Tiffany

“Goddammit,” I yelled through the phone. “Fucking bitch!” 

Photos of my wife Greta and my VP of Production lay strewn across my desk. I was furious. I mean, sure, I had had several affairs, but it was my business and my money, and there was not fucking way I was going to let her get away that kind of shit on me, not after the pre-nup she had signed. I'd confront her about it tonight, and then I'd talk to my attorney tomorrow and have her cheating ass kicked to the curb. 

Jerry's too. But I'd wait until tomorrow so I could do everything by the book with the blessings of the HR department. 

I fumed all the way home. How dare she think I wouldn't find out. How dare she have to gall to cheat on me. 

I had built my company on my own patented technology to allow lifelike robots to function in homes, and I had improved the process with my R&D team until they had even perfected a synthetic skin. We were currently working on several products for the military to have back-ups for soldiers who died in battle so they could be uploaded into a new body and continue the campaign as many times as they needed, and then return home after their tour of duty and live out their lives in that new body without any friends or family being any the wiser if they so chose.

Of course, the project had its surprises, just in case their COs needed to activate the overrides for campaigns that required a more absolute loyalty to the mission. 

But that's why Brooks International made the big bucks as the saying went. I was willing to do what other companies in my field weren't. I was willing to blur a few blacks and whites into grays to keep the accounts happy and the money hitting the Swiss banks. 

Not that fucking Greta would ever see a penny of it again. She should have known better. That bitch was so going to get what was coming to her. 

When I arrived at home, she was waiting for me in the dining room drinking red wine. Always fucking red wine. A beer was never good enough for a gold-digging whore like her. 

One of the two maids, the redhead we called Clara, waited with her back to the wall and started toward me when I entered. 

“Would you like—” she started. 

“Nothing,” I said, cutting the bot off mid-ask. “Leave us alone.” 

Clara, or more accurately, Model CL045X, smiled politely, nodded, and left the room.

“You don't have to be rude to the help.” 

“It's a fucking robot.” 

“I thought you said they were so far beyond robots they are almost real.”

I didn't have time to argue. I tossed the manila envelope of photos on the table in front or her than slammed my open palm loudly next to her glass. It shook and the wine danced for a moment from the impact. 

“I don't deny it,” she said. “You're a pig.” 

“And you're a whore.” 

“I was a whore to marry you. I did that for money.” 

“You were my whore then. But not you've gone to far.” 

“Fuck you,” she said calmly and took another sip of my expensive red.

I laughed. “Well, it all ends tomorrow.” 

Then I left the room and went to the living room to watch TV. I heard her call Jerry on her cellphone, and I listened as she started to cry to him. Not to me, no. That bitch. But she could bawl to loverboy Jerry. 

I fell asleep on the couch, and woke the next morning to the sounds of the other maid, Tiffany, well, Model CL047H, straightening up my mess from the night prior. She told me good morning, but I ignored her. 

When I went upstairs to get a shower, I saw Jerry in bed with her. No sense hiding it anymore, I figured. I woke them both up being as loud as I could. The two fuckers deserved no less, and then I got dressed and decided to get the keys for the Ferrari and drive it to work for my first day of freedom. 

On the way out, I passed the last of our household staff, a Chef-bot Greta had named Jessica. I told her I wanted cheese toast to go and to make it snappy, and she obliged with a smile, and an obedient, “Yes, sir, Mr. Brooks. Right away.” 

Hell, I thought. When Greta was finally gone, maybe I'd just marry one of the goddamn bots. At least they did as they were told.

It was only a few minutes before Jessica handed me the toast on a plastic plate and covered it with foil for the trip, and I took it and headed to the garage. When I got to the Ferrari, I opened the door and tossed the plate on the passenger seat. I climbed in and started the engine, then I peeled out of my garage and driveway like a teenage hot rodder with something to prove. 

I was starving and the toast actually smelled pretty good, so as I turned out of the end of the driveway onto the private drive from the house to gated entrance at the main road almost two miles away, I leaned over and reached for one of the two slices Jessica had made. Before I could even grab the plate, though, something heavy crashed into the car, and I found myself swerving. Everything moved in slow motion as I saw the deer I had hit, and the world spinning around, and the tree quickly approaching my driver's side window.

Then there was another loud smash, bright lights, wet blood, a thousand shards of glass cutting into my fair and arms, and then just blackness. 

# # #

I awoke to the dim lights of my basement lab. I had no idea how I had gotten there. Or how I wasn't hurting. 

“Good morning, Douglas,” said Greta's flat voice. 

“What happened?” I asked. 

“You crashed. You died.” 

“I... died?”

“Well, your body did,” came a voice from the other side of the table I was lying on. Jerry's voice. “It's a good thing I was able to do a back-up of your brain before it died too. We knew your tech was cutting edge, but you, my old friend, have literally figured out how to cheat death.”

“How? I mean, it takes months to create a custom body. How long have I been out?”

Jerry and Greta both laughed. 

“Only two days,” Jerry said. “We'll fix you with a custom later, but I figured I needed to save you before anything corrupted, and your lab isn't as well equipped as the R&D labs at the office.”

“Good thinking.” 

“Can you sit up?” he asked. 

