Sweet Elsie (Story)
Three short beeps indicated that Elsie was about to pull into the driveway. Just as he had predicted after monitoring the traffic. Dinner was waiting, nice and warm and nutritious. Elsie was too busy to concern herself with food, so she left it to her trusted Arnold to take care of it.
Although she was almost 30, she sometimes sulked like a child when he presented her with chopped spinach or asparagus, but he invariably countered with the list of essential nutrients they contained, pointing out why she needed each and every one of them.
'No way I can argue with you', she'd laugh and eat her meal, staring at her laptop, going through the mails he'd marked as 'priority' for her. The girl had so little time for herself she allowed him to read her correspondence and decide what was important and what could be ignored.
The Arnold android came with a personal assistant function incorporated, not like the older models that could only do basic jobs, taking care of the house and ordering basic food items. The Arnold was designed to be a companion, not just a domestic servant. He was also the brain behind the elaborate security system, a fierce robotic bodyguard. Hence his name, a joke reference to a famous actor dead a long time ago. The Terminator.
Today, Elsie had no reason to sulk, for in the microwave a delicious smelling pasta with plenty of rich sauce and parmigiano cheese was waiting for her.
Yet, she was not in a brilliant mood and barely looked at the robot standing politely in his corner. Arnold knew she had been waiting for a message from that young man she had brought home a week ago. A guy called Josh who wouldn't even look at him or acknowledged his presence in any way.
Arnold had spent the night in the kitchen, motionless. His protocol did not allow him to turn himself on such occasions as the security of his mistress was paramount. It was his duty to monitor the muffled sounds that came from the bedroom to make sure those were moans of passion, not cries of pain. Judging by those sounds, he was 99% certain Josh was incapable of providing the required level of satisfaction. He could not understand why would Elsie waste her time with a man who made fun of her saying her... bottom was too big and her place lacked in taste, when he wasn't even capable of a good performance in bed.
The android remembered with a bit of shame, if you could call it that, the first time he had been required to perform physical contact with Elsie. He had a dedicated sub-routine for such purpose, but his moves were clumsy and a bit rough for her taste. She had to guide him like a teenager, but he had no problem making the necessary adjustments. He replayed the bedroom sequence many times the next day, while Elsie was at work, and the next time he was summoned his performance was flawless. Even Elsie said it was an amazing experience. And yet, she kept bringing home random guys she met at the office or one of those clubs he went to every Saturday night. Always searching for Mr. Perfect...
Arnold stopped himself, for judging the personal choices of her mistress was forbidden. He could only intervene when her safety was concerned. Something in his neural paths told him Elsie was wrong about this Josh person, but there was nothing he could say.
Later in the evening, right after her shower, Elsa called him to the bedroom and he performed his duty in silence. He could sense her mind was elsewhere and she barely responded to his moves. Afterwards, when he went back to his corner in the living room he heard her cry.
He debated for some time whether it was his duty to check up on that Josh and decided it was, Elsie's mental well-being depended on that. It took him 0.01 seconds to discover the guy had spent the evening with another woman at a restaurant. That's why Elsie was crying.
Androids like Arnold do no feel rage, but he felt like he could punch that individual in the face. Too bad physical violence was allowed only under strict circumstances, when there was no other reasonable way to protect his mistress.
The next day he surprised Elsa with pepperoni pizza and chocolate cake.
'Oh, Arnold you promised to take care of my waist', she chuckled.
'I lied', he answered promptly and she laughed again although she knew the joke was programmed in his conversational circuitry.
She even motioned him to sit on the couch with her and watch a re-run of an old comedy she always ordered up when she was in need of cheering up.
The Josh incident was forgotten and for a few weeks Elsie was her old happy self, telling him about her day and asking his opinion on her outfit in the mornings. And the nights were most satisfactory, he was certain of that.
Arnold caught himself searching up poetry on line, maybe some love quotes would make Elsie's nights even more enjoyable. The Arnolds were designed to self-teach themselves whatever skills where necessary to make their owners more comfortable.
It came as a shock when Elsa messaged there will be two of them for dinner. He couldn't ask, of course, but he could not help feeling she'd show up again with a man totally not worthy of her.
Jack was about the same age as her and, at least, had the decency to wave at him and say Hi. Jack and Elsa discussed at length the merits of their respective androids. It seemed the man owned an outdated model, a Roberta – which was a basic maid with rudimentary equipment to satisfy sexual needs. Jack was amazed when the girl mentioned Arnold could also recite poetry during their intimate moments. Arnold quickly busied himself with opening a fresh bottle of wine, afraid Elsie might make him recite poetry in front of her guest.
He spent a miserable night in the kitchen, listening to the love-making sounds coming from the bedroom. Their bedroom! He tried to distract himself going over the files of her previous love affairs. None too successful, except maybe for Bob, two years ago. She'd been happy then and they only ended the story when Bob got a job in Mexico City.
Jack left very early and he could see the signs on her face. Elsa was falling in love again. He spent the whole day thinking of the implications. He could not allow for her to be hurt again. 'Could not allow?' Was that the right question to ask himself. It was a personal choice, after all, none of his business.
Yes, but he had to think of her well-being, Elsa depended on him, her safety was paramount. Arnold did not know the guy's full name, but using the image of his face and a basic face-recognition program he pulled out a whole file on Robert Mason – starting with his high-school sweet heart and ending with the wife he had divorced three years ago. Bob had the reputation of a playboy and he had had many women in his life. Too many, concluded Arnold. He could see the pattern, Bob will only break her heart.
He had to do something. That afternoon he deleted a message from Bob who was asking her out to dinner on Friday. And he blocked him. Elsa would never check that, she was not technical enough.
He ordered strawberry ice-cream from the store, her favorite. The girl moped around for a couple of days, but he had caught it early, not much harm done.
They spent Friday evening on the couch, binge-watching on a new series. A thriller. He liked those, he was good at guessing who the criminals were.
He made love to her that night and watched her fall asleep with a smile on her face.
'My sweet Elsie! No one is going to hurt you again.'
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