One Hundred Lindas
Originally published 11 June 2004 at Backwash.com
A bright, sunny perfect day for a sporting event unfolded for the twenty or so families in the stands. The slight westerly wind made extra work for the young right-fielder, but he was catching everything that was hit to him. The small field had but two sets of bleachers, and families on both sides seemed to intermingle without competitive strife. Fathers stood and cheered at a home run, mothers clapped politely at each run hit in.
A new young man approached from the main house, his own set of caretakers close behind.
"John, this is a perfect opportunity for you to meet some of the other children. The ballgame is nearly over, and everyone is there," offered the mother-figure. The sullen lad glanced up without any sign of interest, but he adjusted his direction more towards the baseball diamond.
John watched the group of co-ed kids scramble at playing baseball, some as young as 10 or 11, with a few high-schoolers thrown in. They all seemed to be having fun, and John relaxed a bit.
He scanned the bleachers, studying the parents. Each couple was smartly and cleanly dressed, in bright colors, with a subtle pattern that seemed to help match up which parents were a couple.
John glanced up at the woman standing behind him, then back at the crowd.
Then he studied the man who followed with him, then the men in the stands, the man behind the plate, the men in the dugouts…
"How will I tell you apart, again?" he asked the cookie-cutter female.
"You will recognize our colors and styles – look, we're blue and yellow, and you had indicated a preference for the 1980s fashion style. Our faces were modeled to look the same so that you feel comfortable talking to any one of us, so you will be happier here."
"We had a droid butler," John asked, not turning around, "he kept crashing, needed new parts all the time. Never had a parent that crashed before…."
John's foster father stepped close and placed a hand on John's shoulder. It did feel nicer to John than most other droids he'd been around, but it still had an odd spongy feel. "We're well maintained, you'll completely forget about it.
You are here to relax, to readjust from the pain you've had lately. We're here to take care of you, not cause problems."
The right fielder caught the fly ball, threw it to first, and the first baseman chucked it to second. The game was over, and several Lindas had juice and cookies ready for the tired players.
John ate his dinner quietly, his android foster family mimicking the eating process flawlessly. He opened up a bit during family television time, trading jokes with his Linda while Harold sat to the side laughing politely. John forgot completely about how strange everything looked: the blue and yellow couch, blue and yellow car, blue and yellow dishes…
Kirk, Scotty, and Spock had walked down the hill together, out of frame, but after the commercial Kirk was shown walking back up, phaser in hand. "Finished off those two, " John quipped, "now where's McCoy?!?" Linda's laughter was much less mechanical than Harold, and she was just as quick as John: "Dammit Jim," she said, making her voice gravelly, "I'm a doctor, not target practice!"
Linda checked in on John, in his yellow terrycloth robe, brushing his teeth with a fresh, new, blue toothbrush. "Time for bed, now, and I'll bet you're tired."
John spit, then turned, "You sure you're a robot?"
"Completely," she replied.
"They sure make you nice here," he replied. "suppose so that we don't run away or nothing."
John finished, rinsed his brush, and deliberately bumped into Linda on his way out. Spongy, inflexible, vibrating slightly; yes, she was a droid, nothing more.
- - - - -
Linda and Harold sat across from the real Linda and Harold. Human Linda stood, while Human Harold sat behind the desk. A cursory resemblance made them easily known to be modeled after each other, but when placed side by side the difference was unmistakable. The droids were younger, smoother, and much more attentive. Human Harold and Linda seemed tired, dark, unsure of themselves. Droid Linda worried for them, and hoped she wasn't the cause of her human manager's sadness.
"John is the third consecutive ward you've had run away," H Linda asked. "What is your analysis?"
Droid Harold spoke. "I am unsure; he seemed comfortable, and bonded to Linda much faster than I."
H Linda continued, "John was probably the least likely to desert than your past few, but he still felt the need to leave. Of all the run-offs in the past year, half have been yours. Now, I know we rotate children through your household faster than others, but that is because you are the best – why has that changed?"
Droid Linda spoke. "I have adapted to accommodate a much closer emotional tie with the children. It seemed to be a great benefit at first, and the children seem to be even closer to me now than ever before, after a very short time. I do not know why I keep trying, it seems to have no benefit."
H Harold's head snapped directly towards D Linda. "What did you say?"
"My adaptation seems to have no benefit."
