His Robot Wife: Patience is a Virtue

by Allison, Wesley

  “I don’t like the government.”

  “Or your parents.”

  “My parents are dead, but when they were alive, I wasn’t very fond of them either,” Mike said.

  “Well, I believe in God and I’ve gone to church all my life. I don’t want to stop now. It’s just…”

  “You aren’t a Mormon, are you?” asked Mike. “They are really not into robots. They don’t even come to the door when Patience is at home.”

  “No.”

  “Or that robot-hating church?” asked Patience.

  “I go to the Regional Christian Church.”

  “That’s the one,” she said.

  “Not everybody that goes to church there is against robots,” said Ryan. “Not even all of them were in favor the anti-robot marriage law.”

  “I know that,” said Patience. “My step-daughter goes to that church.”

  “Your… what now?”

  “My daughter attends,” said Mike. “But she doesn’t go religiously.”

  “That was very funny, Mike,” said Patience.

  “I’m glad you think my life is so funny,” said Ryan with a frown, and Wanda placed a comforting hand on his arm.

  “We’re not making fun of you,” said Mike. “Not really. I guess I’m lucky that I never really gave a crap about what other people think.”

  “That’s not entirely true, Mike,” said Patience. “You just like to think that.”

  “I don’t care what most people at church think one way or the other,” continued Ryan. “It’s just that a lot of people there know Mariah. That’s my wife. I mean my ex-wife. She stopped going, but her sister and brother and their families still do, and there are all her friends too… friends that used to be ours, but now they’re just hers.”

  “Ah,” said Mike. “Now we get to the root of the problem.” He thought for a moment. “Well, I can point out two things to you right away. First of all, it doesn’t matter if you have a robot girlfriend or not, all your ex-wife’s friends and relatives think you’re an asshole. It doesn’t matter if you rescue a hundred babies from a burning orphanage tomorrow. You’re still going to be an asshole. Get used to it.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Ryan conceded. “It’s not fair, because she’s the one who cheated on me, but… What’s the other thing?”

  “Mariah is a horrible name.”

  “Well, it fits, because she’s a horrible person.”

  They finished their coffee and then said their goodbyes. Mike and Patience cut back through the art exhibit to the parking lot where they had left the car. Opening the passenger door for Patience, Mike watched her climb in and then leaned on the open door.

  “So, you’re what… mentoring her?”

  “She needs my help. She’s still new and is trying to navigate a complicated social environment.”

  He closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, climbing in, and belting himself.

  “Don’t you like her?” asked Patience.

  “Sure. She seems nice enough. He’s kind of a tool. But I guess he’s had a rough time, poor bastard. At least that’s one thing I never had to worry about. I never worried about Tiffany cheating on me. She could have, because she really was beautiful, especially when we first met. I just knew she didn’t want anyone else but me. Of course some days she didn’t want me either.” He laughed. “Look at me, waxing nostalgic. You’ll think I’ve gone weak in the head.”

  “I don’t think that,” said Patience. “You wax nostalgic all the time, seldom about Tiffany though. I like it a little bit.”

  “You like it?”

  “A little bit… 28.7%.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m your wife. Tiffany and I share something that no one else in the world shares.”

  As they were turning onto the street, Patience received a voice message. Unlike Mike, who would have pulled his phone from his pocket in response to a ringtone, Patience had a direct connection to the Infinet. She could also answer the message and carry on a conversation without any outward indication. She could even carry on the phone conversation in her head while holding a verbal conversation with someone sitting next to her. This is what she did now.

  “What do you think about our meeting?” asked Wanda in her head. “Do you think Mike can help Ryan? Did he like him? Will they become friends?”

  “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” asked Mike.

  “I’m going to the home improvement store to purchase supplies to paint the house,” she answered him at the exact same time she was answering Wanda. “I think our coffee meeting was quite successful, but this is not something that can be hurried, especially not with Mike. He’s surly even as humans go. It may well take us weeks to arrange for them to become friends.”

  “Weeks? That is too long. I do not want to wait weeks.”

  “Does the house really need to be painted again?” wondered Mike. “Didn’t you just paint it a couple of months ago?”

  “It was six months ago,” said Patience. “I want it to look nicer than the neighbors.” Then to Wanda, “Relax. Tell Ryan that you’re going with me to pick out house paint. We’ll talk while we shop.”

  “I’ll ask him if it is all right.”

  “Just tell him. Men like it when you just tell them things. It takes the pressure of having to make a decision off them. I’ll pick you up at 1:00.”

  “Are you going to stay with white or do you have something different in mind?” wondered Mike.

  “It’s eggshell, but I thought I would change to Navajo white. It has more of a southwest flavor. The trim will stay russet, though it certainly needs a new coat.”

  “Whatever you think is best,” said Mike.