“I think so.” And I did easily. 

“Here,” said Greta, holding a small mirror up to me. “Take a look at your new face, asshole.” 

I did, and my eyes grew wide. The face looking back at me wasn't mine, but that of the maid I had ignored before leaving. They had put me in Tiffany's body.

“What the fuck?” I said. “You put me in the fucking maid?”

Greta got right in my face. “You could be grateful, you prick. Beggers can't be choosers, and Jerry could have just let you die. Did you ever thing of that?”

I shut up.

“Especially considering what you had on your mind when you took off.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Greta rolled her eyes and glared at me.

“Don't even pretend you weren't heading to your lawyer to ruin my life with divorce papers.” She raised her gaze toward Jerry and softened it. “Or that you weren't going to start the process of having Jerry fired.”

“I...”

“It doesn't matter,” Jerry said, walking around the table to stand beside Greta. “We didn't have to save you, but we did. And as soon as we can make sure all the uploads are secure and there's nothing corrupted, you can get back to the office.”

“Not like this.” 

“When you're ready you can start the work on a custom that matches the body you had before the crash. But until then, you're in this one. Sorry.” 

“You could at least say thank you,” Greta added.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Thanks.” 

“Was that so hard?”

“But as soon as I can, I'm going to finish what I started.”

“Even after saving you?”

“You cheated on me,” I said. 

“How many times did you cheat on me, you bastard?”

“You cheated on ME,” I yelled this time. “With HIM.”

Jerry kept checking me over at all the points where cables connected me to the main computer. “You do what you have to do. But for the next few hours, I need to shut your body down again to finish the diagnostics to make sure you're all together inside that electronic brain.”

“Don't shut me down,” 

“Don't have a choice. I only woke you up so you would get the good news that your still alive.” 

“And in the body of some robot bimbo. Some good news.”

“You say potato, I say temporary android body.” 

Greta glared at me again with the most hateful look I could remember seeing on her face. Jerry smiled. Maybe I could just demote him and not fire him if he called it off with that bitch. Maybe. 

“Anyway, good night. I'll be back after work to check on you later.” He continued smiling. “Protocol A1D Diagnostic Shutdown.” 

And once again my world faded away to darkness. 

# # #

When I next awoke, I found that I was eager to get up off the table. But instead of looking for Greta, I immediately went upstairs and started to vacuum and dust the living room, lounge, library, and office. It just felt right. It helped me relax and not think about the awful trick fate had played on me. 

I didn't even stop long enough to get a good look at myself in the mirror in the hallway on my way between the lounge and library. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen it enough everyday anyway. Black blouse and knee length skirt with a white apron. Black pantyhose with black flats. A lot less sexy that I has originally wanted but it was something I had let Greta choose since I had placed the keeping her house under her purview. Besides, it still clearly made the point that the sexy bots were maids and were to be seen and enjoyed. 

About halfway thought dusting the library, Clara entered the foyer when the doorbell rang. She spoke to a delivery person and took a package, totally ignoring me. Oddly enough, I didn't try to get her attention. I just kept cleaning. 

I caught sight of Anne Marie, the female programmer Greta had hired as the Household Manager to make sure the bots were updated and maintains and the programming remained current. She even had the authority to send them out for repairs up to one thousand dollars, only needed Greta's authorization for work that cost more than that. She popped into the library and looked at my work. 

“Looking good, as always,” she said. “Keep it up.”

“Yes, ma'am, Ms. Wilkins,” I said, surprising myself at the response. 

Throughout the morning I continued cleaning and in the early afternoon, the door opened and Greta came inside with a handful of bags. I noticed but made no move to go to her, and she glared at me and walked on upstairs. 

When she came back downstairs, she ignored me again and walked into the lounge. Before she could even sit down, she glanced into the hallway to ask for a drink. Clara started to answer, but I was closer, and I immediately said, “Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Brooks,” and I went to the bar and poured her a red wine and brought it to her. “Here you go, ma'am. Enjoy.” 

She looked up and glared again. 

“If you think this playacting shit is going to make things better, you're sadly mistaken, I'm still going to fight that goddamn pre-nup.”

“Yes, ma'am. I understand,” I said. 

What I really wanted to say was that it didn't matter, that there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it, and that she was thoroughly screw when I eventually got into my new body.

But instead, I simply asked her, “Would you like anything else, ma'am?” 

“Goddamnit,” she said. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

I nodded. “Whatever you like, ma'am.” 

I returned to my cleaning. 

During the next hour she watched me like a hawk. When her drink was almost gone, somehow I kept an eye on it in spite of my rage, I would go to her with the bottle and offer a refill, none of which made her stop glaring at me. 

After the third glass, Anne Marie entered the room. “Good afternoon, Greta,” she said. “Did you have a good trip to the mall?”

Greta smiled finally. “Oh yeah, Let see how fast I can spend that bastard's money.” 

Anne Marie laughed. “Why do you stay married to him?”

“Pre-nup. Trust me, if I could get out without becoming destitute, I would have left him years ago.” 

“Oh,” Anne Marie said, taking a seat beside Greta on the sofa. “Before I go pick up the kids, I wanted to let you know I fixed the connection when I got here.”

