by Sarah Archer
“Oh no, what if I’ve messed up?” Robbie’s thin chest began moving rapidly up and down below his starched shirt.
“Robbie, stop.” Kelly leaned forward, clasping her hands. Magically, having to manage his anxiety seemed to dissipate her own. It was kind of nice not to be the one trapped in a vortex of panic for a change. “You’ve been doing well, you always are. You don’t need to freak out. For that matter, you don’t need to sabotage me to do well in the competition. You’re good at your job, you’re good at everything.”
“I wasn’t good enough for you.” The words seemed to burst out before Robbie even knew they were there.
“What do you mean? Like, when we broke up?”
Robbie’s own internal struggle played out in the tortured movements of his lips. Finally he spoke. “At least I was real,” he exclaimed. “But that didn’t stop you from throwing me away to ‘focus on your career.’ Now here you are, ready to throw out your career for a guy who’s not even real! He’s—he’s a talking hat rack!”
“I never tried to throw you away, Robbie,” Kelly protested. “I honestly didn’t think you were hurt when we broke up.”
“We didn’t break up. You dumped me. And yes, when somebody tells you you’re not good enough, it hurts.”
“You’re telling me! You know what I love about Ethan? For him, I am good enough!”
Kelly and Robbie stared at each other for a moment, neither sure of what to say. His foot had finally stopped jiggling.
And then the naked emotion on his face locked itself away. “Must be nice,” he sneered. “If you’re done, I do have work to complete.” He turned firmly back toward his computer and began going through the video. Onscreen, Brahma was zooming around a kitchen on his wheels and extending various arms and levers, washing dishes, stirring a pot, observing a visitor at the door via a camera and directing the smart lock to unlock. He was doing many of the sorts of things that Confibot was meant to do, but much faster and more seamlessly. With a new feeling of nervousness, Kelly rose from her chair.
“Yeah … so do I.” Once she was out of Robbie’s line of vision, she nearly ran back to the lab.
The rest of that week, Robbie stopped asking her for parts. In fact, he didn’t speak to her at all. And the knowledge of his knowledge, the unpredictability of what he might do with it, the silence, was almost worse than his relentless demands. What if he waited until the day of the presentation to do her in? She had an inkling now that his feelings for her ran deeper than she had given him credit for; that his ire at her relationship with Ethan was more than just poor sport. And she understood, finally, why Robbie had blackmailed her, asking for parts from Confibot and Ethan, slowly and steadily impeding her progress rather than just exposing her straightaway to Anita and eliminating her wholesale from the competition. It gave him power. For once in their relationship, a relationship that she saw now was strangled by his inability to love her, or anyone, when he so thoroughly hated himself—for once, he had been the one in control. Those sorts of feelings ran deep. She herself felt some sort of psychic resolution from their conversation, and it was possible that he felt the same. Or it was possible that his feelings would rear again.
But all Kelly could do right now was her job. Over the last few days in the lead-up to the presentation, she put in what felt like a thousand hours on Confibot, rewriting codes, reworking her entire demonstration with Dr. Masden’s assistance, and actually giving the poor robot a decent face. It was dizzying, but also exhilarating: finally Kelly was seeing her vision come to life. Confibot was shaping into someone who was professional, polite, and gentle, yet still able to crack a joke or play games; capable and intelligent, yet not intimidating. By nine p.m. on Thursday, Kelly was so sleep-deprived that she thought she saw the Wicked Witch of the West fly past the office window. Some light hallucinating would not have been enough to convince her to pack it in for the night, but something else was nagging at her. Clara gave only a terse response to her text the other day, then hadn’t made a peep since. And she could no longer put off her own concern, so she set about quickly sealing Confibot up. Eyes blurring, she reattached the last metal plate and wire she had removed and buttoned his shirt on to cover the whole mess of knobs and filaments. She stumbled out of the lab, convincing herself that some particularly loud NPR would wake her up on the drive out.
The only thing she forgot was the screwdriver she had left lodged by the central command switch, right in Confibot’s chest cavity.
