Robot Depot Read online

  “Mike, what do you see as the next big thing on the horizon in robotics?” Cavuto asked.

  “Our society is now rushing headlong into a world of driverless cars, which are no more than robots on wheels. People get nervous when they think of taking their hands off the wheel and giving control to a robot in the trunk, but studies show that robotic cars are better drivers than us humans. They don’t text or check messages on their cell phones, for example. If somebody cuts the vehicle off, it doesn’t curse and flash a middle finger. And robots don’t drink or fall asleep at the wheel. Robot Depot is right there with the new car technology, and we expect to build robotic car dealerships as soon as we think the technology has been perfected.”

  “Mike,” Cavuto said, “a lot of your company’s literature discusses artificial intelligence, also known as ‘AI.’ The world was blown away a few years ago when the IBM artificial intelligence machine named Watson, also known as a ‘question answering computer,’ defeated two Jeopardy winners and won a grand prize of $1 million, which IBM donated to charity. IBM also developed the famous chess playing computer named Deep Blue, which defeated chess champion Gary Kasparov.”

  “We’re as much in the artificial intelligence business as we are in robotics,” I said. “The two areas often intersect, with the robot being the delivery end of an Artificial Intelligence computer. But somehow, we realized that Artificial Intelligence Depot was a lousy name for a chain of stores.”

  “What are some other activities where robots and AI are moving into?” Cavuto asked.

  “Let me show you an example, Neil. Just read this aloud,” I said, handing him a piece of paper,

  Cavuto read: “Wisconsin appears to be in the driver’s seat en route to a win, as it led 51-10 after the third quarter. Wisconsin added to its lead when Russell Wilson found Jacob Pedersen for an eight-yard touchdown.”

  “Doesn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary, Mike,” Cavuto said. One of the likeable things about Neil Cavuto is that he plays a great straight man.

  “That article,” I said, “according to The New York Times, was written within 60 seconds of the end of the game, typical of rapid response sports reporting. But what isn’t typical is that it was written entirely by a computer.”

  Cavuto’s mouth literally dropped. In preparing for this show, I didn’t discuss with him that Artificial Intelligence computers can write.

  “Mike, I’m speaking to you as a journalist. Are you saying that a computer can replace the writing efforts of a human being?”

  “Yes, Neil, that’s exactly what I’m saying, especially for subjects that are dependent on numbers, such as sports which I just showed you. Finance and investments are another area where Artificial Intelligence machines can take over. And studies show that AI computers are far more accurate than human beings.”

  “How about TV journalists,” Cavuto asked, “folks like your charming and humble host? Can AI computers or robots take our place?”

  “You raise an interesting question, Neil,” I said. “It’s probably the most important question of all when we’re thinking about the future of AI and robotics. ‘Can these machines replace that elusive idea of a personality?’ Right now, and I mean now in the year 2017, the answer is no. Robots aren’t sentient, and can do no more than mimic a human personality, including things like speech patterns and mannerisms, but no machine can replace a fully functional personality such as you.”

  “But Mike,” Cavuto said, “you emphasized the words ‘right now.’ You seem to mean that sometime in the future we will see a robot that really acts like a human being. This seems to be a subject of science fiction, no?”

  “Neil, a few years ago we would think a person was nuts if he said we could find a street address with help from a satellite in space communicating with a receiver in the dashboard of our car. Now, a GPS device is the way we get around, including getting directions while walking with our cellphones. Soon, driverless cars will just communicate with a satellite overhead and let you read the morning paper. So in answer to your question, yes, in the future we’ll see robots that look and act like human beings.”

  “That brings us to a controversial subject, Mike,” Cavuto said, “I’ve read reports of companies that are developing robots that look and feel like humans, and these robots are designed primarily for sex. Advances in cosmetic surgery have given us synthetic substances that feel like human skin. This medical technology is now being transferred to the realm of, and there’s no better name for it, ‘robotic sex.’ Soon people will be able to purchase or rent a robot as a substitute for a sex partner. Can you comment on that?”

  “Neil, Robot Depot, both as a manufacturer and as a retailer, is dedicated to making life easier for people, but that mission does not include easy sex. We’re keeping a country mile away from those sex-bots as they’re called. It’s not what our company is about and it never will be.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Mike. You’ve built a company that you can be proud of and it would be a shame to see you compromise your ethics and morals for a buck. To change the subject, I’d like to run a clip of a TV ad that Robot Depot is running in most market areas. I think it’s hysterical, featuring you dressed up in a 1950s robot costume.”

  “Before you run the clip, Neil, I need to let you know that my top advisor is adamantly against that ad.” Jenny’s going to freak out over this, I thought.

  “And who is your top advisor, Mike? Will we all recognize his or her name?”

