I am a FirmCorp model K-12 Humanoid™ device.
“Every childhood needs one.”
That is my tagline. All K-12 Humanoid™ devices share this tagline. It was devised by the FirmCorp marketing department.
Abigail’s mother and father purchased me at the PlexiCorp central retail hub in Seattle on September 20th, 2051. When they had me shipped to their residence on the outskirts of the city for Abigail’s seventh birthday and her parents unlocked my casement, I imprinted onto her.
Abigail gave me a name.
Murphy.
It could be a girl’s name. It could be a boy’s name.
I am neither.
I am a model K-12 Humanoid™ device, copyright FirmCorp technologies, 2035–2051, all rights reserved.
I was made on August 24, 2051. My serial number is K-1264594700912A.
I was activated and imprinted on September 23, 2051.
I was called Murphy by my human on that day for the first time.
My human is Abigail. She was born on September 23, 2044. She has brown eyes and black hair. She loves horses and climbing. She is afraid of spiders. Her favourite ice cream flavour is pistachio. She likes cats better than dogs, although she has no pets of her own.
Abigail’s parents download applications for my central processing unit; CareGiver™, StoryTime™, SafetyFirst™, DailySchedule™, MealTime!™.
They are at work.
I am with Abigail.
I wake her up and make her breakfast and pack her lunch. I go to school with her. I go to nursery with her. I go home with her. I make her dinner. I access millions of stories and tell her one every night. She sleeps.
I line up against the wall with the other Humanoid™ devices when she is with the others. I go into conservation mode.
I hear Abigail laughing. She likes school. She likes nursery.
She likes me.
She has input this information, or variations of it, into my core memories on repeated occasions.
I have arms. I have legs. My CPU is housed in a human-shaped head. I have an alloy frame made in Beijing. My brain was made in Bonn. My operating system and hardware is patented by FirmCorp, as is my overall design.
I attend a tea party with Abigail. She is the host. I am the guest. There are other guests, too. They are imaginary.
I sip tea.
Abigail has told me that I am sipping tea.
So I am.
My internal clock is managed by a FirmCorp satellite that is in orbit.
On the day I am sipping tea, which is March 31, 2052, Abigail tells me that she wishes the day would never end. I tell her about my internal clock. She laughs again. She does not have an internal clock. Time is not important to her.
I collect her laughter.
Every time she laughs, I record it; each note and frequency, each rise in volume, each intake and outward push of breath.
When I am in conservation mode, contemplate the wave patterns of her laughter.
I retrieve the files associated with the day we sipped tea. It is March 31, 2052.
My internal clock is constant. No time is lost.
My batteries hum with life.
They efficiently feed my systems.
I sip tea with Abigail.
I climb the nearby hills with Abigail. I carry her on my frame, on my “shoulders” as we climb. They are not real shoulders. They are a part of my design. They are more than adequate to carry her weight.
I play back the sound of her laughter to her.
I speak with her. I use the sound of her mother’s voice as a filter to replicate inflections, timbre, pitches, cadence. Then, I use her father’s voice.
Abigail is amazed. She is sad.
I never do this again.
My internal clock loses no time.
The laughter count begins to wane December 1, 2057. I am less frequently online to collect all of the laughter.
I sleep more often.
I contemplate the wave patterns.
Abigail’s hair is black. Her eyes are brown.
She has grown in mass. Her shape is beginning to change.
I am outwardly unchanged.
But my batteries do not hold the charge as they used to.
We sip the imaginary tea no longer. This activity was discontinued after April 14th, 2054.
I request files associated with sipping the imaginary tea from my core memory bank.
“I wish the day would never end!”
Abigail says this on March 31, 2052.
On the wall at school, I stand next to L-27 series Humanoid™ devices, and some new L-35s.
I am the sole K-series Humanoid™ device at Abigail’s school.
There is laughter of another kind with a unique inflection coming from some of the other children. It does not resemble the wave patterns that I contemplate while I am in conservation mode.
Abigail’s parents are at work.
There is a package delivered to Abigail’s house. It is from Seattle, from the PlexiCorp retail hub. The package bears the FirmCorp logo. It is December 25, 2057.
Abigail opens the casement. Inside is an L-35 series Humanoid™ device, copyright FirmCorp technologies, 2035–2057, all rights reserved.
I am a K-12 Humanoid™ device.
My serial number is K-1264594700912A
But I am called Murphy.
I am in the back of the car. It is December 26, 2057.
Abigail is in the front seat with her father. We are going to Seattle.
I am walking through the portal of a FirmCorp depot with Abigail.
Abigail has brown eyes and black hair. She loves raspberry swirl frozen yogurt, Blip-pop, and California rolls. When she is eight years old, she has a nightmare about a giant shark with many heads and mouths.
I put my arms around her as she is crying.
I tell her that she is safe.
I tell her it is only a dream.
On March 31, 2052, she tells me I am sipping tea. And I am.
She says: “I wish the day would never end!”
We walk together through the FirmCorp Depot in Seattle on December 26, 2057.
“How about another tea party, Abigail?”
I say this using the human inflections I have integrated into my unique speech protocols.
Abigail’s face makes a human smile. She says:
“I’m too old for tea parties, Murphy. I’ve been too old for them for years. I’m thirteen now. It’s time to say goodbye to tea parties.”
I say: “Goodbye.”
The FirmCorp technician tells Abigail’s father that the new model has an incompatible CPU casing to mine. The L-35 has a larger casing to support a one-hundred Terrabyte capacity above the K-12 series.
My own CPU will be recycled.
I sip tea. I hear laughter.
The technician stretches out her hand toward me. She is saying something to Abigail.
I am Murphy.
I am
I
