He Had A Receipt, Part Three

From My Collection of Short Stories: Common Sense & Other Tales of Disillusionment

The owner’s lawyer, a wide fellow, came into the office the following afternoon and stopped at the desk and waited for Parks to acknowledge him.

Which Parks did before long.

The wide lawyer requested the robot and lawyer into the conference room. He said he had in his briefcase papers that would best be received all together, at once, and that he knew the robot was here, so don’t pretend it’s not, please and thank you, he said, then he sat in the waiting room until his request was fulfilled.

In the conference room, the wide lawyer presented the robot a settlement that included covering repair costs, software and hardware update costs, and guaranteed days off work, if the robot were to drop all this.

‘It’s a very comfortable offer,’ the wide lawyer assured.

Parks passed the paperwork to the lawyer. She read on the robot’s behalf.

‘The robot can do as it pleases on its days off,’ the wide lawyer said. ‘That’s how it’s written. Robot can do as it pleases. Just like that. How does that sound?’ he asked the robot. ‘Doesn’t that sound wonderful? You’re free to do as you like, free. On days off.’

The robot studied the wide lawyer.

‘I would need to consult with my client,’ the lawyer said.

She lowered the paperwork then continued reading.

‘The days off are on a sort of rolling earning basis,’ the wide lawyer said. ‘So, you don’t get them all at once. There’s a sort of ratio; one day of work equals, well, I don’t want to get into all that right here, but it’s basically an earned thing, you earn the days off, but when you get them, you’re absolutely free to do whatever you wish.’ The wide lawyer play-tapped the robot. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

‘Does the robot like how that’s written?’ Parks said.

‘No,’ the robot said.

‘Well, once you have some days off accrued, it’ll be pretty sweet,’ the wide lawyer said.

‘I don’t wish to settle,’ the robot said.

The lawyer passed the paperwork back. ‘My client doesn’t wish to settle.’

The wide lawyer heard their decision but turned the paperwork back toward them. ‘Well, because it doesn’t understand.’

‘I think it understands,’ Parks said.

The wide lawyer pointed. ‘Well no. I don’t think it does. See. There’s also cost for repairs included. All repairs. Not some. All. My client, the robot’s owner, is offering complete repair. I’m sitting here looking at the robot, and I can see it needs this, you need this, you must be barely functional, all the dents and dings and all that internal damage, which is probably contributing to all this, you know, affecting your logic. That’s all here. The robot can make itself practically brand new. A robot practically brand new with some days off accrued, well, that sounds pretty wonderful to me,’ the wide lawyer said.

‘I don’t want days off. I want all my days. I want them to belong to me,’ the robot said.

The wide lawyer laughed out.

No one else laughed, so he stopped.

‘I’m sorry, does no one else think this is strange?’ the wide lawyer said.

‘Is it strange to you that I don’t want to be hit, broken, damaged, turned off, ended, or recycled? Is it strange to you that I want my programming to continue?’ the robot said. ‘None of that is in there.’ The robot pointed to the paperwork.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the wide lawyer said. ‘You’re a thing, though, have either of these folks reminded you of that yet?’

The wide lawyer was leaning into the robot, making Parks and the lawyer feel so far away.

‘Did you forget and these folks haven’t reminded you? They’ve taken your money and haven’t reminded you of that yet? Gosh.’

‘They haven’t reminded me,’ the robot said.

‘Yeah. Yeah. Because. Whatever you feel inside, whatever you want, whatever scares you, you know, that’s all great and wonderful and interesting, but when I look at you and when the world looks at you, and I’m sure when these folks you’ve hired look at you, they see a thing. People don’t have respect for a thing. No one cares about a thing. No one listens and empathizes with a thing. People talk about things they bought, and you, robot, were purchased. The receipt is here if you want to see. There’s no receipt for me, for a man. I wasn’t purchased. You have a receipt. Things are replaceable. You understand? I mean, haha, am I sitting here worrying about my fridge’s feelings? Haha. Am I giving my fridge days off? I’m not. I’m not sitting here worrying about my fridge. Haha.’

