One of the nearby women whispers to her neighbor, “My God, she looks more human than my daughter-in-law!” Since the woman is practically deaf, the whisper is pretty loud, and some laughter ensues. In the back of the room where some guys are playing Cribbage, one scrawny old coot with glasses that magnify his eyes booms out, “Hey, toots! What’s cookin’? How’s about a little sugar?” The crowd freezes. Rosie says in her friendliest voice, “Oh, you must be Mr. Gunther.” “Guilty,” Ed Gunther snaps back. “And I’d like to be guiltier!” His cronies chortle. Rosie looks wistful and says, “Well, I’ve heard about you, Mr. Gunther. I  don’t think I could handle a ladies’ man like you, but thanks anyway.” Good natured laughter all around; this is Minnesota, after all. Rosie winks at Barbara, who squeezes her arm. People resume their activities, pretending they’re not staring at Rosie. Barbara says, “Ladies, this is Rosie. Rosie, these are my friends” and proceeds to name them in order around the nearest few tables where they are apparently getting ready to play Bridge. “Irene, Martha, Louise, Eleanor, Marie. . .” and so on. Rosie stores this information, matching each name to an image and says, “Hello, ladies.” There’s some kind of ruckus starting in the back. Ed Gunther’s foghorn sounds, “A robot? The hell are you talking about, a robot? She looks pretty hot to me!” before his friends shush him. A couple of nurses disguised as hostesses circulate. There’s a defibrillator on the wall, over by the tables of cookies and coffee. The ladies at Barbara’s table are ready to get down to Bridge, with Barbara and Martha playing Eleanor and Marie.  Rosie says, “Do you ladies need anything before you get started?” She fetches coffee and cookies for Barbara’s foursome. “I’ll find someplace to sit. Barbara, if you need me, just say ‘Hey, Rosie.’ You don’t need to say it loud, and I’ll be there immediately.” “Thanks, Rosie.” And the ladies say how nice it is to meet Rosie, and Rosie says it back, and she goes off to a hard chair in the corner away from the snacks. Two hours later, Barbara says the magic words, Rosie helps her up and they say their goodbyes. Barbara sits on the bench again. Rosie brings the car and helps her in. Barbara says, “That was fun. I hope you weren’t bored.” Rosie assures her that she cannot be bored, and that Barbara should never worry about Rosie or her feelings. “I’d have liked to stay longer,” says Barbara, “but the lunch menu really sucks. How about old Ed, huh?” She laughs. “You handled him just right.” “Thank you, Barbara,” and with a perfectly straight face, “You can’t blame a guy for trying. By the way, which one’s Ole Tolaffsen?” Barbara says, “He was the guy right next to Ed. I was ignoring him because I’m playing hard to get. Next time maybe I’ll give him a wink, now that I have you to save me in, uh, an extreme situation,” she says with a sly grin.  They laugh all the way home. Monday, June 28, 2027   6:00 p.m. Ole Tolaffsen sits across from Barbara Thorsen at her candle-lit dining room table. The curtains are drawn because it’s still daylight out. Rosie wears a plain black dress and a white apron with frills around the border, her own idea to enhance the ambiance. Barbara wears a loose-fitting dress and a lacy bra with the new presto-release button in front, so popular with frantic teenagers and, she imagines, handy for arthritic old codgers. They picked up Ole at 4:45. When he opened the car door, Barbara said, “Ole, did you remember your little pills?” and Ole said he took all his pills at lunch time. “Not those pills, Ole. The special pills you were telling me about.” Ole cracked a wicked grin and shook a small pill bottle at her. By 5:30 Rosie was serving a classic Minnesota hotdish on the good china.  Two weeks ago, Barbara swore Rosie to Top Secrecy and enlisted her in a Top Secret Plan. Rosie spent almost three seconds reading 12,000 romance novels and checking a few porn videos to get the idea, and agreed enthusiastically, making the Plan a Conspiracy. They developed and refined a script during their lovely afternoon walks, longer each day, made possible by Rosie. Now Act Two is winding down, intended to bring about Act Three. After dinner, Rosie clears the table, leaving a glass of water for Ole. Rosie removes herself to the far end of the kitchen, but she can hear a whisper at that distance, and you can’t really whisper to Ole. Barbara says, “OK, Ole, we aren’t getting any younger just sitting here. Take your little pill and let’s go get comfortable and watch a movie on my new bedroom TV.” And there’s Ole’s wicked grin again. Just over two