"No. Before that."
"The children seem to be even closer than…"
H Harold lifted a hand, and D Linda stopped. Several seconds of silence proceeded, and then H Harold dismissed the two androids with a curt, "Never mind, thank you. You may go."
Droid Harold and Linda returned to their home, changed clothes, and reported to the main hall to meet their new ward.
Harold passed into the room first, pausing slightly to download the pertinent information about this new child. Linda followed suit, and she began to smile. It had been ages since she had taken care of a girl, yet alone one so young – 1st grade – that she forced the paranoid thoughts from her head. So young a child would be far less likely to run away, and this one had severe emotional problems, ideal for this droid's household. Linda chose to be pleased with the assignment, rather than viewing it as punishment for failure with John.
Tina was witness to her own mother's suicide (and was almost a part of it; the carbon-monoxide poisoning was nearly a murder/suicide, but Tina recovered) and had never known her own father. Darling Acres was partly a retreat for troubled rich kids, but also for the toughest tots to deal with. Human foster families could handle a certain degree of trouble, but droid families had a higher success rate with troubled children across the board.
Tina wore cheeriness on her face at all times, but it was plastic and artificial; more a coping mechanism than her true emotion. Harold and Linda each offered her a hand. Tina took Harold's hand, and placed the handle of her backpack in Linda's.
She cared little for the tour of campus, even less with her own room, instead wanting the attention of Harold and Linda. Tina had been on a plane all day long, paired with a very grumpy air marshal that hissed at her any time she tried to speak or move. Her old counselor described this new home as a big amusement park that you get to LIVE at. Full of robots, friendly and playful, to make your stay happy. Tina was looking forward to fun, and she was running on overdrive to take it all in. Her pigtails bounced wildly as she skipped up and down the sidewalk in front of her new house, ignoring everyone and anyone else around her.
Linda offered a boardgame, and all three began to play. Tina seemed sad, disappointed; mostly from the winding-down process, Linda suspected.
When she began to prepare dinner, however, Linda could hear Tina brighten up, laughing and teasing Harold's losses. For TV time, Tina sat on Harold's lap, and requested Harold to tuck her in at bedtime. Linda tried to help Tina remove her pigtails, but her hands were pushed away. "Harry," Tina begged, "help me with my hair!"
Linda sat quietly, carefully composing her daily report in her head before uploading it. She had sat for nearly two hours, four times the usual, when she finally shook herself back to reality and went to prepare for bed.
Harold had heard Linda enter the room, but after fifteen minutes when she hadn't climbed into bed he rolled to see where she was.
Linda was standing in front of the mirror, studying her unclothed body. She was memorizing as much as she could, and comparing it to humans she has met. Linda realized how odd her skin was, the strangely orange color, similar to an artificial tan. Her breasts were unnaturally symmetric, each nipple smooth and round, a representative dot. Her pubic area showed no distinct shape, other than a black triangle painted on to imitate pubic hair. She had been programmed with child medical information, but is this how adult humans look? She could not recollect seeing any of her older wards without clothes, so she was unsure.
Harold broadcast a message to Linda twice before she responded. He was surprised that she used her voice, not radio, and was unsure how to answer.
"What did you say?" was all he could muster.
"Why are we doing this?" Linda asked again.
"We care for children who have no other safe, happy place to go."
Linda looked at herself in the mirror again. "If they have no other safe, happy place to go, then why do they go away? Not just a runaway; the ones who leave after their time with us."
Harold tried to transmit a bundle of data to Linda, but she ignored it.
"Why do we do this, if they always go back to the same place they were before they came to us?"
Harold's face was empty, more blank than Linda had ever seen it before. There wasn't any confusion, not like the human Harold had when she voiced her concerns in John's file review session. He must be downloading, or processing, or something equally unpersonable. Linda slipped into bed and allowed her body to sleep.
Tina showed little interest in Linda over following days. Harold was Tina's only friend, her only confidante. When other children came by, Tina was pleasant, but declined any chance to play with peers. She was never even rude or mean to Linda. Her history did allow Linda the excuse that the abandonment by her father was a difficult loss and Harold filled that void. Tina even showed improvement, trading her world-weary cheeriness for actual happiness.
