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. “Do you like it mixed with water or milk?” “Well, I like it with two-thirds of a can of milk, Rosie,” says Barbara. “How do you know about that?” “Oh, Barbara, it’s just a little thing. It’s my job to learn to make things just the way you like them. And don’t you be shy! I want to learn every little thing and you’ll never hurt my feelings. Now, for example, how do you like your tuna salad? Do you like a smidge of relish, some green onion, and a little chopped celery? Do you like it kind of soupy or a little bit dry?” “Rosie, you’re reading my mind!” Barbara laughs. “All of that, and not too soupy and not too dry.” “Lettuce and tomato? Toasted?” “Yes and yes.” Rosie gets to work while Beth and Barbara chat. Barbara whispers, “She’s a wonder!” Rosie hears this, and she smiles as her patented pleasure center makes her cheeks turn a bit pink. Ten minutes later, Rosie serves lunch along with glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a plate of saltines. “Here we are. Bon appetit!” Barbara takes a bite of her sandwich, closes her eye and chews slowly. For a moment she looks like she might cry. Beth freezes, but Barbara sighs and smiles. “This just perfect, Rosie! Just perfect! It’s the best tuna sandwich I ever ate.” Beth exhales as quietly as she can. “I’m so glad you like it, Barbara,” Rosie smiles. “You know, I was thinking, those store- bought tomatoes don’t look so great. Maybe we should plant a few heirlooms in the back yard.” When they finish eating, Rosie says, “Why don’t we review your schedule while I clean up?” After a while, Beth suggests that they take a spin in Barbara’s car so she can get comfortable with Rosie’s driving. Beth parks the minivan in the street and Rosie backs the ten- year-old Buick out of the garage. She walks Barbara outside, locks the front door, and escorts her to the car. Beth gets in the back seat. “Buckle up!” says Rosie. “Don’t worry, Barbara, I’ve never gotten a ticket.” She backs the car into the street, and they tour the town, with Barbara pointing out Dr. Duthler’s office, the Senior Center, the beauty parlor, her pharmacy, her church, and the bingo hall. She’s tempted to stop by a couple of her friends’ houses to show off Rosie, but decides they’ll make a bigger splash at the Senior Center tomorrow. Instead, they stop at Arnold’s insurance office. Rosie walks Barbara in, with Beth behind. Barbara says hello to Betty at the front desk and introduces Rosie and Beth. Betty can’t help staring. Arnold seems a bit nervous when he comes out of his office. Barbara hugs him, kisses his cheek, and says, “Thank you, Arnold. I never imagined. . .” then she straightens up, all business. “Now, Arnold, you need to add Rosie to the car insurance. She’s a very good driver, and she’s never had a single ticket.” Back at home, Barbara says, “Beth has a long drive ahead, so let’s get her on her way. We’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we, Rosie?” “Yes, Barbara, we sure are.” Beth takes a bathroom break, and when she comes out, Barbara and Barbara are watching a soap opera. As she sat down, Rosie devoted 0.4 seconds to learn about The Edge of Tomorrow, a popular one-hour daytime drama that has run five days a week for 36 years. Rosie says, “That Doctor Carl is such a cad!” “You don’t know the half of it,” says Barbara. “Why, he cheated on his third wife with a woman who turned out to be his illegitimate daughter!” On her way back north to the Twin Cities, Beth is glowing with relief, pride, and satisfaction. Her programming work involves fine motions and enabling the units to learn new skills such as embroidery, fly-fishing, cooking, playing the banjo or CPR. Getting the Heimlich maneuver just right was a real challenge for a while; no sense saving someone from choking if you crush their ribcage. Rosie is the first delivered unit with the new Prairie Robotics enhanced high-definition facial muscle matrix, and those smile lines and crinkles were Beth’s special touch. The android caretaker industry really took off in late 2021. Since it was impossible ever to make enough of these fancy robots before their essential patents ran out, industry leaders agreed on the best way to get the show on the road. They licensed their technologies and standardized many components and interfaces, like how Industry Standard Architecture enabled the personal computer boom in the 1980s and ‘90s. This