Kelly couldn’t remember the last time she had been to her sister’s apartment. Was it right after she and Jonathan had moved in together? That’s right, and Clara had tried to make some elaborate meal for the family but burned it beyond repair, so that she had ended up ordering pizza instead. Somehow she had laughed and smiled through the whole thing. Kelly would have stuck her head in the offending oven.
After she rang the doorbell, she realized that she had no idea what to expect when the door opened. Was Clara sick? Was she even here? Was she avoiding them all for some reason? With a pang, Kelly thought back over all the little jabs or testy moments that might have hurt Clara. She couldn’t blame her for pulling away. And, suddenly anxious, she began to pull away herself, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, edging her weight back from the welcome mat, thinking she could just call tomorrow instead—
“Kelly. Hey.” Clara seemed understandably surprised when she opened the door. Her strawberry-blond hair had been hastily pulled back, and her normally sparkling eyes looked flat. “Come in.”
“So what’s up?” she asked once Kelly was inside. Kelly looked around—it really had been a while since she’d been here. Furniture was shuffled around the living room, new pop art posters colored the walls, a string of unlit white Christmas lights had been strung around the picture-window frame, and a new coffee table composed of painted packing crates, evidently some kind of debatably successful DIY project, sat precariously in the middle of the room. What Clara lacked in funds or decorating skill, she tended to make up for in gumption.
Kelly stammered. “Uh, nothing. What’s up with you?”
“But I mean, you’re here. Is something wrong?” Clara asked.
“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you.” Kelly perched on the arm of the white cotton sofa. “Gary and I noticed you had been kind of incommunicado lately.”
“Sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Clara had plum-colored grooves under her eyes. She looked tired.
“So, uh, everything’s okay?” Kelly asked.
“I’ve just been working a lot lately,” Clara said. “A lot of overtime.” Kelly was confused—certain times of the year consistently had Clara working heavy shifts at the vintage boutique, but this wasn’t one of them. “And I’ve actually got an early shift in the morning,” Clara went on. Her eyes flickered to the door. Kelly jumped up from the couch.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I’ll get out of your hair.”
Clara looked suddenly guilty. “No, you’re fine, it’s just I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I’m not company. I’m Kelly,” she said awkwardly. She was used to her sister being loquacious, but Clara just looked at her, twitching the hem of her shirt. Kelly waited before bursting out with “Are you sure everything’s—”
The opening of the bedroom door interrupted her as Jonathan came out. “Just checked the bank statement—oh, Kelly, hey.” The extra day’s growth of his stubble and the crease between his eyebrows suggested that he was every bit as worn out as Clara.
Kelly seized her opportunity. “Hey, Jonathan. I was just coming by to check on you guys. Gary and I hadn’t heard from Clara in a while and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
Clara gave Jonathan the tiniest shake of the head “no,” but he turned to Kelly. “We’re fine, we’ve both just been pulling extra shifts. We need the money.” Clara looked ready to protest, but he went on. “It’s okay, Clara. I made a bad investment; we lost everything we had. It was with a friend whose judgment I
trusted and, well, Clara trusted mine. And with my student loans coming due, we’re in a tough spot.”
“Oh. Oh.” Kelly crossed her arms now, looking at Jonathan. “And now my sister’s working herself half dead to make up for your mistake and your debt?”
“Kelly, don’t.” Clara laid a placating hand on her arm. With her other hand, she squeezed Jonathan’s before pulling Kelly aside into the kitchen. “It was a mistake,” she told Kelly. “Everyone makes them.”
“This sounds like a pretty big mistake.”
“Listen, we’re broke. It sucks.” Clara laughed a what-can-you-do laugh. “But we’re here, and we have each other, and that’s what matters.”
“But it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t have to pay his way. You didn’t know.”
Clara looked up, surprised. “Oh, I knew about the debt. And I agreed to the investment too. I had some doubts, but I trusted Jonathan, and I still do.”
“Really?”
