The Perfect Model

By J. M. Allison

Silvee tugged at her brother’s sleeve. “That’s not the one, Lukah.”

A scowl flitted across the store manager’s face before he plastered on a smarmy smile and leered over them.

“If you don’t like the Next Gen 4x Madre, then how about the Mamen 4000? It’s still got the 360-surveillance visual range, cleaning and multitasking functions, and excellent culinary features. It lacks a whimsical setting, but no unit’s perfect.”

Silvee peered around Lukah to study the android. The Maman’s sleek design gave it a refined and elegant appearance, even in the shop’s dingy lighting. But it didn’t resemble the one in Silvee’s dreams.

Government regulations required only basic nanny-bots once children left the Central Nesting Center at age seven. When Silvee’s release day arrived, Lukah had collected her. And ever since, for over two years, she’d dreamt of an android that held her with gentle arms, wiped away her tears, and sang soothing songs to heal her hurts. The android she envisioned made her feel safe and gave her hope that the emptiness she sometimes felt might one day go away.

She tugged at Lukah’s sleeve again, shook her head and whispered, “You promised we’d find her.”

A chime sounded as an N9 nanny-bot strode into the shop followed by its three immaculate charges.

Silvee wondered if the android of her dreams was a nanny-bot. Lukah said they were more practical. Several kids in their complex owned nanny-bots. Those kids looked nice and were picked up on time. But they never smiled. The kids with parental androids always smiled, and the android she dreamt of always made her smile.

The shoppers drifted from the Mamasita 3.0 to the UberMutter 8, fiddling with the numerous settings on each model.

Lukah looked around the dreary shop. “Any units with high-rated comfort or play features?”

The manager’s forced smile dissolved into an ugly frown. “You’ve seen my entire inventory. Purchase one or get out. I don’t like lollygaggers in my shop.” He huffed and swept toward the new customers, booming out forced pleasantries.

“Silvee, we need to choose one.” Lukah turned pleading eyes toward her. “This is the last shop in the sector. If you don’t see her, we’ll have to head to the central commissary and request a basic nanny-bot.”

Silvee hung her head. They’d visited every shop because she’d begged Lukah for a parental android. He preferred a nanny-bot. After all, they were cheaper and satisfied all basic needs. But their battery life barely lasted a year, and they didn’t love their owners. A parental unit operated for almost two decades, met all basic needs, provided extra comforts, and became part of the family.

She took a breath and mentally reviewed each option the store manager had shown them. The Moeder Supreme boasted excellent culinary features, but also required strict adherence to a scheduled routine. The Mamula 5 topped the charts in multitasking and cleanliness features but rejected nonpractical input instructions. It couldn’t play, Lukah had explained.

The MorsaLite allowed children greater independence but only contained basic nurturing features and no bedtime routine programming.

“We have to choose something.” Lukah folded his arms and tapped his toe.

“I’m thinking!” Silvee pressed her fingers into her temples. The pressure to choose correctly made her stomach churn. “I need to look at them again.” She sprinted toward the row of display models.

No. No. No. She quickly dismissed each option. None held even the slightest resemblance to the unit she sought. She stood before the last model and her heart sank.

“Come on, Silvee.” Lukah took her hand and guided her toward the exit.

Silvee followed, eyes downcast, as silent tears crept down her cheeks. They’d have to request another used nanny-bot and hope it lasted the full year.

“Get out, you mangy beast!” The manager’s angry outburst drew Silvee’s eyes. She watched him shoo a fluffy orange cat from the back storage room. As it leapt, the old tarp it’d been sitting on slid away to reveal a jumble of discarded mechanical parts and discontinued parental androids.

Silvee stopped. She tugged on Lukah’s hand and pointed.

He peered past her toward the open storage room door and bit at his lip. “I don’t think those are for sale.”

She turned hopeful eyes up at him. “Please?”

He sighed and tightened his grip on her hand, leading her over to the storage room door. “Excuse me, sir?” His voice carried into the room, bringing an end to the grumbling of the manager within.

“What do you want, kid?”

Lukah took a deep breath and stood a little straighter. “Is she available?” He pointed at an old Mother One android leaning against the edge of the debris pile.

The manager snorted. “You want a Mother One? Its cleaning protocols are spotty at best, and its culinary programming is limited to under a dozen recipes. It barely meets the current standards for academic assistance and multitasking functions.”

Silvee approached the android. The Mother One looked more drab and human-like than the models on display in the showroom. Her faded green outfit and synthetic hair, styled in a low, messy bun, were outdated and the pads of her fingertips were worn smooth.

The manager huffed and flipped the android’s activation switch. “If you can get it to respond to general voice commands, you can have it.” He stalked out of the room with a dismissive wave over his shoulder.

Lukah knelt before the android. “Vocal command input: Define primary directives.”

The android gave a mechanical whirl and her head tilted to the side. “Command accepted,” she replied in a musical voice. “Protection, guidance, and care of those designated within the primary family unit.” She smiled and her gaze shifted between Lukah and Silvee.

Silvee felt a warmth bubble inside her chest and she flung her arms around the android. “It’s her. She’s perfect!”

The Mother One began humming a soft, meandering tune and encircled Silvee with gentle, worn hands, bringing Silvee’s dreams to life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. M. Allison, more commonly addressed as Lisa, or Mommommommom, grew up captivated by the magic and wonder of fairy tales. She finds daily adventure in raising four rambunctious younglings, teaching musical theatre and dance, sewing, drawing, cosplaying, writing, and reading. Stories can communicate so many things, and she hopes her stories will bring a smile and inspire others to courageously live their own adventures.

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