Raised By Metal

The end came sooner than expected, and not in the way they had prepared for. Natural cataclysms and nuclear holocausts had been narrowly avoided by the sudden and stinging collapse of the family. Mia O’Nosel had not been the first, but a picture of her grasping an open locket quickly tantalized and tormented the public. In it, she was holding someone’s hand, her big round eyes looking out, lost and oblivious, while a small portrait of her mother dangled, smiling against her chest.

***

Cecilia O’Nosel was not a bad mother; in fact, she had fully intended on being a great one, if it wasn’t for the promotions. It seemed that each time she settled into a new position, there was yet another one to secure. On and on the ladder of success unveiled new rungs - each more important than the last, each a step closer to an even better life for Mia, or at least, this is what Cecilia would tell herself. It was between one of these crucial promotions that Cecilia saw the broadcast for Happy Household Inc.’s Mechanical Poppins.

Hi, I’m John Heimer, CEO, and robotics specialist at Happy Household, here to provide just that. Kids need to see their parents happy, and sometimes that means not seeing them around all the time. Whether it’s getting that spa day or taking that business trip, we’ve got Mechanical Poppins! A new range of robotic childcarers just for you.

A montage of big smiles and laughing children cross the screen as a soothing voice takes over, listing the warnings and possible malfunctions. “Electrocution, radiation … It’s imperative that they are not individualized … consult your local psychiatrist if … and possibly, death”.

It was quite the list, but everything from coffeemakers to over-the-counter painkillers sounded about the same. Besides, Cecilia had stopped listening. Her eyes had glazed over as she imagined giving a stellar presentation without the guilt of missing in motherhood. She had been so entranced, that in the days that followed, Cecilia did not even remember placing the order.

***

The robot came unassembled. This was intentional with instruction to build it as a family. The theory was that as long as the child understood the robot was not a person, its connection would never surpass that of the parents. Additional rules included: using the pronoun “it”, no clothes, no birthdays, and facilitating moments of suspended function.

Mia enjoyed putting their robot together. The shiny bronze, patches of nitrile fabric, all added a tactile sense of fun. It was only once they finished that she suddenly felt a little frightened. The robot stood at an average height, mostly smooth with a slight conical shaped head - to keep it from looking that bit too normal. Its eyes flashed for a moment; it was on.

“Hello,” said the robot.

Mia screamed. Before either of her parents could attempt to settle her nerves, she had run straight for her room.

“Turn it off,” sighed Cecilia, expecting it all to have been much simpler.

“Already?” said Donald.

“You want to give it a tour?”

The robot looked between the two as they debated in loud whispers.

“I get it,” said Cecilia, suddenly stiffening.

“What?” asked Donald.

“Almost seems real,” she whispered back. Then to the robot, she said, slowly with a great deal of enunciation, “Thank you. I think that’ll be all for tonight. I think we will turn you off now.”

Donald laughed, the whole exchange was absurd. Cecilia rolled her eyes as she racked her brain thinking of ways to establish that this robot was both not actually a person, and yet safe enough for Mia to trust implicitly.

By the time Cecilia made it to Mia’s room, her daughter had barricaded the door with stuffed animals. Pushing her way through she said, “It’s just me, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Is he sleeping?” Mia asked.

“Not sleeping, turned off”

Mia stared back at her mother, confused by the semantics.

“It’s just a machine. Machines don’t need sleep like us. But it’s important that we turn it off when we’re not using it, like turning the light off when leaving a room. Does that make sense?”

Mia nodded. “But what do I call it?”

Cecilia hadn’t thought. Nothing in the rulebook said anything about naming or not naming. Without any guideline she said, “Why don’t you pick it, you’ll be saying it most often anyway.”

“How about Paul?” said Mia.

“No, that’s too regular - it’s not like us. You have to remember that,” Cecilia said kindly.

“Okay, how about Opi?”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Mia.

“Then that’s perfect,” said Cecilia.

Mia seemed better, but still a little tender from the shock of it all. Cecilia reached into her pocket and took out a silver heart-shaped locket.

“I know Opi might take some getting used to, and Mommy’s going to be a little busier than usual. So I want you to have this.” Cecilia opened the locket to show a picture of herself smiling. “As long as you wear it, I’m with you; taking care of you just like Opi, okay?”

Mia nodded again, her head quickly bobbing up and down as if to hurry the ceremony. Her mother carefully placed the chain over her head. The sudden weight of it made Mia feel much better.

***

Mia spent the first few mornings sitting in her bed twisting the locket between her fingers. “It’s just to take care of me, like this locket,” she’d repeat to herself, before making her way to the kitchen.

In the wake of their purchase, both Cecilia and Donald, began to leave the house even earlier, leaving Mia to eat breakfast alone. Opi would have cleaned up any hurried mess and prepared something wonderful for Mia. Sheepishly, she would pick at the food, continuously looking up to keep an eye on Opi.

“You’re staring at me,” Mia said.

Opi turned and faced the cabinets.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“I have turned away so you may finish,” Opi replied.

Mia was dissatisfied but humored at how quickly Opi obliged her. She watched as it stood, still as one of their lamps. Quietly, she slipped out of her chair and tiptoed to the toaster. She looked at Opi again, still facing the cabinets. Without checking the inside, Mia placed her hand in the bread rack instantly burning her fingers.