“Of course. This isn’t his problem, it’s our problem. Every day, we choose each other,” she said simply. Seeing the doubt in Kelly’s face, she took her by the hands. “We’re fine, Kelly. We’re both working hard and we’ll get through this together. It’s just a bump in the road. You and Ethan would do the same, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure …” Kelly said. In truth, she didn’t know how she would react if Ethan ever hurt her. She had no data from which to judge.
Clara’s face relaxed a little and she started busying herself in the kitchen, putting dishes away from the drying rack. “I’m kind of glad you know, at least. It’s less stressful now that it’s not a secret. And I do want to be involved in your wedding, you know.” She looked back at Kelly. “It’s just there’s not much I can do right now.”
“No, of course.”
“Just think, a few years from now, we’ll both be happily married. Maybe our kids will be playing together. Yours can tutor mine in school.” She laughed. “You and Ethan want kids together, right?”
“Yes,” Kelly blurted before she knew what she was saying.
“Oh my gosh, can you imagine how Mom’s going to be with three sets of grandkids? She’ll be in heaven.”
“She’ll be reserving their wedding venues the day they’re born.” Kelly laughed too. She located the silverware drawer, grabbed a handful of cutlery and started sorting it in. As she and Clara talked, she marveled at how easy it was—so often they talked as shared offspring of the same parents, not as sisters. Maybe they were finally at an age where the “wolf cubs competing for the same scrap of meat” instinct could be put aside for friendship.
But something held Kelly back from truly enjoying the moment. The golden future Clara was outlining with her words was a fantasy. Kelly could never have children with Ethan. More and more, she was wondering what she could truly have with Ethan. Logically, she had known all along that she couldn’t stay with him forever, though she may have entertained some hypotheses to the contrary out of wishful thinking. Now, finally, her emotions were beginning to accept the same truth.
On her drive home, she pieced her thoughts together in the silence of the dark car, the streetlights fanning over the dashboard in waves. Clara and Jonathan chose each other every day. And every day, by refusing to destroy him, in spite of the risks, Kelly was choosing Ethan. But he could never choose her. It was true, she reasoned, that at any given moment, he empowered his own words and actions. But every action is guided by a want, and she could distinctly remember programming in his every want with her own hands. And she knew, in the pit of her stomach, that love couldn’t be love without free will. His love toward her was so unfaltering. Maybe that was because it could never be love at all. Someday, some robot might have that ability. But not Ethan.
Suddenly, Kelly felt sick. She pulled over and rolled the window down so she could take deep, heaving breaths of the night air. A sob lurched north in her throat. She knew that real love, the kind that Clara and Jonathan had, was out there, and as much as she had always thought it wasn’t for her, she wanted it. She had put up walls against it, she had run from it, and finally she had tried to build it with her own two hands. But if engineering was a human discipline … then love sure as hell was too.
A sports car zipped by Kelly, nearly sideswiping her. She wiped her eyes, checked her mirrors, and pulled back onto the road.
When she walked in that night, she expected to see a dark apartment. It was nearly midnight. But the lights were on and Ethan was wide awake in the living room, a notepad and several torn-off pages full of notes on the coffee table, a blouse and skirt laid out carefully on the arm of the couch beside him. He popped up when she entered.
“Kelly! I was wondering where you were. Not really, you’re always at work. Hopefully after tomorrow you can take a break, right? Of course you’ll be busy when you win and get to make Confibot into a global phenomenon. But you’ll at least get a weekend, right?”
“What’s all this?” she asked tiredly, strolling to the couch.
Ethan’s face took on an excited grin. “I wanted to get everything ready for your big day tomorrow. I thought this would look great on you.” He gestured to the outfit. “Professional, but still sexy. Just like my lady. Then I did some research on the investors who are going to be there and put together some talking points in case you have to chat them up or something. I know you hate that schmoozing stuff, so I thought this would make it easier. Like, hmm, let’s see”—he picked up the notepad and riffled through the pages of his perfect penmanship—“Alfred Cochran from Pine Capital is also on the board of the National Beet Growers Association. So you could talk about that beet salad you had last week at Karma Café, only leave out the part where you hated it. Oh, and I want you to have a good start in the morning so, madam”—he located a fresh page on the notepad, pen in hand—“may I take your breakfast order?”