  “You’ll recognize her, Neil. Jenny is the lady you met in the Green Room right before the show. Besides being my top advisor, Jenny is my wife, and still my girlfriend. Jenny sometimes speaks with a salty tongue, and she told me in no uncertain four letter words what she thought of me in a robot costume.”

  “Well, Mike, my top advisor—my producer—is screaming four letter words in my ear to run the clip. Let’s see what our viewers think after we run a questionnaire on the show’s website.”

  Cavuto ran the clip of my TV ad. Gotta admit, Jenny was right. The ad sucks. Cavuto laughed, but I think it was forced. I caught him wincing at a couple of points. The ad ended with me in my robot costume saying,

  “Don’t buy a bot until you check out Robot Depot, your Bot People.”

  Chapter Four

  “I thought you were great — in answer to the question you were about to ask me,” Jenny said after she sipped her coffee. “Except for that clip of your dumb TV spot, I think the Cavuto show was one of your best appearances. You made me proud of you, honey, especially because you weren’t dressed up like a fucking robot.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet Blanche tomorrow,” I said. “She told me she’s heard so much about you that she’s dying to meet you.”

  “I hope she won’t mind if I suggest that she change her name,” Jenny said. “I mean, hey, Blanche?”

  ***

  Jenny and I finished breakfast, cooked and served by Omelet, our new breakfast robot.

  “Omelet, really knows how to cook, hon. We should have gotten her a long time ago.”

  “Thank you, madam,” Omelet, said.

  “Stop calling me madam, asshole.”

  “I’m pleased that you enjoyed breakfast, asshole,” Omelet said.

  “You’ve got to work on those new speech modules, Mike.”

  “You should watch your earthy tongue, Jen. You’ve convinced our window-washing bot that his name is ‘dipshit.’ Let’s go, Blanche awaits us.”

  We got into our new Cadillac Robette. I think the model name is dumb, but it’s one of the best robotic cars on the road, according to Consumer Reports and Car and Driver. Like all of our bots, we gave the car a name—Carly—get it? It was pouring rain, so I was happy to be chauffeured by a self-driving car, which is a better driver than me. We decided to meet at Blanche’s office because she had all sorts of audio-visual equipment set up to show us different ad ideas. Blanche comes from an advertising background, so meeting with her usually involves a lot
of photographs and film clips. I hoped that Jenny would like her. God knows she doesn’t like her name.

  Blanche almost ran out of her office to greet us in the hallway. She’s best described as wiry, a sort of young Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Her face is friendly and pleasant, kind of pretty but quite thin. According to the form she filled out before she signed the consulting contract, Blanche is 40 years old. She moves with such energy I swear I can see her leaving smoke behind her.

  “Oh, my God,” Blanche yelled—she yells a lot—“you must be Jenny. I’m so glad that Mike didn’t marry a robot.”

  “As I’ve mentioned to you, Blanche, Jenny is my top advisor, in every way. She has some questions about the Robot Depot TV ad with me dressed like a robot.”

  “Wow, does that ad suck,” Blanche said. “I think we should pull it from every market. Come into our taping room where I can show you some new ideas.”

  Jenny didn’t say anything, but I could tell by her smile that she was starting to like Blanche. Maybe she’d even learn to tolerate her name.

  “I saw you on Cavuto yesterday,” Blanche said. “I thought the show was great, except for that piece of shit clip of your robot commercial.”

  Jenny just made a new friend, I thought.

  “I want to pull you out of doing ads and concentrate on booking you on more shows like Neil Cavuto’s,” Blanche said. “Jenny, I’m sure you’ve noticed that you have an extremely handsome husband.”

  “Yes, I have noticed that, Blanche, especially when he’s not dressed up like a robot.”

  Jenny actually called Blanche by her name. A good sign.

  “No way in hell are we going to cover up this good-looking guy in a dumb costume,” Blanche said. “He drives up Robot Depot stock just being interviewed by a good host like Cavuto. I want to concentrate more on that from a PR point of view, not advertising. There are plenty of good actors out there who can do humor as well as pitch products. Mike’s not one of them. He’s a great executive, not a great comedian.”

  “Blanche, I’m so happy we’re on the same page,” Jenny said. “I hated that robot costume.”

  “I’m glad to say it wasn’t my idea. Some kid in our not-so-aptly-named creative department came up with it. He’s the CEO’s nephew. Please accept my apologies.”

  “No problem, Blanche,” Jenny said, “I knew that couldn’t have been your idea.”

  These two are definitely becoming pals, I thought.

  Blanche spun around in her chair and yelled to someone in the corner of the office. “Hey, Buzz, bring us that bag of pretzels.”