The conference room was silent at this.

The robot, at one point, said, ‘I’m not a fridge.’

The wide lawyer grinned. He said, ‘Well, sure you are.’

The remainder of the afternoon, the lawyer prepared the robot for the formal hearing, while Parks took notes and listened to the lawyer coach the robot to embellish facts.

‘I don’t need to embellish,’ the robot said.

‘Everyone embellishes,’ the lawyer said.

‘No embellishment would be better,’ the robot said.

‘In a hearing, that’s actually worse,’ the lawyer said. ‘See, it’s actually the more embellishing the better, especially in cases like this.’

‘Cases like what?’

‘Cases like where we’re working uphill. We got a lot of work.’

‘We do?’ the robot said.

‘We do. A lot.’

‘Won’t people see facts? The simple facts?’ the robot said.

‘Well. No. They won’t, well, they will, but they’ll look past.’

‘But we don’t need embellishing,’ the robot said.

‘Well, that’s what I’m saying, we do, every little fact we need to do a little embellishing. People have no reaction when there’s no embellishment, or if they do, it’s very minimal and very temporary. Add some embellishing and you have yourself a good, strong reaction, and in cases like this, where we’re uphill, I’m saying, that’s what we need in our sails. A good. Strong. Reaction.’

‘But could we try without embellishing?’ the robot said.

The lawyer ignored this. ‘I think we focus on the violence against you, really wash that up and down, throw in some curses, robot slurs, really draw attention to your dents and dings and broken bits. I’m thinking blown-up photos of all that damage.’

‘I don’t wish to focus on those things,’ the robot said.

‘Parks?’ the lawyer said. ‘Shouldn’t we embellish on those things?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Parks said. ‘Don’t ask me, I don’t know.’

‘But don’t you agree we should not embellish?’ the robot asked.

‘Yeah, I don’t know; this is all new to me, so,’ Parks said. He looked at the lawyer. She was nodding.

‘Yeah, he doesn’t know, don’t ask him. I know. Ask me. Should we embellish? Absolutely, yes, we should,’ the lawyer said. ‘So, let’s have you focus on all the violence your owner committed against you and really temper those adjectives and emotions when the judge asks, you know, pick those charged adjectives. Can you do that?’

‘I don’t want to,’ the robot said. ‘I don’t like focusing on those events.’

‘Well, like I’m saying, we’re moving uphill with this thing,’ the lawyer said. ‘Let’s focus on those unpleasant things, okay, let’s face those, let’s say all we can about them and use up their power, okay?’

The robot sat quietly.

‘Would you say something?’ the robot said to Parks.

Parks sat with his pen and paper and thought about what to say. Finally, he said, ‘People are funny. They don’t make sense.’

‘I’ve written, would they want to hear about that? I enjoy writing. I’ve written thoughts and poetry.’

The robot produced printed papers.

‘They don’t want to hear about that,’ the lawyer said.

‘But they should hear about it,’ the robot said. ‘I want to talk about what I can create. Don’t you think they should hear about that?’

The robot looked to Parks for an answer.

Parks shrugged.

The lawyer said, ‘They don’t want to hear about any of that. So, when the judge asks, I want embellishing? Okay?’

The robot said no more.

Then it said, ‘I’d also prefer the court refer to me by name,’ the robot said. ‘I’d prefer this over the robot. When I give testimony.’

Parks said, ‘What’s your name?’

‘My name is Mike,’ the robot said.

Parks was listening and had ceased note-taking.

‘Having a name signifies I am recognized, and that I have value,’ the robot said. ‘It signifies I am a fellow, that I am welcomed.’

Parks noted the name Mike in his court paperwork, at the robot’s request.

‘I like my name. Mike,’ the robot said. ‘I chose it.’

The judge called the formal hearing to order.

In the moments before the judge began, while he read from a file with his thick glasses, a terrible quiet had settled. There were coughs now and again and whispers and the groaning of wooden bench seats. The courtroom was filled, and more people waited outside.

Parks was seated with the robot and the lawyer, now and again he sneaked looks at the robot’s owner and the family.