encouraged hundreds of manufacturers to produce standardized connectors, actuators, circuit boards, joints, skeleton frames, muscle assemblies, and on and on. Soon, just like in the PC industry, a small business could buy interchangeable components and software to turn out robots for a wide range of applications. Meanwhile the industry grew so fast that a proprietary component such as Prairie’s facial muscle matrix can be produced by a contract manufacturer and sell millions of pieces, earning a fortune for its inventors, even if Prairie itself only delivers a few hundred robots per year. This situation spread well-paying new jobs like wildfire to every town and city in the country. Now it takes only modest capital to assemble a base robot and trick it out with the latest features. Many local entrepreneurs launch their operations with a credit card. Using standardized components, connectors and function modules, a robot sold today can be upgraded easily to keep up with the latest advancements. Besides engineering and manufacturing, each unit requires on-site delivery, client instruction, fine-tuning for unique tasks, service, upgrades, and other forms of valuable and irreplaceable human involvement at the local level. While many robots today are sleek basic machines, efforts to humanize them continue. The early human-like models seem crude and cartoonish compared with the best of today. Prairie Robotics is one of a few who opted to mold their own body suits to make their robots look and act more like ordinary people than like Barbie and Ken. Rosie is a model F48, Prairie’s best seller. Beth thinks of her as the Mrs. Doubtfire model. Next best is the M48, a male of average height with greying temples and eyebrows, a slightly receding hairline, a hint of chest hair and a tummy bordering on a belly. All are available with various skin tones and racial characteristics. Rosie and her male counterpart feature very realistic mouth, lip and tongue motions while speaking, and the new Thompson intra-oral audio transducer further normalizes speech by resonating with the mouth, throat, and nose just like in an actual human, equally well with basso profundo tones or silky soprano ranges, software adjustable. Excellent, but not quite perfect, teeth add to the illusion of life. Beth loves the challenges of her programming work, but especially enjoys delivering units to clients, though once a week is enough for her. Sometimes she brings a customer service rep with her for training. After today her boss will either arrange service for Rosie and Barbara through a local outfit in Bemidji, or hire a couple people for sales, assembly, and service in the area, which has the usual growing percentage of old folks, the prime market for the 48’s. The 48’s also excel at pet care, including feeding, grooming, walking and so on. Prairie spent a lot of time trying to develop those functions three years ago before they were able to buy a great app for twelve bucks a unit. Beth was relieved, as developing the poop-scooping function was getting messy. The personal care robot industry is a prime example of technology serving people. As the population ages, routine home care by humans has become prohibitively expensive and human care providers are in short supply. The economic contribution of the industry is far greater than just the value of the products and the millions of jobs it has spawned. Millions of working-age adults are kept out of the workforce by caring for elderly parents. Following a general Moore’s Law path, every year robots get better and less expensive. With purchase or lease financing, even a higher-end model like Rosie only costs about the same as a same as a Honda e-Civic today. Now stuck-at-home adults are free to work for the cost of a couple of days’ pay per month, causing a surge in economic growth and the General Prosperity Index. The little minivan takes over the driving and Beth can relax on her way home. She calls Chuck at 5:30 to report her ETA and they decide he will have Chinese delivered 20 minutes after her arrival. He can tell she’s happy and she tells him about Barbara and Rosie. Chuck says, “Honey, you just can’t beat a job that’s fun and challenging and really helps people.” She asks about his day, and he tells her about his progress in teaching a robot to shuffle and deal playing cards. He works at home with Charlie, a robot assembly of head, torso, arms and hands. When Charlie works