The Early Bird Special by Bob Waterstripe © 2022 All Rights Reserved Bemidji, Minnesota Monday, June 14, 2027  9:30 a.m. Beth Lindstrom parks the electric minivan in the driveway of Mrs. Thorsen’s neat brick house and says, “OK, Rosie, here’s your new home.” Rosie says, “I’m so excited.” Rosie sounds just like a mature female human from Minnesota. Rosie looks like a human, too. Rosie is the latest model of android caretaker companion from Prairie Robotics, headquartered in Eden Prairie, a Minneapolis suburb. Mrs. Thorsen specified Rosie as her name, in honor of the great historians and prophets William Hanna and Joseph Barbera, after the Jetson family’s robot maid. Rosie’s gray-streaked brown human hair is pulled back into a bun. She’s wearing dark blue pants, a long-sleeved white blouse, and sensible shoes. Her ample bosom slopes to blend with her tummy. She looks like a sturdy no- nonsense grandma with a heart of gold. You’d never suspect she can run two miles in knee-deep snow carrying 400 pounds. Her blue eyes, eerily moist and lifelike Swiss OculePoirot 2740’s with dynamic pupils, her most costly components, scan the flower beds and the brick walkway up to the front door as she steps out of the van. Barbara Thorsen is waiting in the living room as her portly sixtyish son Arnold opens the door and lets Beth and Rosie in. Beth says, “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Thorsen, Mr. Thorsen. Please meet Rosie.” Rosie says, “I’m so happy to meet you, Mrs. Thorsen, Mr. Thorsen.” Her warm smile brings little crinkles around her eyes. Barbara says, “Hello, Rosie. I’m so glad you’re here. Please, call me Barbara. Welcome home! This is my son, Arnold.” Arnold says, “Hello, Ms. Lindstrom. And, uh, nice to meet you, Rosie,” being a good sport. He had read the brochures and watched the videos, but Rosie in the pseudo flesh is so natural it’s kind of creepy. He’s glad she doesn’t offer to shake hands. He says he needs to get on down to the office, and to call him if they need him. He’s glad his mother seems to like Rosie. “What a lovely home you have, Barbara,” says Rosie. Scanning the photos on the mantel, she asks, “Are these your beautiful grandchildren?” “Yes, that’s right. Of course, they’re all grown up now. Those three over on the right are my great-grands.” And they’re off!  Beth sits back, relieved. The first few minutes are usually awkward, and she worked hard on the programming to break the ice and make the client comfortable. Rosie has come through like a champ. They sit in the living room for an hour learning Barbara’s life story. Barbara doesn’t ask, but if she did, Rosie’s life story is, “I was powered up at 4 p.m. yesterday and spent last night self-testing my functions.” Beth suggests that Barbara show Rosie around the house, and then Rosie could make some lunch. Rosie says, “That sounds good to me. What do you think, Barbara?” Barbara agrees and starts to get up with a grimace. Rosie says, “Allow me, Barbara,” and holds out her hands. Barbara takes them and Rosie gently helps her to her feet. “Just take my arm, Barbara.”  Beth sees that Barbara doesn’t even notice that Rosie’s skin temperature is the same as a human’s, and that her hands and arms feel human, or rather they don’t feel non-human. Within a minute Barbara is holding Rosie’s arm and walking around like it’s the most natural thing in the world. They tour the three bedrooms, with the small one next to Barbara’s assigned to Rosie. It has a single bed, which Rosie doesn’t need, and a convenient power outlet, which she does. Rosie says it’s perfect, and she’ll be very comfortable here. They tour the two bathrooms. At the second one, Barbara says she needs to stop in there for a minute. Beth tenses because the first time is always uncomfortable. Rosie says, “Let me give you a hand,” and closes the door behind them. Whew! Barbara is chattering away as they come back out a moment later. They tour the dining room and the laundry room, ending the tour in the kitchen. Rosie gently lowers Barbara into a chair at the kitchen table. Beth sits down, too, and Rosie says, “What would you like for lunch, Barbara?” “I usually like some soup and a sandwich, maybe tuna salad?” Barbara says a bit doubtfully. “The grocery delivery came yesterday.” Rosie says, “That sounds good, Barbara. If you’ll allow me a minute, I can get familiar with the kitchen.” Barbara agrees, and Rosie scans the contents of the cabinets, drawers, and the small pantry closet. Just as programmed, she does this as slowly and calmly as a human, though she could have done it in three seconds. “OK, Barbara, we have tomato and chicken noodle soup. Which would you like?” Barbara chooses tomato. Rosie pulls a can of Campbell’s from the pantry and a saucepan from the cabinet below the counter to the right of the sink.