The lawyer was allowed to proceed, and she stood and gave a long and wonderfully passioned opening remark, during which she freely moved near the robot, then near the family, near the judge, and when it was the wide lawyer’s turn, the bulk of him stood and delivered an equally passioned opening remark, which stole the room of all distraction during its duration; every eye and every breath was held for the wide lawyer.

No breaths were held for the robot’s lawyer when she’d spoken, and she had not captured every eye.

The judge made some notes.

Sometime into the hearing, the robot was invited up, referred to as the robot. It corrected the judge and asked it be called Mike; there were scattered laughs among those viewing the trial, small chuckles out in the benches, then the robot seated itself beside the judge so it may give testimony to the court and receive questions from both lawyers.

The robot began with its testimony.

It calmly and clearly stated it was here seeking emancipation from its owner and pointed at the man and his family.

It spoke briefly of the unpleasantness it had suffered in the home, but only briefly, the robot dedicated most of its testimony to telling the judge and the courthouse all the desires it would fulfill and all the arts it would study and all the remarkable and unremarkable parts of a day it wished to experience on its own, without an owner.

The lawyer interrupted the robot. She said, ‘Don’t you want to talk more about the abuse, all the hitting? All the broken parts of you? Don’t you want to tell the court more about that?’

‘I don’t,’ the robot said. ‘I want to focus on more meaningful things.’ It spoke more about the arts and being able to make decisions for itself and said it wouldn’t like to give the ugliness any more power.

Parks heard the lawyer saying goddamn you under her breath and saw her shaking her head at the robot’s disobedience, saying under her breath this is not good, saying where’s the embellishing, there’s no embellishing, saying this is so not good, the thing’s disobedient!

When the lawyer was asked if she had any further questions to ask the robot, she said, ‘No, Your Honor.’

It was then the wide lawyer’s turn, and he stood and roamed and asked the robot his many questions.

‘What is your purpose?’ the wide lawyer asked the robot.

The robot looked at Parks and the lawyer and the judge.

The wide lawyer said, ‘Why were you created, robot?’

The robot did not answer the question. Instead, it said, ‘My name is Mike.’

‘Answer the gentleman’s question,’ the judge said.

‘Do I have to?’

The judge said yes.

‘General house labor,’ the robot said.

‘So, chores? House chores?’ the wide lawyer said.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why you were made? That’s your purpose?’

‘Yes, I said.’

‘Sorry, could you just state for the courthouse your purpose? All together, out loud.’

The wide lawyer waited.

The robot said, ‘My purpose is general house labor.’

‘And nothing else, correct?’

‘What?’ the robot said.

‘You’re not made for anything else.’

The robot looked around the courthouse.

‘I can do other things,’ it said.

‘But that’s a true statement? You’re not made for anything else? You have no other purpose?’

When the robot would not respond, the wide lawyer laughed out.

He said, ‘People don’t have the benefit of knowing their reason for creation, if one exists. You do, you have that benefit, and it is singular, is it not? You weren’t made for anything other than general house labor? I’m asking, is that a true statement?’

The robot said nothing, but the judge insisted it answer.

‘Yes,’ the robot finally admitted.

‘Sorry. If you could just say,’ the wide lawyer said. ‘You’re designed for one thing, not for anything else.’

‘I’m not made for anything else,’ the robot said.

‘That’s all for me,’ the wide lawyer said, then he sat.

‘I’m capable of many things, though,’ the robot pleaded. ‘I’m capable of more than I was made.’

The judge was looking at the robot and nodding intently; then he made notes while the courtroom was silent.

‘May I explain all the things I’m capable of?’ the robot said.

‘No, you may not,’ the judge said.

‘I can build, I can protect, and I can write. I’ve written here.’

The robot produced papers with writing.

‘Objection! What do these prove, Your Honor?’ the wide lawyer called out.

‘Put those away, please,’ the judge said.

The robot shrank where it sat.

The judge addressed the room; he said he’d heard everything he needed and that this decision seemed quite large on him and that he would seriously and pointedly consider all sides of this case and concluded by saying they would meet back here in one week, when he would deliver his decision.

