Chapter 13 Robotic Bond(1)
There was nothing remarkable about that Tuesday night. Bianca's father was pulling an all-nighter at work, her mother was at a spa with some girlfriends for a few days, and Bianca had the apartment to herself. That was just how she liked it.
She could order pizza and stay up the whole night watching movies in the living-room with no one to judge her for not having a job yet, for deferring her college enrollment.
Well, Bruno was there, but he didn't really count. They'd had Bruno for nine years by then. He was of a discontinued range of multi-purpose robots, though his main function was guarding their home.
He was all of seven feet tall, his silver-tinted body built to resemble a muscular man, but his face had no features but for the two glowing blue eyes. When she was nine, she'd been terrified of him, but after he'd stopped an attempted break-in during his first year, Bianca had come to regard Bruno as her personal protector. 'What kind of pizza should we order?' she asked him, as she always did, though he couldn't eat. His voice-box, situated where a mouth should have been, responded with the low, soothing voice that her friend Laryssa insisted was a total turn-on. 'What would you like, Bianca?' he asked, the two orbs of blue focused on her.
He stood erect, one muscular arm reaching for the phone, and though his limbs were built to resemble a man's, his movements were still vaguely mechanical. 'Hmmm, what about a barbecue chicken tonight? That sound good?' She plopped down on the sofa and began flicking through the channels as Bruno ordered the pizza. She smiled as she heard his short 'yes', 'no' responses, so nearly human. 'It will arrive in fifteen minutes,' he informed her when the call had ended. As he always did, he came to stand beside the couch, watching the television as though he had any interest in the sitcom with its annoying laugh-track and tired jokes.
'Bruno, please sit down,' Bianca said, changing the channel again. She hated it when he hovered so ominously, even if he was just doing what he'd been programmed to do. But they'd had the conversation many times, and Bruno acceded, gracefully sitting down on the sofa next to her. 'Oooh this is good, it's Demon Slayer!' she told him. 'You stay here and watch and learn all about Anime things and I'll come quiz you when I'm done.'
Listless, she hopped off the couch and made her way to her room, calling, 'Please pay the pizza guy when he comes, and don't scare him. I mean it, Bruno, be nice!' Once in her room she set about tidying her desk, then began sorting her laundry into separate hampers according to color.
These minor chores taken care of, she ran her shower and stripped off, hoping to be done before the pizza arrived. She had just finished rinsing her hair when she thought she heard the front door close, and not for the first time thought how useful it was to have Bruno around, even if only to receive the pizza. *** Thirteen blocks away, Bianca's father, Albert, sat in his corner-office. A successful patent lawyer, Albert spent more hours in that building than he ever spent with his family, and that was just fine by him. He loved his wife and daughter, but he loved the demands of his job more, and he seldom regretted the sacrifices he made.
His secretary knocked on his glass-panel door, and he gestured for her to enter. 'I'm off,' she said, then grinned as she saw the bottle of champagne on his desk. 'Well you certainly have the right to celebrate tonight.' 'We did good, didn't we?' he agreed. 'Care for a glass?' 'I can't.
Dinner plans. But you enjoy that.' 'All right then. Say hi to Nico.' He watched her leave, then poured himself another glass. He'd finished the first bottle already, and that was just fine, too. He'd earned it.
Only that morning, he'd managed to squash a patent infringement claim for their biggest client, Simone Tech. He felt a little bad for the claimant, Arnold Benedict, whose technology really was being used in the manufacture of top-range robots by the giant corporation. He snorted to himself, thinking of the irony that he even had one of Arnold Benedict's designs guarding his family.
A message flashed on his screen and he opened it, idly sipping champagne as he began to read. 'You'll regret what you've done. You lawyers are always clued up on your Latin, so here's a little conundrum for you: quis custodiet ipsos custodies? -A' Albert stared at the message, his mind fuzzy.
'Who watches the watchmen?' he murmured to himself. Was the message referring to him? He was sure it was from the justifiably-bitter Arnold Benedict, but Arnold was very much mistaken if he considered Albert some sort of law-enforcing figure. Albert laughed at the thought. He'd felt a little guilty about screwing Arnold over, but as he sipped his champagne and deleted the message, he felt only pride at the day's victory.
*** Back in Albert's apartment, where his daughter Bianca was home alone, someone had just been at the door.
Bianca, assuming the pizza had arrived, hurried to towel her hair dry, then quickly patted down her body. She had just stepped back into her room when the doorbell rang, and she heard the unmistakable greeting of the pizza delivery man. Bianca clutched the towel to herself, straining to hear the exchange without stepping into the hallway.
'You not speaking tonight?' she heard the pizza-guy ask. 'What, your voicebox broken, big guy?' There was no response from Bruno. 'Uhm, just pay me and I'll be out of your hair. Or your cogs, or whatever.' Still no response from Bruno, and the pizza guy was clearly getting frustrated. 'I can see the money on the table, yeah? I'm going to take it. See? Not stealing anything, just taking the money. Here's your pizza.' Then loudly, clearly aimed at the human occupant of the house, he called, 'Answer the door yourself next time, please! There's something wrong with your robot!' The door banged shut.
Bianca padded down the hallway and into the lounge, uneasy but determined to see what was wrong with Bruno. He stood by the front door, still holding the pizza, his head tilted down in an oddly human manner, as though he were deep in thought.
