Read Online His Robot Girlfriend by Wesley Allison - Free Book Online Page B

here.”
    Jumping to her feet, Patience hopped to the
door. Her arms and legs were stained with dirt. Mike let her in and
closed the door after her.
    “ What do you think you’re
doing?”
    “ I am planting some
flowers, Mike. Now that the house is clean and orderly, I have
decided to spruce up the yard.”
    “ The honking horns weren’t
an indication to you that you might be obstructing traffic? I’m
surprise you didn’t cause an accident.”
    “ I was nowhere near the
road,” said Patience, innocently. “The motorists have been honking
warnings to each other, but it had nothing to do with
me.”
    “ The drivers were honking
because you had your ha-ha pointed at them. Why are you wearing
your bikini?”
    “ I did not want to damage
my clothes. I have ordered some work clothes, but they have not
arrived yet.”
    “ Well, go get cleaned up.
We have to go to Walmart.”
    That’s just what they did. Cleaned up and
dressed in something Mike considered more appropriate, though still
fetching—a short red dress-- Patience met him by the door. Climbing
into the car, they drove the short distance to the discount
superstore, where they purchased several pairs of shorts and simple
tops for Patience. Mike also had her pick out a large
floppy-brimmed hat. Though he knew that she wouldn’t get sunburned,
it just didn’t seem right for her to be outside all day in the
summer sun without one. Patience took the opportunity to purchase
supplies for upgrading the yard. She bought garden edging, tools,
flowers, fertilizer, and a yardbot. Mike was skeptical about
spending two hundred eighty dollars on the boxy device which
wandered around the yard cleaning the artificial turf that now by
law had replaced all of the lawns in water-starved Springdale, but
Patience made a convincing argument that it would beautify the
outside of the house.
    Returning home, Mike sat down in his recliner
again and Patience, now dressed in white shorts and a little
spaghetti-strap top, along with work gloves and her new floppy hat,
returned to the yard. Mike watched the news, but began to feel as
though he should be doing something around the house too. He went
to the hamper, in the utility room just on the other side of the
upstairs bathroom, thinking that maybe he could do some laundry.
But the hamper was empty. He looked in the study to see if anything
needed to be dusted. It didn’t. As a last resort he made his way
into the kitchen to see if the refrigerator needed to be cleaned.
It was not only cleaner but neater than it had ever been. He threw
away an old bottle of steak sauce, even though he was sure it was
still good.
    Perhaps there was something he could do
outside. Though he grimaced when he glanced at the digital
thermometer by the door—132 degrees—he opened the door and stepped
outside.
    “ Patience!” he shouted when
he saw her.
    His robot girlfriend lay prone on the turf,
her arms and legs splayed in distressing angles. She was still half
shaded by the willow tree, but her legs were sticking out into the
direct sun. Rushing over to her, he knelt down and gently rolled
her over. Her once human looking face, now motionless with eyes
open, seemed more like a mannequin than anything that had once had
animas. This effect was only heightened when Mike lifted her up in
his arms to carry her to the front door. She weighed less that a
human being, somewhere around eighty pounds Mike guessed, but
unlike a human being, she didn’t bend and conform to an easily
carried form. Her arms continued to stick out and her legs stayed
stiffly straight. Kicking open the door, he carried her to the
white couch and laid her down. She didn’t move and her eyes stared
lifelessly at the ceiling.
    “ Shit, shit,
shit.”
    Mike felt her wrist. Her arms were hot from
the sun, but there was no pulse. But of course she would have no
pulse. He tried to see if he could detect anything wrong by looking
into her eyes. He couldn’t. They looked just as they had