Juliet Bot

By Michael J Browne

A professional man takes on the task of educating a humanoid robot with often hilarious results.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J Browne
• Release date: Jul 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393300816

Book preview

The Warning

It looks like us and it talks like us,

The man-made homo roboticus.

It appears friendly, but we don’t know

Whether it’s friend or whether it’s foe.

That look in the eye, that ready smile,

Don’t be fooled, it’s just technical guile.

The pouts, the sulks, or the loving glance,

That’s just the robot taking a chance,

Hoping it will catch you off your guard,

Allow things that should be always barred.

Machine versus Man. Who has the brains?

Pray that it’s Man; that’s all that remains

To prevent a sad destination,

Man’s robotic elimination.

1

Paul, sitting by the open window of his office, heard the car before he saw it, as it scrunched its way up the shingled driveway towards the house, hidden from view by the trees, until it appeared round the last corner and drew up in the turning area in front of the house, a maroon SUV.  Paul jumped up eagerly and went out to meet the arrivals. The two men who exited from the front seats wore plain white lab coats over black trousers and black shoes. There was nothing to indicate where they had come from.

The driver of the car, a short, round man, early fifties maybe, said, ‘Mr Paul Mansard, is it?’

Paul affirmed that it was, and they shook hands, the man introducing himself as Ben, and his partner as George, who was taller, thinner and more taciturn, merely nodding in answer to Paul’s greeting.

He turned to George and said, ‘Right.’

George went to the back of the vehicle, while Ben opened the rear passenger door and Juliet emerged, her buttocks appearing first, as she clambered awkwardly out of the car. Paul wondered if she had a problem going down steps forward – he’d have to check that out.

Juliet turned and walked up to him, a quiet smile on her face and put out her hand, as they had taught her; Paul gave it a small shake.

‘Well, Juliet,’ he said, smiling in return, ‘here we are.’

‘Yes, here we are, Paul.’

Juliet was wearing a plain white dress that fell to just below her knees, a bright red belt that emphasised her small waist, and red sandals. Paul had not forgotten how beautiful she was, but it struck him again as she stood before him. She was not only a beautiful young woman, but also gave an immediate impression of being just a child, wide-eyed and innocent. Her blond hair fell in a straight cascade to break gently outwards on her shoulders.

Ben had been looking at the house and now commented, ‘You’ve got quite a big place here, Mr Mansard.’

Paul nodded his agreement and said, ‘Yes, it is,’ and added, jokingly, ‘I hope I don’t lose Juliet. And please call me Paul.’

‘We have something to help you find Juliet, wherever she might be. We’ll show you later.’

Paul said, ‘What happens now, Ben?’

‘Okay, we’d like to take a quick look around the house, to see if there is anything that might trouble our friend. Any places we shouldn’t go into? Any dogs to watch out for?’

‘No, everything’s open and the dog’s shut up; help yourself. Anything you want me to do?’

‘Nothing at present, Paul. Why don’t you show Juliet the layout of the house?’

Ben excused himself and went to help George at the back of the SUV take out a trolley on which sat a squat shape that Paul recognised from when it had been demonstrated at the Future Electronics laboratories – a Video Master. Ben, with a multi-pocketed zip-up bag slung over his shoulder watched with Paul as George hauled the trolley with its heavy load up the steps into the house. Ben followed and Paul ushered Juliet in behind him. George was standing by the Video Master where he had left it in the entrance hall, still sitting on its trolley, presumably waiting for Paul to tell him where to put it.

‘Kitchen down there, is it?’ George asked, pointing to the right-hand passageway. Paul confirmed it was, and George disappeared off in that direction. Ben started up the stairs and soon Paul and Juliet were left alone with the Video Master and the shoulder bag. Paul asked Juliet if the bag was hers and she said yes, it was her clothes.

‘Okay, let’s take your case to your room, shall we?’

‘Of course, Paul, whatever you would like.’

Carrying Juliet’s case, Paul led the way past his office and opened the door to the small utility room he had prepared for Juliet, standing back to let Juliet enter first, as had been drummed into him as a boy, ladies first. Juliet did not move, clearly waiting for some signal from Paul.

‘After you, Juliet,’ Paul said, throwing out his right arm as a gesture for her to go in. Without a word or any facial expression, Juliet entered the room and stood just inside, again waiting for the next command. Paul hoped this was not going to be the pattern; it would be hard work having to direct Juliet’s every small action. He hoped Juliet would be more proactive and self-motivating, when she was more familiar with her new surroundings.

Paul waved a hand at the small room and asked Juliet if there was everything she needed. Juliet said it was fine, thank you, Paul.

‘And will you be able to find your way here again by yourself, Juliet?’

‘Of course, Paul, a piece of cake,’ Juliet answered.

