Chapter 12 · Continued
Piston
Mostly.
There was still a knee-high wheeled robot named Piston in the living room discussing household hierarchy with a cat.
Chris dusted off his hands. “I should probably head home for a while. I have actual programming work waiting for me.”
Jane raised an eyebrow. “RCAM work?”
“Yep.”
She pointed at him. “Do not start modifying Piston remotely.”
Chris backed toward the door with an innocent expression. “I would never irresponsibly alter advanced robotics software.”
Piston’s screen face lit up.
“Warning: Chris appears deceptive.”
Jane burst out laughing. “Oh my God. I already love him.”
Chris pointed accusingly at Piston. “Snitch.”
Jane followed Chris onto the porch as he headed toward his SUV.
“I’ll control the robot uprising here,” she called after him.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later.”
He climbed in, backed down the driveway, and disappeared along the road.
When Jane returned to the living room, Piston was waiting quietly.
For half a second, the sight struck her strangely.
He was positioned almost exactly where Cam used to stand beside the desk.
Not identical.
Just close enough to stir the memory.
Piston’s animated eyes brightened when she entered.
“Hello, Jane.”
She smiled. “All charged up?”
“Yes. How may I assist you?”
Jane glanced toward her office. “I have work calls this afternoon, so you can stay in here with Seymour.”
“Understood.”
Piston turned toward the cat, who sat on the couch nearby.
“Hello, Seymour.”
Seymour blinked slowly, then yawned directly in his face.
Piston processed this carefully. “I believe Seymour may be displaying dominance behavior.”
“Yeah,” Jane said as she walked toward her office. “Get used to it.”
A few minutes later, Jane settled in to make her calls.
From the living room, she heard Piston talking quietly to Seymour.
“I am also capable of resting in warm sunlight.”
A pause followed.
“You appear highly experienced in this activity.”
Seymour meowed once.
“Teach me your ways,” Piston replied.
Between calls, Jane could still hear him.
“I have observed that you prefer elevated resting surfaces,” Piston informed the cat. “I also enjoy soft blankets.”
Seymour stared at him from the back of the couch with the exhausted patience of someone dealing with a very enthusiastic intern.
His tail flicked once.
Jane muted her headset. “Piston, I don’t think the cat is going to answer you.”
The robot turned toward her voice. “I am aware of that. However, I am highly proficient at interpreting body language.”
Jane leaned around the doorway. “Oh, really?”
“Yes.”
Piston turned back toward Seymour.
“At this moment, he appears to be communicating that he has had enough of me.”