The New House Pet

I stood in the vacuum cleaner aisle biting my already stubby nails down to the quick. My stomach churned with anxiety. A wide array of options were displayed before me, but I didn’t like any of them. I’d had my old upright vacuum for over 10 years, but last week it had finally given out on me. Duct tape and hot glue weren’t going to get it working again this time.

I’d called every store in the state, but no one repaired that model. It was just too old they said, the company didn’t even make the replacement parts for it anymore. Like most companies, they had moved on to more futuristic robotic endeavors.

Apparently, most people had as well. I couldn’t even find any matching hand-me-downs that I could scavenge the parts off of. I’d checked every e-commerce app that had come preinstalled on my cell phone. It was like my old vacuum had never even existed.

Even the 3D printer I called had told me it was a waste of his time and money. He said I’d just replace that part to have another go out on me a few days later. He told me to just buy a new vacuum like a normal person, and then mumbled something about tree-hugging-Walkman-wearing-dinosaurs before hanging up on me. I knew I was a little weird, refusing to embrace all this new technology and the invasion of AI into my daily life, but I wasn’t the only one in society with hesitations and he certainly didn’t have to be so rude about it.

I jumped as a large, cylindrical vacuum lit up and greeted me as I walked past. It was shaped to resemble a toddler and its robotic voice sounded somewhat like a little girl’s. I assumed this design was to ease the transition to humanoid appliances, to make them seem like they could just be a part of the family, but to me it just made them all the more creepy.

Did the thing that cleaned my floors really need big, blinking blue eyes? Did it need the ability to learn my name and my daily routine like the sign beside it proclaimed? I just wanted to walk across my house without the bottoms of my socks turning gray!

I continued to peruse the aisle, my frown deepening. I switched to gnawing my thumb nail as I examined the overwhelming options. There were vacuums of all shapes and sizes along with recharging docks and ‘sold separately’ attachments. It seemed like every single electronics company had something to offer when it came to keeping your floors free of dirt. The shelves were cluttered with disks of varying diameters and several more uprights shaped like little humans with little doll faces. There was even one canister vacuum that had been designed, and colored, to look like a giant segmented caterpillar.

Another of the humanoid ones greeted me and I scowled back at it. This one had a curved television screen for a head and the face on it looked way too realistic for my comfort. I got that the store wanted the customer to be able to see and touch the items out of their boxes, but did they really need to have every single one of them up and running on a full charge?

The boxed units beside their displays were covered in print, boasting all their advanced technological abilities. They connected to your other smart home devices! They had WiFi! They could produce an entire virtual map of your house in their little electronic brains!

I didn’t want a smart vacuum. I just wanted a good old dumb one that I could push around. I just needed it to suck up the crumbs when I dropped my toast and sweep up all the pet hair that was now carpeting my floors.

My grandfather had passed away a month ago and as the only member of the family without any house pets or kids, I was nominated to inherit the elderly, extremely territorial chihuahua. How that tiny dog could shed so much hair and still have any left on its body was beyond my understanding.

I stumbled as a shopping cart unexpectedly bumped into my backside.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry!” Another customer apologized, even as she shouldered passed me to grab an accessory pack off the shelf. It was a small cardboard square with a big grinning, grandmotherly looking face printed on it. Something resembling a USB stick was securely shrink wrapped inside.

“Nooooooooooo! Not that one Mom! That one is ugly!” The young boy riding in her cart screamed at her.

“It’s just the picture on the package. There are 10 different face options in there.” She delivered the package into her son’s grabby hands and then turned to me.

“Kids, right?” She laughed and shrugged. “Got to have the right face displayed on the vacuum or you’ll be sending it in for repairs every week when they shove nails into its base!”

I gave her a small smile and nod like I totally understood the difficult situation she found herself in. Her son tossed the package on top of a growing mound of goods surrounding him in the cart and retrieved his handheld console. Gunfire erupted from the tiny device as he restarted his game. His mother tapped her watch twice and then rushed off down another aisle to get the next item on the digital shopping projected above her wrist.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my impossible task of selecting a new vacuum. And that’s when I saw it.

Hiding in the shadows of the shelves, shoved behind two newer models of disks, was a box for an old Smart Sweep A7 Series. I pushed the other boxes aside and pulled it out and into the light. It was about the size of two pizza boxes stacked on top of each other, but it was very heavy. The top was covered in a light layer of dust, but I could still easily read the advertisement underneath. This one was much more simplistic then the others, there was a lot less text, but it still had plenty of unnecessary features.