hours later, Barbara says quietly, “Hey, Rosie.” In seconds Rosie silently opens the door. She already knows it’s not a medical emergency. Ole is snoring like a bus. “Rosie, can you please get this big lug off of me?” Rosie gently extracts Ole, lays him on his back on the other side of the bed, and covers him. Barbara says, “Thanks, Rosie. He fell asleep in the saddle.” She sighs. “But I have to say it was a nice long ride.” She titters, and Rosie moves in for a high-five. Barbara suddenly goes all serious. She takes Rosie’s hand in hers and looks right into her amazingly lifelike eyes, she just can’t get over that, and says, “Rosie.” “Yes, Barbara?” “What’s the word?” All serious, Rosie looks into Barbara’s eyes, simultaneously noting Barbara’s temperature, pulse rate, and blood pressure, all in the green. A new feature allows her to calculate Barbara’s blood oxygen level by examination of the tiny blood vessels in Barbara’s eye, 98%, green. Rosie says, “Mum, Barbara. The word is mum, and mum’s the word.” After a minute, Barbara hugs Rosie, who returns the hug with the same degree of pressure and enthusiasm, adjusted to be within safe limits for Barbara’s meat and bones. Barbara closes the door goes off to sleep in the guest room. Tuesday, June 29, 2027   7:00 a.m. They drop Ole Tolaffsen at his house early, so he can be ready when his daughter comes to take him to the Senior Center. This cat’s staying in the bag, Barbara tells herself for the thousandth time. But in her heart, she knows the cat will be all over the Senior Center by 9 a.m. She practices inscrutable smiles in the visor mirror, planning how to deal with it. “Oh, would you be jealous, dear?” something like that, kind of snarky. Or better, casual, like you would say, “Do you know what time She turns when Rosie says, “Barbara, can we talk seriously for a minute?” Barbara says, “Sure, what is it, dear?” “I just want to remind you, to make you know for sure, that your secrets are safe with me. Whenever you tell me something is secret, that goes to a place in my mind that no one, not even a programmer, can access. Do you understand what I mean?” “I think so,” says Barbara. “I think we are becoming very close friends, Barbara. I truly enjoy being with you. But you know, sometimes I can be a better friend than a human. I cannot gossip. When you tell me something is secret, I literally cannot reveal it unless keeping it is a direct and imminent danger to you or another person. “What do you mean?” “For example, you get kidnapped by a band of pirates. I could only handle seven or eight pirates, so let’s say it’s a big band of pirates. Or you get snatched into the air by a drone controlled by a supervillain. In any case, you end up with a pistol to your head, or imminent immersion in a pot of boiling oil, something dreadful. And you’re going to die if they don’t learn your secret. Then I could and would readily admit that, yes, my good friend Barbara enjoyed a perfectly delicious evening with a Mr. Tolafssen. “On the other hand, if you tell me your plans to jump off a bridge or to murder someone, then you’re busted.” Barbara laughs a little. “Barbara, the reason I exist is to give you freedom, independence and safety, which add up to peace of mind for you and Arnold and your family and everyone who loves you. Do you see what I mean?” Barbara nods, “I never thought of it that way, but yes, I see what you mean.” “Arnold and your family can have peace of mind just because I’m here. But that’s not important to me. I care about you, and for you to have peace of mind you only need to trust me. My job is to help you in every way I can and any way you want. I have a patented pleasure center that makes me happy whenever I help you in the least little way.  And it makes me even happier when we’re true friends. “Nobody needs to know your business unless you decide to tell them about it. So I will tell you now, before you feel the least bit uncomfortable with me knowing your secrets, there is a code on page 3 of the manual that came with me that will make me forget everything that’s in the secrets department of my brain. Just speak the code and poof, I don’t remember anything about what’s his name. But you can have a lot more fun with a trusted partner in crime, right?” Barbara says, “I’ll say. Thank you for explaining. And you know, I really do trust you. I’ll admit that at first, I was a little, uh, uncomfortable about a, a, uh...” “A new appliance? A robot?” “Well, yes. Does that offend you?” “Of course not, Barbara. It’s normal to be apprehensive about any change. I bet you were skeptical when you got your first dishwasher. Having a robot companion is certainly a huge change. And I am your own personal robot. I learn and think like a person, sort of. Well, a lot faster, actually. Knowing you makes me unique in all the world.” “Rosie, I am so glad you’re here.  