Paul couldn’t help smiling at the not-quite-right usage of the idiom. Juliet smiled in response; and Paul thought that Juliet probably thought she had made a joke.

‘Right, Juliet, let’s explore, shall we?’

Paul led Juliet through the different rooms on the ground floor, explaining their use and ended up in the kitchen; It was a lovely old farmhouse type kitchen, with plenty of plain wood cupboards and surfaces, giving it a soft feel. A modern induction stove sat along one wall and a moderate-sized table, again of plain, bleached wood, sat in the middle of the room.

Paul pointed out the various gadgets to Juliet and he was glad to note she seemed to be familiar with most of them; he told Juliet he would take her through their operation in the next day or two.

As they were talking – or, rather, Paul was talking, and Juliet was giving her okay nod - Ben and George came in from the pantry area, which housed the dishwasher and washing machine.

Ben said they had finished, and he gave a short report. ‘The house is generally fine. Just watch out on the narrower stairs up the top of the house, she might stumble on those. And George removed the waste disposal unit in your sink, she could chop her fingers off in that, or catch her clothing in it - which would be catastrophic.’ He paused to see if Paul had any questions.

‘One last thing we must do, Paul, and that’s to put the VM where you want it.’

‘Ah, yes, the Video Master. In the sitting room, please.’

Paul led the way to the sitting room, across the corridor from his office, and the two men wrestled the obviously heavy machine off the trolley. George plugged the VM into a wall socket. ‘It’s nearly fully charged,’ he said, ‘but it won’t hurt to give it a bit more. You okay with the commands and everything?’

Paul said he had been given a demonstration at the laboratory and he felt confident he would be able to operate it. ‘And there’s a manual as well, isn’t there?’

George reached down, opened a side panel on the Video Master and pulled out a slim booklet, which he handed to Paul without comment. Paul thanked him anyway.

Walking back to the hallway, Ben felt in his coat pockets and brought out a small but bulky envelope and a folded document. He gave the two items to Paul, saying, ‘Accessories in the envelope and the document’s an acknowledgement of delivery.’

Paul took them to the dining room, and they sat down. The document, on Future Electronics logo headed paper, stated that one robot, type RZBG-78954/EV, identity stamped J, commonly called Juliet, had been duly received by Mr. Paul Edward Mansard, of Holyoaks Manor, Horton Road, Winbourne, Herefordshire, in good working order, together with all necessary accessories; and would Mr. Mansard please append his signature to confirm the same. Ben produced a pen and Paul signed in good faith.

Ben and George took themselves off, wishing Paul all the best and good luck. Paul hoped the good luck bit was not the harbinger of something unpleasant.

Paul opened the envelope and slid the contents onto the dining table. There were three USB drives, emblazoned with the Future Electronics logo and name; two were simply labelled ‘Data’, while the third was labelled ‘Diagnostics’, which Paul remembered from the Induction course he had attended at Future Electronics, was to be used in the event of an accident to Juliet. There were two flat round tins, one marked ‘Filler’ and the other marked ‘Salve’. The last item was a flat, black box about the size of a mobile phone, with a large red button in the middle on one side. Paul pressed the button experimentally, and a moment later Juliet appeared from the kitchen, where she had remained for lack of instructions to do anything else, and said, ‘I’m here, Paul.’ Okay, a robot finder, Paul realised. He had not heard any sound, so he presumed it to be some sort of doggy whistle gadget, which emitted a sound too high-pitched for human ears. He would have to try it out on Polly, who, he remembered, was still shut up in the barn.

Taking Juliet with him, Paul went round the side of the house to the barn and set Polly free. Polly sniffed Juliet, but showed no further interest in what, to Polly, was just a piece of machinery, and frolicked around Paul, happy to be released from her jail. Paul pressed the button on the robot-finder, watching for any reaction from Polly. Polly cocked her head to one side, which told Paul she had heard the sound, but there was no other reaction; Juliet again said, ‘I’m here, Paul.’ Paul wondered if Juliet would ever vary her answer, if he went on pressing the button; and would she get pissed off, as a human would?

Back in the kitchen, Polly demanded a bit of attention from Paul and he duly stroked her head and told her she was a good girl. When Paul looked up at Juliet, she was standing passively, looking at nothing, as far as Paul could tell; and, Paul felt, she would go on standing there passively until her sensors told her to go and recharge her batteries – and then she’d go back to stand passively for another battery lifetime, and so on, until the world ran out of power.

Paul looked more closely at the two round tins that were part of Juliet’s accessories and discovered a short instruction on use attached to the bottom of each. The ‘Filler’ instructions read, ‘Use to fill a small gouge in the surface material of the robot. Large gouges must be reported to FE. Press the material firmly into the gouge and then use the Salve to smooth.’ The ‘Salve’ instruction read, ‘Use to erase a scratch on the surface material of the robot, or a minor cut. Major incisions must be reported to FE. Rub gently over affected area. Repeat once a day until surface abrasion is gone.’

