The Future We Wish We Had

KICKING AND SCREAMING HER WAY TO THE ALTAR by Alan L. Lickiss

‘I don’t care what you say, that’s not my father.”

Jeffrey groaned, not bothering to internalize it so the customer wouldn’t be offended. He had been arguing in circles with his client, the soon-to-be Mrs. Rene Stevens, or as Jeffrey liked to think of her, the brat, for the past hour while they stood in his office. The thick blue carpet had long since stopped soothing his feet. No amount of evidence could convince her that his staff had created an accurate android of her father complete from his physical appearance down to his disgust of professional baseball players.

“But miss, he looks exactly like the holo you provided,” said Jeffrey.

The brat stomped her foot, actually stomped, and shoved her fists toward the floor. “No, no, no, no, no,” she said as she looked down at her stomping foot and shook her head back and forth. The short blonde hair whipped back and forth, fanning her perfume around the room. Jeffrey almost laughed when he thought about the wave in her hair waving at him.

Jeffrey retreated behind his desk. “Miss, if you could be more specific about the deficiency in our work, I could make sure we correct the android.”

“For one, my father was taller,” the brat said. She had stopped her tantrum, but had switched to pouting while standing with her hands on her hips, one hip cocked out toward him.

In the six months he had been working with the brat, Jeffrey had learned every one of her give-me-what-I-want-now poses. This one he had labeled little girl number four. Unfortunately for all her stances and facial expressions the brat only had one tone, a whiny, high-pitched one that was worse than fingernails on slate to Jeffrey. Its only variant was in volume.

“Miss, we have checked your father’s drivers licenses, his passport, and even, forgive my indelicate-ness, his measurements taken by the undertaker who interred him. All of them agree, your father was five foot eight.” As he listed each item, Jeffrey pointed to the copies he had obtained that were now laid out on his desk.

“I decided to allow your company to service my wedding because you promised that the father I remembered would be able to give me away,” said the brat. She extended her arm and pointed to the android, the tip of her finger inches away from its nose, “That is not tall. My father was this tall.” The brat was the same height as the android. When she stood on her tip toes and held her hand high above her head she gave her father a height over seven feet tall.

“I’m sorry, Miss, our contracts are very clear,” said Jeffrey. He reached into the spread of papers on his desk and fished out the signed contract.

“You see,” he said, underlining the fourth clause of the contract with the motion of his finger. “We commit to creating the android from all official sources of documentation as to the physical features and characteristics of the loved one that has passed on.” Jeffrey waved the contract toward the android. “That we have done.”

“But-”

Jeffrey raised his hand to hold her off, and was amazed when she stopped. “When you had an issue with how the android behaved, saying it was too stilted and nothing like your father, we contacted his living friends and family and interviewed them extensively about how your father moved, spoke, acted in private settings, and how he behaved in public. Without even examining these refinements you have rejected our work.”

Jeffrey now looked at stance fourteen, disbelief facial expression number three. “Please forgive my being forward, but is it possible that you really don’t want to get married and are just using this as an excuse not to continue?” he asked.

“How dare you!” the brat shouted.

Explosive anger number seven, thought Jeffrey.

“Donald and I love each other very much. We can’t wait to get married,” the brat said. “Is it wrong to want the perfect wedding? Isn’t a girl’s father walking her down the aisle part of that perfect wedding? That’s all I want.”

Jeffrey knew he wasn’t gong to convince her today. It was like those couples who thought a buffet at five dollars a head would be fine, then were amazed when everyone was hungry after their allotted three pieces of cheese.

“I’ll tell you what: let me see what we can do and then we’ll try him out at the wedding rehearsal and dinner. That way you can see him in action and still give us a few hours for final adjustments before the wedding if necessary.”

Jeffrey was relieved when the brat took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He placed his hand on the small of her back and moved her toward the door.

“But you’ll make him taller?” she asked.

“I’ll see what we can do,” Jeffrey said.

A moment later she was gone and Jeffrey had to fight the urge to lock the door behind her. He returned to his desk, gathered the paperwork for the android into a neat stack, and slid it into a hidden pocket on the back of the android’s suit jacket. Jeffrey knew he was legally covered. No court would say he hadn’t honored his part of the contract. He decided to let the android stay as is and let the brat take him to court if she was foolish enough.

“Please, Miss,” said Jeffrey, “just try him out, see how he does for the rehearsal.”