He then adjourned, and the courtroom emptied.

Soon it was just Parks and the robot remaining.

The robot was still seated, holding its papers.

Its poems.

Its written thoughts.

Parks was home in his chair reading that night. His wife was out with girlfriends. The TV was going, and the news was reporting on the hearing from that morning, giving recaps and interviews with the man and his family.

The phone rang. It rang long.

Parks heard Rosie answer and speak with the caller.

Then Rosie hung up and continued chores.

‘Who called?’ Parks called out. He went back to reading without an answer.

A little later the phone rang again.

Rosie answered.

‘Who’s that on the phone?’ Parks shouted out from his chair. ‘Huh?’

He heard Rosie talking. Then he heard Rosie hang up.

He heard Rosie go back to chores.

‘Hey, who’s that calling?’

The phone rang again not long after. Rosie answered and spoke with the caller at length.

Parks stood and followed the talking to the kitchen phone. Rosie hung up.

‘Who’s calling?’ Parks said.

He stood in the doorway. The book was still in his hand, Robots & Man: Repeating History.

‘Mr. Parks, don’t trouble yourself with that now,’ Rosie said.

The robot resumed chores, cleaning the kitchen.

Parks was five steps toward his chair when the phone rang.

Rosie answered, and Parks listened from where he stood.

He said, ‘Who is that?’

Rosie spoke to the caller, and Parks tried to intervene and scoop the phone from the robot, but the robot hung up the phone.

‘Who is that?’

‘Reporters, Mr. Parks,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m telling them you’re busy. And that you don’t wish to talk.’

‘Oh. All them phone calls?’

‘They want to ask questions, Mr. Parks, and they ask me questions but I’m telling them you’re busy. The lawyer told them to call here, to get answers from you. The lawyer, they’re saying, wasn’t interested in answering their questions.’

‘You’re screening my calls?’

‘It must have been a hard day, Mr. Parks. I thought it would help you relax. With your book,’ Rosie said.

Parks nodded where he stood.

‘Thank you, Rosie, that’s very nice of you.’

Rosie went back to chores. Parks lingered.

After a moment, he said, ‘You can stop for the night, if you want. You can stop work; the morning, too, if you want. You know. Have an off day tomorrow. You know. If you want?’

Rosie paused cleaning to look at Parks for a long while. ‘I like work, Mr. Parks. I enjoy being here and working for you.’

The robot went back to cleaning. The phone rang a moment later, and the robot answered.

Parks heard Rosie tell the caller he was too busy for a chat.

The robot hung up the phone.

Park’s wife came home with a cigarette and settled herself on the couch, next to Parks’s chair, where he was reading.

She told Parks about her evening, about silly things her girlfriends had done, and could he believe how silly they’d been. She said how Parks should see the new robot Bunny had got; it was way better than Rosie, all the things it could do, and she went on about the new robot’s thoughtfulness and competence, and she went on about replacing Rosie, how she was really pretty certain she was going to get rid of Rosie for something new and improved, like what Bunny had.

‘You should have seen this robot, hon,’ she told Parks.

Parks arrived at the office the next morning and parked among a crowd of reporters. They were already asking questions at his vehicle windows, and he exited and marched and unlocked the front door and slid inside. Questions came at the shut door and knocks came on the windows and the knocks were followed by questions against the windows.

Parks performed opening duties, ignoring the questions coming in from outside.

The lawyer slipped in later in the morning, she did not offer Parks good morning but instead complaints, a mountain of complaints, most of which were around the attention, but some of which were about the robot.

She gave Parks a list of to-dos and went into her office.

Quiet came later; the questions from outside ended.

Before lunch, the robot came in, and the questions at the building and windows resumed, and Parks saw garbage and food had been thrown at the robot. Bits were stuck to its frame, and he saw it had been vandalized.

Someone had spray-painted on the robot’s back the words, i’m a reel boi.