To complete the geography of the house for her, Paul took Juliet upstairs and showed her the bedrooms and bathrooms and made sure she understood what they were used for; Juliet’s replies were prefaced by the word humans. ‘Humans sleep here’, she said of the bedrooms. ‘Humans wash here’, she said of the bathrooms. Paul told her that his double bed was for two people to sleep in and added that he shared it with his girlfriend, Monica. Juliet showed no interest in the fact, and Paul suspected she had no idea what a man and a woman did in bed together. While in the room, Paul asked Juliet to make the bed, which he had intentionally left unmade; it must have been one of the things she had been trained in at the factory, because she completed the task swiftly and efficiently, and, Paul thought, better than he would have done.

Finally, Paul took Juliet up to the top of the house to the large attic, full of unused pieces of furniture and unloved bric-a-brac and large, ungainly cabin trunks. It was a great place for children to play in, which Paul tried to explain to Juliet, but he was not surprised when she showed no interest; what could a robot know of children and their games?

Coming down from the attic Juliet paused uncertainly at the top of the narrow stairway.

‘Are the stairs a problem for you, Juliet?’

‘There’s no rail for me to hold on to and I feel I might fall.’ Juliet’s voice rose on a note of concern, and Paul realised he had just witnessed a bit of clever Artificial Intelligence at work, modulating the voice to suit the circumstances.

Paul went in front and helped Juliet down step by step; she was like an eighty-year old, Paul thought.

Paul spent the next hour taking Juliet through the operation of the gadgets in the kitchen. By the end, Juliet could perform several useful tasks:  she knew how to operate the coffee machine, including grinding the beans; she knew the right settings on the microwave to warm up different dishes;  she learnt how to load the dishwasher and turn it on; she could hand wash small items and hand dry them; finally she could slice tomatoes and cheese and make a toasted sandwich, which Paul ate, getting Juliet to make him another one while he was busy with the first.

Later in the afternoon Paul walked Juliet round the grounds. It was a large property, three and a half acres in all, with a wood occupying over half of the area and shielding the house from the road. There were lawns, flower beds and an orchard, all of which gave Paul great pleasure. He was not expecting Juliet to take much interest in any of it, but, at the very least, it would be educational for her. Surprisingly, she showed a good knowledge of things growing in the garden – somebody must have bothered to take the robots outside in the Future Electronics gardens and give them a horticultural lesson. Paul pictured the AI program scurrying through its stored images to identify each flower, bush, or tree; and it was impressively fast, there was virtually no hesitation in most of Juliet’s answers to his questions. What was quite surprising, was that someone had programmed a filler ‘um’ into her answers, if she paused before speaking, even if the delay was only a few milliseconds; Juliet replied, ‘um... candle delphiniums’ when identifying them, perhaps because the program had to choose between that and larkspur, and maybe other varieties of delphinium as well. Juliet showed neither pleasure nor displeasure at any of it, her face remaining relaxed, the mouth neither turned up nor pulled down. It became clear to Paul that she would normally wear that neutral look and only smile when addressing him directly face to face, her AI program aiming to give an impression of friendliness.

There were several walkways in the wood, wide enough for two people to walk side by side. On a hot day the wood provided a welcome relief under its leafy canopy. Paul decided to test the robot whistle more thoroughly. He told Juliet to stay in the wood until she heard the whistle, when she must come to him immediately. Juliet said she understood. Paul went and stood behind some bushes at the side of the house. He was screened from the wood, but able to see through the bushes. Polly looked puzzled at this new game but went with him and sat down. Paul pressed the button and waited. Within ten seconds Juliet appeared at the edge of the wood and stopped, looking around for Paul. After two seconds of indecision, she made for the front door, where they had come out earlier. Paul pressed the button again. Juliet stopped abruptly and looked towards the bushes that hid Paul. Not seeing anything, she started towards the door again. Paul pressed the button once more. Juliet again stopped, then turned and walked towards the bushes; when she was close, she said, ‘Here I am, Paul.’ Paul stepped out from behind the bushes and said, ‘Well done, Juliet, that was great.’ He smiled and received Juliet’s lovely smile in return.

Later, Paul heated a quiche in the microwave for his supper, with a ready-made salad, both courtesy of Tesco’s. He showed Juliet where to find plates and cutlery.

After he had eaten, Paul watched BBC News. There was the usual mix: a disaster causing several hundred deaths, a protest march that turned violent after police hit a protester with a riot baton, a president on corruption charges pleading total innocence, a child refused refugee status tear-jerker, a conflict-zone humanitarian crisis, with a skeletal child as the main image. It was depressing, and Paul wondered, not for the first time, how much the daily torrent of nastiness bombarding the senses, impacted on the human psyche, and prompted savage behaviour in some people. Within minutes of it happening, any disaster or catastrophe is thrown onto screens all around the world; and the reporting put the story first and the truth second; they peddled partial truths in dramatic settings.

