Today I Am Carey

by Martin L Shoemaker

  “But why could she not just sit in? You could throw away her results.”

  Wayne shook his head. “I need to focus. The test includes my observations of your reactions.”

  “And you cannot do that with her in the room. She distracts you.”

  “Oh, geez!” Wayne slaps down his stylus. “You can’t tell her that!”

  “No, Wayne. I cannot.” I leave the psychometrics lab. I look in Dr. Zinta’s office, hoping to ask her for guidance; but she is not there. I must understand this situation on my own.

  When I return to the reception room, Millie looks up from her book. I see a mix of emotions in her face: impatience, irritation, and disappointment, if my emulation net is operating correctly.

  Millie rises. “I guess you’re done.”

  “I am.” I turn to Flora. “Has Wayne scheduled the next tests?”

  Flora checks her schedule. “Yes,” she says. “Next Tuesday. Does that work for you, Millie?”

  Millie’s eyes turn down, and her voice drops. “I won’t be here.”

  Flora looks up at that, her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, hon?”

  Millie takes a breath before answering. “If Mr. Stockwell doesn’t want me around, then fine, I’m gone.”

  “Say what?” Flora answers.

  “Millie,” I say, “that’s not what Wayne meant.”

  “I don’t care what he meant,” Millie says. “Let’s go.” She starts toward the door, but I remain where I am. “Come on, Carey!”

  This is a new side of Millie. I have never seen this before: fear. Not the temporary fear of danger from the rushing stream, but a deeper, more personal fear, mixed with uncertainty. And desire. She does not want to leave; but she does not want to stay and be hurt. She does not know which choice will be worst.

  And I suspect I know the answer, but I may not tell her. I cannot reveal what Wayne feels.

  But I can respond to what Millie feels. “Millie, you are being unfair to Wayne. He did not mean to upset you. I am sure of that.”

  Millie stops, her hand on the doorknob. “You’re sure.”

  I start to sense a conflict with my privacy protocols. “I cannot say more, Millie.”

  She steps away from the door. “So you’re telling me this is about how Wayne feels.”

  I shake my head. “No, I cannot tell you that.”

  “About me.”

  “I cannot tell you that.”

  “He . . . hates me?”

  “I never said that.”

  “He likes me?”

  “I never said that, either.”

  “Tell me!”

  Again I shake my head. “I cannot, Millie. This is something you must find out for yourself.”

  “But . . . What if I’m wrong?”

  I grip her shoulders and look into her face. “I have known you all of your life. You are strong, and you are brave. If you proceed in this, then right or wrong, you will know.”

  “I can’t . . .”

  “I know you, Millie.” I squeeze her shoulders. “You can.”

  Millie shakes free from my hands and goes to the window, where Flora has been watching us with interest. “Flora, I . . .”

  Flora’s face is impassive, and she sits silently as the door buzzes. But as Millie pulls the door open, Flora smiles at me, and she winks.

  I find that it does not violate my privacy protocols for me to wink back.

  Then I follow Millie back to Wayne’s lab, where he sits, bent over a screen. “Wayne,” she says.

  Wayne looks up. “Millie . . .” He looks at me, and he stands. “Carey . . . I’ve just started scoring today’s tests.”

  Millie stares into his face. I am pleased to see that she does not flinch. “Wayne, about this morning . . .”

  Wayne steps from behind the desk. “I’m sorry, I handled that poorly. I—”

  Millie steps closer. “Wayne . . . Wait.” She turns to me. “Carey, I have an emotional intelligence test for you. The scene is an android, its female friend, and . . .” She glances at Wayne. “. . . a clueless scientist. The android and the friend are long-time customers, so the scientist has their contact information in his records. The friend gives him her personal phone number. Why does she do that?”

  I hesitate. “Millie, I cannot answer that. It would violate your privacy.”

  Millie shakes her head. “This isn’t me, this is a hypothetical for the test. So please, answer the question.”

  This disturbs me. This flimsy rationalization cannot justify violating my privacy protocols.

