THE ARGON GAS CLOCK shimmered
seven beats as Father glanced at it
for the thirty-seventh time that evening. He was about to rant
about the dire consequences of being late when the holo-door
announced the arrival of their expected visitor.
"See, what did I tell you? Half an hour isn't that bad," cooed
Mother.
After a series of validation checks, the holo-door cleared and in
stepped the cyborg sitter.
"Why can't I expect these companies to provide me with efficient
sitter services?" argued Father as he tugged at the gleaming
sleeves of his evening suit.
"Don't mind him, he gets grumpy before important dinners,"
explained Mother as she welcomed the sitter into their home.
"Anyway, where were you assembled?"
"My name is Eve, and I was born in the third month of the year
2235," droned the cyborg sitter as she scanned the room left to
right.
"How fascinating!" exclaimed Mother. "This model has a human name
and a birthdate," said Mother as she surveyed the features of
their evening visitor.
Father nodded in agreement. "The sitter company does pay
attention to details," he mumbled as he probed and pressed the
facial skin of the hired cyborg sitter. "Ah, it even winces,
too!" Father noted appreciably. "But I wish they made more
punctual models."
"Oh don't mind him...Anyway, you know what to do," assured
Mother. "We shall be back in exactly four hours. Your ward is in
the study right now. Help yourself to whatever you need in the
kitchen."
"Is this really a good idea, leaving our home to a cyborg sitter?
They tried to take over the world in the early 23rd century. Good
thing we prevailed. Then again, these are sentient beings. Who
knows what they're capable of?" whispered Father.
"Nonsense," assured Mother. "We soundly trounced them in the
past, we'll do it again in the future. We don't allow them to
assume sensitive posts in government nor in the Economic Council,
so quit worrying, ok?"
With that, the couple proceeded to the transporter pod and
vanished, only to reappear half-way across the world exactly 1.4
seconds later.
The cyborg sitter went about her business. She located her
assignment and performed the specified play activities outlined
in the Program. As expected, the child got frustrated at times,
but the sitter easily adopted the appropriate subroutine.
After precisely three hours, she readied the sleep chamber and
quickly lulled her reluctant ward to suspended animation.
At 1,500 credits per hour, compensation was adequate for Eve. But
more than that, it afforded her the opportunity to access vital
government and financial data right from the console in the
master bedroom.
Although she did get some heat for being late, that was exactly
what she liked about her employers--their punctuality. Eve looked
at her watch and knew she still had an hour before they returned.
In the next thirty minutes, she located the data she needed and
hastily downloaded it onto an optico-chip for distribution to her
comrades. "Someday, we will take over," thought the cyborg
sitter. It was a mantra that kept her going through night after
boring night, child after bratty child.
Satisfied, she slipped the chip into her wrist and strolled to
the kitchen for a drink while she awaited the return of her
masters.
"How considerate of them," thought Eve as she neared the
glistening can of distilled water sitting atop the kitchen
counter. She was about to open it when she noticed some movement
behind her. Startled, she whirled about only to come face to face
wth her employers.
"You're early," she weakly gasped.
"I apologize, Eve," smiled Mother. There was a scheduled
maintenance of the pod and I refused to be stuck at the dinner
for too long. I decided to come home earlier. I should have
informed you."
No, they don't suspect a thing, thought Eve. She tried to
smile back when she noticed Father glaring at her.
"Eve, you were careless," started Father. "I suggest you be more
careful next time."
"Excuse me?"
"You're messing up my table. How disgusting. Clean it up before
you leave, ok?"
The cyborg sitter slowly eased her grip on the can. In her
excitement, she didn't notice the cut on her finger. As she wiped
away her blood, human blood, she smiled knowing that someday, her
people will finally win back their cyborg-dominated world.
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The Cyborg Sitter
Updated January 1999
Copyright © 1999 by Manuel Viloria of http://www.viloria.com
Email: manuel AT viloria DOT com