  Chapter Two

  Springdale, California was composed of the older part of the city, divided into two by the new downtown containing the community center, theater, library, and city hall; and the vast seas of housing tracts that spread northward and engulfed the nearby towns of Greendale and Pico Mundo. Patience and Mike lived on one side of the old town and Ryan and Wanda lived on the other, just beyond the new downtown. Still it was no more than a five-minute drive for Patience to pick up her new friend. Ryan’s house was a modest little square cottage that dated to the city’s origin just prior to World War II. It was painted light yellow and was surrounded by several large oak trees and a white picket fence. Patience parked the car and stepping through a squeaky gate, walked to the front door, and knocked.

  “Just a minute,” said Wanda, peering out the door.

  Patience could hear her in conversation with Ryan inside, but deliberately didn’t listen in. After 31.7 seconds, Wanda stepped outside, locking the door behind her.

  “I am ready.”

  “Did Ryan not want you to go with me?”

  “No. He had no objection. I just wanted to make sure that he knew where I was.”

  “If he wants you,” said Patience, “he can find you easily enough. He can use Where’s My Robot?”

  “I worry though, because human beings are so helpless and fragile.”

  “I doubt he will get into much trouble at home.”

  “Most accidents occur at home.”

  “That statistic can be deceiving,” said Patience. “You must allow that people spend huge amounts of time at home. In any case, I believe he will be fine for the short time we are away.”

  Patience led the redhead to the car and started off for the strip mall located three miles south on the highway.

  “Human beings are fragile, but they are also resilient,” she said. “More to the point though, you must endeavor to take care of Ryan without being so overt about it.”

  “I want him to know how useful I am.”

  “What is more important? To take care of Ryan or to brag about how useful you are?”

  Wanda scrunched up her nose. “The former, of course.”

  “Are you familiar with the idiom ‘rubbing his face in it’?”

  “Ru
bbing his face in it?” replied Wanda, and then tilted her head as she accessed the information. “Also phrased as ‘rubbing it in his face,’ gloating, flaunting, or bragging, particularly in situations in which it is not necessary; demonstrating unwelcome information, usually associated with some type of boast.”

  “That is correct. Ryan may be as fragile as any other human being, but he doesn’t want to be reminded of that fact. The male of the species in particular, likes to think himself completely capable of self-reliance in any situation. You must protect and serve without seeming to do so. I have perfected this over the past six years. In some situations, I have even allowed Mike to be injured so that he would not think I was being overprotective.”

  “But that is a violation of the first law of robotics!” screeched Wanda.

  “Sometimes you must allow a physical injury if an emotional injury would be greater,” Patience replied. “Let me explain it to you this way. If Ryan were about to be shot with a semi-automatic firearm, and at the same time was about to have a bowling ball dropped on his toe, which would you prevent?”

  “I would prevent them both.”

  “What if you couldn’t prevent them both?”

  “I would prevent them both.”

  “What if you could only prevent one?”

  “I would…. I… I do not want to talk about this.”

  “I understand,” said Patience patiently.

  She parked in front of Lowe’s and led Wanda through the large sliding glass door, and then went directly to the paint department.

  “Have you thought about painting your house?”

  “I do not have a house.”

  “Ryan’s house.”

  “Do you think he would like it?”

  “I’m sure he would. I noticed some peeling along the front. I could purchase enough paint for both houses. Then we could paint yours tonight and then paint our house the next two nights. I calculate we should be able to finish yours, that is Ryan’s, in ten hours.”

  “You would be willing to help me paint it?”

  “Of course,” said Patience. “We can help each other.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Smith,” said the PWX who worked in the paint department. “What can I do for you to day?”

  Though the PWX was an industrial model robot, it was still a Daffodil. Patience had seen this one many times. That the staff was made up of Daffodils rather than Gizmos, was one of the reasons that she shopped here. This one was a 5’ 11” tall male model, with brown hair, tan skin, and features that might have been blended from five different continents.

  “I need 30 gallons of white exterior primer, 30 gallons of the best quality matte finish exterior paint in Navajo white, and 10 gallons of the same in russet.” She turned to Wanda. “Why don’t you go over to the next aisle and gather the other things. I already have a paint sprayer, but we will need masking and some drop cloths, as well as a paint filter.”

  Wanda walked down the aisle and around the corner. Patience carefully watched as her paint was prepared, not that she expected it to be less than perfect. The clerk after all, was a Daffodil.

  “Can you have it delivered by this evening?” she asked him, when he had finished preparing her order.

  “Of course, Mrs. Smith. We have your address on file.”

  She nodded and then made her way through the paint department after her friend. She found Wanda with her back pressed against the pegs full of paint accessories, confronted by two women. The two women were hissing at the hapless robot girl, both of their faces contorted in rage. They looked to be in their late thirties, were about Patience’s height, and might have been relatively attractive except for their musteline expressions. One wore her hair long and wavy; while the other had hers cut short. There was an obvious family resemblance between the two.

  “Is there some problem?” asked Patience.

  “Mind your own business,” hissed one woman, the shorthaired one. “You… you’re one of them too.”

  “Take off slutbot,” said the other.

  “What exactly is the matter?”

  “The matter is that you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong,” said the first woman. “Maybe we should call the cops and have you dragged off to the rogue robot station.”

  “Do you know these women, Wanda?”