  But still, it is Millie’s privacy. If she wants me to violate it . . . “She is interested in the scientist. She would like to get to know him better, and she hopes that he will call. Not for business, but for her.”

  “Carey,” Wayne says, drawing my attention, “I have another test. The scientist lets the friend participate in some tests, but then excludes her from some others. Why would he do that?”

  “I can think of numerous reasons,” I say. Now it is Wayne’s privacy that is at stake. But he looks at me, and I read pleading in his eyes, so I continue, “But the most likely reason is that he fears for his job.”

  “What?” Millie says.

  “She distracts him,” I explain. “He cannot properly run the tests while she is there, because all he can think about is her. He already spoiled one day’s test results, and had to run them again. He cannot risk that again.”

  “He . . .” Millie pauses, and then she starts again. “Carey, how would excluding her like that, with no explanation, make her feel?”

  Before I can answer, Wayne holds up his hand. “The test is over, Carey.” He turns to Millie. “I think we should answer that ourselves. Over lunch.” Wayne takes Millie’s hand. Then he turns back to me and adds, “Alone.”

  18. Today I LEARN A SECRET

  Wayne sits back on Mildred’s old gray couch, leaning into the corner. It is one of the few pieces of furniture that survived the fire intact, and Susan has reupholstered it twice in the years since. She and Paul are very attached to it for the memories it holds, and it was always Millie’s favorite place to sit when she was growing up. She used to sit there on Susan’s lap as Susan sang to her.

  Today Millie sits next to Wayne, leaning against him, practically in his lap. His arms are wrapped around her waist. Paul and Susan sit in the big overstuffed wingback chairs that Susan got from a garage sale. She reupholstered those as well.

  I have no need to sit; but I know it makes people more comfortable when I do, so I am sitting on the hearth by the fireplace while Susan and Paul discuss plans for Millie’s graduation open house. Millie listens in, but I sense that she is uncomfortable.

  I also sense from Paul’s tone and from the way he looks around but never quite at Wayne and Millie that he is uncomfortable with them being so close. Susan, on the other hand, is amused, though she conceals it well.

  Wayne also seems uncomfortable, but Millie does not notice her parents’ reactions. “I wish you wouldn’t make such a big deal of this,” she says. “I already had a big graduation party for my bachelor’s.”

  “Yes,” Susan says, “but this is a master’s. This is a major accomplishment! We’re so proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of it too,” Millie answers. “I worked hard for this, but it’s just different. Undergrad was like school; this was work, a job. It doesn’t seem right to have a huge party over a job. Besides, I’m much more excited by Dr. Winters’s herpetology field research, cataloguing Rana juliani and other frogs. I hope I get accepted there!”

  “All the more reason to get this done,” Susan says. “We don’t have to have a huge party, but we really should celebrate before my baby heads to Belize for the summer.”

  Millie rolls her eyes. “Mom . . .”

  Paul says, “Couldn’t we just go out for a nice dinner with a few friends then?”

  “Oh!” Susan says. “We could rent a hall, have a nice catered dinner.”

  Millie’s e
yes grow wide. “A hall?”

  Paul laughs. “So all we have to do is settle on a number between five and five hundred, and we’re set.”

  “Five hundred!” Millie exclaims.

  “No, no, nothing like five hundred,” Susan says. “But maybe fifty.”

  “Yes,” Paul says, “something smaller. Fifty, or less than fifty. We’re just planning a celebration. It’s not like we’re planning a wedding.”

  The room falls silent. Suddenly Millie and Susan both look at the floor. Wayne becomes interested in the pattern on the couch.

  Paul looks around, “Oops. Sorry. I said the W word. My mistake.”

  “Dad!” Millie says. “Could you be more obvious?”

  “I said sorry. And you’re right. One thing at a time.”

  “Besides,” Susan says, “you’ve got your doctoral program ahead. You don’t have time to think about a wedding.”

  “Well—” Wayne says. I can see in his eyes that he has something important to say.