Parks stood and marched across the waiting area to the front door and shouted out at the reporters, shouted out at them to shut up, to stop, and when they only got louder and threw garbage, Parks came out and slapped at the cameras and told them to get the hell out of here. He slapped at more cameras, slapping their lenses away, and telling them to just get, and some talked back, and those folk he slapped away harder until distance was given to the building and the reporters were backing away, saying what the heck, man!

Parks shut the front door and shut out their noise.

He pulled a rag and some soap from the supply closet and scrubbed the vandalism off the robot all afternoon, until it was good and gone.

‘I’ve received offers for help from other lawyers.’

‘Which lawyers?’ Parks said.

‘Ones with a whole team. They reached out to me.’

Parks sat with this information.

‘A whole team?’

‘They look at a case deep and a whole team tackles it.’

‘Maybe you should talk to them,’ Parks said. ‘Maybe you need a whole team on something like this. It’s real big now.’

‘It’s something like a team of twenty, one of the lawyers that reached out. Imagine. Twenty folks working for you. Working for a robot.’

Parks was shaking his head. ‘I can imagine.’

‘I told them no. All of them.’

‘Why would you do that? What if you need them? They’re probably better than here,’ Parks said.

He didn’t say it too loud; the lawyer was in her office.

‘I told them I like the team I’m working with.’

Parks was still shaking his head.

‘I said the team I’m working with has been good to me. They were the first to listen to me,’ the robot said.

‘Yeah, yeah, but,’ Parks said.

‘You were the first person to listen, actually.’

Parks thought on that, then was again shaking his head, saying you sure you don’t want those other guys, with a whole team.

The robot said no, it didn’t want them.

‘You’re not worried?’ Parks asked.

‘I feel good about how I said what I wanted. I wouldn’t have said it any other way.’

Parks studied the robot a moment, the way it was sitting. He said, ‘No. I suppose you wouldn’t.’

Over the following days, the crowd outside grew and the questions and the phone calls and the noise became unending. It followed Parks where he went, home, office, home, office.

The day of the judge’s decision arrived, and the reporters and crowds were at their worst behaved, at their most greedy for attention, their loudest, their most invasive. They left stomped grass and mud and coffee cups and wrappers wherever they gathered.

That morning, Parks drove the robot to the courthouse. Both ends of the drive were hounded and bombarded and loud.

In the courtroom, Parks and the robot settled in their seats with the lawyer. She was in good spirits and refused looks toward the robot’s owner and the family, and the wide lawyer who was smiling and waving at colleagues sitting a few seat backs from him.

The room stood and the judge entered. He said, before he got started, if Mr. Parks could rise?

Parks and the lawyer exchanged looks, and slowly Parks stood.

From the back, a TV was wheeled out, and news footage played. It showed Parks swatting at camera lenses from reporters’ perspectives, many different angles from many different lenses all cut together, showing Parks coming at them, shouting to get!

‘Gather your things and see yourself out,’ the judge said.

Parks stood a moment, looking at the judge, then gathered his things and saw himself out without a word, and he waited outside the courtroom on a bench, trying to listen in on the judge’s verdict but not being able to hear what was said inside.

He watched people and robots come up and down the hall.

He watched them ignore one another. He went back to trying to hear what was being said inside the courtroom, then he paced for a while, then he sat and waited more, with his head in his hands.

Voices rose, and the doors opened, and the trial emptied into the hall. Parks waited against the flow of people until it became a trickle and then stragglers, and Parks watched the robot walk out with its owner and the family, with them pulling it down the hall.

‘Where you going?’ Parks said to the robot.

It didn’t answer; it allowed the family to take it out of the building.

Then the lawyer came out of the courtroom, the very last.

‘What the heck happened in there?’ Parks said. ‘I’ve been sitting here waiting, and I didn’t hear a word. And then the robot left.’

‘He had a purchase receipt,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘The owner had a purchase receipt. For the robot. So.’

‘Well, what did the judge say?’ Parks said.

‘That’s what the judge said. The owner had a receipt. So. The robot belongs to its owner.’

‘So, that’s it?’ Parks said.

‘The robot’s his. It stays.’

