Grandma Robot (3 page)

“Kiddo, I bet it is. Amy
said you might not be much help showing me around the kitchen. She
needed to program me well,” Henie shared.

“Oh, really,” Karen
huffed. “I need to get back to work. You can put the food away in
the pantry. That way you will know where everything is. You do know
which items go in the refrigerator and which don't, don't
you?”

Henie nodded. “Yes, I
know.”

With that Karen headed out
of the kitchen. Henie was oblivious to Karen's indignation as she
followed. She put her hand on the walnut railing and looked up the
stairs. “Say, Kiddo, can I have my own room?”

Karen hadn't thought about where
she'd store the robot when Henie wasn't in use. Perhaps, one of the
closets. “I - I guess so.”

Henie raised the satchel up. “Gee,
thanks. I need to get rid of this before I put the groceries
away.”

Karen eyed it. “I hope the change
of clothes in there is more suitable than what you have on. I'd
like to see you wearing a skirt with more material in
it.”

“Amy is good at picking out what I
need to wear to work in. I'm sure the clothes are fine. Now I’ll go
up and pick a room to crash in,” Henie said, sprinting up the
steps.

Karen shouted after her, “First
bedroom on the right is mine so don't get any ideas about taking
it. That one is off limits.”

Henie didn't answer.

Karen glanced at the round, green,
plastic framed clock, with it electric cord trailing the plastered
wall to the outlet. The clock made a loud rattling noise,
protesting its effort to make the hands move. One of these days the
clock would stop.

Almost eleven now. She felt as
though she'd fooled away the morning. Her stop at the laboratory
put her behind with her writing schedule. She needed to get some
work done before the day was over. With that in her mind, she
forgot her worries about the robot as she headed for her
office.

Karen laid the journal on the back
corner of her desk. Just as she sat down at the computer, she heard
Henie's excited shout ring through the house from upstairs, “Cool
beans!”

She turned on the computer and
monitor before she opened the journal. She dated the first line of
the first entry and wrote, “Amy, I repeat now that I've been home
all of five minutes this robot has the wrong personality to be a
servant. Maids are supposed to be more sedate and matronly. This
teenage example of a soda jerk's girlfriend exudes too much energy
to be a sedate servant unless she receives different
programing.”

Karen laid the journal back on the
desk and pulled her keyboard toward her. She typed as fast as she
could to make up for lost time.

Later, Henie popped into the
office. “It's lunch time. Kiddo, you want served in here, or are
you coming to the kitchen table?”

Karen continued to type until she
reached the end of the sentence. She swiveled her chair to face
Henie. “What am I having?”

Henie's expression was strictly
business now. “Potato chips and hotdogs.”

“A tray brought in here would be
fine for that cuisine.” As soon as Henie was away from the door,
Amy opened the journal. She skipped down a few lines and wrote
suggestion number two. “Robot should be programmed to cook
nourishing meals. Quick and easy picnic snack types of meals like
hotdogs and chips are full of cholesterol. Besides, I think a meal
that simple would be easy enough for even me to do.

However, this is the first meal the
robot has prepared. If it was a matter of her forgetting to ask me
or not knowing she should give me a choice of menu, I'll document
that later after I've talked to her.

I want it to be noted I bought
groceries this morning, and the robot just stocked the kitchen
pantry with plenty of healthy choices to pick from, and she was
familiar with the food on hand.”

Karen was used to working late at
night. After Henie brought her a supper of the rest of the hot dogs
with pork n' beans, she forgot the robot was in the
house.

Henie interrupted at eleven
o’clock. “Say, Kiddo, if you don’t need anything else I think I’m
going to my room.”

“All right, on one condition,”
Karen said.

“Sure, Kiddo. What do you need
done?” Henie asked accommodatingly.

“I want to be referred to by my
given name which is Karen. Do not call me Kiddo again. Do you
understand me?” Karen said slowly as if she had to speak clearly to
be understood.

Henie smiled agreeably and imitated
the slow tempo of Karen's speech right back at her. “I understand
you very well. From now on, I'll call you Karen.”

Was that robot making fun of her?
Karen didn't know how to take Henie. The way the robot acted just
now could very easily be called attitude. A devious idea sprang
into her head. If she had any trouble with that robot, she'd store
Henie in the spare bedroom closet for the duration of her stay. She
could get away with that and not tell Amy. “Did you clean the
kitchen well?”

“Yes, Karen. I've taken care of
all the tasks,” Henie replied.

“Good. You're free to go to your
room. Oh, I'll have to go with you. I need to plug you in to charge
your battery.”

“I can do it. Just keep on
working.” Henie turned away from the door.

“Henie, Amy specifically told me
I'd be plugging you in,” Karen said.

The robot turned around. “She may
have thought that was the case, but Amy might not be too clear on
every little detail. I'm one of the robots that can plug and unplug
myself. Oh, what time do I make breakfast in the
morning?”

Karen explained, “I work late into
the night, and I sleep late in the mornings. So I don’t eat a meal
until lunch.”

“Cool beans! Night, night.” The
robot whisked out of sight.

Karen could hear skipping footsteps
all the way up the stairs. She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling
and wondered what she'd gotten herself into by being such a push
over for a friend. This whole project felt like a privacy invasion.
She hoped she became used to the robot soon, or she'd have to find
a way to lock the closet door.

The next day about mid morning,
Karen woke to smell the most delicious odors floating up the
stairs. She dressed, intending to get a cup of coffee first thing
before she started writing.

Instead, she froze in the kitchen
doorway, trying to take in the scene. An elderly woman, dressed in
a green bell of Ireland flowered cotton house dress covered with a
green and white gingham bib apron, looked up and smiled at her. The
woman wore SAS shoes and had her gray hair rolled into a bun on the
back of her neck.

