Keep The Customer Satisfied

A short fiction by
Bryan Harrison
based on character concepts established in the film
Artificial Intelligence

It was a slow day in the Cybertronics showroom. Christmas decorations hung prematurely from the windows and from showroom displays where blank-faced boys and girls stood frozen, sporting lifeless smiles in various poses of play. The synthesized aroma of Thanksgiving Turkey was still in the air, mixed with the scent of pine and chestnuts roasting on open fires. There were no customers however, to be lured into shopping by the festive decor or hypnotic Christmas muzak that droned from the wall speakers.

Only two salesmen were on the schedule that day. Bret and Anton, young trainees paying their dues by manning the floor when no real business was sure to transpire. They'd parked themselves in an empty cubicle and, using a code Derek had shown them, bypassed the network lock on one of the floor computers. They were now in the realm of Mecha Quest, chasing abandoned robots through a virtual forest, hoping to score enough experience points to make it across the border to the End Of The World where they'd up their characters another level on the quest for sentience.

But the two were broke suddenly from the game by the sound of the door host greeting someone with a warm mechanical salutation. They stood and noticed a small woman clad in a frilly green coat and a dour expression, gazing around the showroom. A small redheaded boy was standing at her side.

"No!" said Anton. "Not her!"

"Not again! Not today!" added Bret.

"Well, are you open or not?" the woman called out. Then she spotted the two reluctant salesmen cowering at the opening of their cubicle. She hitched her oval spectacles up on her noise and headed in their direction, dragging the smiling Mecha boy along.

"I can't take it anymore." Bret whispered as she approached. "Let's called Derek. He can handle her."

"Are you kidding?" whispered Anton. "He's made his quota for the month. He'd only laugh at us… at you I mean! She your customer after all."

"My customer?" Bret almost yelled. "When did she become my customer?"

Anton ignored this question. He had the privileged of rank to protect him. So what if it was only a week more on the floor. It was enough. "Just remember what Derek says," he reminded Bret. "Keep the customer satisfied."

Bret started to respond but was silenced by a loud, "Ahem!"

"Mrs. Durant!" he exclaimed, jumping from his chair, plastering on his required smile.

"Ms Durant!" she corrected him with a snarl. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Yes. Sorry." Bret replied. "I… uh…we didn't know you'd be back so soon!" he said, shooting a quick glance at Anton for assistance.

Anton crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Good to see you again, Ma'am," he said politely. "Unfortunately I'm in the midst of some tedious paperwork," he lied. "But I am sure you remember my assistant Bret. He'll be glad to help you."

The woman screwed up her face at Anton's feigned politeness and then turned her eyes on Bret. She put her hands on her hips. "Of course I'm back," she said with a roll of her eyes. "This boy is simply unacceptable. He's arrogant, ill-mannered, impudent and… foul mouthed!"

"Foul mouthed?" Bret asked incredulously. "But, the 1700s can't even swear. What word did it…"

"And just look at that rude expression!" Ms Durant bellowed, interrupting Bret's inquiry.

Bret eyed the robot boy that she'd taken home the day before. Its expression was almost vacant. It was identical to any other un-imprinted 1700 series, save the coloration, freckles and default smile, which was based on the customers desires. Maybe it was the red hair. "Well, you seemed to like it yesterday, Ms Durant. Maybe if you held on to it for the entire week of the trial period you might find that …"

"Such insolance! Don't presume to tell me my tastes, young man. What I want from you is a model suited to my needs. And this is surely not that."

"And what exactly would this be? Or 'that', I mean to say. That is, 'that' that would be more suited to your tastes … whatever those are?"

Ms Durant's eyes widened. "Speak English why don't you?"

"What are you looking for?" he asked as calmly as possible.

"Well, I'll have to look for it, won't I?" she replied.

"Yes. Yes of course! We only seek to please, Ms Durant. Why don't we take a glance at the 1800 series? They're a tad more expensive, but much more variety in options. Guaranteed to please." He gave the woman a conciliatory smile and then fixed Anton with a quick angry glare before he gestured that she should follow.

