Man's Best Robot

The Rowland house was eerily odorless. There was no faint smell of dog food in the pantry, and none of the pets ever got dirty. When they did, they activated their ZapOff feature, part of the 2049 technological adaptation, which released all dirt from their hair strands and funneled it back out through bowel movements.  

Mrs. Rowland told her friends from tennis that she had four of these dogs–two Golden Retrievers, one beagle, and a chocolate lab. She had purchased each one from an accredited dealer online, where each dog had a five-year warranty. After the battery scandal two years prior, most owners were skeptical of purchasing any dog without a warranty or guaranteed customer service. They were impressed with her finances in such order that she was able to have four of these products.

“I told mine that if they want a ro-dog, that means no Christmas presents this year or next year,” her doubles partner remarked as they left the court. 

The beagle, Kiborg, was the newest addition to the family. Kiborg’s glass eyes rotated when little Cassy, the Rowlands’ only daughter, patted his back, and Kiborg could even shed. When Cassy brushed Kiborg, strands (that were taken from a real-life beagle nearly 20 years ago!) would fall onto the brush, but these strands were dissolvable, eliminating any mess for the owner. 

Tonight, as part of a fundraiser for Mr. Rowland’s newest business endeavor, he wanted to show Kiborg. As part of the 2055 model, Kiborg was the most realistic. Kiborg’s nose was moist, and he even chased his tail. Kiborg, unlike their other pets, could catch balls of varying sizes. Kiborg’s battery was 90 hours, instead of 42, and he did not require assistance to go up and down stairs. Mr. Rowland wanted to demonstrate his calculative prowess, so he began to discuss how he invested in ro-dogs earlier in the 21st century, and his earnings had nearly quadrupled within the last fiscal year.

“Without further ado, my lovely wife is going to show you what this dog can do,” Mr. Rowland announced as he motioned to the foyer. 

“Kiborg, sit,” Mrs. Rowland demonstrated. In her hand, she held a silver-looking ornament that resembled a Milky Bone of the past. Kiborg’s eyes lit up at the ornament, but he did not sit.

“Sit, Ki-ki,” Mrs. Rowland repeated and repeated at a louder volume each time. “Sorry everyone, sometimes if the ornaments do not work, you have to spray them with this stuff.” 

Her husband handed her a white spray can, about the size of a small Diet Coke bottle, and she doused the ornament in it. Everyone wondered what the substance was; it had no odor, but its color was a murky brown. 

“Kiborg, sit.” Mrs. Rowland’s tone was more aggressive. She was frustrated that a robot was disappointing her, and the other dogs–which were lying there on the floor, deactivated–had always been good at obeying commands. Kiborg was different; his compliance was sporadic. 

“Alright, looks like Kiborg needs his battery re-charged, am I right?” Mr. Rowland laughed. He segued into his next spiel, eager to tell his guests about the newest advancements in computer technology. He walked towards the outdoor deck with the pool, so that attention would be diverted from Kiborg’s failure. 

Once others had left the foyer, Mrs. Rowland stared at Kiborg. He was their tiniest ro-dog, yet when she tried to lift him to find the RESET button under his back right paw, it appeared that he had gained 20 pounds. She struggled to lift him off the floor, as the dog resisted her advances with snarls. 

Mrs. Rowland knew he wasn’t real. All of his abilities were carefully calculated by specialists, but his snarling was completely uncharacteristic of any ro-dog. Ro-dogs were not aggressive protectors; they were sweet, controllable snuggle buddies. 

“Turn Kiborg off,” she commanded the bot. Kiborg was unresponsive. He continued to snarl, and his hackles began to rise. Mrs. Rowland was unaware this was one of the new features. She addressed Kiborg’s weakness, Cassy.

“Kiborg,” she said calmly, “go find Cassy. Go sit with her.”

Kiborg’s ears curled, and he began to prance up the stairs in the direction of Cassy’s room. Cassy was watching a television program. Mrs. Rowland followed Kiborg, and she watched as he hopped into Cassy’s twin bed. The dog appeared to smile as Cassy stroked his back. His tail started waving slowly back and forth. Mrs. Rowland, happy that Kiborg was behaving normally, smiled at her daughter, closed the door, and walked back down the staircase to join her husband and the others. 

The Following Morning…

The Rowland house was quiet. Mr. Rowland was hungover from the event, so he had Sonia, their car, go out and get a green juice from the co-op. Mrs. Rowland listened to the news, and she responded to messages from her girlfriends telling her how wonderful last night was. As Mr. Rowland cuddled his wife, they thought about Cassy. It was 9:10, and she still was not awake. 

Mrs. Rowland slowly stepped down the hallway in her slippers, hoping not to disturb the morning peace, and she placed her hand softly on the door handle. It opened and revealed a grotesque scene: Cassy’s face was completely dismembered, and her eyes had been ripped from her sockets. Under Kiborg’s front paw was one of her eyeballs. Blood was splattered across the floral pillowcase and onto the princess duvet. Cassy’s arms appeared intact, except for her right hand, which had been ripped from its socket. Cassy’s right hand was sitting inside Kiborg’s mouth, and the specialty ro-dog brush, monogrammed for Kiborg, was clutched in that lifeless, limp hand. Cassy was, in fact, dead. Kiborg was sleeping peacefully, and his snout had slipped into a smile. He looked as he did when he was a pup in the Ro-Dog Growing Cage–so innocent and real. Mrs. Rowland shrieked. 

She slammed the door, waking up Kiborg, who started chomping on the hand. Mrs. Rowland, outside of the door and hugging the handle with all her might, heard the crunches of Cassy’s hand. Specks of blood squirted the carpet and even reached under the door to Mrs. Rowland’s once pristine slippers. Her husband came running down the hall, his head pounded from all of last night’s alcohol. 

Later That Day

Kiborg’s battery was running out, but the bot was repeatedly forcing his head into the door, trying to make his way out. The Rowlands had pushed an armoire on the other side of the door, so the sounds of Kiborg’s growls were muffled yet equally terrifying. Kiborg felt no pain; the bot kept pushing and pushing, hoping to penetrate the door. His strength was outstanding and petrifying. Downstairs in the kitchen, Mr. Rowland was making phone calls to each local ro-dog service. None of them were familiar with the process to disable 2055 models, so they told him to contact the dealer directly. When the Rowlands phoned the police, the clearly distressed operator said the city’s police force was incapable of handling incidents involving ro-dogs but expressed her condolences and concern. 

Mrs. Rowland phoned the dealer. It was an 800 number, and there was no human voice on the opposite end. Kiborg’s snarls grew louder and louder, and then, the couple heard Alexa’s voice from the living room. 

“New device connected,” Alexa said in her standard monotone voice. “Kiborg Bluetooth connection initiated.”

Over Alexa’s speaker, Kiborg cried and barked, leading the Rowlands to hug each other helplessly. The armoire kept clunking from above, and their fear grew each second. 

“Frank, how can we unplug it?”

“We have to wait till its battery runs out, hun. You charged him a few days ago, so he should almost be out.”

Mr. Rowland checked his ro-dog app. Kiborg was at 3%. They waited downstairs, each clunk of the dresser causing them to shiver even more. Finally, the clunking stopped. After a couple minutes of fretting and more phoning, Mr. Rowland headed up the stairs with one of his golf clubs. He slid the armoire to the side, creating new indentations in the carpet, and he opened the door. Kiborg was panting but unable to attack.

“Kiborg, sleep,” Mr. Rowland commanded as tears welled in his eyes at the sight of his precious Cassy. Kiborg’s eyes fluttered softly, and his head flopped to the ground. Mr. Rowland lifted his club and swung.