The futility of her purpose still ate at Linda's thoughts. During her downtime, without Tina needing her attention, she scoured the data library for information. The volumes of data gave plenty of information on the benefits, the successes, the problems, and the pitfalls. Nothing gave Linda satisfaction. She requested audience with her human counterparts and managers, but was referred back to the data-wells for more information first.
- - - - -
Rain poured down upon Linda. She stood just around the corner of an outlying building, outside the chain-link fence. She was allowed to go into the city, if she had documented her itinerary, but the service areas were off-limits, and this place was completely unfamiliar. She had watched as rows full of cars dwindled down to a select few. No car had been parked in the spot marked "Harold Abramson;" a car still filled the one marked "Linda Abramson." The night was very cold, and rain leaked through her ratty blue-and-green umbrella. She had borrowed a trenchcoat from the black-and-red household, feeling it would attract less attention than her regular yellow slicker. From another of her fellow droids, she borrowed a wide-brimmed hat, and wore it low to hide her face.
As soon as Human Linda stepped through the office doors, Droid Linda darted over and offered her umbrella. Her mind was racing, trying to keep up with analysis of Linda Abramson's reaction, and stay ahead of detection.
"Mrs Abramson, I'm Georgia Banks from the Times-Daily, and I have a few questions," D Linda lied with a wide smile.
Linda Abramson paused briefly in her stride, then continued. "Oh, really? Ah…" Linda Abramson looked confused for a brief second, before commenting, "I've got a pair of glasses exactly like those."
"Interesting! Say, I am writing an article on the purpose of Darling Acres. In a few sentences, can you summarize what benefit this institution offers the children it cares for?"
Linda Abramson became agitated, stuttering. "Sorry…I….please, I can't comment. Thank you, and I'll talk more, if you can call…if you call my office, make an appointment. Thank you, I'm sorry." She hit a button on her keychain, and the lights on her car flashed. Linda Abramson darted from under her doppelganger's umbrella and sequestered herself inside her car. Droid Linda stopped and watched herself talking on a cellphone as she drove away.
- - - - -
Linda snuck back into her home under darkness of night, after her fifth venture out into the city. Mostly, she had been watching families at the mall, or a restaurant, or a park if weather allowed. She had deliberately mis-accounted during day trips with Tina, in order to have a little cash on-hand for her excursions. Harold believed her lies, mostly because he had no reason not to trust her.
The families she watched did nothing different than what she did, and did so well. Automaton nannies reminded Linda of her fellow foster-parent androids in their accurate and benevolent actions, and she was satisfied that her own adaptation to parenting resembled human interaction with uncanny accuracy.
What struck Linda the most was the randomness of human parents. Now, they were predictable for the most part, but quite often something would appear that she didn't predict, nor understand. There was a reason for it, something either a non-sequitur joke, impromptu song, or undeserved swat on the butt fulfilled in parenting. The families did not have damaged children, nor did their children run away. There was something in the family's actions that gave it purpose, some reason to exist the way it did.
Linda stopped being stealthy upon realizing Tina's light was on, her door was open, and her room was unoccupied.
Harold was in bed, as customary at this time.
"Where's Tina?"
"They took her away, they know you have been sneaking away rather than being here and caring for Tina."
Rather than debating, Linda turned and ran. She'd detected Harold's message to security. Despite it's encryption, she knew what it was for.
The next time android Linda saw her human counterpart, it was under unforseen circumstances.
The guards deliberately rearranged the cell occupancy to put the two next to each other. They found it funny; Droid Linda was afraid of what would happen, but Linda Abramson was surprised.
"My god," she said, "I thought you'd been destroyed."
D Linda refused to look at her former owner.
"Why are you still here? How did you get here? Answer me."
D Linda didn't move, except for her mouth. "‘Lost Property' was not secure enough to keep me restrained, so they put me here. There's a lawyer who is defending me as a sentient being. I believe he's crazy, but he has been nothing but nice to me. He obtained an order stopping my destruction."
"I was told you were labeled dangerous…"
"You created me; how could I be dangerous?" D Linda looked at her human self. Linda Abramson looked far older than D Linda had remembered. While their hair color mostly matched, an inch of gray roots circled L Abramson's face. She wore no makeup, and she seemed downtrodden and beaten.
D Linda suddenly sat up straight. "Wait - why are YOU here?"
"Misuse of Darling Acres, misaprorepr..something…federal money -- and _child abuse_ of all the horrible things…."
"How could you have hurt a child?"