the way he envisions, Chuck will cash out big and they can have a castle on a hill and his-and-hers electric flying cars. “I got past that one problem today. Just wait till you see Charlie deal Texas Hold ‘em now!” “I knew you’d fix it, you’re my genius. And you might want to deal some Minnesota Hold-Me tonight, too. According to my app, this is an excellent time to launch our other project.” Meaning a baby. Tuesday, June 15, 2027 9:40 a.m. Barbara Thorsen can’t wait to walk into the Senior Center with Rosie. “Now don’t be nervous, dear,” she tells Rosie. “Arnold always takes me and walks me in. But I have a feeling you’ll catch the eye of all the fellas. Of course, none of them is under 80, but they like to think they talk a good game. Anyway, don’t be surprised if Ed Gunther offers you a push in the bush. He can’t help being rude, he’s been that way his whole life.” Rosie’s blush response performs perfectly. “Oh, Barbara,” she giggles, “I think that would be pretty funny, but I’ll try not to laugh at him.” “Now steer clear of Ole Tolaffsen, he’s mine!” says Barbara. “He was telling me the other day about some kind of pill, but just my luck he’d probably get two strokes in and then stroke out right on top of me,” says Barbara, and titters like a shy young thing. “Don’t worry, Barbara, I’d save you,” says Rosie, laughing along. Rosie pulls up at the entrance and helps Barbara to the bench at the entrance to the Senior Center. A plaque says that this is the Arne Olaffsen Memorial Bench. “He was 96 when he passed,” Barbara explains, “and he was always telling the gals to sit on his face. So it’s kind of ironic when you think about it.” Rosie says, “Back in a minute” and goes to park the Buick. Barbara strolls into the big room on Rosie’s arm, just as cool and nonchalant as she can be. A hush passes from the front of the room to the back in seconds. Everyone knows that Barbara is getting a robot, though many of them probably forgot. Now all eyes are on Rosie and Barbara, who says, “Folks, this is Rosie, my new bestie and roommate!” 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 and 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 it is?” 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. Go to home page.
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. “Do you like it mixed with water or milk?” “Well, I like it with two-thirds of a can of milk, Rosie,” says Barbara. “How do you know about that?” “Oh, Barbara, it’s just a little thing. It’s my job to learn to make things just the way you like them. And don’t you be shy! I want to learn every little thing and you’ll never hurt my feelings. Now, for example, how do you like your tuna salad? Do you like a smidge of relish, some green onion, and a little chopped celery? Do you like it kind of soupy or a little bit dry?” “Rosie, you’re reading my mind!” Barbara laughs. “All of that, and not too soupy and not too dry.” “Lettuce and tomato? Toasted?” “Yes and yes.” Rosie gets to work while Beth and Barbara chat. Barbara whispers, “She’s a wonder!” Rosie hears this, and she smiles as her patented pleasure center makes her cheeks turn a bit pink. Ten minutes later, Rosie serves lunch along with glasses of fresh-squeezed lemonade and a plate of saltines. “Here we are. Bon appetit!” Barbara takes a bite of her sandwich, closes her eye and chews slowly. For a moment she looks like she might cry. Beth freezes, but Barbara sighs and smiles. “This just perfect, Rosie! Just perfect! It’s the best tuna sandwich I ever ate.” Beth exhales as quietly as she can. “I’m so glad you like it, Barbara,” Rosie smiles. “You know, I was thinking, those store- bought tomatoes don’t look so great. Maybe we should plant a few heirlooms in the back yard.” When they finish eating, Rosie says, “Why don’t we review your schedule while I clean up?” After a while, Beth suggests that they take a spin in Barbara’s car so she can get comfortable with Rosie’s driving. Beth parks the minivan in the street and Rosie backs the ten-year-old Buick out of the garage. She walks Barbara outside, locks the front door, and escorts her to the car. Beth gets in the back seat. “Buckle up!” says Rosie. “Don’t worry, Barbara, I’ve never gotten a ticket.” She backs the car into the street, and they tour the town, with Barbara pointing out Dr. Duthler’s office, the Senior Center, the beauty parlor, her pharmacy, her church, and the bingo hall. She’s tempted to stop by a couple