Read Online How It Ends: Part 1 - The Evaluation by Scott C Lyerly - Free Book Online Page A

Miss Anita Lory. They are specialists in the field of patient
care and comfort. They are accompanying me on my rounds to observe
patient care in our ward.”
    Even as Sidney reached out his hand and
grasped Mrs. Carroway’s outstretched arthritic one, he found it
vaguely disconcerting that the robot had lied. Was it even possible
for a robot to do so? Wasn’t it in the programming that they could
not lie? Were robots programmed to lie when the situation warranted
it? He made a mental note to research this point later that
evening.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Carroway.”
    “Thank you.”
    Anita shook her hand silently.
    Dr. Kilgore’s face adopted a concerned and
supportive expression. How empathetic the robot looked. It
portrayed the emotion better than most humans.
    “Mrs. Carroway,” said Kilgore, “I realize
how difficult a day today will be for you and your husband. I can
be with you the entire time, if you would like.”
    Mrs. Carroway simply nodded. The robot
continued.
    “As I stated a moment ago, Dr. Hermann is
observing today. The answer to the next question I will ask you is
completely within your control, and we will not be offended by your
response. Would it be possible if Dr. Hermann and Miss Lory
observed us this afternoon? I can assure you that they would remain
completely in the background, would not intrude in any way. They
would be willing to depart at any time if you were to decide later
that you wished for greater privacy.”
    Dr. Kilgore’s eloquence moved Sidney. He
made a second mental note. Explore the depth of the emotive
response protocols programmed in this particular model. Go back to
the schematics.
    Mrs. Carroway gave Sidney and Anita a rather
dark look. Her deeply sunken eyes blazed at him. The fire faded and
she closed them heavily. She nodded her approval. She’s too
tired to fight anymore, thought Sidney.

    * * *

    Kilgore ushered them into a private room.
The usual medical equipment stood in corners, mounted to the walls.
There were the obligatory attempts to make the room cozier than it
was. A happy blurry watercolor on one wall. A vase of fake fabric
flowers on the nightstand. Underneath were the sharp antiseptic
smells and above were the fuzzy buzzing fluorescents.
    In the center of the room was the big roller
bed. It had the many controls required for a hospital bed.
Occupying the bed was an emaciated old man with hard gray stubble
on his gaunt ashen cheeks. Tubes ran in and out of his arm and his
nose and his neck. The big catheter bag hung below the bed yellow
and heavy.
    Mrs. Carroway went to her husband and
stroked his head gently. His eyes fluttered open. His mouth moved
gently. There was no sound.
    Dr. Kilgore moved forward and stood next to
Mrs. Carroway. Sidney and Anita took a spot in a shadowed corner.
They were as out of sight as they could make themselves.
    Dr. Kilgore’s smooth voice addressed the
Carroways.
    “Are you both ready?”
    Mr. Carroway mouthed the word yes. Mrs.
Carroway only nodded. Silent tears ran down her cheek.
    Dr. Kilgore moved to the IV side of the bed.
From the folds of his coat it pulled a needle full of a pale yellow
fluid.
    “Gregory, once I inject this, you will start
to feel sleepy. Very shortly you will fall asleep. Once asleep, I
will give you a second shot that will cause your heart to cease to
beat. It is all very calm and painless. Do you understand?”
    Mr. Carroway managed a labored nod.
    “Let me please ask you once more, are you
certain this is your final decision?”
    The old man nodded again. He looked at his
wife, who also nodded.
    “Do you require any last time together,
alone?”
    “No,” answered Mrs. Carroway. “We’ve said
our good-byes.”
    “Very well.”
    With that, the robot took the needle and
injected it slowly into the IV. Mr. Carroway looked deep into his
wife’s eyes. Mrs. Carroway returned his look. “I love you,” she
said. I love you, mouthed her husband.
    Sidney had never seen a human die