Authors: George Donnelly
His screen rang in mid-thought. He saw who was calling and his stomach jumped. He felt suddenly hot, thirsty and with a developing need to sit on the toilet. But he couldn’t do any of those things. “This is the call. Quiet, okay?”
“I’ll go upstairs.”
“No. Stay. Just, you know.” With a twirl of his finger, Ian accepted the connection request from Fyoodle, inc. Next to the 3D video box, responses to his latest video diary poured in. Ian was desperate to ramp up production now, while the demand among potential early adopters was high.
“Good day to you, Ian Blake. I am Eric Weinberg, CEO of Fyoodle, inc.” The other faces identified themselves as well.
“Hi everybody,” Ian said. “A real pleas—”
“Ian, compadre, I want to get right down to it because I respect you, your time and, of course, your whole ethos.” He waved his hands in front of his face in a random, wavy pattern. “We want to buy Maria outright. We want your girl - bad!”
“I definitely want to partner with you, or with somebody big like you. You guys can roll out production fast and keep the end user cost low, right?”
“Well, Ian, it’s…” He turned around to look at the other participants on the call and laughed. “It’s a complex thing, man, and I sure as hell don’t have all the details. But, yeah! That’s the idea. You bet.” He cleared his throat. “We’re thinking six.”
Ian furrowed his brow. “Six?”
“Works for you?”
“Six what?”
“Six billion, of course, US, payable in bank deposit, cash, bitcoin, Funation credits, whatever works for you, man! We’re open-minded people over here.”
“What about the royalty?”
“No, Ian, we’re buying you out. We want to own your girl there. That’s how much we love her.”
Ian froze. He wanted a percentage of every sale. Maria and her tech could sell for decades. The intellectual property the Somalian programmers created, his design, even the name, it could last for centuries in one form or another. If he took this deal, they could lock him out of all future growth. They could profit forever and Ian would be left with a measly six billion.
But if he turned them down, he might not get another deal. Ian’s self-doubt tugged at him. A domestic robot. That’s not exactly an original idea. A dozen hungry inventors just like him could be working on the same thing. They could even have better products, if they weren’t too busy cashing their basic income checks.
Fyoodle might even be in talks with some of them!
Sweat careened down his forehead and onto the back of his neck. He looked back and saw Jack. He’d fought so hard, sacrificed so much. This might be his one shot. He couldn’t blow it. Jack was counting on him.
But if he sold low, Jack would know. He might not realize it now, at age ten, but he’d eventually know. And he would rightly lose all respect for his father. To deliver up such magnificent tech as Maria and then to sell out so cheaply. Ian winced at the thought of it.
Ian cleared his throat and looked back at Jack once more. The boy smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I need to remain in the picture. I want two percent of all gross sales, off the top.”
Eric’s face turned dark. He frowned and groaned.
***
There was silence on the line for a full three minutes. Eric faced the conference table with his back turned to Ian. The other people’s lips moved but they were pixelated. Ian couldn’t decipher anything.
People started to leave. First an older man. He looked at the camera, then walked out. Then a woman.
“Are they going for it, Dad?” Jack asked.
Ian muted his audio input, turned to Jack and covered the side of his mouth that might be seen on camera. He didn’t have a fancy pixelator. But he wanted one. “I think I screwed up,” Ian whispered.
Jack stopped his game and looked at him, his eyes big. “Don’t worry, Dad, somebody else will buy Maria, even if they don’t.” He unpaused his game and started making tiny exploding noises again. “You have failed, Dendron!” he whispered.
The mouths unpixelated and Eric turned around. His was was all downward movement. His forehead was a mass of falling wrinkles. His eyebrows pushed down and furrowed. He was frowning. He put his hands in front of his face, palms facing each other and opened his mouth.
I was so close. I could have said yes and had those six billion in my pocket. I would have been famous as the inventor of Maria, Fyoodle’s latest and most popular robot. That could have led to any number of jobs - good jobs, maybe even a job with Fyoodle. And definitely no more Larry in my life - ever again.
Ian kicked himself over and over.
You freaking idiot.
