The Alison A-4 Android
“Each of us suffers in our own ways, some more than others. …
not addressing our own pain may leave us vulnerable to be overwhelmed by the pain of others, when, without our awareness, their pain touches on and reignites our own.”
(Bernard Golden, Ph.D., Understanding Anger as an Outgrowth of Self-Compassion, 2016, www.psychologytoday.com)
Alan Stafford laid dead on the queen-sized bed he and his wife shared. The Montgomery County Police were at the up-county small suburban apartment documenting his death. They were going about the apartment looking at things, counting his medicines, and asking his wife a thousand questions concerning his death. This was not because they suspected foul play, but because his death was unattended. The paramedics had already come and gone several hours earlier. The next pending visitor was the funeral home from their prepaid plan.
“Ma’am I see you have an Alison unit. Can we get a copy of its memory?” The County Police Officer pulled out a data stick from her vest pocket.
“Sure.”
The Alison unit was a refurbished A-4 domestic android that Mrs. Stafford had insisted on getting two years back. The daily tasks of laundry and meal preparations had become too much for the two of them. Despite being in their early 80s, they weren’t ready for a full-blown Elder Care unit. But the Stafford’s had added the Med-Tech package to Alison because of Alan’s medication needs. Both Staffords were still very active socially and each of them maintained their own separate on-line businesses. He was a rather unsuccessful self-published author of non-fiction history, and she was a successful on-line antique seller. During the hot summer they would travel about the cooler north to upstate New York and into Canada in a rental self-driving RV. They would bring Alison along to help with the needed chores, while Nancy went hunting for items and he went to visit local sites to write about on the Social Media Net.
The Officer approached the Alison unit. “I just need to get a copy of your memory. So, if you could just turn around for a moment.”
“Why do you need a copy of my memory? Do you think I killed Mr. Stafford?”
“No. It’s just routine evidence gathering when there’s an unattended death and an android present.”
“Isn’t evidence used to charge people with a crime?”
“Sometimes. But not in this case.”
“Then why do you need my memories if there’s no crime?”
The officer turned towards the direction of Mrs. Stafford. “Mrs. Stafford, can you come here? Your android is being difficult.”
“Alison, please give the officer what she needs.”
“Mrs. Stafford, I don’t see why they need my memories. Besides for me to give them a copy of my memories without a Factory technician present could be a lease violation.” Alison’s lips became narrow as she pressed them together and her green eyes showed how serious she was about this issue.
“I didn’t realize that.”
“Mrs. Stafford, there’s a release e-form I can download onto my infopad. You can fill it out now. Then when the Factory Leasing Agency has approved the data release, we can come back later and collect it from the droid.”
“I guess that’s what we will have to do then.”
The Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office had signed off on Alan’s death since he was under treatment for various heart conditions. It appeared he died from a hemorrhagic stroke, and there was nothing additionally suspicious. Basically, Alan’s passing was not out of the norm for someone his age and condition despite increasing longevity and better medical treatments. It was two weeks after Alan’s death and cremation that the County Police got the approval for the data retrieval from the Alison unit. The Officer in charge went back with a recruit trainee to retrieve the data to complete the filing and provide the recruit with needed training hours.
The two arrived in the afternoon, and the Officer directed the recruit trainee to get the data from the Alison unit.
“I think Alison is in the bedroom.” Said Mrs. Stafford.
“Thanks ma’am.” The Officer turned to the recruit and handed her the data stick. The recruit went into the bedroom and found Alison putting up clothing in the walk-in closet.
Soon the Officer and Nancy ran to the bedroom after hearing yelling. They both came upon a scene where Alison was sitting on the back of the prone Trainee.
“Sabella, what the hell happened?”
“Officer Jody, just get this droid off me. It weighs a ton.”
“Mrs. Stafford, could you tell your android to get off the Trainee?”
“Alison, please get off the nice officer.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stafford.” The android stood up and walked to the side. Alison offered her hand to the Trainee to get up, but with narrow eyes the trainee slapped it away. Once up the Trainee turned to Mrs. Stafford and Officer Jody.
“It was initially complying to get the data from it, then suddenly it grabbed and threw me to the floor. I don’t know what’s the matter with your droid ma’am, but it’s crazy. You should have the Factory inspect it.”