  But Millie cuts in. “That’s right. I’ve got to think about my thesis, talk to my advisor about that, and my application for Dr. Winters. I’ve got enough on my plate. One more reason why I don’t want to be tied up in a huge event here for the graduation.”

  “All right,” Susan says, “just immediate family and a few of your friends. Is that good? And Wayne’s parents, of course.”

  “And Carey,” Millie says.

  “I do not need dinner,” I answer.

  “Yes, but she said family, so you should be there. I wish Anna could.”

  “She’ll televisit, I’m sure,” Susan answers. “But the boys are getting to be a handful for her. There’s no way she can get away from London at this time.”

  Then Susan checks her comp. “Oh, my,” she continues. “I have an early meeting tomorrow. I should get to bed.”

  Paul rises from the wingback chair. “Yeah, I have reports to review yet. I think we both should call it a night. We can table this to the weekend, can’t we?”

  “I think we can,” Susan says, rising, as Millie nods. “All right,” Susan continues, “I’m off to bed. Good night.” She heads out.

  Paul follows behind, then looks back and waves. “Good night, Millie. Good night, Wayne.” Then he turns to me. “Good night, Carey.” He heads for the stairs.

  As soon as Susan and Paul are out of earshot, Wayne lets out a laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Millie asks.

  “You,” Wayne answers. He pokes Millie in the ribs, and she squirms. “My rebel Rana. You hate all the fuss, don’t you?”

  “I really do.” Millie nods, and curls closer to Wayne. “All those people, I don’t really even know them. It’s all about appearances. I know, it makes Mom happy, but I just want to run away.”

  “And yet you have to have Carey there.”

  “Of course!” she says, looking at me. “It’s family!”

  Wayne laughs. “Family?”

  “It is!” Millie sits ups and pulls away from Wayne. “Carey’s family. I thought you understood that by now.”

  Wayne turns to me. “Carey, are you part of Millie’s family?”

  I nod. “They have accepted me into their family.”

  “Ah, the Turing answer,” Wayne grins. “If they accept it, it’s true?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s practical. It makes everyone comfortable. Putting people at ease shows good emotional intelligence.”

  “Touché,” Wayne replied.

  “So if I have to have a party, of course I want Carey there,” Millie said. “But really, I just don’t want all the bother.”

  Wayne squeezes her. “It’s all right, Rana. You can get through this. We’ll get through it together, and then soon enough we’ll be down in Belize.”

  “Wayne!” Millie interrupts, glancing at me.

  “I’m sorry, you’ll be down in Belize.” Wayne looks at me, and I read secrets in his face.

  Millie looks at me as well. She is concerned. “Carey, forget you heard that.”

  “I cannot forget, Millie, you know that. I’m not designed to forget.”

  “Okay, but don’t think about it, all right? Just don’t.”

  But my associative net systems, much like a human’s, betray me. I find Millie’s profile slipping into my emulation net, thinking about precisely what she asked me not to. “I see,” I say.

  “Carey,” Wayne asks, “see what?”

  Millie rises and looks down at me. “Carey, don’t say a word.”

  “It can’t know,” Wayne says.

  “You don’t know Carey,” Millie answers. “Of course it knows, don’t you?”

  I nod. “You do not want to be apart for a whole summer, so Wayne is going with you.” And then I remember Wayne’s earlier comments, and I add, “You are eloping.”

  Wayne nods. “It’ll be a working honeymoon, if they’ll take us. I can’t do research, but I can carry bags, and whatever else they need from me.”

  I look at Millie, “And you’re sure Dr. Winters will accept this?”

  Millie looks away. “He said it’s just a formality at this point. As long as Wayne pays his own way, Dr. Winters will be glad to have help.”

  “And don’t worry,” Wayne adds, “I’ve got leave time. Dr. Jansons has already approved, and I’ve got money saved up.”

  Millie says, “It will be an adventure . . .”

  I finish for her, “A romantic dream, science in the tropics with your husband. I understand.”

  “Thank you, Carey.” Millie smiles, relieved.