Amy said the robot had a different
change of clothes but this was going from one ridiculous extreme to
another. The robot had done a major do over to her person before
coming downstairs.

“Good morning, dear. Coffee’s
ready,” said the robot, kneading dough on one end of the table. She
shuffled to the sink, ran water over her floured hands and wiped
them dry on the corner of her apron. “Sit down. I’ll pour you a
cup.”

Even her voice
has changed
,
Karen thought.
It’s a soft and
crackly old person's voice
.
Henie placed the steaming cup in front of her.
“Who are you? What did you do with, Henie?”

“I am, Henie.” The elderly woman
chuckled. “Come now. You're too young to have memory problems yet.
Don't you remember, dear? You brought me home with you just
yesterday.”

“Of course, I remember I brought a
robot home with me. She just didn't look like you,” Karen responded
slowly.

“It has to be me. I'm the only
robot here. Aren't I?” The woman asked, looking around the room
with a smile on her face.

“Where did you find those old lady
clothes? I'm pretty sure that dress from the fifties wouldn't have
been in the satchel Amy sent with you,” Karen
questioned.

“I've got more dresses and aprons
to match in my bedroom closet. This one is perfect for kitchen
work, don’t you think?” Henie spread the apron out in front of
her.

“I guess so.” Karen hadn't
bothered to look in the spare bedroom closet so she couldn't
dispute that the dresses hadn't been left there by her grandma. It
occurred to her a little too late she should have been more curious
about the house she bought. Karen looked from the dough on the
table to the steaming kettle on the stove. “What are you
cooking?”

“Right now I'm kneading bread
dough. A homemade loaf of white bread will be done by lunch to go
with the homemade chicken noodle soup, simmering on the back of the
stove,” Henie chattered. “I make my chicken soup from scratch. It's
healthier for you that way. Not as much salt in it for one
thing.

A light lunch is best, dear. Don't
you agree? For supper, I’ll fix a good meal.” Henie noticed Karen’s
puzzled expression. “Oh, unless you need to eat a more solid lunch,
because you're starving by then.” The robot made a clucking sound
with her tongue as she punched the dough. “You know you shouldn’t
go without breakfast all the time. It’s the most important meal of
the day.” She shook a floured finger at Karen.

Ignoring the admonishment, Karen
fixated on what kind of nutritious meals the robot intended to fix.
This was a far cry from hot-dogs, beans and chips she'd been served
yesterday. She shouldn't complain. “I don’t have a recipe box I’m
afraid. I usually buy a lot of prepared, processed dishes that
don't take long to fix. The boxes have the directions on them for
heating in the microwave.”

“Dear, that's the worse kind of
meals with dehydrated vegetables and high salt content.” Karen gave
her a questioning look. “I'm talking about those awful meals that
come out of a box. You shouldn't have to waste your money on
them.

Don’t you worry.
I don’t need recipes.
I make dishes like
cooks used to cook in the old days.” Henie chuckled. “That's way
before you were born. A pinch of this and a handful of that and all
healthy ingredients makes a delicious dish,” Henie said, punching
the elastic dough harder. She sent puffs of flour dusting across
the table. To herself, she said, “Sure enough, just like the good
old days.”

Karen finished her coffee and
refrained from asking what Henie's quiet remark meant. Maybe it was
better she didn't question the mechanical mind of this robot. She
was pretty opinionated as Amy had warned.

As Karen walked out of the kitchen,
she couldn't help the feeling that came over her. Henie's
personality too drastically changed over night. Maybe something had
gone wrong with the mechanisms in the robot. First she was a young
girl. Now she's a senior citizen. It might be wise to call Amy and
inform her of the change in case a circuit in the robot was going
haywire. She might hate to see what the robot could change into by
tomorrow morning, a psycho nut or someone equally scary.

Karen puzzled over that thought for
a moment then chastised herself. She'd watched too many monster
movies where such things happen. She should be rational. Nothing
like a Frankenstein could transform in this robot.

She told herself she wasn't in
danger with the robot in her house, and she shouldn't worry about
it. Unless she was still asleep and dreaming a bad dream? In that
case, she should wait to wake up before she sounded an alarm to
Amy. Then she'd call Amy and yell at her for talking her into
taking this robot home with her.

In a daze, Karen sank down at her
desk. She turned the computer on and picked up the journal. She
read yesterday’s entries. She couldn’t be dreaming. Yesterday she
criticized a teenie bopper that fixed potato chips, beans and
hotdogs instead of a nutritious meal. Today, she had a robot in the
kitchen that was the total opposite and fixing her nutritious food
while lecturing her about healthy eating. Weird and confusing for
sure that the robot could be somebody's grandma now.

Chapter 4

At noon, Henie opened the office
door and stuck her head in the crack. “Time to eat lunch, dear.
It's noon, and I believe in being punctual with meals. Don't you?
Best come to the table to eat before the food gets cold. You must
be starved by now since you don't eat breakfast.

Eating in the kitchen will give
your eyes a rest from that computer screen for awhile. Besides your
meal digests better that way I think.” Henie started to
leave.

“Wait! I'm curious about
something. Amy told me yesterday to call you Henie. Is that really
your name?” Karen asked.

“Actually, my name is Henrietta.
That was shortened to Henie .... .” She fumbled for the right
words. “Some time or another.”

The robot forgot a detail as
important as when she got her nickname. That was really strange. “I
thought you had total recall,” Karen insisted.

“Only about things programmed into
me as part of my job. The history of my name is not one Amy thought
was important I guess. Perhaps, you need to ask her about it if you
want to know,” Henie said, before she shuffled back to the
kitchen.