Jeffrey stood at the back of the chapel talking to the brat. A red carpet ran from them down the center aisle through the fifty rows of pews to the pulpit where the minister, her fiancé, and the eight attendants waited. Her mother, future in-laws, and other friends and family sat in the pews on their respective sides, their bodies twisted around, their heads craned back to wait for her approach.

“He doesn’t smell right,” said the brat. “How can you expect me to walk down the aisle on the biggest day of my life when my father doesn’t smell like my father?”

Jeffrey leaned into the android and sniffed its shoulder. Not detecting a problem, he moved over and sniffed its neck. It smelled like he expected, so he walked behind the android and sniffed between the shoulder blades.

“Miss, I don’t detect an odor,” said Jeffrey.

“Not an odor, you moron,” said the brat. “Look, I’m giving you a break even though you didn’t make it any taller, but can you at least make it smell right? I’ve got to walk all the way down there with it and no one will believe it’s how my father would have done it if this thing doesn’t smell right.”

The whine was rising in volume and Jeffrey was experienced enough with the brat to know a full tantrum was soon to follow.

“But Miss, the latex we use for the skin of our androids is odorless. Before we left the showroom tonight, a mist of a proportionate mixture of your father’s favorite aftershave, soap, and deodorant was applied to the android.”

“My father didn’t smell like flowers,” the brat said, each word forced through clenched teeth, short and clipped. She squinted her eyes into a piercing stare and leaned forward slightly, forcing her face into Jeffrey’s personal space, glaring at him.

Angry face number one, Jeffrey thought. Lord, he was going to be happy when this wedding was over. It was customers like this that made him glad he insisted on payment up front. He fought his natural urge to step back and reestablish his personal space. Instead, he pointed to the flower arrangements attached to the ends of each pew.

“Is it possible that you are smelling the floral arrangements, Miss?” he asked in as pleasant voice as possible. He had noticed a couple of months before that it infuriated her when he spoke accommodatingly while not letting her have whatever impossible request she had made.

The brat looked as if she was seeing the arrangements of carnations for the first time, their white and red blossoms bursting out of the tops of the baskets Jeffrey had had to special order so one side was flat against the pew and the other jutted a few inches into the aisle.

“Please, Miss,” Jeffrey said while gesturing to the people waiting and then to the android.

He didn’t think he had won when the brat moved into position. He wouldn’t declare victory until after the real ceremony. Jeffrey had been lucky in that the brat hadn’t been able to counter his argument. Otherwise they’d still be fighting about what her father smelled like. While his androids may not have smelled exactly like the people they resembled, Jeffrey refused to try and add the element of body odor into the mixes.

The brat had made it to the altar and the android was now sitting in the pew next to her mother. Jeffrey could see the look of adoration the brat and her intended gave each other. He almost never judged the chances of a marriage succeeding, but in this case, unless the groom was a spineless full wallet, Jeffrey didn’t give them a year.

After the rehearsal and after the wedding party had posed for the spontaneous photographs for the memorial book, Jeffrey signaled the android and they left before the brat could start up again. There was still the rehearsal dinner to get through, and Jeffrey wanted to check each minute detail again. His biggest worry was the new modifications that had been added to the android’s programming to satisfy the brat. She had shouted, stomped, and flounced until Jeffrey had agreed with her request just to get rid of her.

She didn’t want the android just to sit at the table and eat. Her father liked to dance and mingle with the guests. It was her wedding and she wanted the android to act like her father.

Jeffrey was grateful the groom’s parents had been in charge of the rehearsal dinner. They had been so easy to work with. If the brat didn’t like anything tonight, he’d just refer her to her future in-laws.

The private room was set up exactly as he had specified. The band was already there and set up. They were on one end of the room with a large wood dance floor separating them from the tables. Jeffrey walked around the tables, inspecting the settings. He picked up the fork at one, confirming it had water spots. A signal to one of the two women assigned to serve the dinner brought a fresh fork. As he placed it on the table, two of the bridesmaids came in. He stepped to the side, the android already moving to greet them.

Jeffrey took the opportunity to work out the final details for two upcoming receptions with the manager while the rehearsal dinner progressed. When he got back to the room the toasts had concluded, the meal finished, and the dishes cleared. The smell of broiled chicken still filled the air, but a hint of alcohol was there as well. The band had changed from light rock covers to a harder funk sound, heavy on the bass. The lights of the room had been dimmed except for those over the dance floor. Red and blue color lights had been added there to give a more festive look. A dozen people bobbed and swayed on the dance floor.