“You see, Ian…” His face went sideways. He pushed his hands together and pulled them apart again. “The numbers, well, we have to study them. But we can do at least one point five percent of gross.” His frown intensified. “Does that work for you, my friend?”
Behind his eyes, Ian contained nuclear explosions of joy. He turned away, rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help it. The relief and joy exploded across his face and he smiled. “In principle, that is in the right ballpark,” he said.
Eric’s face brightened. “That’s good. Very good. I am glad to hear that. We all are. We like Maria and are very interested in making this work. Now, just keep in mind that our first offer is six billion up front, in your pocket right now. I don’t know what your situation is, Ian, but a lot of people would really benefit from that kind of cash infusion at a time like this.”
Ian nodded. He was wary.
“Whereas,” Eric continued, “this proposed one point five—”
“Or two,” Ian said.
“Or two,” Eric said, nodding, “percent sharing arrangement could take months, or even years, to pay out, since we need to study Maria and almost certainly implement some optimizations—”
“Optimizations?” Ian asked.
“Well, yes, Ian, we have a huge line of products and Maria could be our domestic ambassador. What if, for example, our customers could read their email using Maria? What if Maria could transform into a four-legged pack mule - robotic, of course - and carry things for you, heavy things?”
Ian thought that one over. “Maria? A pack mule? Maria is a graceful, attractive homemaker. Not a pack mule!”
Eric held one hand up in front of his face. Snapping noises came across the line and the team behind him flew into feverish motion. “Okay, don’t worry, we’ll surrender to you on that idea. You’re the boss, Ian. Maria is your girl. It just an idea off the top of my head to show you how we would like to integrate Maria into our world-class product lineup. Why, she will be…” He looked down, then quickly up again and smiled. “Maria could be our special envoy to the world. Why, she would speak to the very soul of our mission: someone who cares for you, caters to your wishes—”
“That sounds more like my Maria,” Ian said.
“Okay,” said Eric, visibly relieved. The people behind him leaned back and talked with each other. “Now, we’ve looked over your documents and we just have a couple questions. How is Maria powered?”
Ian leaned back. “Maria?”
The robot behind him whirred into action. It approached him from behind. “Yes, darling.”
Ian blushed. Eric looked away and the edges of his mouth crept upwards.
“Maria, tell these fine gentlemen how you are powered.”
Maria bent over and put her face into range of the camera. “I use motion power, solar power and grid power. I can even be fitted with an experimental wind power add-on. I can go for months, possibly even years in certain areas of the planet, without needing to connect to the grid. In fact, I can become a net provider of energy in the poorest, sunniest regions of the world.”
Eric and his associates clapped. “Brilliant! Hello Maria, we look forward to spending some time with you soon!”
Maria shuffled off.
The clapping stopped. “Fyoodle Marias everywhere,” Eric said, “in every home, listening to people and helping them, serving as—”
“Hold on, Eric,” Ian said. “I just had a thought. How do I know you won’t use Maria to collect more data on people, this time right in their homes? Because that could be a problem for me.”
The room on the other end of the feed went silent and everyone looked at Eric. “It’s only natural—” Eric started.
Eric’s image bubbled over to the left and a new, black square of now equal size intruded on the right. The circular, navy blue logo of the United States Bureau of AI, Robotics and Future Tech appeared. The familiar cyborg eagle with its shiny titanium helmet and claws grasping futuristic firearms seemed both more vivid and more ominous.
And why were they intruding on this call? “Eric, did you…” Ian asked.
Eric shrugged and look behind him. “Any of you guys…?” Everyone shook their heads.
The back of a head appeared on the Bureau’s screen. It was an older man, with long shoulder-length graying hair. “Which way do I face?” the man asked someone off-camera. He quickly turned around.
“Oh, hello there. I will be your regulator today,” he said.
Ian stared at the face. He knew that face. He hated that face. It was Larry.
“It’s customary,” said Eric, his face hovering between disgusted abhorrence and servile deference, “to schedule these inter— conferences ahead of time out of respect for the schedules of all involved. That’s part of the national efficiency initiative, of which I believe you are a part.”
“Our efficiency here is paramount,” Larry said. He changed his focus. “Good morning, Ian, a pleasure to have this chance to work with you again.”