Juliet had stood silently during the news and gave no indication of having taken it in.

‘Did you understand any of that, Juliet?’

‘No, Paul, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to learn it.’

‘You don’t need to learn it, Juliet, but you should perhaps understand it, at least a bit.’

Paul wondered if Juliet knew what the purpose was of her staying with him and gave her a short exposition on the tutoring sessions he had envisioned and what they were meant to achieve – her enhanced ability to deal with things that happened to her. Juliet said, ‘Good, I like it, Paul.’

Paul stood up and said, ‘Bedtime. You’ll go to your room, right?’

‘Sure, Paul,’ Juliet said, giving her usual gentle smile.

‘I’ll call you when I get up, so just wait there for me to call.’ Paul had no idea if robots had any night-wandering habits and wanted to make sure Juliet stayed put.

‘Sure, Paul,’ Juliet repeated, still smiling.

Paul watched Juliet go into the utility room and then went upstairs to bed. As he undressed and cleaned his teeth, he was aware of a strange feeling of protectiveness towards Juliet. Ridiculous, he told himself, I’m not adopting a child, for God’s sake; this is just a battery-operated mechanical gadget, however super wonderful it might be.

Nonetheless Paul was happy with the way the day had gone and thought positively about the next day, as he settled down to go to sleep.

2

It had all started with Max – Max Trent, his friend and golfing opponent, and a man of mysterious connections. Max could never be drawn on the nature of his work, merely saying he was in a ‘consultancy relationship’ with various government departments, vague and somewhat secretive. When a zoning issue had arisen, a year or so earlier, with the London office, Max had put him in touch with a councillor for the borough in which the office was situated, and the problem magically went away.

So, when Max had told him of a possible opportunity with a company called Future Electronics, Paul took it seriously, although Max had no idea what it might entail. Paul had arranged a meeting with the managing director, Mort Xavier, at the company’s premises, a place that looked like a wealthy man’s country estate. Paul remembered it well.

Xavier was an impressive figure, well over six foot in height, big chested, his large frame topped by a wild bush of greying hair. He wore a check jacket and plain red tie, on top of a pair of fawn trousers, the whole ensemble managing, somehow, to look untidy. His sharp blue eyes appraised Paul as he got up and came around his desk.

‘Mr. Mansard,’ he said, the deep voice rumbling out of his chest. They shook hands.

‘Good of you to come,’ Xavier rumbled on, ‘shall we sit over there?’ pointing to the lounge area. They went over and sat down opposite each other.

‘We are lucky to be able to work in this rural environment,’ Xavier said. ‘You also live and work in the country, do you not?’

‘Yes. I live in the family home and have a profession that gives me the freedom to work from there.’

‘Right. Computer Analyst, trained as a Computer Scientist, worked as a Systems Engineer, started your own business a few years ago. Have I got it right?’ Xavier smiled benignly at Paul.

Xavier had it pretty much right. Paul was a partner in a software development business that he and a friend, Mark Antrobus, had started nine years earlier; they now employed twelve staff, five in the London office and the rest in the Bristol headquarters. When they opened the London office, Paul had opted to run that and had moved to London.

He enjoyed the London life with its rich variety of options for social and recreational activities, but never lost his love of the countryside; so, when his mother was diagnosed with cancer, Paul moved into the family home to help look after her. He could still carry on with his company work, which could be performed remotely without any loss of efficiency. His mother had died two years later and Paul, having got used to the tranquillity of the countryside, had remained.

As Paul confirmed Xavier’s statement, the door opened, and the same pretty young woman who had shown Paul in when he arrived, wheeled in a laden tea trolley.

‘All right, Carol, thank you, we’ll pour I think.’

With cups of freshly filtered coffee in the hands and biscuits offered and refused, Xavier resumed.

‘I’m going to show you a short film and get your opinion on it. I sense you’re impatient to get on to the point of the visit, but, please, bear with me a little longer.’

Xavier picked up a remote from the table in front of him and pressed a button. A large video screen on the wall to Paul’s right illuminated and Paul turned his chair to get a straight-on view.

The film showed a young woman (who looked remarkably like Carol to Paul), who walked into a kitchen and proceeded to make what turned out a little later to be scrambled eggs. There was a mixing bowl on the centre table and to this she added salt, pepper and a little milk, and whisked it all up. She then took butter out of a fridge, put it in a frying pan and heated it on the stove, pouring the mixture in as the butter started to bubble, immediately turning the heat down to cook the eggs slowly, turning the mixture softly all the while. She displayed the smooth yellow result to the camera, a bright smile on her face and said, ‘Voila!’.

Xavier clicked the screen off.