of her friends’ houses to show off Rosie, but decides they’ll make a bigger splash at the Senior Center tomorrow. Instead, they stop at Arnold’s insurance office. Rosie walks Barbara in, with Beth behind. Barbara says hello to Betty at the front desk and introduces Rosie and Beth. Betty can’t help staring. Arnold seems a bit nervous when he comes out of his office. Barbara hugs him, kisses his cheek, and says, “Thank you, Arnold. I never imagined. . .” then she straightens up, all business. “Now, Arnold, you need to add Rosie to the car insurance. She’s a very good driver, and she’s never had a single ticket.” Back at home, Barbara says, “Beth has a long drive ahead, so let’s get her on her way. We’re going to get along just fine, aren’t we, Rosie?” “Yes, Barbara, we sure are.” Beth takes a bathroom break, and when she comes out, Barbara and Barbara are watching a soap opera. As she sat down, Rosie devoted 0.4 seconds to learn about The Edge of Tomorrow, a popular one-hour daytime drama that has run five days a week for 36 years. Rosie says, “That Doctor Carl is such a cad!” “You don’t know the half of it,” says Barbara. “Why, he cheated on his third wife with a woman who turned out to be his illegitimate daughter!” On her way back north to the Twin Cities, Beth is glowing with relief, pride, and satisfaction. Her programming work involves fine motions and enabling the units to learn new skills such as embroidery, fly-fishing, cooking, playing the banjo or CPR. Getting the Heimlich maneuver just right was a real challenge for a while; no sense saving someone from choking if you crush their ribcage. Rosie is the first delivered unit with the new Prairie Robotics enhanced high-definition facial muscle matrix, and those smile lines and crinkles were Beth’s special touch. The android caretaker industry really took off in late 2021. Since it was impossible ever to make enough of these fancy robots before their essential patents ran out, industry leaders agreed on the best way to get the show on the road. They licensed their technologies and standardized many components and interfaces, like how Industry Standard Architecture enabled the personal computer boom in the 1980s and ‘90s. This encouraged hundreds of manufacturers to produce standardized connectors, actuators, circuit boards, joints, skeleton frames, muscle assemblies, and on and on. Soon, just like in the PC industry, a small business could buy interchangeable components and software to turn out robots for a wide range of applications. Meanwhile the industry grew so fast that a proprietary component such as Prairie’s facial muscle matrix can be produced by a contract manufacturer and sell millions of pieces, earning a fortune for its inventors, even if Prairie itself only delivers a few hundred robots per year. This situation spread well-paying new jobs like wildfire to every town and city in the country. Now it takes only modest capital to assemble a base robot and trick it out with the latest features. Many local entrepreneurs launch their operations with a credit card. Using standardized components, connectors and function modules, a robot sold today can be upgraded easily to keep up with the latest advancements. Besides engineering and manufacturing, each unit requires on-site delivery, client instruction, fine-tuning for unique tasks, service, upgrades, and other forms of valuable and irreplaceable human involvement at the local level. While many robots today are sleek basic machines, efforts to humanize them continue. The early human-like models seem crude and cartoonish compared with the best of today. Prairie Robotics is one of a few who opted to mold their own body suits to make their robots look and act more like ordinary people than like Barbie and Ken. Rosie is a model F48, Prairie’s best seller. Beth thinks of her as the Mrs. Doubtfire model. Next best is the M48, a male of average height with greying temples and eyebrows, a slightly receding hairline, a hint of chest hair and a tummy bordering on a belly. All are available with various skin tones and racial characteristics. Rosie and her male counterpart feature very realistic mouth, lip and tongue motions while speaking, and the new Thompson intra-oral audio transducer further normalizes speech by resonating with the mouth, throat, and nose just like in an actual human, equally well with basso profundo tones or silky soprano ranges, software adjustable. Excellent, but