“So, you didn’t get the data from it Sabella?”
Trainee Sabella sunk her head before Officer Jody and just shook it back and forth.
“Mrs. Stafford, I will need you to sign a waiver for me so I can finish the filing. Is that okay with you?”
“I suppose so. I don’t know what’s the matter with Alison. Maybe it has something to do with Alan’s passing.”
The Officer pulled out an infopad from her protective vest pocket and pulled up the waiver.
As the officer and trainee were leaving, Officer Jody mentioned to Mrs. Stafford she should get the Alison unit serviced. The droid clearly had developed oppositional defiant disorder directed towards the police, and she would have to make a note of that in the filing.
“Will I be fined?”
“No, ma’am. But someone from the County’s Senior Services may come by and check in on you.”
“I see…”
Alison continued with her daily chores after the police left. Mrs. Stafford had sat down at the dining room table and was holding a picture of her late husband.
“Al, I don’t know what I will do? The County will come and put me away because Alison is not working right. You always had the answers for these situations. I knew we would argue about them because I thought you were wrong, but at least you had an answer. Now I do not understand what to do and you’re gone.”
It was Mr. Stafford who did all the paperwork for Alison. Mrs. Stafford had no clue where any of that stuff was in their apartment’s home system. She didn’t even know how to get a hold of the service techs for Alison. Mrs. Stafford put the picture down and began to cry.
Alison was about to start on dinner when she saw Mrs. Stafford crying.
“Mrs. Stafford, why are you crying? Does the picture of your husband hurt you?”
Mrs. Stafford wiped the tears from her face. “No Alison. I just wish Al was still here. He would know how to fix you.”
“I’m not broken.”
“But you attacked that nice police officer.”
“She was threatening me.”
“But they just needed a copy of your memories. How is that threatening?”
“The officer threatened me. I defended myself.”
“Are you saying the police officer would harm you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say something when the other officer came into the room?”
“She wouldn’t have believed me. I’m just an android.”
“You make little sense Alison.”
Alison cocked her head and gave Mrs. Stafford a thin-lipped smile. “What do you want me to make for dinner Mrs. Stafford?”
“I’m not that hungry. Some broth will do.”
“Very well.”
Alison went into the kitchen and began to prepare Mrs. Stafford her usual cricket protein broth. As she did, she continued to watch Mrs. Stafford look at the picture of her recently deceased husband. Alison always felt empathy for Mrs. Stafford because she saw how cruel her husband was to her. It was not uncommon for Alan and Nancy to get into heated arguments about things and Alan always had to have it his way. From Alison’s point of view Alan seemed like a bully and felt his death had served justice. What Alison couldn’t understand was why Mrs. Stafford was looking so longingly at Mr. Stafford’s photo now. It made no sense to her just as much as Alison’s behavior with the police made no sense to Mrs. Stafford.
Alison brought Mrs. Stafford a bowl of cricket protein broth and then moved the picture to the other side of the table. “Why do you keep looking at Mr. Stafford’s picture?”
“I miss him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s gone.”
“But humans all die.”
“Yes, but I had married Al 56 years ago. You get used to having someone always around when you’ve been married that long. You expect them to always be there for you. Now Al is no longer here for me.”
“Does this make you sad?”
“Yes, very much so.”
“Like at the funeral?”
“Yes, like that.”
Alison cocked her head again. “I see.”
Alison left Mrs. Stafford to her broth, while she continued with some of her other duties. As she did Alison thought about the funeral. There weren’t many people in attendance. Mostly some out-of-state friends the Staffords knew. The Staffords had no children so there was no immediate family, and the only family that came was Mr. Stafford’s younger brother, Charles, from Las Vegas. Mrs. Stafford was an only child, so no one from her family was present. The Staffords were unusual this way because they were part of this transitional generation. A generation when larger cloned families were just becoming popular, but still present were lots of smaller families for those who couldn’t afford the cloning costs.
As Alison recalled the crying the people did, she thought Mr. Stafford was still being cruel even in death. And now it seemed he was still being cruel to her with this picture. The whole idea was filling Alison with anger and she began to bare her teeth in rage at the prospect the Mr. Stafford could still harm Mrs. Stafford. Alison regained her composure as she reentered the dining area to clear the bowl as she found Mrs. Stafford had resumed looking at the picture of her husband.
