The Soltek Flaw

Maisie watched the news announcement with keen interest. Her lifelong fascination with technology – perhaps something she’d passed onto her son – still burned bright. Her grey hair – thinner than it once was – remained neatly styled.

The immaculate presenter, probably in her mid-thirties, spoke in the crisp, yet neutral tones of a news presenter. If you didn’t know better, you might have mistaken her for one of the very AI models she was reporting on. Designed to integrate seamlessly into everyday life, the Soltek models promised to eliminate boredom, loneliness, anxiety – even grief.

At least, that was the theory.

“The world’s leading AI firm, Soltek, has announced a recall of some of its latest models following safety concerns. Though only 0.01 % of cases have reported malfunctions – including accidents and even a few deaths – the company is removing affected units for urgent retesting.”

Maisie stroked the silky fur of Bailey, her dachshund, nestled warmly in her lap. She watched for another ten minutes, then yawned and switched to a show where a dog hell-bent on ruining its owner’s home, was being calmly retrained by a charming expert.

Maisie thought back to the first time she’d met Bailey. Her son Steve had been standing on the other side of the door, grinning like a schoolboy. Still wearing his company’s jacket displaying the renowned AI logo, he was carrying a basket.

“What have we here?” Maisie asked.

“I know how lonely you’ve been since dad passed. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

***

The surprise had been an AI dog. Maisie smiled remembering the day Steve had brought Bailey home. Since then, she hadn’t looked back.

From the beginning, she was determined to care for Bailey properly. She reminded herself he wasn’t a real dog – at least not entirely, and trusted she’d manage just fine, so long as her mind stayed sharp. She wasn’t as agile as she once was, but her health was good, her mind steady – apart from forgetting the odd item, which could happen to anyone.

At least, as far as she could tell.

Maisie had signed the agreement without hesitation. If it meant her son’s company could monitor her for signs of decline, so be it. She trusted Steve, and besides – she liked being part of something new and innovative. She had welcomed being the subject of a trial on how an older person would respond to the latest state of the art AI dog as a companion. Cameras and listening devices had been installed throughout her apartment keeping track of all interactions.

Every so often when he managed to get a break from work, Steve would drop by for a coffee and a chat and to check on Maisie’s progress with her new pet. One of the perks of his job as a senior AI technician at Soltek was getting to test the latest AI updates before they were released to the public.

Bailey had soft velvety ears, a light brown muzzle, and eyes which were lively, yet mournful. Within minutes, he’d relaxed into Maisie’s arms, rested his head against her shoulder, and had repeatedly licked her face. The tongue had the texture and wetness of a real dog’s tongue.

“Thank you so much, Steve. You don’t know what this means,” she’d said.

Steve had smiled boyishly. “So long as you like him.”

“Looks like he’s already settling in.”

“It does. But don’t forget that while he’s programmed to behave like a dog, he’s been created under lab conditions. He’s like a real dog in terms of texture and form, but there are also features unique to him. The chip in his brain makes him more compliant than most dogs, less likely to react to things typical of his breed. We’ve engineered out the less desirable traits.”

“You mean I won’t have to put up with half my garden being dug up while he goes on the hunt for small animals. Maybe my plant tubs will be left in peace.”

Steve laughed. “Here’s hoping. He seems pretty docile.”

Maisie suddenly remembered a neighbour mentioning the close shaves she’d had with a dog that had a tendency to snap at the heels of delivery workers, if unsupervised.

“Is that likely to be a problem here?” she asked Steve.

“It’s unlikely to be a problem,” he reassured. “The chip overrides any aggressive instinct. “But make sure you read the instructions and don’t hesitate to get in contact if you have any problems.”

“Will he get along with other dogs?”

“There shouldn’t be a problem there. We’ve tested him.”

“That’s good.”

Then Steve mock-grimaced. “You won’t have anything to worry about when it comes to chasing female dogs, or humping stranger’s legs. He’s not much of a barker either. But we can adjust that if you’d prefer some noise for security. He’s been properly house-trained, of course. We have set him up so he feeds off the energy of food like a real dog which means he will need to pee and poop too. We decided not to fix a device to stop that, and it would be costly to alter it now.”

But Maisie shook her head firmly. “A bit of poop won’t kill me. I want him to live as normal a life as possible. I intend to take him for regular walks. Let him enjoy running through parks and fetching a ball. It will be good exercise for us both.”

“Have you decided what you are going to call him yet?” Steve asked.

“Bailey. He looks like a Bailey.”