“There you are,” the brat said.

Jeffrey turned, his eyes adjusting from the bright hallway he had come from. He could see the brat a few feet to his right.

“There’s something wrong with your android. Again,” she said. She stood with her arms across her chest, right foot tapping the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, mouth pursed together and pushed to the left side. Pissed off number two.

“Excuse me, Miss, but what has happened?” Jeffrey asked.

“Just look,” the brat said, shouting as she gestured toward the dance floor.

Jeffrey looked again, this time picking out the android dancing with two of the bridesmaids. His suit jacket and tie had been removed, his two top buttons undone. The three danced in a line, hips bumping together, then swiveling and gyrating between hits. After a series of four hip bumps the two young ladies spun into the androids arms and drew close to each other; a group hug with the participants shimmying their bodies in place, bouncing against each other. After an eight count the ladies extended, reestablishing the chain, and the hip bumps resumed.

Jeffrey turned back to the brat. “What’s the problem? He’s doing the Bump Twist, a dance popular about twenty years ago. I think he’s doing it rather well. I’ll have to be sure and compliment the programmer in the morning.”

“You don’t understand,” said the brat, the whine rising in volume. “That’s supposed to be my father and it’s dancing with two of my best friends.”

Jeffrey was at a loss. He couldn’t see the connection between the participants and why it was giving the brat a fit.

“They’re my age for God’s sake,” she said, twisting her volume up another notch. “It’s undignified for my father to be dancing like that. He should be doing waltzes and stuff, old folks’ dancing, not something that looks like he’s planning to have sex.”

Jeffrey wasn’t able to stifle his chuckle. He hid it by turning to the side under the pretense of pulling his pad from his pocket. He had control over himself when he turned back and turned the pad on. It took only a second to bring up the relevant file.

“I’m sorry, but according to fourteen of the people we interviewed, your father loved to dance to music like this. In fact, this song was one of his favorites,” said Jeffrey. He turned the pad so the brat could see he wasn’t making it up.

Instead of checking his pad, the brat waved her hand to dismiss it. “What do those people know?” she said.

“One of them was your mother,” Jeffrey said calmly.

The brat rolled her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head slightly from side to side. “She’s always saying things about my father that aren’t true. I may have been only eight when he died, but I know what my father was like. He wasn’t like that.”

Jeffrey’s eyes were drawn back to the dance floor by the brat’s pointing finger. The song had ended and the young ladies had left the floor. The android turned from talking to the synth player and made shooting motions with its hands, clearing an area of the dance floor. The band began to play a rhythm with a heavy backbeat and a little melody thrown in; the android began to shift its weight from foot to foot before taking a step back and forth to either side.

“Now what is it doing?” the brat asked.

As the song progressed the android increased the complexity of its footsteps, always in perfect time with the music. Jeffrey picked out the symmetrical nature of the steps to either side, marveling that his staff had been able to code such a sequence. When the steps reached the point where both sides had had the same steps, and the next moment should produce a more intricate change to the dance, the android lowered itself to the floor and began a new footwork sequence with its arms added to the movement. It shifted back and forth, the legs and arms a blur of spinning, twisting motion.

“Oh no,” said the brat. She started to move toward the dance floor.

The android’s body rocked back and forth, swaying in an ever growing arc with the momentum of the dance to the rhythm of the music. A flick of the legs and the android was on its head, its body spinning like a top, legs gyrating in the air above it. As the song ended, the android’s body collapsed, and the spining stopping, leaving the android lying on its side, legs crossed, head propped up in its hand. Applause broke out from around the room.

“Stop it,” said the brat.

Jeffrey moved to the dance floor. He could see the brat pulling at the arm of the android, trying to pull it up from the floor. The android looked up and smiled at the brat.

“Hi, pumpkin,” said the android.

“No, get up,” said the brat, still tugging.

The android let itself be pulled to its feet and off the dance floor. Jeffrey reached them when the brat had the android sitting at the table.

The brat looked across the table at Jeffrey. Her entire body looked tense, her muscles bunched and tendons straining against her skin. A new pose he’d never seen. Jeffrey wondered if he should feel afraid.

“You did this on purpose,” she shouted.

“We programmed him according to what your father was like,” said Jeffrey.

“Why did you do this?”