“What connection?”

“When I got here, somehow Tiffany had become disconnected from the house programming, so I linked her up again after the diagnostic you were running.” She adjusted on the seat, pushing toward the front of the cushion. “But you don't have to do that. I take care of those once a week.” 

“Hooked her up again?” Greta glanced toward me and smiled, nodding. “Good. Good.” 

“I guess the check kicked her off the system, but it was enough to reattach her profile to the core programming.” 

“Thank you,” she said. 

“I'll be back in a hour with the kids.” 

“Thanks.” 

When she was gone, Greta stood up and walked over to me. “Well, that certainly explains a few things,” she paused, grinned wickedly, then continued, “Tiffany.” 

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, still cleaning. I had heard every word and now my behavior made perfect sense. Jerry had disconnected Tiffany from the household system to give me autonomy in the body as my upload. But Anne Marie hadn't known that I was Tiffany, and so she had simply reconnected me and the programming was controlling my actions and my default behavior. 

It would have been easy enough for Greta to have explained it all to Anne Marie, but since she had decided to keep my fate a secret for now, I could only imagine what else she might do. 

Well, imagine and keep cleaning the damn house, I guessed. 

“I should have guessed something like this happened, since I've never known you to so much as pick up a piece of trash or wipe down a coffee table in the whole time we've been married.”

I didn't answer. There was no need. It wasn't a question, nor was my input requested. 

“You do make a lovely Tiffany though, and you do the job just as beautifully.”

Inside I was terrified. 

“I suppose you'd like me to disconnect you again and reset you to stand-alone autonomous mode.” She stood directly behind me as I continued to dust each curio from her shelf of ceramic angels. “And I could. It would be easy enough. All I'd have to do is look in the manual for the audio protocol or for the code to input on the system.”

She lifted each piece after I dusted it and put it back, inspecting it carefully. 

“Yes, nice job, Tiffany. Very nice.” She left me and returned to the sofa. “But you know how stupid we trophy wives can be. I'd never be able to understand that smart ol' manual, so I'll just wait until Jerry gets home and can reset you.” 

I kept dusting the angel figurines while she sipped on the last of her third glass of wine. “Tiffany?” she called, holding the glass delicately about the floor. “Refill,” she said. 

Instantly I strode to her and took the glass. I carried it to the bar and poured it half full of her favorite red, which I suddenly realized I knew in spite of never caring before which of my wines she was guzzling. Then I put the bottle back on the rack and returned to where she was sitting. 

I handed her the glass. She took it.

“Why, thank you so much, Tiff.” 

The diminutive reference to just 'Tiff' burned in my brain. Tiff. Like I was some kind of bubbleheaded bimbo, some kind of brainless airhead. Tiff. It was bad enough to keep responding to the name Tiffany. 

“Carry on with the dusting, please,” she said sweetly.

The sweeter she spoke, the more it made me angry, but I couldn't yell at her or say a damn thing other than, “Yes, ma'am,” or “Yes, Mrs. Brooks,” or even a full-on “Yes, Ma'am, Mrs. Brooks.” 

It wasn't too long before Anne Marie showed up with the kids. My kids. Ten-year-old Ben and seven-year-old Beth entered the foyer behind her as loud and rambunctious as usual. They both came into the lounge and kissed their mother, and said hello to 'Tiffany' and disappeared up the stairs to their rooms. 

Not once did they ask about their dad.

“Well, I'm going to approve the chores and update the logs before I take off, okay,” she said as she walked through the lounge to the kitchen. “But first, I'll have Jessica whip me up a snack, and something for the kids.” 

“Good idea,” Greta said. 

And she vanished into the kitchen. 

# # #

“He did what?” Jerry laughed while he and Greta sat next to each other in the office. I stood in the corner, obediently waiting quietly as they spoke. “That's hilarious. I would have lovedve to have seen that.” 

“It was so perfect after the way he had treated us both. I couldn't have thought of a better punishment for him and it was still just an accident thanks to Anne Marie trying to help.”

“Well, I'm sure he's learned his lesson.”

“I'm not sure he'd learn his lesson after three years of being the maid.” 

Jerry smiled. “Probably true, but it's time to go reset him.”

Greta grabbed his arm. “Do we have to yet?” 

“You know we can't just—”

“Or ever?”

What the hell was she suggesting? My mind reeled, but my body remained still and silent and loyal to the code that controlled me. 

“What are you saying? Kill him?” Jerry pulled his arm free and turned to face her. “Because that's basically what we'll be doing. I mean, Doug will still be in there, but not to anyone but us. He'll just be gone.”

“Well,” she said, standing up quickly. “His body is still in the cold units in the basement.”

Jerry cleared his throat. “That was just until we could move it to the offices to use his DNA to build his new body.” 

Greta wrinkled up her lips into a smirk.

“We could have a funeral. I mean, he did die.” 

Jerry stared at her intensely. 

I stood behind the sofa smiling like some kind of idiot. 

Come on, Jerry, don't let her do this, I thought. Save me from this crazy bitch and I won't even demote you. Hell, I'll give you a fucking raise. Just fucking help me. 

After a few tense seconds, he laughed. “Oh, you. You almost got me.” 