“Good choice,” Steve said. “Now, before I go, don’t forget he must sleep on his charger bed every night. I’ll set it up for you now, then you won’t have to do anything.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, make sure you report any problems, especially if he hits his head, the top of his back, or legs, because that’s where the sensors are located. Let me know if there’s anything out of the ordinary with his behaviour. Just call me.”

When Steve left, Maisie watched Bailey’s dainty feet patter across her wooden floor. In the kitchen, he stopped to investigate his basket. After thoroughly sniffing it, he stepped inside as if it was made for him.

“You do look cosy,” Maisie said, covering him with a blanket. The dog yawned and closed his eyes. Soon his breathing turned slow and regular and he fell into a deep sleep.

***

The next day, when there was a knock at the door. Bailey cocked his ears, barked a little, then waited but there was no flying off the handle.

“Well done, Bailey. You’ve passed the test with flying colours,” Maisie said, relieved when he didn’t snap at the postman’s heels as a parcel was delivered.

Later, when she said the word “walk,” he wagged his tail enthusiastically. On reaching the park, he stopped to rake through leaves, sniffed the grass, cocked his leg against trees, but avoided the puddles. They came across various dogs, but other than a brief sniff, there were no dramatics.

As the weeks turned into months, Bailey was proving to be an ideal companion. The pair looked forward to their adventures in the park where Maisie threw him lots of sticks which he loyally returned all wet and chewed.

His senses were sharp. On days when Maisie seemed off – dropping things or faltering slightly, he’d pick them up and linger to make sure she was alright.

One day, on their way to the park, they were about to cross a busy road. When Maisie’s phone buzzed, she glanced down at the screen, oblivious to the bus coming towards the crossing. The next moment there was a screech of brakes as it juddered to a halt. Maisie’s small figure was sent flying and ended up beneath one of the wheels sprawled on the road. She lay there jerking spasmodically. In a flash, Bailey ran over barking and nudging to see if he could help. One of his legs was damaged by some broken glass, but he refused to leave Maisie.

Maisie was crumpled, limbs askew, her pale blue eyes staring blankly at the sky, unseeing. A silvery trail – too bright, too thin to be blood – leaked from her temple. A faint grinding of gears clicked and stuttered inside her. For a minute or two, electrical components hummed and whirred, then gradually subsided, Bailey stood beside her puzzled, and quietly whining,

Then, as if something inside gave way, Maisie’s chest opened slightly with a mechanical crack – just enough to reveal a lattice of fine circuitry woven into synthetic tissue. Beneath sun-warmed skin, the exposed rib cage gleamed with carbon alloy. The brain nestling in the skull like a human’s, was a hybrid of silicon and stem cells. These had been fused to a microchip designed to evolve with memory and experience.

The truth was Maisie had been built, not born. She’d never known herself or any different. She existed: part machine, part memory, part woman.

And now everything that had given her soul was breaking down.

When Steve arrived flashing his Soltek credentials, the paramedics stepped back. One of them gestured to Maisie’s shattered form.

“Maybe better not get too close. She’s… well, you can see.”

But Steve crouched beside the figure who had, for all intents and purposes, become his second mother. Part of him remained detached: a technician scanning the damage to a valuable piece of equipment. As if to confirm it, a piece of synthetic skin hung loose, revealing the artificial bone beneath. But her eyes – those perfect sky-blue eyes – were still open. Like his mother’s, but Maisie’s own eyes too.

For a moment, Steve’s breath caught. He had watched his real mother fade from cancer three years ago, helpless to save her. When she’d refused to see a doctor, there had been nothing they could do. He’d always known there was a risk in “resurrecting” a version of his mother in the form of a replica – but the temptation had been irresistible. The Maisie lying on the road had been his salvation, and now his greatest mistake.

The illusion lay shattered before him, her silence mocking his decision.

One of the engineers had arrived from Soltek. He stood behind Steve, patting him on the shoulder. “She might still be salvageable – if that’s what you decide you want. Either way, she’ll have to go back and be reassessed.”

Not replying, Steve reached over and gently closed Maisie’s eyes.

Then he turned and carefully picked up Bailey. Seeking the dog’s comfort as much as his own.

“I’ll take him,” Steve said firmly. “He’s mine. He always was.”

The engineer hesitated, not looking at Maisie directly.

“Do you want her…decommissioned?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He forced himself to look at Maisie’s broken body – at what she had been and never was. Had she ever really loved him, or had it been a sham? He’d told himself he’d heal eventually. But would it be healing – or hiding?

Softly, so he couldn’t be heard, he whispered, “Are you real? Was any of it?”

Not looking back, he cradled Bailey in his arms, walking away as the depot van’s lights blinked behind him – cold, white, clinical and empty.