They browsed through the David IV series, the latest Jennys and Darlenes. None of them interested the woman and she'd tried most of them before. Bret even suggested, with a wink, that maybe she'd like to take a look at one of the older models, like the newly released Terrance, a late-teen simulator which seemed to be popular with many of the single older woman. But her raised eyebrows made him quickly change the subject.

"And what's this one called?" she asked of a rosy cheeked brunet model.

"Oh, this is the Bobby line," Bret replied impatiently, wondering how many virtual robots were escaping in Mecha Quest at that moment. "Best of the 1800s, really. Behavioral range from 7 to 12 years old, available in all shades, hairstyles and coloration, 10 racial variations all within the legal limits of facial design. Modifiable personality parameters and linguistic capacities, and even variable unpredictability routines that can be initiated and turned off at your disposal; dual layered sentient responders which not only allow for multiple imprinting, but attitude feedback that makes it more responsive to temperament changes in the imprinter." He smiled, hopefully.

Ms Durant seemed to be considering something as she eyed him. "Did you say all that in one breath?" she asked, seemingly impressed.

Bret opened his mouth but didn't have a response. "Tell you what, why don't I just Bobby speak for itself," he suggested, and clicked on the temporary battery. The thing came to life, eyeing them both with a surprised expression, as if it had just woken from a long sleep. Then the program kicked in.

"Hi!" Bobby said, stepping off the platform. "I'm bored! Can I go out and play…" it took a moment to scan his tag, " … Bret?"

"Yeah, why don't you take a walk with Ms Durant?" he said with a dismissive wave.

"OK!" Bobby said happily. Ms Durant grumbled a bit but then hitched her shoulders and took Bobby's hand. She glanced over her shoulder as she led the thing outside for a stroll in the garden. Her expression clearly showed that she'd already decided Bobby wasn't the one. Bret ran for the phone.

"What the hell you calling me for?" The voice on the other end replied, groggily.

"Are you just waking up?" Bret asked.

"It's my day off. Make it quick!"

"Durant is here," Bret explained.

"Durant," Derek repeated. "Now, why does that name sound familiar?"

"Oh, I guess because she's been here about a zillion times. Takes the bots out one day and brings them back the next. They're always too tall, too short, talk too much, talk too little, won't sit still, sits still too much, too smart, too stupid! Ahhhh!"

"Oh yeah, her." Derek said.

"She's out of my league man! What do I do?"

"First off, calm down. You're letting her control the situation. The trick is finding what it is she really wants. Everybody is looking for something and they'll tell you what if you listen."

"I been listening to her for hours and all I can tell is she's freaking insane!"

"Alright, alright. Tell me this then; which one did she hate the most?"

Bret thought. "The red head, I guess."

"OK. And what's her biggest complaint?"

Bret thought a moment more. "Impertinence, talking back. Rudeness! She's obsessed with it. Even claims a 1700 swore at her! C'mon man! You know that's BS!"

"Hmmmm… think I'm getting the picture," Derek said. He hummed as he thought. "OK, I have it! It'll take a little quick programming. You'll have to override a few standard restraints, but it should work. Listen carefully. Take one of the 1800s, a red headed one if can find it, and do exactly what I say."

She was back finally, shaking her head as she walked into the showroom. Bobby waddled along behind her like a stray puppy.

"Here goes," said Bret quickly snapping shut the maintenance port on the back of a bot's neck. Anton, who had helped him rig the little red-headed 1800, took a deep breath and slowly slipped back into the cubicle. "This is on your head," he said.

"Coward," Bret whispered out the side of his mouth and then quickly smiled as Ms Durant stopped before him.

"He's a pest!" she claimed. "He's a little sarcastic smart mouth. Put him back!"

"You know, Ma'am. You're right," Bret said with a sigh. "Little Bobby's obviously not the right model for a person of such discriminating taste and demands as yourself. However, I think I might have found the perfect Mecha child for you. To be honest, I don't know why I didn't think of him before. He's a 'special' model."

Ms Durant hitched up her chin and folded her arms, curious but fully prepared to be displeased once again.

