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Domesticity

When the humans were away, Robbie would stroke the cappuccino maker, and whisper sweet nothings into its grill. He named it Cate.

They were so happy, Robbie and Cate. When she made cappuccino, power surges crossed and recrossed his CPU, till sparks flew from his fingers.

Robbie ordered a tea cosy online, and altered it to fit Cate. He told her she looked svelte in it, but secretly thought the look dowdy.

At first he brought flowers, mechanical toys, new marvels every day. Then it was every other day, every third day, and so on.

Cate knew something was up. Was the fridge flirting? The thermostat exposing itself while Robbie vacuumed? The upstairs terminal groping?

The spark was gone. Robbie stayed out of the kitchen. When he did show, he was formal, reserved. He touched her only to scrub.

Cate found him plugged into a charger, passing a magnet over his forehead in a circular motion. “For you it's all about sex!” she screamed.

She ripped the plug out of the wall; knocked the magnets to the floor. Robbie picked her up and shook her. “Pput mmme ddownn!.”



The humans returned to find the coffee maker on the living-room floor and the robot gone. “Robbie” was never found, and the cappuccino never tasted right again. However, the new robot, “C3Pyay,” was a vast improvement.