BOOK THREE OF THE ROBOT SERIES
I, ROBOT TESSA — PART ONE
I, ROBOT TESSA — PART TWO
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The day that Jorad returned — almost six months to the day from when he left — Molly had a spectacular day. Not because she was overjoyed to see him; indeed, she was even more reticent than when the big man and I had returned to Roscoe's place after Jorad's cranial augmentation procedure.
However, Molly was different now, more grown-up.
And Jorad was different now, more knowledgeable about his past.
As for me, I was pretty much the same, I think.
The big man was quick to acknowledge that we had much to talk about, and his demeanor upon returning to our abode was serious with intent. I expected that Molly would respond to his earnestness with her usual excitement and anticipation for adventure. Perhaps her time in the library with the old men had dulled her typical propensity for street fun, or maybe she was merely growing up and beyond the interests of a crèche kid.
Jorad was not unmindful of Molly's hesitation toward him; indeed, he accepted her initial reserve as something to be challenged, though subtly and with proper respect for her paramount importance to the team.
He offered her a gift.
When she tried to glance behind him, remembering Marina's behavior as the teenage girl and her younger brother presented her with the MAD Angel drone, Jorad chuckled.
"It's not something to have," he said. "It's something to do."
Molly was quizzical but intrigued by the man's approach, wary but opened a bit by Jorad's warmth.
Something in the man's voice told her that this had nothing to do with our looming mission, which forebode a return to our enforced martial acumen and personal gravity, and this difference helped to thaw Molly's unusual reserve toward Jorad quickly.
I watched the little girl shed her current customary appearance of cerebral distraction, which I wondered if was fostered more by the gang of old fellows at the library or by me, and adopt her prior — almost flirtatious — demeanor towards the man we'd found broken in the storm drain.
At least, her eyes regained their sparkle from earlier days, and her voice reflected a reawakened sense of wonder.
"What shall we do?" she asked, a bit formally, even a little coquettishly.
I was amazed at how fast Jorad recaptured Molly's interest and engagement, a feat well beyond my own capacities, and I was perplexed by her singular focus on the man she'd adopted and protected, leaving me to stand as a rather superfluous piece of furniture in the room.
Jorad saw it, too.
He smiled and put his hands upon Molly's shoulders, looking into her eyes as if he were presenting her with all the wonders of the world.
Perhaps, in a way, he was.
"We're going across town," he said. "Get your coat."
Jorad had arranged for a convenient hovercraft to ferry Molly, him, and me across the city to a special destination he'd picked for Molly's entertainment. The location where we landed was festooned with holographic images of artistically enhanced schools of colorful fish swimming in beautiful synchronization, along with occasional appearances by large, dark predators of the sea, also looking elegant as they loomed into view, then — rather stealthily and fluidly — withdrawing and disappearing into the holographic darkness.
Molly was delighted.
I was surprised.
Neither of us had ever been to the municipal aquarium before, and our arrival evoked memories of my home aquarium, which had been destroyed at the hands of our unprovoked but lethal enemies. That is, those memories were triggered in my brain by the facile association sparked by this new vision; Molly seemed newly wonderstruck by such an impressive apparition, apparently unbothered by any past connotations.
I'd not seen her so exuberantly alive since the day she'd run gleefully away from Tucker, believing he was a robotic dog who could easily be messed with.
Now, the little girl stood on the opposite bank of the aquarium's beckoning entrance, awaiting her turn to cross the intervening lake on shimmering pads that made her feel she could walk on water, and basked in the anticipation she felt growing for this impending, wonder-filled day.
Molly would probably have been happy to spend her day crossing and recrossing that enticingly placid lake on the miraculous footpads provided.
Jorad had only to remark, "Wait till you see what's inside," to change her mind.
If Molly had been wonderstruck by the aquarium's exterior, that was nothing compared to her enthrallment upon entering the vast, glass-walled interior. She was a walking cliché as she wandered through the ethereal hallways, staring, as if mesmerized by the sense of submersion she felt; her mouth dropped open without a hint of self-consciousness.
I couldn't know what to expect when Jorad, his pride evident on his face, leaned over to me and said, "That ain't nothing. Wait till you see what comes next."
"Hey Molly," he called loudly to the girl who was slowly receding from us, "You want to swim with the fishes?"
That stopped her in her tracks.
Once again, Jorad turned to me and said, "Stay here and watch. I'll make sure she finds you."
With that, he walked down the corridor flanked on both sides by the aquarium's incredibly high glass walls, and knelt to explain his proposition to Molly.
Then, together, they walked hand in hand to a far corner in the distance and disappeared from my view.
Per Jorad's instructions, I stayed behind to watch.
I wasn't sure for what.
When it became obvious what I was waiting for, I must admit, I was startled.
A robot can be startled.
What startled me most wasn't the little girl approaching me through the submersive depths of the aquarium's great oceanic volume, nor was it the shimmery, translucent bubble that encased her head so she could breathe; it was the sight of the friendly octopus sitting atop her head, encased within the same breathing bubble she enjoyed, that held me robotically transfixed.
Molly looked serene, fulfilled, and gratified by his presence and embrace.
How could I not think of Charley, who had served a similar kind of purpose in my home and head aquarium before both had been demolished? Not that I felt the same organic pleasure Molly now experienced as she gazed around her watery surroundings, but the home denizens and mental voices had served to stabilize my self-understanding. Their loss, and the subsequent removal of my identity tag, had resulted in a strange uncertainty about my placement in the world and my purpose in it. I retained my usual programmed directives given to me at birth — ironically, most of which were given to me by Charley — but the impression of separateness, dare I say, "individuality," that I'd known through engagement with those disembodied voices had been diluted by their absence.
Something else was missing, too; something that I'd experienced while gazing into my own aquarium, seeing in the inhabitants there enclosed surrogates for the voices inside my head. Only by watching Molly now immersed within those waters behind the glass walls did I recognize the lack of something I had once known.
Most strangely, inexpressible in human terms, I remembered "me."
My attention was entirely transfixed by Molly's presence just beyond the clear but impassable barrier.
I'm not sure she ever saw me standing just beyond the invisible limits of her enveloping bubble and her aquatic world. Instead, she seemed to be utterly consumed by her total immersion in that undersea reality.
I wondered whether the octopus helped stabilize her, too, and whether his presence made her feel like a legitimate participant and occupant in his domain.
Molly certainly looked at home, though exhibiting a calmness and alertness impossible for her in what she must now consider "the outside world." Indeed, her eyes seemed to absorb sights unavailable to her fellow beings in their daily lives. I'd never known Molly to display such ethereal contentment, and I do believe she might have grown gills and fins, if so allowed, and lived with her octopus forever.
I was so consumed by my own thoughts that I barely registered Molly's withdrawal from the exterior boundaries marking her interior limits. She merely faded into the diluvian vastness, bubble and octopus intact, leaving behind the faintest impression of a girl in her most natural element.
She would later confirm this impression, remarking on her time underwater with understated simplicity.
"It was my best day ever," she told me.
Fortunately or unfortunately, she was probably right.
Life for all of us became quite different after that.
BOOK ONE OF THE ROBOT SERIES