"Let me introduce you to Dennis," Bret said. He put his arms on the little Mecha's shoulders and led him forward. Then he stepped back and crossed his fingers.

Ms Durant pursed her lips, crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. The little freckled Mecha just stared up at her. Unspeaking. Expressionless. "Well" she said, after a few awkward moments had passed. "What's it do?" she asked. Bret cleared his throat nervously. He was about to ask Dennis to say something when the Mecha turned his head and shot Bret an annoyed glare.

"This is her?" the bot asked. "This is the hag you want me to go with? Please tell me you're kidding!"

Ms Durant's expression changed instantly. Her eyes widened until they seemed about to pop from their sockets, her mouth formed into a horrified gape. "Well! I never!" she exclaimed.

"I'm sure you haven't!" replied Dennis quickly. "I mean with a face like that, how could you? And what museum did you rob to get that coat? Take it back quick, before it petrifies!"

"Why you raucous little imp!" she yelled.

"You tiresome old bitch!" said Dennis.

For the first time since she'd walked into the Cybertronics showroom, weeks ago, and had sent every sales person she'd met on a futile quest for the right Mecha child, Ms Durant was unable to speak. Her gaze flickered from the sneering little robot to Bret and then back. Her mouth was opened to express her indignation. But all that that she could manage was "Wha… wha…wha… wha…"

"Step away from the heliport folks," laughed Dennis. "She's ready to take off."

"This is your doing!" the woman said, turning on Bret. He put up his arms innocently and stepped back.

"What? Him?" the Mecha laughed, shooting a disbelieving grin at Bret. "He couldn't program a fart to stink! He's lucky he's working the floor! He should be in the basement, cleaning out the crappers!"

Durant almost laughed at this one, since it wasn't aimed at her, but Dennis apparently noticed her amusement. "What're you laughin' at, Grandma? They only put him up here because they knew you'd be hsowing up again. They hate him just that much!"

"That's it!" she roared. "I know when I am not wanted."

"Then why'd you come back in the first place?" Dennis inquired as she started away.

She stopped and sputtered for a response. She couldn't seem to find one. "You haven't seen the last of me!" she proclaimed indignantly and turned away.

"Yeah? Well, the first of you was gross enough, thank you!" Dennis called as she stormed across the walking garden towards the parking lot. The Mecha turned to Bret and a grimace crossed its face. "Hey, I think she got some of her ugly on ya!"

Bret leaned forward and clicked the thing off. "Well, I guess that's that," he said.

Anton peeked out from behind the cubicle, laughing. "Ooooh, man! That was beautiful! But I think Derek made a bad call this time. She's going to complain for sure."

"Yeah," Bret sighed. "Well, there goes my bonus. Hell. There's goes my job! Maybe there's an opening in the basement, cleaning out the…" He stopped suddenly and stared in disbelief at the figure stomping her way back into the showroom. "On no. Hee we go again."

Ms Durant stood at the counter quietly, her arms crossed, her face red. She seemed to be waiting for an apology. Bret tried to summon up the appropriate words but could only manage a sheepish grin. "Ummm.. Ms Durant. I was just trying to..."

"I'll take him!" she blurted. Bret stood there, mouth agape, waiting for the punchline. But she only yelled, "Well, do you want the sale or not?"

"Yes!" Bret replied quickly. "Yes I do."

"Well get to it then!"

Anton watched, scratching his head in confusion as Bret wrote up the order and slipped a permanent battery into the Mecha's chest cavity. When he turned the thing back on it went immediately into a new tirade. The new mother and son went at each other as Bret completed the transaction, Dennis mocking and snickering and the woman responding with indignant cries of outrage. "How dare you speak like that!" she yelled as she signed off on the extended warranty and grabbed her bag of assesories from the counter. "You are a complete embarrassment!" she complained as she led her misbehaving boy from the showroom and to his new home where he was sure to be on restriction until his behavior improved... which it would surely not. They went on that way even as they left, walking slowly though the garden, stopping occasionally to exchange an insults and futile disciplinary threats.

"The perfect match," whispered Anton.

"Keep the customer satisfied," replied Bret with a shrug.