Выбрать главу

The next day, Jun and I came to work early. We were brimming with excitement over our prank. Together, we walked to the pavilion across the street from the Lilliput factory and stood behind some plants to wait. The square was already filled with elderly. It probably had been since dawn. We watched them as they sipped their tea. All of them seemed to be in slow motion. Jun-chan and I could not stop cracking jokes. We were excited to see what would happen, I guess.

After a few minutes, the big glass doors slid apart—Mr. Nomura and his thing came out of the building.

As usual, Mr. Nomura had his head down and avoided eye contact with everyone in the plaza. Everyone except for his love doll, that is. When he looked at her, his eyes were wide and… certain, in a way that I had never seen before. In any case, Jun and I realized that we could walk right past Mr. Nomura and he would never see us. He refuses to look at real people.

This was going to be even easier than we’d thought.

I nudged Jun, and he handed me the fluke. I heard him stifling giggles as I casually walked across the plaza. Mr. Nomura and his love doll were shuffling along together, hand in hand. I crossed behind them and leaned in. With one smooth gesture, I dropped the fluke into a pocket of her dress. I was close enough to smell the flowery perfume he had rubbed on her.

Gross.

The fluke works on a timer. In about four hours, it will come online and tell that wrinkled old android to come to the factory. Then, Mr. Nomura will have to explain his strange visitor to everyone! Hah, hah, hah.

All morning, Jun-chan and I could hardly focus on our jobs. We kept joking around, imagining how embarrassing it would be for Mr. Nomura to find his “beautiful” bride here at work, on display before dozens and dozens of floor workers.

We knew that he would never live it down. Who knows, we thought. Maybe he will quit his job and finally retire? Leave some work for the rest of the repairmen.

No such luck.

* * *

It happens at noon.

Midway through lunch period, most of the workers are eating from bento boxes at their posts. Drinking mugs of hot soup and chatting quietly. Then, the android stumbles in through the bay doors and onto the factory floor. She is walking shakily along, wearing the same loud red dress as this morning.

Jun and I smile at each other while the floor workers laugh out loud, a little confused. Still eating at his workbench, Mr. Nomura hasn’t yet seen that his love has come to visit him for lunch.

“You’re a genius, Jun-chan,” I say, as the android shuffles to the middle of the factory floor, exactly as programmed.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Jun exclaims. “She’s such an old model. I was sure the fluke would overwrite some key functionality.”

“Watch this,” I say to Jun.

“Come here, robot slut,” I command the doll.

Obediently, she hobbles over to me. I lean down and grab her dress, then yank it up over her head. It is a crazy thing to do. Everyone gasps to see her smooth, skin-colored plastic casing. She is like a doll, not anatomically correct. I wonder if I have gone too far. But I see Jun and then I laugh so hard that my face turns red. Jun and I are doubled over, cackling madly. The android turns in a circle, confused.

Then Mr. Nomura comes scuttling onto the factory floor, bits of rice clinging to his mouth. He looks like a field mouse, with his eyes aimed at the floor and his head down. Mr. Nomura is on a beeline for the parts supply cabinet and he almost makes it past without noticing.

Almost, but not quite.

“Mikiko?” he asks, confusion on his rodent face.

“Your Dutch wife has decided to join us for lunch,” I exclaim. The other floor workers titter. Stunned, Mr. Nomura’s jaw dips up and down like a hungry pelican’s. His small eyes dart back and forth.

I step back as Mr. Nomura rushes over to the creature that he calls Mikiko. We spread out in a circle and keep our distance. Because he is crazy, nobody knows what he will do. None of us wants to be cited for fighting at work.

Mr. Nomura pulls the dress back down, knocking Mikiko’s long graying hair askew. Then, Mr. Nomura turns to face us. But he still lacks the courage to look anyone in the eye. He runs one gnarled hand through his stiff black hair. The words that he says next still haunt me.

“I know that she is a machine,” he says. “But I love her. And she loves me.”

The floor workers giggle again. Jun begins to hum the wedding song. But Mr. Nomura cannot be goaded any further. The little old man’s shoulders slump. Turning, he reaches up to fix Mikiko’s hair, patting it with small, practiced movements. Standing on tiptoes, he reaches over her shoulders and smoothes down the back of her hair.

The android stands perfectly still.

Then, I notice her wide-set eyes move slightly. She focuses on Mr. Nomura’s face, inches from hers. He bobs forward and backward, panting lightly as he strokes her hair down. The oddest thing happens. Her face twists into a grimace, as if she is in pain. She leans forward, pushing her head toward Mr. Nomura’s shoulder.

Then, we watch in disbelief as Mikiko bites off a small piece of Mr. Nomura’s face.

The old man screeches and wrenches himself away from the android. For an instant, there is a small pink spot on Mr. Nomura’s upper cheek, just below his eye. Then, the pink spot wells with blood. A stream of red runs down his face, like tears.

No one says a word or so much as breathes. The surprise of this occurrence is absolute. Now, it is we who do not know how to react.

Mr. Nomura puts a hand to his face, sees the blood smeared on his calloused fingers.

“Why did you do this?” he asks Mikiko, as if she could answer.

The android is silent. Her weak arms reach out for Mr. Nomura. Her manicured, individually articulated fingers slide around his frail neck. He does not resist. Just before her squeezing plastic hands close off his windpipe, Mr. Nomura whimpers again.

“Kiko, my darling,” he says. “Why?”

I do not understand what I see next. The old lady android… grimaces. Her slender fingers are closed on Mr. Nomura’s neck. She squeezes terribly hard, but her face is contorted with emotion. It is amazing, fascinating. Tears leak from her eyes, the tip of her nose is red, and a look of pure anguish distorts her features. She is hurting Mr. Nomura and crying and he does nothing to stop it.

I did not know that androids had tear ducts.

Jun looks at me, aghast.

“Let’s get out of here,” he exclaims.

I grab Jun by his shirt. “What’s happening? Why is she attacking him?”

“Malfunction,” he says. “Maybe the fluke set off another command batch. Triggered some other instructions.”

Then, Jun runs away. I can hear his light footsteps scratch across the cement floor. The other floor workers and I watch in silent disbelief as the weeping android strangles the old man.

It breaks a bone in my hand when I punch the android in the side of her head.

I scream out as the pain lances through my right fist and up my forearm. When they look human, it is easy to forget what lies just underneath the robots’ skin. The blow throws her hair into her face, strings of it sticking to her tears.

But she does not let go of Mr. Nomura’s neck.

I stagger back and glance at my hand. It is already swelling, like a rubber glove full of water. The android is feeble, but she is made of hard metal and plastic.