Kelly’s heart squeezed as she took in all his work. She took the pen and paper from his hands and laid them on the table. “We’ll worry about the morning in the morning.” Then she kissed him. “Tonight I just want to be with you.”
twenty-five
Kelly was so consumed with anxiety on the day of the presentation that she briefly entertained the idea of retreating to the hills, never to be seen again except by hikers who would forever after boast of having glimpsed the Hill Crone. The plus side of this was that she didn’t have any room for her feelings about Ethan. The investor reception prior to the main event passed in a blur of alphafirm handshakes, understated but overpriced power suits, and anxious titters of laughter from the engineers. These people held Kelly’s future in their expensively smooth hands. They were so uniformly polished, eternally smiling-yet-not-smiling, that it was impossible to tell what they thought of Ethan’s schmooze lines as she spouted them. If nothing else, at least she remembered not to mention her distaste for the beet salad.
The reception ended and the engineers moved backstage, clustered in the awkward funk of being forced to share a small area while not wanting to interact. Today, the competition that had overhung their usual camaraderie for months could no longer be ignored. They skated by on thin surface statements and avoided eye contact like it was catching. But Kelly escaped even the obligatory “good luck”s, being in the fortunate position of having scouted a crack in the curtain through which to peer out at the intimidating audience. She could be using this time to take deep breaths and visualize success. Or she could do what she was doing: staring relentlessly out at the descending horde.
This auditorium, with its broad, curved stage and state-of-the-art lighting, was considerably more slick than the site of her third-grade play, yet flashbacks of that day haunted her. If she couldn’t even play a convincing tree, how was she going to convince these international, billionaire investors that they should pay attention to her, let alone give her their precious money? But Confibot did look great, propped and waiting in a chair backstage, his hair immaculately groomed.
She felt her phone vibrate and pulled
it out to see a video call from Diane. “Mom, I can’t talk right now,” she said as soon as she pressed the green icon. “My presentation’s about to start.”
“I know!” Kelly squinted at the image pixelating into focus on her screen and realized it was her entire family—Diane, Carl, Clara and Jonathan holding hands, Gary and his girls—all gathered in the Suttles’ living room. They waved at her, the image jostling violently as Diane waved with her non-phone-holding hand. “We’re all here watching the livestream,” Diane went on excitedly. “The kids got a day off and I made chickpea chili. It’s just like the Super Bowl! But without the little tight pants or the halftime show. Is there a halftime show?”
“Just us nerds,” Kelly replied. “I didn’t think you guys were going to watch.”
“We wanted to surprise you!” Part of Kelly was piqued to see her family assembled: if she flamed out spectacularly, in true third-grade-stage-fright fashion, knowing that they were watching would only make her demise that much worse. But she couldn’t help but be touched at their interest. She wondered in particular how her dad might respond to her work, if he would be impressed.
“Well, you did.” She laughed. “Thanks for watching. I’ll try not to bore you.” They waved good-bye.
Robbie was up before her, which was at least a distraction, though he displayed a level of self-importance heretofore unachieved even by Robbie. He began with the stage washed in darkness, the spare notes of a sitar playing in what was presumably a reference to his project’s name. “Brahmaaaa.” A recorded voice echoed over the audience as a single spotlight appeared, aiming down at the contraption itself, positioned center stage on a pedestal. The curves of the machine’s arms glinted, half lit, half shadowed, making the robot look hulking and spidery. As the rest of the stage lights faded up, revealing Robbie, Kelly almost laughed at the contrast between him, with his neat shirt and pleated pants, and the Batmanesque machine beside him. He appeared to have scrubbed his face so hard that morning that he had revealed a fresh, naked layer of skin.