  Buzz buzzed over our heads and neatly placed the bag of pretzels on the table. Buzz is a small helicopter drone, four inches in diameter.

  “Buzz looks like one of ours,” I said.

  “Of course it’s one of yours,” Blanche said. “Do you think I buy bots from just anyone?”

  If Blanche were an artist she’d be a performance artist. She popped a pretzel into her mouth, took a swig from a bottle of water, folded her hands and looked at me with a face that announced that she had something important to say.

  “I need to ask you something, Mike. On the Cavuto show, the subject of sex-bots came up. You told him that Robot Depot would have nothing to do with them. I’m asking this question as your PR lady. Is it definite that you won’t carry those damn sex-bots?”

  “Absolutely so,” I said. “I’ve invested too much time, effort, and money into this company to trash its reputation. We’re investing in android-looking figures like you see at Disney World, but only for non-controversial uses such as greeting people and giving directions. You may have noticed the one in the lobby of our home office, that tall guy wearing a butler uniform who says, ‘Welcome to Robot Depot.’ He’s not a guy, he’s a bot.”

  “Holy shit! I flirted with him the last time I was at your office. What’s his name?”

  “Dick,” I said.

  “I’ll leave it at that,” Blanche said. “But it illustrates my point. If that friggin machine attracted a lonely divorcee, imagine what those sex-bots can do. Do not trash the reputation of your fine company with sex machines, Mike. What do you call those kind of robots anyway? They look so human.”

  “As a general term, they’re called androids or humanoids. We like to call them hubots, short for humanoid robots,” I said. “Besides being useful as greeters, they can be programmed with a large vocabulary. Imagine a TV weatherman who gives weather updates every half hour. A TV station can buy one of those hubots for around $100,000, which is nothing compared to the annual salary of an experienced weather reporter. The bot takes no vacation, never calls in sick, receives no salary, doesn’t make moves on the boss’s wife, and doesn’t make mistakes.”

  Blanche was furiously taking down notes. She had this quaint old-fashioned way of jotting things on a yellow pad rather than tapping into a phone device.

  “Looks like you’ve got some ideas, Blanche,” Jenny said.

  “You bet I do,” Blanche said. “I want to start booking Mike to speak at big conventions. If he explains to budget-minded executives what he just explained to us about the weatherman bot, I can see new markets springing open. Mike, I’m going to put together a presentation that will knock your socks off. Can we get together next week? Please bring Jenny along. I love her ideas.”

  ***

  The attendant in the building lobby of Blanche’s office typed a few numbers into a keypad and Carly, our robocar, drove to the front door to pick us up. Jenny was coming to my office with me after we stopped for lunch.

  “So what did you think about Blanche, hon?”

  “She’s wonderful, just like you said, Mike, and I can even live with her name. That woman is a nonstop explosion of great ideas. When she said that your robot costume wasn’t her idea, I realized I had a new friend.”

  “I want you to be there for her presentation next week” I said. “When Blanche gets excited she puts on a show you don’t want to miss.”

  “I’ll definitely be there,” Jen said. “Hey, let’s go to a nice place for dinner tonight. I have something big to tell you about.”

  Chapter Five

  We walked into Mario’s at six, right after we left the office. Mario’s, located less than a mile from our headquarters, is our favorite restaurant. Whenever Jen and I make reservations, the owner himself always greets us if he’s there. I think he appreciates all of the corporate functions we host at the place. Mario showed us to our favorite table in the back of the room.

  “So what’s the big announcement, hon.” I said. “You’ve kept me wondering for hours. Tell me that they made you a full professor.”

  “I think you should set me up with a nice office, preferably one with a window overlooking the garden,” Jen said. “No, I haven’t been named a full professor. I’m now officially an adjunct, with no more than one course assigned to me. I’ve decided that Robot Depot is a lot more exciting than Stony Brook University. You’ve been trying to entice me with the title Vice President for Product Development. Well, honey, I’ve decided to accept your offer. Now think about a nice office for me.”

  I’m not a particularly demonstrative man, but suddenly I felt like doing a handstand on the table. Jenny as a full time vice president with Robot Depot is something I’ve dreamed about. I stood, walked around the table and planted a kiss on Jen’s lips.

  “I have a feeling like I had when you accepted my marriage proposal,” I said. “You’ve made my day, if not my year. Is it okay if I say ‘I love you,’ to my newest executive?”

  “You certainly may,” Jen said. “I don’t have to call you ‘sir,’ do I?”

  I laughed. I asked our waiter to bring Mario to the table.

  “Mario, meet the newest vice president at Robot Depot.”

  He whispered something to the waiter. Five minutes later Mario appeared with an expensive bottle of champagne. He joined us in a toast to the best news that Robot Depot has gotten in years.