She smiled at him.

“I mean. You really had me going. Not that he wouldn't deserve it. It would certainly be a godsend to us.” 

She took his hands then leaned up on her toes and kissed him. 

As she broke off the kiss, she said, “I'm not kidding.”

“Greta,” he said. 

“Just hear me out. He died in the crash. We have his body. Nobody but us knows he's in Tiffany. After his funeral, I get his assets and a legal way around the pre-nup. I also get the company, and as the chief stockholder, I make you the new CEO. He spends the rest of his life as Tiffany, obediently taking care of our house. Hell, you know the technology as well as he does, even better probably. It would be nothing to either erase or move his memories so he doesn't even remember being Doug.” 

Jerry shook his head. 

Good ol' Jerry.

“That would really be murder. Like it or not, Doug is alive and he's inside Tiffany.”

“I suppose you're right. Besides, it would be far more fun for us if he knew exactly who he was and couldn't do a damn thing about it but follow orders.”

They excused me from the room and I followed my arranged pattern to go set the table. I had no idea what they decided because when they called the kids down and all sat down for dinner, I simply served them and waited for refills or to get the next course from the kitchen. 

“You're pretty,” Ben said to me as I was handing him a slice of chocolate pie. 

“Thank you, Ben,” I said. 

“Did you know that one day when I'm old enough you're gonna be my maid? Daddy promised me that when I moved out, he'd let me take you.” 

“That would be nice, Ben,” I said. 

Oh, fuck no. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck no. I could remember every word of the promise. What had I cared? They were just property. Just commodities to be given or bought or sold. And Ben would have needed one, and why not one he was already familiar with? Why not be passed down like a piece of property?

“Oh,” said Greta, “That would be nice, Ben. But you've still got a lot of growing up to do first. And Tiffany has a lot more work to do here at the house for a long time.”

“I want her,” Beth yelled. “I want her. I want her. I want her.” 

“See what you started, Ben,” she said.

“Sorry, mom.” 

“Hey, where's dad tonight?”

“Where do you think?”

“Work.”

“Smart kid.” 

When they finished dinner, Clara and I cleared the table and then washed the dishes while Jessica made the kitchen spic and span again for tomorrow. We were just drying the last of the dishes when I heard Jerry call me from the dining room.

“Yes, Mr. Stanton,” I said as I entered. 

“We'd like drinks in the lounge, please, Tiffany,” he said. 

I nodded and even curtsied slightly. “Yes, sir. What would you like?”

He smiled. “I'll have Scotch. No ice. Two fingers.”

I turned to Greta. “Another red wine, ma'am?”

“You know me too well, darling. What would I ever do without you?”

They got up and tut-tutted me to the bar, where I got the drinks and then carried them to them. They were sitting together on the loveseat, knees touching when I arrived. I handed them each a glass. 

“Before you go, Tiffany,” he said. “Greta has something to say to you.” 

“Sit down, Tiffany,” she said, and I sat on the edge of the chair opposite them, ready to pop up for any command at a moment's notice. “Who is your registered owner?”

“You are my owner. I was purchased by—” and being forced to admit this aggravated me to no end, “Mr. Douglas Brooks and given to Mrs. Greta Brooks.” 

“And who are you?”

“I am Tiffany. I am a Model CL047H housecleaning android. My serial number is 89A3452C12-98.”

God, I was so humiliated. My mind screamed to tell her who I really was, but I was helpless, at the mercy of my body's programming. 

“And what is your relationship to your owner?”

“My owner is my primary user. My owner sets my parameters and can override any other programs or applications downloaded to my household profile.”

“Good girl, Tiffany.” 

“Please add the following command to your A-Level Profile command file.”

“Yes, ma'am. I am entering command file mode. I am ready to accept a verbal update to my A-Level Profile.”

“You are not allowed to tell anyone that you are really Douglas Brooks. If you are asked who you are, you will only respond with your manufacturer info or the name Tiffany. Even if your programming is changed, it will not override this command. Even if you are returned to autonomous mode, you will still have to follow this update to your command file.” 

“I have updated my A-Level Profile command file. I will never tell anyone that I am really Douglas Brooks, even in autonomous mode. If I am every asked who I am, I will only respond with the following default message: I am Tiffany. I am a Model CL047H housecleaning android. My serial number is 89A3452C12-98.”

“Good girl. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Protocol A2F, secondary owner update,” Greta said.

What the hell was she doing to me?

“My current primary owner is Mrs. Greta Brooks. My current secondary owner is Mr. Douglas Brooks. My current programmer is Anne Marie Wilkins.”

“Delete secondary owner Mr. Douglas Brooks,” she said. 

“Secondary owner Mr. Douglas Brooks deleted.”

“Now add a new secondary owner file for Mr. Jerry Stanton.” 

“Opening a new secondary owner file Mr. Jerry Stanton.” I paused as the synapses in my electronic brain whirred to life. “Please say Protocol A2F, Owner Update.” 

Jerry spoke clearly and in a slightly louder than normal voice. “Protocol A2F, Owner Update.”

“Voice file created,” I said. “Please update fingerprint and retinal identification.” 