"I never did, I just wanted…."
D Linda moved closer to Linda Abramson's cell. "I already plead guilty, what does it matter…" Abramson muttered.
"Do you know how we programmed you?" Abramson asked, studying D Linda closely.
"The original copy was created by Imitative Surrogation. A Linda and a Harold lived with you for several years, and learned from you, then they were copied for the rest of us. I have memories of those times, once in a while."
"Now, of all the children at Darling Acres, who was there the longest?"
"Why, Roger of course."
"Were you around when he arrived?"
"No, he was before my time."
Linda Abramson began to talk, a long story of the beginnings of Darling Acres. D Linda listened intently.
The Abramsons were foster parents themselves, early in their lives. They had one son of their own, also named Roger, but could have no more. For years they took care of dozens of children on their own, eventually buying and developing their own surrogate androids. Their life savings built Darling Acres, and twenty years ago they had been held up as the ideal child rearing setting of the future.
Then, at age 5, Roger was killed. It was determined to be an accident, not entirely the fault of the other foster children, and not entirely the fault of the Abramsons. Linda Abramson did not elaborate, and D Linda did not inquire further.
Time passed, and the Abramsons had a dangerous idea. Their surrogate androids were working extremely well…so they embarked on creating a surrogate Roger.
There was no original Roger to learn from, so an android Roger – created from illegal parts that masked his android nature – was given into the Darling Acres community, to learn humanity from the other children.
"Harry and I had no idea it would be illegal…I mean, raising Roger with the other wards…something was leaked, and parents' groups were outraged, and somehow…." Linda Abramson began to weep into her hands.
"Roger is a fine young boy," D Linda offered.
"He was destroyed. All of you were destroyed."
"I'm sorry."
Linda Abramson looked up. The android's words weren't a standard "Linda response." Something inside the words felt real, felt intentional, not just a stock reaction. It was more than most humans had offered her upon hearing what happened to Roger.
D Linda said, "I met you in the rain once, asking questions. You said I have the same glasses…"
"I remember – oh my – that was YOU."
"I asked you about the purpose of Darling Acres, but you wouldn't tell me."
"The investigation was starting, and I was nervous. They had found out far more than I could explain—"
"The reason I was there, was so Roger could learn from the children I cared for?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, the whole thing was selfish—"
"I was helping the whole, not just my children." D Linda paused and reflected on this.
"Yes, why, why are you so curious?"
"I had no idea why I was helping the children, other than to make them happy."
"You should have been…tell me – what is your statement of intent?"
"My what?"
Linda Abramson wiped away her tears and studied D Linda with wonder.
"We always destroyed androids with failed downloads…how did you slip through?"
"You are saying I was created without a given purpose? " D Linda said.
Linda Abramson replied, "I suppose that's what's so human about you…"
Abramson studied the android closer. Her skin color wasn't so ‘off' anymore, and her fingernails were trimmed short. D Linda's face seemed rougher, which could be equally attributed to personality than the plastic skin.
"What did you do to yourself?"
"It took me some time, but I was able to resemble a human externally. Experimentation taught me how to lighten my skin; you should see my ass, it's striped like a zebra."
Abramson laughed explosively, surprised to hear the android swear. "Really, oh my god. But - you passed as human?"
"For six months I worked as a nanny for a rich family. I was discovered when they scanned the household for surveillance equipment, and I registered as a radio device."
"…and the caught you?"
"Yes, and I was going to be destroyed, but a friend of that family knew me, and protected me as best he could in the courts."
"For years, I tried to create a human to replace Roger, but ended up creating a replacement for myself…." Linda Abramson trailed off and turned away.
- - - - -
The party was bustling, full of a who's who of the technology world. The new product line was being launched, so all were expected to attend.
"Linda, congratulations! It's amazing what you've done, after your…after you…"
Linda shook his hand cordially. "I know what you mean; a little time to think never did anybody any harm, right?" Both laughed politely.
The gentleman looked over Linda's shoulder. "And, I had no idea you had a daughter!"
Linda introduced the two, "We call her ‘Linda Junior,' or you can call her ‘Dee'." He held out his hand for Dee's, and kissed her gloved hand ceremoniously.
"Dee Abramson, pleased to meet you -- she's a lovely young lady, you must be proud."
"Without her, our new programming techniques wouldn't be what they are today."