not quite perfect, teeth add to the illusion of life. Beth loves the challenges of her programming work, but especially enjoys delivering units to clients, though once a week is enough for her. Sometimes she brings a customer service rep with her for training. After today her boss will either arrange service for Rosie and Barbara through a local outfit in Bemidji, or hire a couple people for sales, assembly, and service in the area, which has the usual growing percentage of old folks, the prime market for the 48’s. The 48’s also excel at pet care, including feeding, grooming, walking and so on. Prairie spent a lot of time trying to develop those functions three years ago before they were able to buy a great app for twelve bucks a unit. Beth was relieved, as developing the poop-scooping function was getting messy. The personal care robot industry is a prime example of technology serving people. As the population ages, routine home care by humans has become prohibitively expensive and human care providers are in short supply. The economic contribution of the industry is far greater than just the value of the products and the millions of jobs it has spawned. Millions of working-age adults are kept out of the workforce by caring for elderly parents. Following a general Moore’s Law path, every year robots get better and less expensive. With purchase or lease financing, even a higher-end model like Rosie only costs about the same as a same as a Honda e-Civic today. Now stuck-at- home adults are free to work for the cost of a couple of days’ pay per month, causing a surge in economic growth and the General Prosperity Index. The little minivan takes over the driving and Beth can relax on her way home. She calls Chuck at 5:30 to report her ETA and they decide he will have Chinese delivered 20 minutes after her arrival. He can tell she’s happy and she tells him about Barbara and Rosie. Chuck says, “Honey, you just can’t beat a job that’s fun and challenging and really helps people.” She asks about his day, and he tells her about his progress in teaching a robot to shuffle and deal playing cards. He works at home with Charlie, a robot assembly of head, torso, arms and hands. When Charlie works the way he envisions, Chuck will cash out big and they can have a castle on a hill and his-and-hers electric flying cars. “I got past that one problem today. Just wait till you see Charlie deal Texas Hold ‘em now!” “I knew you’d fix it, you’re my genius. And you might want to deal some Minnesota Hold- Me tonight, too. According to my app, this is an excellent time to launch our other project.” Meaning a baby. Tuesday, June 15, 2027 9:40 a.m. Barbara Thorsen can’t wait to walk into the Senior Center with Rosie. “Now don’t be nervous, dear,” she tells Rosie. “Arnold always takes me and walks me in. But I have a feeling you’ll catch the eye of all the fellas. Of course, none of them is under 80, but they like to think they talk a good game. Anyway, don’t be surprised if Ed Gunther offers you a push in the bush. He can’t help being rude, he’s been that way his whole life.” Rosie’s blush response performs perfectly. “Oh, Barbara,” she giggles, “I think that would be pretty funny, but I’ll try not to laugh at him.” “Now steer clear of Ole Tolaffsen, he’s mine!” says Barbara. “He was telling me the other day about some kind of pill, but just my luck he’d probably get two strokes in and then stroke out right on top of me,” says Barbara, and titters like a shy young thing. “Don’t worry, Barbara, I’d save you,” says Rosie, laughing along. Rosie pulls up at the entrance and helps Barbara to the bench at the entrance to the Senior Center. A plaque says that this is the Arne Olaffsen Memorial Bench. “He was 96 when he passed,” Barbara explains, “and he was always telling the gals to sit on his face. So it’s kind of ironic when you think about it.” Rosie says, “Back in a minute” and goes to park the Buick. Barbara strolls into the big room on Rosie’s arm, just as cool and nonchalant as she can be. A hush passes from the front of the room to the back in seconds. Everyone knows that Barbara is getting a robot, though many of them probably forgot. Now all eyes are on Rosie and Barbara, who says, “Folks, this is Rosie, my new bestie and roommate!” 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 and 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 it is?” 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.