Emily's Secret

8. Finally, some stuff is explained

"What are you?" I asked Rob.

Now that I thought about it, someone must have been playing a joke when they named him. It. 'Rob' is short for 'robot.'

"What do you mean?" he asked, all innocently.

"I know you're a robot! Start talking."

Rob laughed. "That's ridiculous. I'm just as human as you are."

"I know you're not. This thing I'm holding is a robot detector, and it says you're a robot."

"There's no such thing as a robot detector," he insisted. "I think we should stop being stupid and start studying for that History exam."

"I think I should call the police and tell them there's a robot in my house."

Rob laughed again. "The police will just think you're a crazy person if you tell them that."

"Then I'll tell them some guy broke into my house, and they'll believe that. They'll figure out the robot part later. And if they don't I'll call the FBI. Or some other government agency. A robot pretending to be a high school student can't be legal."

I took my phone out of my pocket for emphasis.

"Come on," Rob pleaded, "put that down."

"I'm serious. I'm calling 911 right now unless you start talking."

"OK. Please. Don't call anyone. I'll tell you the truth," he said, suddenly more serious than normal for him.

"I'm listening," I said.

"Your right that I'm a robot. I was programmed to protect you. And in order to be able to protect you, I was programmed to become your boyfriend."

"Who programmed you? Why?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's not in my memory. I don't know who programmed me or why they think you're in danger."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?"

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know. Whoever sent me to protect you doesn't want me to know anything. Maybe you know why. Maybe you can tell me. Who do you need protection from?"

"I'm just a high school student," I insisted, "no one is after me besides some jocks from the football team and I don't think anyone cares about that."

But I thought to myself that I do have a secret. My telekinetic superpower. Could there be a connection? I decided to change the subject. "What's with the bad-boy act?" I asked.

"Oh that!" Rob smiled, like he was enjoying himself. But how could he be enjoying himself if he's a robot? "I was programmed to have the same sort of personality and physical attributes as the guys in the romance stories that you read on the internet."

"Those are just stupid books, not real life," I said, utterly embarrassed that the books I thought I was reading in secret have actually been known to a mysterious benefactor who sent me this robot. What else did they know about me? Were there any secrets anymore in the age of computers?

"You were predicted to become my girlfriend in another two days. But the wrench in the works is that we didn't know about your robot detector."

I looked closely at Rob. He looked perfectly human. I had no idea it was possible to make a robot that could pass for human. If there was any flaw, it was that he was too perfect. No real human was that perfect. Not just good looking, but tall and muscular. And if there was a high school boy like that, such a perfect specimen wouldn't be going to my school, and if he were he certainly wouldn't be interested in a girl like me.

I looked down at his crotch and wondered if his private parts worked like a real person's. But then I became repulsed by my own thoughts. After letting Squi have it, earlier today, for being interested in a Cherry 2000 sexbot, it would be totally hypocritical of me to have the same kind of thoughts. I would not let myself become a pervert!

"But you don't really like me at all, it's just a clever computer program." I said, sort of disappointed.

"That's not true!" Rob insisted. "I really do like you. Even though you know I'm a robot, we could still be boyfriend and girlfriend. It would make me very happy."

"You can't be happy. Robots aren't happy. Or sad. They're machines!" Maybe this act could fool one of those dumb pretty girls, but I know how to write computer programs, and I know that computers, and robots which are just computers with arms and legs, only do what you program them to do, and they don't have any feelings.

"You're wrong," said Rob, "I do feel things, and they are just as real to me as your feelings are to you. Didn't one of the great human philosophers say, 'I think, therefore I am?'"

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I suspected that being a computer, he'd have access to massive amounts of information, and he could probably go online and pull anything off of the internet. Arguing with him would be like arguing with Wikipedia. Even though he was just a computer program without any emotions, he was armed with all of that data and he would always be able to make more convincing arguments than me. Robot Rob might even be more infuriating than human Rob.

"Well what do I do with you now?" I asked.

"You could let me be your boyfriend," he said hopefully.

"Absolutely not! There's no way I could have boyfriend who's a robot."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because you're not human." I said. I think it was pretty simple. He was just a computer that looked like a human. You can't have a boyfriend who's a machine, can you?

"You think you're at the bottom of the social hierarchy at your school, but it looks like you're wrong," he said, sounding sad. "It's robots who are truly at the bottom."

"No, that's not what I meant," I insisted. But what exactly did I mean?

"I have an idea," Rob suggested. "Let's drop this conversation for a while and have some fun. We can go to a party."

"A party?" I asked, surprised by this unexpected turn in the conversation.

"Why not?" he asked in return.

"For starters, you have to be invited to a party, and no one ever invites me to parties," I explained. Maybe because he was a robot, he just didn't understand these things.

"I was invited to a party." Rob said, smugly. "It's tonight. We should leave soon."

"How does a ROBOT get invited to a party?" I asked, incredulously.

"That girl Charlotte was who was sitting with me at lunch invited me," he explained.

I pondered the injustice of a robot getting invited to a party while there are human girls like me, who actually need the companionship of other humans, who are never invited to anything.

"Why were you even eating lunch with those girls anyway?" I asked.

"They sat down and wanted to talk with me. What was I supposed to do, tell them to get lost?"

"Absolutely! That's what I would have done."

"Hey," Rob said, as if he suddenly had a brilliant thought. "Do you suppose that attitude is the reason why you don't have more friends?"

Damn it. Rob was definitely more annoying as a robot than he was as a human. "OK," I said, giving in. "I'll go with you to the party."