Miss Fitt

Miss Fitt

By Heather Ann Martinez

They say you should never judge a book by its cover. It is important to look inside. You know that skimming through the jacket is not enough to really know if the book is going to be a waste of time or if it is something you could have read to you frequently. None of us knew what to do when we were told androids were going to be integrated into our communities. We liked knowing that humanity had achieved such an accomplishment. Androids existed. They independently moved around on their own. They were al built stronger than us mere mortals and could handle responsibilities many of us could not with ease. Many of them worked with nuclear technology. They were not affected by radiation. They didn’t have to be charged up for days at a time and their rebooting time took seconds. They could virtually work around the clock.

We were not expecting to live with them, but they became curious. They wanted to know more about the race that created them. It was more than that. They wanted to become like us. They knew they would be humanity’s legacy. They knew our fragile star and planet were only centuries away from going dark. The androids would be left. They would survive when nothing seemed to permeate our corner of the universe. We built them in our image but they did not revere us as gods. They respected that we created them and could repair them. Even while knowing they were superior to us in many ways, they didn’t want us to worship them. They were humble and gentle. They took the best human traits. They studied our history. They knew where humanity walked and did not want any part of what humanity had done. They believed themselves to be created equal. They were not competitive with one another. They did not try to compete with those who created them. They were not rude. They showed compassion and empathy despite not knowing what it was to truly feel. They did not have the passion of a soul. The androids did not have to fight for their survival. They were no one’s prey. They knew better than to prey on the weaker species and lived in harmony with everyone. They were never stung by bees or annoyed by flies, never had to think about their food or where they would rest their heads.

Eventually, the government stepped in and asked several families to take in an android so that they may have the firsthand experience of living with a family. My parents agreed to this experiment. The government people said that we could stop at any time. My parents are very extroverted. They worked with androids in their respective jobs at the power plant. My brother and I, however, are not happy about this. I’m a lot more shy than most teenagers and my brother likes collecting spiders and feeding lizards. He just turned twelve. I have no idea what will be accomplished by having one of the androids involved in our personal lives. We aren’t that interesting. My mother always tells my brother not to talk about the lizards while we are eating. My dad talks about his friends at the power plant and who he is going to play golf with on Sunday afternoons. I just chime in to ask who is going to come to my piano concert and take me to my swimming lessons after school on Thursdays.

My mother has said she fears I am still too attached to her. She is hopeful that having an android in the house will help me to stop clinging to her apron strings. In other words, I am going to end up babysitting the android. I know I don’t have much say in how long the android will be with us, but I am hoping it will not be more than two weeks. I suppose I could teach the android how to play the piano. Maybe the android will see that we are not exciting and decide to leave the experiment first. One can only hope!

The day arrived. The android came, a female the government person called Miss Fitt. Miss Fitt looked like me, a teenage girl. Her skin tone was perfectly porcelain. Her eyes looked like those from a life size doll. She walked gracefully, not stiff like I presumed she would. She had full range of motion. My parents introduced themselves, then my brother and they introduced me last. My brother almost immediately grabbed Miss Fitt’s hand and directed her towards his lizard lair. Miss Fitt didn’t talk like humans. Her voice was very robotic which was a relief. I needed her to have flaws. She was too perfect and that is why she would have difficulty fitting in.

I took her to my piano lesson the following day. She took the sheet music and played what was written flawlessly. I suggested that she watch me. I closed my eyes. She did the same. I played what I remembered of the piece but improvised notes I could not recall. I intentionally added notes in dead spaces that weren’t written anywhere. Miss Fitt questioned why I didn’t follow the sheet music. I told her that sometimes the best music is off script. She scratched her head. She asked me to explain to her what improve was, why I enjoyed incorporating sounds as I went along, and why I didn’t follow what was written. I told her what was written is a jumping off point, but there doesn’t always need to be a safe landing for melody. There didn’t need to be lyrics and the harmony was what people would remember. She was quick to remind me that androids remembered everything. Androids wouldn’t forget the melody or even one note over the passage of time. She struggled to understand that the journey is not always about the destination. Sometimes the best experiences in life are the ones you don’t plan for. Miss Fitt wanted to finish the music lesson and check it off her box. She respected that I could hear more than sounds and frequencies in what I was playing but did not experience the joy I had in trying to add different chords that weren’t on the sheet.

My brother showed her the lizards that occupied his time. She sounded like a walking encyclopedia telling him which lizards ate what and how long they would live. She could hear their heartbeats and knew exactly how many days they had left. My brother hope she was wrong and held back tears. He later cried in my mother’s arms. He didn’t like knowing their lives were as limited as what Miss Fitt told him. We took Miss Fitt to the park and the zoo. My brother and I asked her if she felt the breeze on her face or got a tickle in her nose as if she were going to sneeze. She said she didn’t have these sensations and looked at us in a way we had not seen before. She looked as if she were going to cry. My mother said theoretically she could cry to acknowledge the appropriate emotional response but she wouldn’t feel any of what it is like to be a muddy, messy human being. She couldn’t be that. Miss Fitt tried her first ice cream. She rode on her first roller coaster and buried her feet deep in the cool sand. She sang camp songs around a bonfire and told us scary stories by a flashlight. She asked me what everything tasted like and what sounds I heard throughout the day. She heard everything in the world, but wasn’t overwhelmed by it. She said that was her heartbeat, that was where she came to life. She asked me what I dreamed about for my future and what scared me the most. She had no fear. She had no love and was at a loss when it came to understanding either and respecting that that was where the great divide lay. Eventually, it was time for Miss Fitt to leave. She hummed what I played on the piano and added a half note where I always thought there should be a whole one. It wasn’t on the sheet music. She told me I was right. You don’t always need directions to your destination. Sometimes, you just need to embrace the journey in getting there.