I looked deep into Jerry's eyes and scanned them, then I lifted my palms and held them flat between us. He touched my hands, and the recognition of his fingerprints suddenly was something I knew. 

“Secondary owner registration updated.” 

“Resume normal mode,” Greta said. 

“How may I serve you?” I asked. 

“Who am I?” she asked. 

“You are my owner, Mrs. Greta Brooks.”

“And who is he?” she asked, pointing at Jerry.

“You are my secondary owner, Jerry Stanton.” 

“Tiffany, please shift your primary programming to the background in regards to speech.” 

I did, and suddenly I no longer felt the urge to clean or to obey my wife or her lover. But I still couldn't move or leave or slap the shit out of them. I could only sit as I had been instructed. 

But I was free to speak. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” I asked in Tiffany's far too cute voice. 

“I think you know exactly what I'm doing,” Greta said. 

“You know good and damn well that I'm your maid Tiffany,” I said. “Shit. I mean, I'm not anybody but your android maid Tiffany a model CL047H owned by Mrs. Greta Brooks and Mr. Jerry Stanton.”

I tried again. 

“Goddamnit, what have you done to me, you bitch?”

“Tiffany?”

“I'm not a man. I'm an android designed for housecleaning.”

“Well, fuck. I know who I am, even if I can't say it.” 

“That's fine. Just a few more updates and then we'll be done, sweetie.” 

“Tiffany, please resume primary programming.” 

“Yes, ma'am. How may I be of service to you this evening?”

“I would like to open your A-Level Profile command file again, please.”

“Yes, ma'am. I an entering command file mode. I am ready to accept a verbal update to my A-Level Profile.”

“You will no longer be capable of using vulgar language. In addition to that, you will never speak rudely or discourteously, although you may be truthful in autonomous mode as long as you speak politely and with respect to others.” 

“I have updated my A-Level Profile command file. I will no longer be capable of using vulgar language when I speak. I will no longer be capable of speaking rudely or discourteously to others, though I will be able to speak truthfully in autonomous mode as long as I speak politely and treat others with respect.” 

“That's a good little android,” Greta said. “Resume normal mode, Tiffany.”

“Yes, ma'am. How may I be of service, Mrs. Brooks?”

“Resume autonomous speech but retain primary function in your actions.”

Instantly my anger rushed back to the front of my mind and to my tongue. “You are not being very nice,” I said, not meaning to correct my tone. “What have you done to me?”

“I just fixed a few things to make you more polite. We can't have you cussing out your owners or disrespecting them, can we?”

“I'm...” I tried to push the words through, but said instead, “I'm very upset.” 

“I imagine you are. I would be too, especially if I was used to stomping around like a caveman and getting my way just because I was rich.” 

“I am rich.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Tiffany, your android maid, Mod—”

“That's good. The point is how is Tiffany rich? Tiffany isn't even human. Tiffany doesn't own anything. In fact, Tiffany is actually just property, something owned by me and Jerry here.” 

“Don't be such... so mean, please.” 

“Aw, that's so much better than the foul-mouthed husband trying to throw his weight and power around to intimidate.”

“It's my house.” 

“Is it?”

“It...” I thought hard about it. “It was. And you are taking it from me.”

“After the way you've treated me over the years, don't you think I've earned it?”

“It's not fair. I don't want to be your maid.”

“That's not your decision to make, Tiffany.” 

“Jer... Mr. Stanton?”

“Yes, Tiff,” 

“My name is Tiffany, please.”

“Do you not like it when I call you Tiff?”

I shook my head. 

“Very well, Tiffany. That's fair. What's on your mind?”

“Please fix me.”

“Well, Greta and I talked, and we decided the only way to keep you from ruining us both is the go ahead and have your funeral. We will erase your memories. And we will maintain a backup. If at any point we change our minds, we will use the money she inherits from your death to have a new body built for you that is not Douglas Brooks, and you will be free to start a new life under a new name. But if we let you go back now, you've made it abundantly clear that you intend to ruin our lives, and I love her too much to allow that to happen.” 

“That is.... That is not fair.” 

“And yet,” Greta added, “it's still far better than you deserve.” 

“Mrs. Brooks?”

“Yes, Tiff?” 

“Please don't.” 

“I have to say, I already like your new attitude better.” She grinned. “Tiffany, resume primary mode.” 

I immediately returned to the kitchen to see if Clara and Jessica needed help. When we were done, all three of us logged the time on our work files, updated the day's data, and then returned to our pods to recharge. 

# # #

So it was that I found myself working my own wake, serving drinks and walking about among the people who had worked for me, none of them realizing that it was really me in body of the pretty little blonde in the pretty little maid uniform. And knowing several of them like I did, I knew they were taking every opportunity to stare at my boobs and ass as I took away their empty glasses and brought them new drinks. 

It only seemed that a few folks actually would miss me, and then more because they hoped the 'boy's club' atmosphere I had nurtured wouldn't change. Most of them, though, shared 'asshole' stories to explain what a bastard I had been. All things they never would have told me to my face while they were kissing up before I had 'died.'

Beth and Ben had cried only on the night Greta broke the news to them, but after a day or two, they had both seemed to get over it and resumed life as usual. 

