One night, Robot lay awake, listening to the baby cry.
The baby monitor was off, but Robot could hear her, even downstairs in the lab. It was well beyond the point that Shannon should have swooped in and taken care of whatever it was Moza wanted done for her.
He tiptoed up the stairs and peeked into Shannon's bedroom, to find the sheets still tucked in and the pillows still fluffed. She wasn't home yet.
He stood there, in the doorway of her room, curling his fingers around the frame and staring into nothing, as the cries continued on.
An especially sharp cry dragged the reluctant automaton towards the baby's room.
On silent metal tiptoe, he moved down the hall, passed Beautrix's bed chamber, where she slept peacefully. He smiled, briefly, before remembering what waited for him in the nursery next door. He shifted from the left to the right, and into the white painted room with unicorn wallpaper.
The child's sobs seemed to get louder with every inch he moved closer, his footsteps slowing down, the rick of the joints in his ankles becoming longer as he rocked forward on his feet to move closer. It seemed like an an eternity passed before Robot picked the crying infant up and out of her crib, and held her close. He mimicked the human paternal rocking the best he could.
The automaton closed his eyes as the baby was magically lulled to sleep. Never, never ever before until this moment had he appreciated human life like this.
From then on, Robot had no problem when Shannon decided to run some errands in the middle of the day and left him with both of the girls.
Since he had the habit of multitasking, he found himself taking care of the kids while also trying to complete other tasks. On one particular day, Robot was in the middle of drawing out plans for a device that could assist him around the house, while also balancing Moza in his arms. The desk in his lab was covered with blue paper, unused diapers, pens, pacifiers, pencils, a thermometer, screws, bolts, a teething ring, and a bottle. In the middle of what humans would call a "brain storm", Robot found himself putting down Moza's bottle every two minutes to write an additional note on the paper. Then he would pick up the still warm bottle and give it back to the impressively patient baby.
At some point, when he went back to the notes he was filling out, instead of grabbing the pencil, he grabbed the bottle he had just sat down and pressed the nipple to the blue paper, dribbling the milk all over. He paused and pulled it back up to his face, with a surprised look like it was the most alien thing he'd ever seen.
He let out a warm chuckle of defeat, and turned to the inquisitive baby in his wrapped arm. "Alright. Maybe I ought to finish feeding you first?"
The baby made the attempt to crossed her pudgy and stuck out her tongue, which Robot took for understanding. He carried Moza and the bottle upstairs to the nursery, and over to the corner of the room, where stood a rocking chair. He sat down and planted his legs flat on the ground as he kept the baby from burping in the middle of her feeding.
Watching her eyes grow heavy, Robot slid on light feet to the crib and rested her on the mattress inside. Above her head, he started the mobile—planets and stars, very typical of what a mobile would have. And a single spaceship on the outer rum, encircling the plastic meteors in an endless loop. Television and movies had promised that people would see these things by the turn of the new millennium, but as the clock struck another year closer to the deadline, it occurred to Robot that the humans nor robots would most definitely not have such technology among them soon. Sentient robots was one thing, but astro-imperialism was another. Perhaps Robot would never see it by his due date, but Moza would, surely. Even if it took her whole life. Or maybe just another ten years.
Robot thought about what else the child might see in her lifetime. "Oh, Moza unit," he said, pulling a strand of her long brown bangs away from her eyes, "What does the future hold for you? Will you live to see a time when robots and humans live side by side in harmony?"
He wanted more than that, and his heart knew it. He wondered about inter-species relationships. Would such a day come when he could claim Moza as his adoptee without humans and robots both grabbing torches?
A sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped away from the crib. No matter how much time Robot spent with her, no matter how much contact they had, no matter how much Robot loved her, and even in the off-shot that someday Moza would come to return his love, she would never be his child. She would never be his to call his own. She would never be anything to him but the daughter of his love, the one who kept him safe, and he nothing to her but his mother's servant, if he continued to work for her years down the road.
He thought the pain would be similar to that of when he realized Shannon would never truly love him the way that he loved her, but it was quite different. It was less hopeful, perhaps because it was his second time around, more bitter.
A few days later, Robot found Moza and Beautrix sat in front of the television, while it was playing some children's show that was putting forth a very lazy effort at being 'educational.'
