'What do you mean my account's overdrawn?' Jasper asked.
'You've spent more than you've made,' Robot replied. 'That's how it works, but I'm sure you knew that.'
Robot sat on a bar stool, her head resting in her hand, her elbow resting on the marble kitchen island. Jasper stood at the open refrigerator.
He twisted the cap of a bottle of vitamin-infused water. He drank and sighed.
'What have I bought?'
Robot reached for the computer and spun it around to examine the accounts.
'A train car's worth of pizza sausage,' she said.
'Two drums of coolant,' she continued. 'Credit futures, credit histories, several five-pound flats of medical-grade psilocybin...'
'What kind of coolant?' Jasper interrupted.
'Industrial,' Robot said.
'Why the hell would I want that much coolant?' Jasper said. 'Why is that on my statement?'
Robot didn't reply. Jasper watched her closely. He sensed a lie.
'Robot,' Jasper began.
'Yes, my love.'
'Your friends are my friends. You know this,' Jasper continued.
'Yes, my love.'
'I love your friends. I love loving your friends. I love loving you and I love you loving your friends.'
'I understand, my love,' Robot said, still scanning the computer.
Jasper moved behind her, ran his hands over her shoulders.
'Your friends are you,' Jasper said. 'Your friends are me. Your friends are me and my friends are you.'
'No, that's not right,' Robot said. She did not look up from the computer.
He began massaging the black carbon fiber tendons between her neck and shoulders. Robot responded by tilting her head to one side.
'That feels good,' she said.
He knew it didn't. He knew it couldn't.
But still, Jasper liked giving massages even though he knew his flesh and bone fingers could not withstand her metal, her wood, her carbon fiber. He often needed a massage from her afterward.
This time, however, he sparked her with the pulser that he always wore on a chain around his neck. The pulser emitted a government-approved electromagnetic pulse coded to generate compliance from androids. Pulsers have also been used on micro-chipped criminals.
Robot twitched slightly, but resumed her work on the computer. Jasper continued.
'Your friends stole my money.'
Robot nodded.
'Which one?' he asked.
'Dolly,' she said.
'I knew it,' he said, and turned away from Robot.
Dolly. Robot's best friend.
This unplanned baggage, Jasper did not like at all.
Dolly could not get her act together. Jasper never understood how modern artificial intelligence could fuck up so consistently over such a long period of time.
Dolly started showing up shortly after Robot came to his house. Dolly first arrived in dreadful disrepair, but Robot used her considerable financial resources to fix up her friend. At first, Jasper thought it was cute that Robot had friends. It wasn't uncommon for androids to have friends. Jasper also didn't care much at first, but quickly that changed.
Three months ago, the tension over Dolly erupted in an embarrassing domestic spat. It was a minor dispute, but embarrassing none-the-less.
'Dolly is a slut!' he snapped one evening at a cocktail party.
He and Robot had been entertaining guests on the balcony. He had been drinking since the afternoon.
The light party conversation turned heavy. While everyone agreed that robots sometimes behaved poorly, they were just poor robots. They can't help themselves. Slurs were bad form, even when directed at a promiscuous android.
Robot, graceful as always, beautiful as always, was silent. She did not object.
Dolly was well known among Jasper's colleagues at the office, some of whom were at the party. She had been spotted several times in the many street-level alleys near the tunnels. Jasper had never been to the alleys himself, but from what he understood, he wouldn't have liked them.
From what Jasper could tell, Dolly seemed right at home in that environment. She was a slut.
'Look at her,' he pleaded that night, gesturing, spilling his half glass of pinot grigio. 'She looks like she's overdue for a full overhaul. It's like every device on the streets has been inside her. More than once. She has old trash bags sticking out from her torso. She's a hoarder. She's nasty.'
The awkward evening ended with polite hugs, handshakes, and promises to do it again, but nobody left happy. There were no invitations to other cocktail parties.
Back in the kitchen, on the bar stool, Robot remained silent.
'Why do you let her come around here?' he asked her.
Jasper never understood how an intelligence like Robot possessed could be attracted to something like Dolly. Robot had class. That's what Jasper liked about Robot. But Dolly was a real piece of work, and apparently, Robot liked that kind of thing.
'I've known Dolly for 75 years,' Robot said. 'She saved my life once, and I've saved hers twice. You probably wouldn't understand.'
Jasper grabbed the computer and typed the keys: Contest charges. Androidal fraud.
'You used the pulser on me,' Robot said. She shook her head. She had come to her senses.
'Yes.'
'Why did you need to do that?' she said.
She turned her face to him. 'I was not lying to you.'
'Dolly has been charging against my account. She bought a bunch of shit and now I'm overdrawn. How could you let her do that?'
'Dolly has problems,' Robot said. 'I'm trying to get her help. It won't happen again.'
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