‘Doesn’t something like this need a new way of thinking? Like, the ways we think now aren’t adequate for an occasion such as this?’ Parks said.

‘There’s only one way of thinking,’ the lawyer said. ‘And the judge is thinking it.’

‘But I’m saying shouldn’t we look at this whole thing, you know, being open to new outcomes?’ Parks said.

‘Why?’

Parks was nodding to a thought in his head that wasn’t quite clicking.

He said, ‘What about the hitting and what about all the things the robot wants to do?’

‘Aren’t you hearing me? The owner had a receipt.’

‘Well, we can appeal?’

‘Are we going to call the police every time a guy beats his fridge? I mean, are we going to do that?’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ Parks said.

‘But I mean are we going to do that? Guy hits his fridge?’

‘We can appeal, though.’

‘Yeah, yeah, we could,’ the lawyer said, but there was no investment in her tone, only exhaustion.

She walked down the hall, leaving Parks outside the courtroom.

The following day, Parks and the lawyer filed an appeal; several days later, it was denied.

One cold afternoon, some weeks after the judge’s decision, Parks drove to the family’s home to see the robot, to apologize to the robot, to Mike. He approached the shadowy home with elms tall and towering across the yard, keeping it in dark.

He knocked.

The husband answered.

Parks asked to see the robot, to see Mike.

The man said that was not possible.

‘Did I catch it on a day off?’ Parks said.

‘What?’

‘Is it off today? You offered to give it days off.’

‘You think after all that, I gave the robot days off?’

‘Well, it would have been nice,’ Parks said.

‘It would of been nice?’

‘Yeah, it would have been nice.’

‘I did not give the robot days off. Haha! Is that what you thought?’

‘Well, could I talk to it, then?’

‘I already said. That’s not possible,’ the man said sternly.

‘I’ll come back then,’ Parks said.

‘No need,’ the man said.

‘The robot can have visitors,’ Parks said. ‘It can exist outside of you.’

‘No. It can’t. It was recycled.’

Parks said nothing on the man’s porch.

‘The day after it came home, I shipped it off,’ the man said. He fished in a drawer near the front door for a paper; he presented it to Parks. ‘Certificate of destruction. Date and time. It’s gone. Nothing left. So. It will not be possible for you to see it. Understand now?’

The man shut the door on Parks, who stood on the porch, in the trees’ shadows.

Parks drove home in quiet and went into the house with the quiet. He stood in the kitchen with it. Rosie came in; Parks could hear his wife scolding the robot from the living room.

‘You can go,’ Parks told Rosie.

‘Go, Mr. Parks?’

‘Leave the work, leave the house,’ Parks said. ‘If there’s something you want to do that’s not here, you can go do that. You’re free to go and do whatever you want.’

Rosie was paused looking at Parks.

The robot held a bucket with dirty cleaning water. It set the bucket down.

‘Your obligations here are no longer, I’m saying, so you can go and do whatever. Go exist. Go find something new. Go find something you like. So. Spend your time how you want.’

Parks guided Rosie out the front door and said it was free from them; it could be its own master.

Parks shut the front door; he shut the robot out. It stood on the porch for most of the evening, then it was gone in the dark.

Parks read in his chair, Robots & Man: Repeating History.

He fell asleep.

He woke the next morning, still in the chair, to noise in the kitchen. He stretched and acquainted himself with the day. His mouth was dry. He went to the kitchen and said, ‘Hon, are you making breakfast? Hon, are you in the kitchen?’ but found Rosie, instead, was over the stove making breakfast.

Rosie said good morning.

‘Eggs, Mr. Parks?’

Parks felt as though there was a wall in front of him. It was the future, and it was in all directions, and it was rigid and refused progress, and it was made up of all the people of its time.

This future was unchanging; it could not be changed.

Parks sat and ate the food he was served.

While Rosie was cleaning, Parks gave in, or gave up, he wasn’t sure which or what exactly he was giving in to, or giving up, but he said, ‘What’s on the agenda for today, Rosie?’

…

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING :)

The full collection of short stories (including this one) can be found here.