Ian’s lip curled and his pulse raced. His face flashed hot.
“Now, before a sale can take place, we here at the Bureau will need full schematics, the complete source code and any other intellectual property that will transfer from Ian Blake to Fyoodle, inc. Those are the two parties to this sale, correct?”
Ian pulled himself back to reality. “Wait a second, why is he even involved, Eric?”
“The job of the Bureau of—” Larry started.
“I asked Eric!” Ian said. He gritted his teeth.
This is not happening. This can not be happening!
“Ian, we can take care of all this for you,” said Eric. “It’s really not a problem. We have a whole team dedicated to regulatory compliance. Hell, their head count is almost as high as the programmers now! Seriously, we’ve—”
“I’m afraid I will have to go over everything personally with Ian, every single detail, his intention behind it, the thought process, just to make sure of any national security and public health implications, of course,” said Larry.
Ian’s fists balled and he breathed deliberately. “Eric, is this standard operating practice?”
Eric looked concerned. “Yes, but usually it’s less intrusive.” He shifted his eyes. “What is your name, sir? And who is your immediate superior?”
Larry smiled and looked down. “So, Ian, I’m available to meet later today.”
“I want a different regulator,” Ian said. “We have a conflict of interest.”
Eric’s eyes brightened. “Oh, that’s— Uh, yes, we request a change of regulator as well.”
“Sorry, guys, we’re a bit shorthanded right now. I am going to be your regulator for this deal, or frankly for any sale of Ian’s technology, within the United States. It looks like we’ll be working together again, Ian! Just like old times, buddy.”
Ian thought back to those old times. Larry taking credit for his work. Larry getting the promotions Ian deserved. Larry gets and Ian gives. It’s like the man wanted to eat him, consume him whole. He had a good reason for pledging to never work with Larry again. He wasn’t about to go back on it now. It was a question of pride, honor and basic self-preservation! Who knew what kind of tricks Larry would pull and bang, Ian would no longer control Maria. The government was tricky that way. A snap nationalization. A national security seizure.
“So, Ian, shall I send over the contract?” Eric asked.
Ian pursed his lips. He didn’t want to say the words. He wanted to choke them down, find another way, anything, in order to avoid saying them.
Find the strength. Find it, man.
If there was any time to stay strong, this was it.
The memory of Larry in his underwear reading to Jack came to him and he felt strong. “I’m sorry, Eric. I refuse to do business that involves this man. No deal.”
***
Ian pushed back from his desk and took his earbuds off.
That’s that. Months of work. A kidney. Lost my family. Still have the boy with me. Thank God for that.
He looked to his left to Jack. The boy used his foot to push himself away from the wall and swing in the silky, light blue hammock.
I even learned to sleep in a hammock. I gave up a bed. I gave up windows.
“Can I get you something?” Maria asked him.
“A glass of water, please,” he replied.
The robot gracefully walked out of his storage box and took the elevator up to his old apartment.
“Let’s do something tomorrow, Jack,” Ian said. He felt exhausted and resigned but also relieved. The pressure was off. It was a failure. He was done. The sense of finality, of it being out of his control, was oddly reassuring. He could take a break from the race. He could get some sun and air.
“We could go outside,” the boy said.
“No, let’s make a day of it. A steak lunch, some shopping, maybe the zoo or Pennypack Park. How about it?”
“But you didn’t sell Maria,” Jack said. He continued to play.
Ian shrugged and thought about how to explain it to the boy. He didn’t want to seem cavalier much less happy or, God forbid, contented about his failure. Success was important. You don’t willfully throw away six billion dollars and than go out and celebrate! Teaching that to a kid is a recipe for… producing another Michael.
Ian facepalmed.
There I go again.
“I can ask Mom for some money, I guess,” Jack said.
“No, no, no. I have some left over from the, uh, kidney.”
Jack sat up and looked at his father. “I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of spending your kidney on a fun day out, Dad.”
Ian sat back and looked away. “You’re right, of course. If you ever have to sell a kidney - not you, never sell your kidney, but someone in general - then you should spend the money you get for it on an important investment that will generate new income. That’s the only possible good use. You’re totally right.”