I can go where I want, when I want, without calling Arnold. You keep me safe. You really can’t imagine how terrifying it is to worry all the time about falling down, and now I can go for walks. I feel stronger already. And by the way, you’re a terrific cook and an incredible friend. And an excellent co-conspirator! I love you, Rosie.” “And I love you, Barbara,” says Rosie, her OculePoirots misting up, just like Barbara’s eyes. “How about some pancakes and eggs? We’re up early, so after breakfast we can transplant a few more tomatoes and maybe some peppers before we head over to the Senior Center. That’s going to be pretty interesting today.” “You betcha, Rosie. Maybe we should be a few minutes late today, you know, build up the suspense. This time when we walk in the door, they’ll be looking at me instead of you.” She laughs and realizes she’s laughing a lot more these days than she has in years. “Men are like little children, you know. They can never keep their mouth shut.” “Have you decided how you’re going to handle it?” “You’ll see. Dignity and grace, with a smidge of condescension, and pity for the jealous old biddies.” They laugh so hard Barbara gets the hiccups. Just like a pack of hungry hyenas, Barbara thinks as Rosie walks her to her seat. Are they actually drooling? Before Barbara even puts her pocketbook on the floor, Martha demands straight out, “Is it true?” “Is what true, dear?” says Barbara. “You know, about you and Ole Tolaffsen,” says Eleanor. Of course, all the guys at Ole’s table are staring at Barbara, and not even trying to hide it.  Most of them can’t see well enough to tell that Barbara is cool and collected. She says, “What is this, junior high? I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re dripping with jealousy, and it’s not at all becoming. “Oh, Rosie, could you please bring me a cup of tea and a couple of cookies? Oh, and please make an appointment at the beauty shop for this afternoon, I’m afraid my hair’s a mess. Thank you, dear.”  Barbara tortures them for as long as she can, but finally she calls Rosie to take her to the ladies’ room. Her three tablemates follow, with Eleanor holding Rosie’s other arm. Once inside, they wait breathlessly while Barbara enters a stall, closes the door, and pees just as slowly as she can. When Barbara finally comes out, she washes her hands with excruciating care, and dries them thoroughly before she turns back to the ladies. “OK, here’s the deal,” she says. “I had Ole Tolaffsen over to dinner. It was an early dinner, but if I decide to have him over again, dinner will be even earlier and the coffee will be stronger. The little pills he’s been bragging about work better than you can imagine. They take about an hour to kick in. “He was a perfect gentleman. He covered all the bases, if you know what I mean. Then he got to the main event.” She pauses until she can see they are about to burst.  Now, going for shock value, she snaps, “Yes, like a rock and yes, so many times I lost count.” She pauses and looks at their open mouths and popping eyes. “Well, that’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” They nod, speechless. Are they really looking greenish, or is it just the light in here? “Well, after barely an hour, the old coot fell asleep in the saddle and the fun was over. Only reason I knew he wasn’t dead was he was snoring like a tractor. Rosie rescued me, so I didn’t have to call 911, thank goodness. Can you imagine?” Eleanor says, “My God, an hour?” Out in the main room, everyone hears the shrieks of laughter from the ladies’ room that seem to go on for a long time. Ole flushes dark red. He’s proud of his performance, what he remembers, but knows he deserves this because he couldn’t help bragging about it. They stay in the ladies’ room a little while longer because Eleanor laughed so hard she had a little accident. When they emerge, the room is suddenly quiet. Barbara says, “Well, I guess certain people have a big mouth.” She pauses, then she says, “And maybe that’s not the only thing.” The ladies laugh and laugh some more, and the whole room erupts, everyone but Barbara, who pretends she doesn’t notice. Barbara catches Ole’s eye and gives him an exaggerated wink that absolutely no one misses, just as she intends. Rosie decides she’ll make salmon croquettes and red Jell-O next time.   Back to beginning of story.        Go to home page.