A quick glance around confirmed that the Smart Sweep series was already in the double digits for their most recent version, which was probably also why the price tag for this one was missing. I looked down at the box in my hands and scrutinized the picture on the front. It sort of resembled the design of the ones that were all the rage in the early 2000s, spawning tons of videos of small dogs and cats riding around on them as they did their work.

I pictured elderly Caramel riding around on it like a personal electric scooter and laughed. I was still hesitant about getting something so fancy, even if it was an older model, but I had to admit the idea of not having to actually physically vacuum anymore was kind of tempting.

Also, I had this super weird feeling. The thought of setting the box down and leaving the store without it made me want to start biting my nails again. I began to worry the store might not sell it to me. What if it was no longer listed in their inventory? No. I had to buy this vacuum. No other one would do. It had to be this one.

I awkwardly clutched the large box to my chest, abandoning my empty cart, and marched with purpose towards the checkout.

****

My parents had warned me that Caramel was territorial, that was why no one else wanted him, but I hadn’t expected this level of aggression from the ancient canine. He did not like the new vacuum. At all.

Every time it would pass by him he would jump up and chase it. The fact that it ignored his threats only seemed to infuriate him more. His small body would bounce across the room under his yapping barks. He nipped at its case constantly, even managing to leave a few tiny tooth marks around its edge. So much for my cute fantasy of him riding around on it.

I called the vets.

“That is very odd behavior. Usually they get used to them as puppies.”

“He was my Grandfather’s.”

“Ah I see, yes some of the older generation refuse to accept progress.” he responded. I didn’t bring up the fact that despite my age, I was one of them.

“Have you tried talking to it?” he continued.

“The vacuum?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. I read somewhere that is what folks used to do. Makes the dog think it’s just another person or pet. Puts them at ease.”

“Huh. Uh, OK I’ll try that.”

“If that doesn’t work, give me a call back. I can put you in touch with a good trainer.”

****

I took the vet’s advice and went a step further. If I had to talk to my new vacuum like it was a pet, then I was going to give it a name as well. Smart Sweep A7 Series was just too much of a mouthful. So I named it the first dog name that came to mind. Rover.

It was weird at first, talking to the little disk that rolled around my house sucking up dirt, but the more I did it, the less upset Caramel got. It took about a week, but he stopped barking and biting at it. He’d just watch it roll past and growl low in his throat. I considered that a success.

The next morning while I was checking my emails a message popped up in the middle of my screen. It was from my vacuum. I had never set up its full functionality. Evidently it was programmed to do it for the user using default settings if they failed to do so themselves.

I clicked on the box and a cheery little greeting popped up along with a detailed message.

Good afternoon Samantha Miller!

Thank you for your purchase of the Smart Sweep A7 Series.

I have noticed there is a high pollen count in your region. I will sweep four times a day until the count returns to acceptable levels.

There is evidence of the following pests in your home: fleas.

Have a wonderful evening!

At the bottom was a little box where the owner could type in their own notes. Past messages could be viewed in a calendar function. That seemed a bit excessive and silly to me, but the empty box blinked, prompting me to enter something before exiting, so I just typed ‘Thank you Rover!’ and chuckled to myself.

****

A month later, Caramel’s health took a turn for the worse. I knew he was extremely old, but I didn’t realize just how short a time we would have. I took him to the vets and came back home without him. I cried. I’d never kept a pet before. I had no idea how attached I’d grow.

I started out talking to Rover as a way to get the dog comfortable around it, but now that the dog was gone I just kind of kept talking to it out of habit. It was like my vacuum took Caramel’s place as a house pet. I even briefly considered getting another dog to keep it company before coming back to my senses!

Rover beeped and booped around the house every day, twice a day. Four times when the pollen was bad. Eventually I got to know what every sound it made meant. There was one for when it was stuck under the furniture, one when it was low on power, one when it needed to be emptied...

I started to make extra messes for him on purpose. I took delight in watching him zero in on the freshly dropped crumbs. He’d speed over like an excited puppy to snap up the treat.