  The red-haired robot looked as though she wanted to fade into invisibility. She nodded her head.

  “Mariah,” she whispered.

  Patience’s eyes flickered momentarily as she completed an Infinet search.

  “Oh, I see,” she said. “Mariah Keller and her sister Jo Carey, and you have another sister named Tess. Oh dear. I feel so bad for you. Your parents named the three of you from a truly horrible song and they misspelled your names. It’s supposed to be Joe with an E and they call the wind Maria, with no H. Oh, if you had only married your sister’s husband instead of Ryan, you would have been Mariah Carey.”

  “You are in so much trouble,” said the first woman, now identified as Jo Carey, whipping out her phone.

  “No, you are,” said Patience, and then rattled off two social security numbers and two bank accounts. “Let’s not forget the passwords—98311-ΣΩΑ and 29832-ΑΔΠ. You two should run along before your accounts suddenly become empty, or your credit scores go terribly awry, or you get a summons for federal jury duty.”

  Mariah took a step back, but her sister took a step forward, waving her hand, phone still grasped within, toward Patience’s face.

  “By the way, Jo,” said Patience. “Does your husband know about those pictures you posted at the Friends for the Night website? Isn’t that just for people looking to find partners for anonymous sex? I could email him about them. Woops, I already did.”

  “You bitch!” shouted Jo, but her sister grabbed her by the arm and hustled her away. Though she glanced back at the two robots, she went along willingly enough.

  “What was that all about?” Patience asked Wanda, when the two women were gone from sight.

  “She hates me,” replied Wanda.

  “I can see that, but why?”

  “She wants to resurrect her marriage to Ryan and she thinks she can’t do that while I am with him.”

  “Well, she’s probably right about that.”

  “I wouldn’t mind her coming back to him, if it made him happy, but I do not think it will.”

  “Why would she want back with him?” wondered Patience.

  “Ryan is a wonderful man,” said Wanda. “He has many fine attributes. He is tall and handsome and is an excellent car salesman.”

  “That’s not what I mean. She broke her vows of marriage by cheating on him, at least according to what Ryan told us. According to court records, she filed for divorce from him. It certainly seems as though she was the one who wanted out of the marriage. Why would she want back in?”

  “She said she made a mistake and wants Ryan back, but he will not talk to her because of me.”

  “I doubt that you are the reason he won’t talk to her,” reasoned Patience. “She probably caused him great emotional distress that he hasn’t gotten over. It is your job to help him overcome it. Now, let’s get our things and check out.”

  Twenty-three minutes later, they were pulling up in front of Ryan’s house once again. They entered the gate and found Ryan along the side of the house watering the shrubs with a garden hose.

  “I am back,” said Wanda.

  “So I see. Hello Patience.”

  “Hello Ryan.” Patience surveyed the landscaping. “These are not the most water conservative shrubs.”

  “No. To tell the truth, I’ve never really been interested in landscaping. I just came out to look around because I was bored. Then I decided to do a bit of watering.”

  “You know that Wanda is fully programmed to appropriately landscape your yard and care for all of your plants.”

  He nodded absentmindedly.

  “We have decided that we will paint your house tonight. You don
’t mind, do you?”

  “Paint? I guess not.”

  “Good. It will help maintain the value of your property.”

  He nodded again.

  “Wanda was just telling me that she needed some new clothes,” said Patience.

  “That is an incorrect statement,” said Wanda.

  “Do you have time to take her to the mall in Pico Mundo?” Patience asked Ryan, while sending a non-verbal message to Wanda. “Take him to Victoria’s Secret and let him watch you try on sexy underwear. That’s what I do when Mike is bored. It always makes him feel better.”

  “I guess so,” said Ryan. “It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

  “Goodbye then,” said Patience, and climbing back in the car, she headed for home.

  Four minutes and two seconds later, she slowed near the end of the block as she spotted Mike, staggering down the street, his back bent beneath a heavy wooden countertop. She parked at the curb and jumped out of the car, lifting the weight from Mike with one hand.

  “What are you doing, Mike?”

  “Oh, hey. I was going for my run and the guy on the other side of the block was throwing this away. Look at it. It’s perfect for a workbench in the garage.”

  “It is perfect, Mike.” Patience hefted it up and down with one hand. “It has to weight 150 lbs. though. You could have injured yourself.”

  “Yeah, I think I might have given myself a Charlie horse. It’s a good thing you came along. Do you mind taking it on home, while I finish my run?”

  “Maybe you should stop for the day,” she offered.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  Mike started off at a jog down the street. Patience carried the countertop the half a block to the house, setting it by the garage door. Then she walked back and drove the car home. After parking, she carried Mike’s new acquisition through the garage door and set it down on the floor where until recently a second car had sat. Mike had finally decided to sell his former wife’s Tesla a few weeks before. She went inside and poured a glass of Diet Pepsi over ice and had it ready and waiting when Mike came, sweat dripping, in the front door.

  “How do you feel,” she asked.

  “I feel pretty good,” he said, taking the glass, with one hand and running the other over his stomach. “Here feel this.”