"And who does Willy Worm love most in the whole world?" asked the faceless female narrator to the audience, in the standard, obnoxious kid-friendly tone. "Yes! Mommy Wormy!"
"Mama!" chimed the smaller green worm puppet in a baseball cap, giving the larger, darker green mother worm puppet an arm-less hug by leaning close to her.
"And who's that, inching his way to us? Right! Daddy Wormy!"
"Dada!" chimed the worm in his high pitched voice, giving the dad-worm puppet with a ridiculous colored tie a 'hug.'
"Willy Worm loves his Mommy Worm and Daddy Worm most in the entire world!" said the narrator, just before the screen cut to black.
Robot had shut the TV off with the remote. "Come on you two, we need to pick up Shannon from work." He set down the remote and picked up Moza in both arms. "Come on, Trixie."
"Coming, dad unit," Beautrix said, standing up and smoothing her dress.
Later, hours after the children were put to bed, Robot once again heard Moza's cries for attention from downstairs. He went up and crossed Shannon's bedroom, seeing a wrinkled eyed, exhausted Shannon toss under the covers of her bed as he passed. If this were a few months ago, Robot would feel it necessary to wake Shannon up and make her tend to the baby. But now things were different, and with much time spent with the baby, he had no hesitation to take care of the situation himself.
By the time he got to the nursery, Moza's cries had softened to a dry coughing. Knowing immediately what was bothering her, Robot picked her up and patted her on the back until she burped. After that, the only noise Moza made was cooing. "Da..."
Robot loved spending time with Beautrix, but his daughter was so self-maintaining and so obedient that it made things a tad boring, sometimes. All she needed were cans of oil every couple of hours, an occasional system check, and a short bedtime story every night, upon request. On the flip side, if Moza did anything, it was keep Robot busy. But it wasn't a stressful busy necessarily. It was different from the work he was used to, because Robot could actually see the effects of his work right before his eyes. It was a kind of work that felt like it contributed to his own mental health staying stable. As the stress of the war loomed over the outside world, he had one thing to worry about most of all: the care and keeping of this human child.
Robot smiled, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the embrace between him and the human child.
".. da..." she said again.
This time, Robot's eyes widened. He pulled Moza away and looked into the smiling girl's eyes.
"Da. Da-da."
His heart dropped into his tank.
She's not your child, Robot, said that horrible, nagging voice of truth.She's not even your species. She's that of another man.
Then, what am I doing?
How could something so logically wrong feel so correct? So right? He knew the bond that he felt with the child. He had already spent so much time with her.
But it was only when the bond appeared to have become mutual that Robot realized things had gotten far out of control. She wasn't just practicing her speech, she was trying to communicate something to him that should never be said between a robot and human-that should never be felt between a robot and human. He pried the girl from his chest and focused his large pupils at hers. "No, Moza... you are mistaken."
And he went to set her back down into the crib, and she said it again. That phrase that made it feel like world around him and everything he knew was an illusion that was rapidly shattering. "Da?"
"No, Moza," he said again. This time his voice was broken and shaky. "Moza stop-"
"Da!" said the child again, reaching her arm above the top of of the bars-Gosh, she was getting big. No. I should not be noticing this. I should not be caring about this. I should not have been here to watch her grow like this. This is wrong!
He knew the typical consequences of putting her back down in the crib before she was sleepy, but what he didn't predict was reaching the door and hearing her sob. He turned back briefly and saw the girl as warm tears ran down her chubby cheeks, looking completely heartbroken. Realizing his mistake, he turned away quickly, shut the door behind himself calmly, and stood there, waiting for her to stop. He somehow lost track of time and before he registered that she had stopped, Robot felt the need to wipe his own eyes on his sleeve.
By letting her cry, he was doing her a favor. It wasn't right to teach Moza that she had a true father in Robot when she really didn't. Emotions had fooled him into believing he was doing the right thing, but there was no running from it now. No, Moza would have to learn that Robot was not 'da', but Robot.
Just 'Robot.'
Originally Published January 7th, 2018
Author's Note from the Story:
This is a pretty old one so the writing is not as good as some of my newer stuff, but still worth posting.
Whatever Happened to Robot Jones? © Greg Miller & Cartoon Network