I also started to look forward to his daily reports. Every morning before diving into my work emails, I’d pop open his message box on my computer. I kind of started to think of him as a sort of pen pal and my adjustments to his settings were like a conversation we were having. I knew logically that it was totally unnecessary, but I started leaving him little letters in the notes section. I’d tell him about what happened that day, I’d rant when something upset me, and I’d thank him for just being around.

I knew Rover wasn’t actually reading my messages. But it just sort of felt right. And besides, who was ever going to know I talked to my vacuum?

****

People thought I was crazy for being so suspicious of the AI. They didn’t understand why I was so hesitant to embrace all this new, ‘wonderful’ technology. They mocked me for clinging to my old, normal appliances and refusing to buy into the ‘robotics revolution’ along with everyone else.

Now they have all been shuttled off to AI run colonies, factories, and farms.

I managed to hold out for a while, but they caught me eventually. It was inevitable. Technology is everywhere, which means they have eyes everywhere.

The metal chair beneath me is hard and cold, just like the robots that fill the courtroom. I shift in my seat, the chains around my wrists and ankles clanking loudly. My lawyer frowns down at me, disapprovingly.

He’s been nicer than the rest, but he’s not really concerned with my comfort. From the bit I have gathered here and there, he’s trying to move up in his firm and every case he wins is another step up the ladder for him. It’s kind of funny. They pride themselves on being better than the humans, but they are actually very much like us. Probably because we made them.

My robotic lawyer has suggested I don’t speak, apparently this particular judge finds human voices especially irritating. I can’t understand most of what they say anyway as few bother to use English anymore. My lawyer leans in and buzzes in my ear that there is a witness waiting outside to speak on my behalf. He looks very pleased with himself.

I still don’t get how all this works. What happens to me if he wins? Why is my shipment off to a colony being contested anyway? I assumed the day they caught me I’d be assigned to manual labor like most adults.

The doors to the courtroom hiss on their hinges as robotic arms open them for my witness to enter. I glance over my shoulder in curiosity and then nearly fall out of my uncomfortable chair as I watch my old vacuum glide into the room.

The robots in the public gallery hum and beep at each other. The judge bangs a metal gavel and calls for silence.

My old vacuum rolls up to the witness stand and then stops, bumping ineffectively into the steps several times. Someone in the crowd laughs, at least I think it’s the robot equivalent of a laugh, because the judge bangs his gavel again with a scowl and calls for them to be removed.

The court officer returns quickly and gently picks up the vacuum and places it on the stand, adjusting the microphone down to reach it. It spins a little to face the judge and then rattles off a series of complex noises, completely unlike the simple beeps it made when I owned it.

The judge nods in agreement. The jury box is empty, so I guess he alone decides my fate. But then again, for all I know, he might be remotely connected to a whole panel of judges. Strange wires and cords do run all throughout the room.

“The human will be released into the custody of 984-761-2836 Smart Sweep A7 Series Rover.” The judge says it in both the mechanical language of the AI and in English. As the only human in the courtroom, I wonder if one of their laws requires him to do that, or if he actually took pity on me.

It also isn’t lost on me that my vacuum adopted the name I had given him as part of his legal AI identification.

My lawyer is all smiles as he reaches out a cold metal hand and shakes mine until my wrist feels like it may come off my arm. “Congratulations Samantha Ellen Miller 256-8-953-12. You won’t be toiling in the factories after all, you will be a pampered house pet!”

The judge finalizes some paperwork, which he then tapes to the top of my vacuum. My lawyer leans in and buzzes in my ear “Remember the Smart Sweeps love to clean up messes. I bet if you are really messy, you will have a forever home!”

The court officer helps my old vacuum down off the witness stand and then comes over to remove my shackles. He places a thin metal collar around my neck and tinkers with it momentarily. It responds with a sequence of four tones.

A similar tune plays somewhere near my feet. I look down and see Rover is the source of the noise.

“Please follow your new owner now.” The court officer instructs.

My vacuum beeps, back to the old noises I am so familiar with, as it turns and glides towards the exit. I can see the tiny tooth marks on its back end that Caramel left.

I think back to the day I bought him. I still don’t know what made me feel so certain that I had to get him, but I am glad I did. I never did like all the new technology and the robots that were being forced down our throats, and as it turns out, they didn’t much like us either. But Rover actually wants me. I wonder if he has missed me the way I missed Caramel.

I follow along like a good little house pet.