  “But your mother will not,” I continue. “She has been looking forward to a ceremony for your master’s. Not to mention a big wedding in the future.”

  “I know, but she had a big wedding for Anna. All those people from London, and India, and Dad’s partners from all over the world. I hated it.”

  “You were only six. That was a lot for a six-year-old to put up with.”

  “And it’s a lot for a twenty-four-year-old to put up with. I don’t like all that fuss and ceremony, but . . .”

  “You would put up with it for your mother’s sake. But now this research opportunity is too good for you to resist.”

  “Uh-huh,” she says. “How can I pass this up? Can you imagine a more romantic honeymoon than Wayne and me in the swamp, cataloguing frogs?”

  I try to imagine it, but I cannot. “I am not a human female, Millie. This does not fit with my understanding of the normal meaning of the term ‘honeymoon.’”

  Millie laughs. “All right, but when have I ever been normal? I do things my way, you know that. I’ve always wanted to travel the world and do research like this. I can’t pass up this chance. Oh Carey, please don’t tell Mom and Dad.”

  “Should you not tell them yourself?”

  “It would just be . . . They’d try to talk us out of it. They’d try to tell me that I’m not ready, tell Wayne that it’s not responsible to lose a summer’s income. They’d tell us we can wait a couple of years, until my doctorate is done. They’d make all these rational, logical arguments. They’re android arguments, not human arguments. I want to marry Wayne, and I want it now. And I want to go with him to the swamps and make memories that will be with us for the rest of our lives. Oh Carey, please. Please don’t tell them.”

  “I cannot tell them, Millie,” I say. “I cannot share information that I know through emulation and empathy. My privacy protocols forbid that.” Millie nods.

  I let a little bit of Susan’s emulation profile into my emulation net, and then I continue. “So it is possible that your mother will not care, will only be happy for you. But it is possible that this will hurt her deeply, far more than you realize. I cannot tell you either way.”

  “No,” Millie agrees.

  “It is possible that she longs for the big ceremony in the big chapel. Again. That she is more concerned with social status than with your happiness. But it is also possible that your wedding is what matters to her, whether in the big chapel
or in a tiny little church in Belize. You know your mother, you can answer that; but I may not.”

  “No . . .”

  “And it may be that she will not care, and that missing your wedding shall quickly be forgotten. But it may cause her such pain that there would be a rift between you two, and that she would do anything to share your happiness on your wedding day. And if I were certain of that . . .”

  “You could not tell me that.”

  “No, I could not,” I said. “But I can tell you that I do not believe you would ever do that to her intentionally, because you love your mother. And even though you thought that eloping was the simple answer, now you are starting to doubt.”

  “I . . .” Millie leans over me and kisses my cheek. “Thank you, Carey.” It is a pointless gesture, but I know that for her, it means deep gratitude.

  Then Millie leaves the room, and I hear her climb the stairs and knock on Paul and Susan’s door. “Mom? Dad? Wayne and I have something to tell you.”

  Wayne grins at me. “You’re getting really good at this.”

  “At what?” I ask.

  “Intervening without intervening.”

  “I did not intervene. I did not tell her anything that I should not.”

  “No, but what you didn’t say made all the difference,” Wayne says. “I tried to tell her the same thing, but she heard it from you. She only argued with me. You’re very persuasive.”

  “I was built to take care of patients,” I explain. “Persuasion is a necessary part of bedside manner.”

  “Yes, I can see that,” Wayne continues. “You’re a marvel, Carey. In some ways almost human.”

  “In some ways?” I ask.

  “All right, in a lot of ways, then. You still don’t score as human on my tests, but you’re a hell of a lot more than just an android.”

  19. Today We Travel to Belize

  Today we are traveling. The luggage bots follow us out to the garage, and the lift ramp deposits them in the cargo compartment while we get into the car. The chauffeur system wakes up and asks, “Where to, folks?”

  Paul answers, “GRR.”

  “Yes sir,” the chauffeur replies. “Gerald R. Ford International Airport, next stop.” The car leaves, and the garage closes behind us.