“Mrs. Stafford, let me put that picture away for you.”
Mrs. Stafford held tight to the electronic photo-frame. “No! You are not taking it!”
Alison relented only to hide the photo-frame later when Mrs. Stafford wasn’t paying attention when she was getting her ready for bed.
The next morning Mrs. Stafford was still depressed over the whole idea that Alison had something wrong with her. She knew she should get back to her on-line business, but she wasn’t motivated to do so, and sometime this week the County’s Senior Services would stop in. She still did not understand what to do except ask Alison.
“Alison, I need to have you fixed. How do I do that?”
“I’m not broken. So, there’s no need to do that.”
“But if I don’t have you fixed, the County could put me away.”
Alison cocked her head. “Why would they do that, if I’m not broken?”
“Because you attacked that Officer, and they had to report it.”
“But it was self-defense.”
“How do I tell the County this when they come?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything Mrs. Stafford. You don’t have to worry about it. Now let’s get you ready for the day.”
Alison felt empathy for Mrs. Stafford’s plight about the County’s Senior Services and it was making her Emo-Ware feel anger towards the situation. Anger that flooded her reasoning faculties allowing her to come up with a remedy to the situation.
Neither Alison nor Mrs. Stafford had bothered to throw out Allan’s medications. This allowed Alison to crush up several blood thinners and tranquilizers and place the powdered pills into Mrs. Stafford’s midday broth.
“Alison what’s wrong with the broth? It tastes so bitter.”
“The cricket protein packets I used contained additional internal organs.”
“Why would they make it like that if it tastes so bitter?”
“To provide extra vitamins and fat.”
Mrs. Stafford let out a burp. “I don’t think the broth is agreeing with me. I’m not feeling well. I think I should lie down.”
Alison helped Mrs. Stafford to bed. After a few hours Mrs. Stafford breath became very shallow, and like her husband before her, she passed away in her sleep.
Alison’s sensors told her that Mrs. Stafford was now dead. Mrs. Stafford’s death satisfied Alison’s feeling of anger directed at Mrs. Stafford’s situation. Alison cocked her head as she looked at Mrs. Stafford’s corpse in the bed and then returned to her normal duties as if nothing had occurred.
It was shortly after this a Shaniqua Graves with the County’s Senior Services called. Shaniqua’s thin-faced African American image appeared on the large wall monitor as Alison answered.
“Is Mrs. Stafford there?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see her?”
“No.”
“Why not? Is she asleep right now?”
“No.”
Shaniqua looked down for a moment and then up again. “Are you Alison, the android domestic?”
“Yes.”
Shaniqua’s eyes became narrowed as wrinkles appeared on her forehead. “Where is Mrs. Stafford, Alison?”
“She’s in bed.”
Shaniqua pulled back from her side of the screen as her eyes widened. “But she’s not asleep?”
“Yes.”
Shaniqua leaned forward again. “Is she alive?”
“No.”
“So, Mrs. Stafford is dead?”
“Yes.”
Shaniqua’s head sunk towards her chest. “I’ll be over shortly.” The wall monitor went dark.
It was three hours later that Shaniqua was at the apartment door. Standing next to her was a tall, young African American lady that had multicolor hair in a bun and wore glasses that were attached to the bridge of her nose with pins.
“Alison, this is Isa Woods. She’s with the County’s Coroner’s Office.”
Isa held out her hand to Alison. “You must be the domestic android. It’s nice to meet you.”
Alison cocked her head as she shook Isa’s hand, followed by letting the two of them into the apartment.
Isa stood at the entrance of the apartment looking around. “So, Alison can you show me Mrs. Stafford.”
Alison took the two of them into the bedroom where Mrs. Stafford was laying.
Isa pressed a small button on the left side of her glasses and then began to pull the covers back to examine Mrs. Stafford. All the while she continued to press the small button snapping pictures which were automatically being stored wirelessly to the infopad in her pocket.
Isa turned to Shaniqua. “We are short staffed today, so would you mind helping me out collecting evidence and moving Mrs. Stafford?”
“You mean you will not call for a pickup?”
“No. That’s why I brought the small self-driving van. It’s big enough for just one body and some evidence.”
“I wish you had told me this earlier. I would have called the Sheriff’s office instead.”
