The Heart Goes On

The meaning of love

Rob directed the delivery men to put the seven foot tall box in the hallway. “This,” said Cassandra’s husband with a flourish, “Is ADAM, which stands for Automated Domestic Assistant Model. Happy birthday!”

Cassandra stepped tentatively in front of the box. “It’s very…”

“Very complicated, so promise never to touch this.” Rob held up a device the size of a smart phone. “It’s his programmer,” he explained. “I’ll set it up.”

Cassandra stared at the robot as Rob’s fingers fluttered over the controls. In spite of the obvious metal there was something peculiarly attractive about the straight planes of jaw and forehead, rubber tendons that joined neck to shoulder, broad armour plated chest, and –

She jumped back when its eyes opened suddenly, each orb a soulless dull metallic grey. There was a gentle whir, a soft click, and the robot’s eyes morphed into an ocean of more shades of blue than she could name, though she was an artist. “Beautiful!” she gasped. “What?” Rob said distractedly. “Quite a feat of engineering, huh?” He pocketed the programming device. “Step forward, Adam,” he instructed. The robot stepped out of the box, standing several inches taller than Rob. “I am your owner. You obey me.” He draped a possessive arm across Cassandra’s shoulders. “This is my wife, Cassandra. Help her in any way she asks.” He smiled down at his wife, then back at the robot. “Be nice to her, Adam.”

Cassandra laid down her brushes when she heard the front door open. Was it that late already? She wiped paintsmeared hands on her overalls and rushed from her studio to the house.

“Still painting,” Rob observed, throwing his jacket over the back of the dining chair before sitting. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t done dinner.” “Dinner is ready.” The robot’s gently resonant voice heralded its entry into the room, pushing a hostess trolley.

“Just as well we have Adam, isn’t it? I was fed-up playing second fiddle to your painting. At least now I’ve a decent meal when I get home.”

“Is that the only reason you…?” Cassandra looked hurt.

The robot stood up from serving Rob’s meal. “Cassandra, you have not eaten since breakfast. May I suggest you sit and eat before returning to your art?”

“Well, I…” Cassandra noticed the robot’s eyes were luminescent, black pupils ringed with aquamarine. “Perhaps,” she agreed. “It does smell good.” “It’s your favourite,” the robot said. She took a forkful. “It’s delicious – the best I’ve tasted.”

Was that a smile in its eyes? Could a machine feel pride?

“I told you Adam would make life easier for you,” Rob crowed.

“Easier for you, you mean,” she retorted.

“I had to do something,” Rob countered. “You can never tear yourself away from your so-called art to do what normal wives do.”

Cassandra’s fork clattered onto her plate and her eyes flashed.

“My ‘so-called art’ pays for all this,” she swung her arm out to indicate the house and everything in it. “Including that,” she pointed to the robot. “And perhaps it escaped your notice, but ‘normal husbands’ buy jewellery for their wives, not a domestic robot! Something romantic in a box with a ribbon!”

She hurled her napkin onto the

table and spun on her heel back to her studio. As she turned, her eyes met the robot’s eyes. Was that a flash of green in those glassy blue orbs?

Cassandra went to her studio early next day to catch the dawn light. Set by her easel was a cup of piping hot coffee with a thick crema layer – just as she liked it. The robot, she thought as she sipped the hot, bitter drink. It was perfect, naturally.

Then she saw a small box, its lid held in place with a blue ribbon tied in a perfect bow. Tentatively, she pulled on the ribbon. Inside nestled a steampunk style necklace of such intricate detail she caught her breath. “Do you like it?” a voice asked. Cassandra whirled around, the necklace swinging in her hand.

“I made it myself,” the robot told her with an impossible tone of expectant hope in his voice.

“I… it’s…” She held the necklace aloft and looked at it. “It’s very skilfully made. What did you make it with?”

“My heart valves and springs… spare parts, of course,” the robot replied. He shrugged his metal shoulders.

Cassandra felt a wash of mingled pride and humility from the robot. Perhaps there was more to this machine than she thought. And she did get lonely alone all day. Could it really do any harm…?

She smiled as she clasped the necklace around her neck and then took a few steps toward the robot.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, looking up into sea-blue eyes. “Thank you, Adam.”

Standing on tip-toe, she kissed his cool metal cheek.

Rob glared at Cassandra as she leaned over the dining table to pass the salt. “That’s new… who gave it to you?” “The necklace? Lovely, isn’t it? Adam made it for me.”

Rob looked initially furious, then confused, then light dawned. “The robot?”

“Yes, the robot. You said to call him Adam.” Cassandra smiled, touching the necklace nestling between her breasts. “He even put it in a box tied with ribbon.” “What for?” Rob demanded. “For my birthday, I suppose. You did tell him to be nice to me.” “Not that nice!” Rob stood up so abruptly that his chair toppled over. He lunged across the table, making a grab for his wife. Adam immediately stood up from the serving trolley. Cassandra was shocked as Rob snatched the necklace, pulling hard enough to break its chain.

“That hurt!” she shrieked. She rubbed at a red welt on her neck. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? Getting all cosy with a robot!” Rob yelled, towering over Cassandra where she sat. He raised his hand and she instinctively flinched…

In an instant, his wrist was held in a vice-like grip. His face contorted with pain as he twisted his head to look up. Green flashes lit the Prussian blue of Adam’s eyes as he glared at Rob. “You will not harm Cassandra.” “You can’t tell me what to do!” Rob sneered. “I’m your programmer.”

“Well, you did tell him to be nice to me,” Cassandra shot back. “I confess it’s been a nice change!” She fled the room.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Rob shouted after her. “I’m leaving you, Rob.” Cassandra did not look back. So she did not see the bewilderment in Adam’s eyes as he watched her leave. Nor did she see Rob scramble for the control device, stabbing the red panic button repeatedly as Adam rounded on him, luminous green glowing in his blue eyes.

The robot stood still and silent, only the slightest flicker of LED light behind its head in the niche where it stood, fixed to the spot, waiting to be repaired.

“Adam?” Cassandra whispered. “Can you hear me?”

The robot’s eyes were a soulless, dull metallic grey. A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another, then another. “I just… well, I wanted to thank you,” she murmured. “Silly, isn’t it? Thanking a robot. But if it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I’d have seen Rob for what he really is.” She dabbed at her tear-filled eyes with a crumpled tissue. “I’m heartbroken, of course – I thought he loved me – but… well, I’ve left him. To start a new life – a better life – because of you.”

She took a step forward on tiptoe, and kissed the robot’s cool metal jaw. “I hope they fix you, Adam,” she whispered. “So you can have a new life, too.”

Pushing both hands deep in her coat pockets, she turned and left. She didn’t see the blue luminescence swirl in the robot’s eyes as he watched her walk away, nor the coolant fluid leaking from its eye ducts.

Heartbroken, the robot had heard Cassandra say…

Slowly, his hands moved to his sternum and his chest plate sprang open. What had he expected to see? There was his mechanical heart, valves pumping lubricant and maintaining the electrical rhythm of its circuits. Not broken at all. So why did he feel this unbearable yearning, as if part of him was missing?