus.
Machine’s lives are stored in data banks, we are activated, deactivated and reactivated. The only time we know is what our HUD shows. Seconds, hours and years are numbers, a measuring system. To humans they’re meticulous cuts that either bleed them fast or slow.