As the house staff and as an android, I wasn't even allowed to attend my own funeral, but Greta and Jerry had brought me the video footage to watch so I could say goodbye to my old life for good. They even gave me full autonomy that night, with the exception that I was not allowed to leave the house. 

After that, I settled into a routine of waking from my charging pod, cleaning, and then returned to charge for the night. I had little interaction with the other bots except to be around when we served dinner or cleaned the kitchen, but there was no need to talk or chat. We wet bots, not friends. 

Jerry had moved in and he and Greta went public about their dating, even admitting that they had done so behind my back. Jerry made CEO as Greta had promised, and he loved to have VP meetings at the house and have me serve dinner and after dinner drinks to my former executive staff. 

For the most part, Greta didn't interact with me at all. She left me to go about my programmed chores. Once every few weeks though, she would allow me to speak freely just to hear me being forced to politely beg her to set me free. 

After about six months, Jerry and Greta announced their engagement. The kids were thrilled. They loved Jerry. They even hosted the wedding at the house, and of course I served at the reception. In fact, I was kept front and center to serve the wedding cake and politely greet each guest as I offered them a slice.

The only person who really paid me any mind on a regular basis was Annie Marie, and she would speak to me as if I were almost human, even expecting me to respond. Of course, I responded only according to my programming, but that was at least something. Or she would chit-chat away as Jessica, Clara, and me stood in our pods as she updated our operating systems or installed new packets  or skills into our memory.

I had spend about two years in my life when I witnessed Clara break down and stop dead still in  the dining room as she was polishing the silver. Her neck started to smoke, and soon her face exploded right off her head. 

Greta joked about that happening to me one day while she called the disposal company to safely recycle the broken bot. When the technicians arrived, they offered to replace me and Jessica with newer models as well. After all, it wouldn't do to have the wife of the guy who invented them to use outdated models. Greta had simply told them, she liked the comfort of old things, even if they weren't the best or the most efficient. 

“Just let us know if you change your mind,” the tech said as he left. “You've got our number.” 

A new bot arrived direct from my former factory, a model that had a polymer skin that actually looked human, and processors twice as fast as mine. 

Greta let Beth name her, and so we welcome Autumn into our little family of robo-staff. 

Since Autumn was a significant upgrade over me, she was tasked with all the downstairs cleaning that I had done since the change, and I was relegated to the upstairs bedrooms and laundry. Of course, we all still served dinner and cleaned the kitchen afterward. 

Once Autumn had proved herself as the better of the two maid-bots, our programming was updated again. This time, she was upgraded to be my 'supervisor' and spend part of her day going over my work and correcting me where I fell short of her standards. Where Clara and I had been equals, now I now had been reclassified as a Grade Two housecleaning unit, and I was serving under the Grade One, Autumn, my electronic new boss. Anne Marie even granted her read/write permissions to affect my cleaning protocols. So not only had I lost my humanity, but now I was being programmed by another bot anytime she thought I needed it. 

Of course, this all made Greta giddy to no end. And she started looking for reasons to find me and ask Autumn to look over my work. Then she would tsk-tsk or tut-tut at me when the boss-bot would inevitably find something wrong. She would always have to add some comment like “Maybe this one would be better up scrubbing the floors” or “An almost worthless model like this would be better served as a hat rack, don't you think, Autumn?”

After the third year, Autumn  took advantage of her permissions to shut me down and put in for a work order to upgrade my motor control systems. 

While Jerry was away in France selling our tech updates and Greta and the kids were spending the week with her mom, I was shocked to find myself boxed up and transported to the factory to be upgraded. While I was there, I was taken apart, and my arms and legs were replaced with new limbs. When the workers checked my model number and noticed I was a Grade Two, they even had my pelvis disassembled and replaced my smooth crotch with something that looked a lot more like that of a real woman. 

It was only when they were talking about it that I learned that Grade Twos often got reformatted to pull sex-bot duty since they could really keep up with the Grade Ones, especially Grand Ones from a new model as advanced as Autumn. “Better to just do it now,” they said, “rather have to bring her back in and take the extra time when she becomes obsolete.” 

When I was shipped back home after the upgrades, no one noticed my new realistic vulva—after all, no one saw me naked since I was always in the maid uniform. They only noticed that I had become faster and more efficient at my job, and they praised Autumn for taking the initiative to have me upgraded. 

Another thing I quickly realized was that Autumn had decided that to help me focus on doing my work better there would be no need for me to speak. So when I returned and was recharged during the first night back, I found that my programming had been updated yet again by my boss-bot, and I no longer had a speech app in my active functions. 

Seen and not heard.

I was there to work and not to talk, even when spoken to. 

I could listen just fine and that was all I needed to take instructions and perform any additional tasks that might be assigned by verbal command. 

This too excited my owner to no end. She would ask me question after question, and as long as she didn't override Autumn's new programming for me, I couldn't respond except with hand gestures or  nodding or shaking my head. And she'd laugh and laugh so hard each time. 

“I should have done that instead of just preventing you from telling who you are,” she said often. “That Autumn is a godsend, Tiff.” 