“What, Miss?” asked Jeffrey. He wasn’t sure what deficiency she was imagining this time. The android’s dancing had been impeccable.

“Why are you trying to destroy my marriage?” said the brat at full volume.

Jeffrey stepped back from the verbal assault. The noise from the party had disappeared and when he glanced to his side he saw everyone was staring at them. The brat followed his look and also saw the others. Her eyes opened wide and her hand flew to her mouth. Pushing past Jeffrey, she ran from the room.

The room remained quiet until the door closed behind her. It was as if it was the switch to turn everyone back on. The groom jumped up from where he had been sitting next to his father and ran after her. Jeffrey gathered up the android’s coat and tie and led him from the room, ignoring the whispers behind him.

Jeffrey leaned through the doorway into the small room at the back of the chapel, his hand on the door-knob ready to pull it closed. The android stood to the side, silent and waiting for the brat to signal she was ready. The brat sat in front of a mirror, the wedding dress reflecting the light was making it look brilliant white. Her head in her hands; Jeffrey could hear her sobs.

Jeffrey knew he’d probably get blistered by her response, but it was why he got the big bucks. “Miss, the minister asked me to tell you that he has to move along. He has another wedding scheduled after this one.”

The brat’s sobs became a wail. Jeffrey stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. A quick glance told him the android looked fine, very dapper for the ceremony.

“What is it, Miss? If it’s uncertainty, let me assure you that all bri-”

“How can I get married now?” the brat said before another sob shook her.

“As I was saying, Miss, all brides, and grooms for that matter, are nervous on their wedding day. Just think about how much you love each other,” said Jeffrey. He may have had his differences with her, but that was what he was paid for. Now that the end was coming he could afford her a little sympathy.

“That’s not it,” the brat said. “I’m not nervous about getting married. But after last night, how can I let that walk me down the aisle?”

“But I’ve shown you the documentation. Your father did indeed love to dance, and was known to street dance in his youth. If it helps, the android actually reproduced the steps your father used to do.”

“My father was tall and strong and used to dance with me, holding me close as he moved around the room. A waltz, not a jiggly shaking roll in the dirt,” said the brat. Her tears slowed as she spoke. “And then what I said.”

Her hand covered her mouth and her eyes went wide, a repeat of the face she had made the night before. “The party was being recorded. Several people out there have seen what happened. I heard a couple of people talking about it outside my door when they were going to the chapel. Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am?”

Jeffrey let her talk, wind down, let the problem flow out with her words. He found himself nodding in what was supposed to be a supportive way when he realized he had no idea how embarrassed she was, or why. The brat was looking at him, her eyes moving toward anger number five.

“I’m going to sue you,” she said.

It was the first time she hadn’t whined when she spoke to him. Her voice was cold, without heart, and carried the feeling of deadly seriousness.

“Excuse me,” Jeffrey said.

He opened the door and leaned out to bring in an older gentleman. The older man had short, wavy white hair and a bristly white mustache. His tux was clean and neat, but a little large for his body. He had a twinkle in his eye when he smiled down at the brat.

“Grandpa!” she shouted when she saw him. She jumped up from her chair and rushed into his arms, crushing the folds of her wedding dress in the tight hug.

“Hi there, baby girl,” said Grandpa. His arms reached around the brat, pulling her into the hug, one hand on the back of her head, patting her hair in a soothing manor. “There, there. What’s this I hear about you not wanting to get married? That’s a mighty fine young man you’ve picked out and he’s been standing in tight shoes waiting for you.”

“Oh, Grandpa, it’s this dumb idiot and his android. They’ve messed everything up. I wanted Daddy to walk me down the aisle, you know, perfect wedding, but that’s all spoiled. The dinner last night was ruined and everyone will laugh at me now if I let that thing walk me down the aisle.”

The old man looked over at Jeffrey and the android. He turned back to the brat and kissed her on the forehead.

“I know I’m not your father, but he was my son. What do you say we leave these two here and I walk you down to that young buck? That is, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, would you, Grandpa?” said the brat. The tears were gone and her eyes happy and bright.

In response, Grandpa turned around and extended his elbow to the brat. The brat tucked her hand inside his arm and her head on his shoulder. Grandpa led her to the door and held it as she left the room. The door closed behind them and Jeffrey could hear the bridal march music begin.

Jeffrey sighed. Contingency clause fourteen. Size seven android with a grandfather program plug in and quick makeover for facial feature match had saved the wedding again.