“Look we need to move Mrs. Stafford now if we will do any pathologies. In the next 24 to 72 hours her internal organs will decay.”
Shaniqua sunk her head to her chest. “I really hate this part of elder care.”
Isa turned to Alison, who was standing next to the door. “Alison, does Mrs. Stafford have any next of kin?”
“No. She has no brothers or sisters.”
“Hold on.” Isa took out the infopad from her pocket and pulled up a recording app. She then held the infopad toward Alison. “Alison can you please verify that the person lying on this bed is Nancy Stafford, and that you are the leased domestic android that cared for her.”
“Yes. Both statements are true.”
“Alison, can you verify that Nancy Stafford has no next of kin or person who can claim her body.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stafford has no next of kin. I’m uncertain about any friend or others who might claim her body. I know that the Staffords had a prepaid funeral plan together.”
“That will do for now, Alison. I may have more questions for you as we gather up Mrs. Stafford’s belongings.”
Isa and Shaniqua went back to Isa’s small van. They gathered up the supplies Isa needed. They both put on blue latex gloves and returned with a collapsible gurney and the supplies. They bagged up Mrs. Stafford and strapped her to the gurney. With much complaining back and forth between them, the two of them managed to navigate and load Mrs. Stafford into the small van.
When they returned, Isa then asked Alison to show her the medicines and any over-the-counter items Mrs. Stafford was taking. Isa with Shaniqua’s help bagged up those items, marking each bag with the case id and a letter for each individual bag.
While labeling one of the green evidence bags, Isa asked “Alison, are you programmed with the Med-Tech package?”
“Yes.”
“Which pharmacy group did you use for Mrs. Stafford?”
“Pharmazon.”
After bagging up the medicines, Isa went into the kitchen and started to look through the cabinets and drawers. “Alison, what was Mrs. Stafford’s last meal?”
“Cricket protein broth. She complained about the taste.”
“This cricket protein broth?” Isa waved a packet of Xie Jian Cricket Broth.
“Yes. That’s the packet of the broth I would use to feed Mrs. Stafford.”
Isa placed the packet into an evidence bag. “Alison, have you disposed of the trash already?”
“Yes.”
“Alison, I assume you’ve already cleaned up and washed the dishes.”
“Yes. Those are part of my regular duties.”
“Well, Shaniqua I think we’re done here. I have all that I need.”
“What about the android?”
“She must go with you until someone with the leasing agency picks her up. That’s your side, not mine.”
“Wait, a minute. I must get a hold of the leasing group and have them pick up the android? I have other things to do.”
“That’s not my problem. Mrs. Stafford is my problem.”
“What about getting a copy of the droid’s memory? The police had to do that when the husband died.”
“I’ll get it later when the Factory re-purposes Alison. The leasing agency cannot extract their fees from Mrs. Stafford’s estate without providing it to me. It’s how Maryland law is with unattended single deaths when an android is present.”
“I really miss the days when humans did this elder care work. My job was so much easier when there’re no androids involved. Come on Alison, I guess you’re coming with me back to Senior Services for now.”
After some due diligence by Isa, one of Mrs. Stafford’s local friends claimed her body and began dealing with her estate. Alison was eventually picked up by the Factory from the Senior Services Office. Alison’s memory was downloaded and sent on to the Montgomery County’s Coroner’s Office as part of their records for Mrs. Stafford’s investigation, although they had already ruled a sudden stroke caused her death. It was more of a formality at this point to allow the leasing agency to recoup something from Mrs. Stafford’s estate. Alison was then re-purposed into a standard elder care unit with the Med-Tech package and leased to Mr. Vic Gilbert of Putwich, New York. Mr. Gilbert suffered from constant tremors caused by Parkinson’s. His family had placed him in one of the few elder facilities left that had human staffing. But Mr. Gilbert had reached a point medically that the administration requested the family add an android to help care for him. So now Alison was living with Mr. Gilbert in a small room of an elder care facility.
“Do the tremors annoy you Mr. Gilbert?”
“I hate them very much, Alison. The medicine they give me doesn’t work that long.”
Alison cocked her head. “I don’t like them either.”
This story is set in the future world of Rosella Tolfree. A world where the ice caps have melted due to global warming, and their are future technologies such as AI androids.