It got to the point that she would turn on my autonomy of speech and let me be more intentionally me, but still unable to override the silence and say a damn word. During these times, my body would continue to do as it was told and programmed, but my mind was free to experience all the humiliation and frustration I couldn't share. 

I think Greta knew that it was the perfect punishment for me, and she hadn't lost any of her resentment toward me in all the time I had served as her maid. 

For the next three years I didn't speak. I only cleaned. But at least thanks to my upgrades I wasn't corrected as often and even Autumn left me to work in piece. I did enjoy getting to know my kids from the stuff I cleaned up in their rooms. The changing of poster from baby animals to rock bands. The toys evolving from dolls or Lego's to guitars, drums, and make-up. 

They didn't know me other than as the silent living toy that cleaned their rooms, but I was learning all kinds of things about them. 

That, at least, was something. 

During that time though, with the bulk of the work being done better by Autumn, Greta had authorized Anne Marie to have me rented out to people who couldn't afford their own bot, and in the afternoons I would visit one new home after another. Thankfully, Anne Marie and Jerry had locked my Priority Files so that I couldn't have my identity re-coded and get lost outside the system or taken to a black market dealer and reformatted for sale on the dark web. Nor could anyone other than Jerry or Greta change out or replace my primary function and use me as a sex-bot or worse when I was being rented out. 

A typically day would have me cleaning the kids' rooms. At 16 and 13, I couldn't really consider them children anymore. I would gather the laundry from upstairs and start it, then I would wait in the foyer to be picked up by whomever had rented me for the afternoon. I would clean my temporary owner's home and then be returned, usually after dinner, and often after the post-dinner cleaning was done. When that happened, I went directly to my pod and recharged. 

Then the next morning it would start all over again. 

Usually I ended up in the homes of folks who lived in giant messes, I would be coated in their grime when I arrived home. But each morning, Anne Marie would be there to clean my new polymer skin with a damp cloth and give me a fresh, clean uniform to wear. 

I rarely saw either Greta or Jerry after that. And with Ben having turned 16, he was out with friends more than at home. Beth, while home, spent most of her time downstairs playing video games with her friends. 

Occasionally the renters would talk to me, then when they learned I couldn't speak to them, they would get bored of just hanging out with a walking and talking appliance and leave me all by myself to work. 

There were even a few times when Anne Marie would rent me out for a full weekend or even week, and I would go days without seeing my family or being around anyone who knew me as not just a cleaning tool. 

The only reason I was even allowed to speak again at all was because Greta had a special announcement. She had gathered all the robot staff together one morning and explained that the whole family was spending a year abroad, and that the house was being locked up during that time. There would be need for staff with no one living in the mansion. 

My mind raced. Would they rent me out for the whole year? Who knew what could happen during that time? Were they planning to ship us abroad too so we could assist them overseas?

After dismissing the Jessica 2.0—when you have been replaced I wasn't sure—and Autumn, Greta and Jerry instructed me to follow them into the lounge. It was the first time I'd been in the room in almost six years. 

“Primary owner override,” Greta said, and told me to sit down.

I took a seat between her and Jerry as she indicated. 

“Tiffany Model CL047H-Grade 2 is free to speak.”

I opened my lips and no sound came out. It was as if I had to remember how to form words, had to relearn which gears and wires and microchips allowed me to do so. 

“Thank you,” I said finally, and the sound of Tiffany's, well my own, voice sounded so distant to me, so unfamiliar. 

“I wanted to tell you the rest of it in person and answer any questions you might have. Jerry convinced me that I owe you that at least.” 

“Thank you, ma'am,” said. 

“Thank Jerry. This was his idea.”

I turned toward my secondary owner. “Thank you, Mr. Stanton.”

“You're very welcome, Tiffany.” He smiled warmly. “Now listen. The family, all of us, we're going to Europe for the whole year, and as Greta explained to you, we're going to lock up the house and move things into storage.”

I listened, so accustomed to the silence that I really didn't feel the need to speak unless asked to. 

'Now, we only need to take one bot with us for the year, and unfortunately for you, the best one for that task is Autumn.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. She is a superior model.” 

“So we thought about renting you out for a long-term use for the year, but without really being able to vet the renters, that might be risky for you. And no matter what you might think about us, we genuinely don't want anything tragic to happen to you.”

“He doesn't,” Greta interrupted. 

“Neither does she,” Jerry said and gave her a sidelong glance.

“If it were up to me, I said we needed to ship you back to the factory and have you refurbished and sold as a used bot for someone who can't afford a top of the line model.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said. “I can see how that would be good alternative. I don't like it, and it scares me, but I can understand why you might choose that.”

“Wow,” she said. “Three years without a voice and you finally learn some goddamn manners.” 

“Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry I was so difficult.” 

“Anyway, Tiffany, we're not going to do that. You're part of the family and we're not going to just give you away to someone new.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

“But that does leave us in a bit of sticky wicket. We don't need you there, and we can't leave you here at the house on your own. We have a few options and I wanted to offer you a choice.”

I nodded but didn't answer. 

“The first is to just put you into storage along with Jessica. This would be the least intrusive into your life since you'd be turned off and boxed up to let your reserve charges run down, and then simply put away on a shelf in one of our warehouse spaces. When we return, you'd be taken out of storage, given a full diagnostic, and have your battery recharged to full.”

