We, robots
In this short story, we encounter the sad fate of a person who lives a life disconnected from her desires, with her actions shaped by imaginary rules and what others think of her. Only her memories can pull her out of her apathy.
created by Bing Image Creator
Clara enters the small room, carefully carrying a tray with a cup, small plates, and a selection of cakes for her afternoon tea. Disturbed by the disdainful glances the younger girls in the community room are directing at her, she fumbles and trips over the rug, spilling part of her snack on the floor. Not-so-discreet giggles erupt from the corner of the room. Embarrassed, she picks up the lace napkin from the floor and begins to clean up the mess.
“It’s so hard to live here,” she thinks. It’s been eight years since she broke up with her boyfriend, and because she didn’t have enough money to live on her own, Clara ended up moving into one of these communal housing units for low-income residents that have sprung up all over the city since AI began taking away jobs in her region. But because she’s older than the others and very shy, she never really fit in with the other girls. In recent years, only books have broken the loneliness that fills her days.
After drinking the tea left at the bottom of her cup and picking up the pieces of cake that hadn’t fallen onto the carpet, she finally opens the Asimov book she’d been carrying under her arm. The Laws of Robotics and a tedious description of Dr. Susan Calvin’s early years at the U.S. Robots factory fill the first few pages. Bored, she closes the book with a sigh, not bothering to dog-ear the page where she’d left off. “It’s nothing like I’d imagined.”
Just then, the door to the small room opens and a middle-aged man enters quietly, looking for a place to sit. One of the girls tells her neighbor that he’s an unemployed doctor and that he’ll be staying in the community for a while. The only empty spot in the room was the sofa next to the armchair where Clara was sitting. Not anymore.
Oblivious to the others, he lies down face down, takes his cell phone out of his pocket, and begins scrolling through social media and job listings without showing much enthusiasm. He doesn’t seem to realize that, as he lay down, the warm pants he was wearing had slipped, exposing the upper part of his buttocks. Clara’s gaze automatically falls on that patch of fair skin, free of sunspots or scars. “So beautiful, almost childlike!” she murmurs. The image had brought to mind the sight of her younger brother jumping around the house, repeating with roars of laughter, “Butt crack, butt crack,” while puffing out the air beneath his upper lip, mimicking the pronounced curve of his buttocks.
Suddenly aware of the attention he was drawing, Caio—that was his name—looks at the woman beside him and holds out his hand, making room for her next to him. “What? Nooo!” she replied, turning her palms toward him, her face flushed and her eyes half-closed in a gesture of rejection. He seemed amused by her abrupt change in behavior. “Come on,” he repeated, gently tugging her by the tips of her fingers.
Not knowing what to do to avoid being ridiculed by the other girls, who are watching the scene with interest, she sits down on the couch besides him, her eyes fixed on her hands, now resting safely in her lap. “Nothing like a challenge,” he declares with a laugh, while his eyes assess Clara with moderate interest.
With her attention still focused on the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming her, Clara feels one of the stranger’s hands slide up her back, reach the hollow of her neck, and pull her toward him, as he commands, “Kiss me.” With her face held just a few centimeters from his, and her eyes enchanted like a little bird by the serpent’s gaze, she sees no other way out and gives him a chaste kiss on the mouth.
Caio digs his fingertips into her shoulders and shakes her. His smile remains held back at the corners of his lips, while his gaze stays hypnotic, expressionless. “a french kiss,” he commands, his voice now louder. Then, the tip of her pink, glossy tongue peeks out from between her lips, but she seems to have forgotten how to kiss. It’s been so many years…
The click of the door closing catches her attention, and she realizes that the other girls must have left the room, leaving them alone. Now his tongue and his fingers explore every inch of her skin, and little by little, she begins to return his caresses with greater enthusiasm. With her mind lost in memories of the past, her body rediscovers sensual movements as if by magic, while her mouth moans with pleasure. When her insides begin to tremble uncontrollably, she feels as if a part of her were detached from the scene and watching everything in amazement: an orgasm!
Realizing what’s happening, he pulls away from her, annoyed. “Useless! She’s going to let me down!” Lying face-down on the couch once again, his fingers swiping back and forth across his phone screen in search of job listings, it’s as if nothing had just happened. She then stands up, smooths out her clothes with her hands, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, grabs her tray, and opens the door to the lounge, waiting for the muffled laughter from her roommates that is sure to break out.