Mia wailed in pain. Big globby tears ran down her face as Opi gently placed her on the counter and ran her hand under cold water.

“Will I need surgery?” cried Mia.

“Not even a bandaid,” said Opi, gently massaging her little fingers.

Mia took a deep breath, as her eyes started to well up anew.

“Are you still hurt?”

“I’m sorry,” she spluttered, “I just wanted to get you some breakfast too.”

“But I don’t eat,” said Opi.

Mia had forgotten. “Can you just sit with me?”

“Of course.”

By the time the dishes had been washed and put away, Mia’s fingers were no longer sore and a stream of chatter had replaced any nervousness.

***

Months passed and Opi had swiftly become Mia’s greatest confidant. It helped too, that robots like Opi had become quite the commonality. Park benches lay bare, as rows of Mechanical Poppins stood in watch of the local kids. Few human nannies were left anymore, and those that remained seemed transfixed by their commentary.

At first, Cecilia felt rejuvenated. Promotions seemed to come at a rolling speed, while Mia’s pasta jewelery was replaced by impressive doodles hung up on the fridge door. She had adjusted splendidly. But dutiful, man-like automation was bleeding into all sectors. As the rarity of robots dwindled, careers began to stall. Some were lost altogether.

Cecilia’s schedule began to calm, and eventually, there was no reason to leave so early. Some nights she even found time to make dinner. But Mia found the flavors less exciting and the conversations more lecture-full. Her disinterest was coming at least ten years too early. Mia had come to enjoy guiding Opi and found a growing sense of authority in their obedience. Her patience began to wane, and aggravation would build at the slightest hint of discipline or contradiction.

“She’s got him round her finger,” said Cecilia, perturbed by Mia’s new attitude.

“She’s just enjoying being in command,” said Donald absent-mindedly.

“I heard one of them went out with Jim Weten's girl.”

“Maybe Jim told it to take her out, not like a real man was going to,” Donald chuckled. “Printers only scream if you program them too, I doubt their Opi asked her out of its own volition.”

“Then you haven’t heard. She asked it out, not the other way round.” Cecilia said this carefully, pausing for emphasis. When he didn’t respond she said, “Does that not concern you?”

“Should it? You didn’t think they would be charmless, did you?” said Donald.

“But that’s exactly what I’m saying, they are charmless. And yet, it’s this charmless, mechanical, matter-of-factness that makes him-it, it, so charming.”

“So, then?”

“Can’t you understand? It feels like someone is there, but then you look and it’s just bolts and metal and things, so clearly nobody's really there. But- ”

“-You’re waffling. But really, so some frumpish girl is dating some metal, where’s the harm?”

Cecilia didn’t know how to explain the fear, except that she felt it like a seed growing in the pit of her stomach.

***

Mia had fallen asleep in front of the TV. Opi was still on and Cecilia was keen to establish some distance between the two as she crept over.

Opi sat on the floor by Mia’s head, it’s head following Cecilia as she made her way towards her daughter. She found it’s gaze unsettling, wondering if it could read her levels of distrust. As she bent down she caught sight of the locket. She was surprised to see Mia still wearing it, a flurry of relief shot through her until she noticed the picture beside her own. In the second compartment, drawn in impressive detail, was a sketch of Opi. As if registering her shock, Opi moved just enough to wake Mia.

Panicking, Cecilia dived for Opi, hoping to turn it off before Mia could object. But Opi moved too quickly, mockingly. Cecilia watched it straighten back up. It’s blank eyes looking beyond Cecilia to Mia.

Terror filled the air around Cecilia, she couldn’t bear its presence any longer, “Don’t you look at her!”

“Mom, what are you doing?” asked Mia, startled by the raised voice.

“I’m turning it off,” said Cecilia, desperately trying to sound measured.

“Just leave him alone, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not he, it’s a machine. If you’re blurring the lines we’ll have to get rid of it.”

“No!”

“Opi doesn’t have a heart. Opi doesn’t cry with you if you’re sad. Opi is nothing more than metal.”

“You’re wrong!”

“It’s not real, Mia-”

In a sudden burst of violence, Mia pulled the TV off the wall, bringing a lamp down with it. Exposed wiring landed on the broken bulb, igniting a small, but spreading fire. Mia was on a rampage. Any electrical, mechanical appliance was being torn down and broken. The fire grew. Cecilia hopelessly tried to calm Mia, the room was getting hot.

“It’s not safe, we need to get out of here,” she coughed, smoke rising. “Mia? Mia!”

Cecilia lost her through the thickening smoke. Terrified, she waved her arms forward hoping to grab ahold of her daughter when she felt something cold and metallic.

***

Mia awoke on the front lawn surrounded by firefighters and reporters, her house engulfed in flames.

“She’s alive,” someone yelled. “Let’s get her out of here!”

Out of the crowd came Opi, taking hold of Mia’s hand, guiding her towards an ambulance. Her big round eyes looked out, lost and oblivious. She grabbed ahold of her locket as her eyes scanned for her mother. A camera flashed a photo.