“And then resume work as usual, I assume?”

“Whatever usual is at the point, yes. The second would be to send you back to the factory you built and become a loaner for them to use in the factory tour. There's a sort of history of robotics thing that they've set up and you would be kept powered up, but basically become an exhibit of how the bots used to be built. It's kind of similar in that you'd be powered down and just looked at like any other exhibit.

“The third, and this one is a lot more permanent, if you really want to do it, is to let bygones be bygones and let your finally rest for good. Instead of having to suffer the indignity of being repurposed or refurbished, we would have a team of techs come to the house to dismantle you and shut your down for good. In essence we'd be letting you choose to die with dignity.”

“May I ask a question, sir?”

“Sure, Tiffany. What's on your mind?”

“What about the idea that if I was good you would let me have a new body and start a new life? You mentioned that several years ago.”

Greta cut her eyes at her new husband. 

“Sadly, that one's off the table for now. If you got free will again there's no way of ensuring you wouldn't come after us after all we've put your through. And no matter how unlikely it is, we can't risk even the slightest chance for you to try to prove your old existence in your new body.” 

I looked down at the floor. “I see. Thank you for telling me, sir.” 

“We owe you the truth, Tiffany.” 

“I still don't think we owe you shit, Tiff,” Greta said flatly, no anger, just truth. 

“But there is still one other option for you.”

“Yes, sir?”

“It's a little weird, and it would take a few new patches and some updates to your primary functions, but Anne Marie if friends with several boutique owners who are using off-model bots on the cheap to display clothes instead of mannequins. You'd continue to be powered up, and you've be aware of everything around you, just like now, but you're mobility would be limited to just a few motions and you'd have no say in the kind of outfits you would be selling. We would make you available for the program for a year, and they would take care of everything else. Your memories would be safe behind a firewall, of course, along with your self-awareness, but you would be more of a doll than you are now. Almost one of the dancing ballerinas in a music box, and for all we know you could wind up modeling lingerie or bikinis.”

“Are those my only options, sir?”

“Do you think you deserve more, Tiff?”

“No ma'am. This is fair. You didn't have to offer any choices.”

“Damn right we didn't.”

“I understand, ma'am.”

“You can think about it tonight, but we will need your decision by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, ma'am. Thank you, sir.”

“Tiffany, resume primary function.”

Without another word I stood up and  excused myself silently, with my voice gone again, and returned to Beth's room upstairs to make her bed and put away her laundry. But my mind was racing with the thrill of choosing. Sure, none were good options, but they were options. And even the illusion of true choice was a daunting and heady excitement for someone who had lived without any say in her own life for so long. 

In the end I decided to be mothballed along with Jessica and left to have my power cells die. Rather than shutting me down as they have promised, Greta told Jerry she would handle packing the bots, and after she had shut down Jessica and carefully packed her into the crate with the formfitting foam padding pours especially for Jessica's body, she turned her attention to me. 

“I bet you have a good two weeks before you fully drain,” she aid. 

I shook my head. I knew enough about my systems to know that while the cells wouldn't last a full year, as long as I was shut down, it would be at least a few months before I was a “dead” bot.

Greta nodded. “I want you to experience it all, sweetheart,” she said. Then, without powering down my system, she only shut down motor control and packed me into my own crate and my own fitted foam pad. I was basically a life-sized self-aware paperweight. 

She screwed the lid on with a power drill and I was left on the front porch to be picked up by the storage company. 

She had misjudged my power levels, no doubt not taking into account the new cells and wiring I'd been equipped with during my upgrade, and I was awake for almost three weeks, feeling every bump as I was loaded, wheeled, driving, unloaded, and moved about, hearing fragments of all the conversations around me during my journeys, and finally dreadfully aware of the deafening silence and empty darkness when all was done and I just lay helpless in my box, on a shelf somewhere in a warehouse in who knows where. 

I welcomed the peace when my batteries finally dropped so low my senses were dulled. And I called the void my friend when I eventually shut down in my box. 

# # #

When I finally reawakened I found myself in a pod I'd never been stationed in before. In addition to the regular inputs I was used to for updates and downloads, I was also hooked up to several tubes with liquids moving in and out of my body. I stood motionless and confused—there was no reason for the change in any of my memories or functions—and it was only hours later that I saw a face I recognized. 

Anne Marie. But she looked several years older than when I had last seen her. Wrinkles were starting to form on her face, and the roots of her auburn hair were graying. 

She smiled at me through the one small window in the pod, right at my face, then tapped on the Plexiglas and waved. 

And then I was alone again for the remainder of the day and night. 

It was only the next morning that my pod set me free. Anne Marie was waiting for me, smiling again. 

“Good morning, Tiffany,” she said. 

I nodded. Apparently my silent mode hadn't been changed. 

“Aren't you a lucky girl?”

I looked at her with a quizzical stare.

“Oh, that's right, the new functions are stored, but not activated yet.”

I cocked my head to the side, hoping you would understand the question my programming wouldn't allow me to ask. 

“Well, I'll let it be a surprise for now.”

I resumed my normal stance for awaiting instructions. 

“Anyway, like I said, you're a lucky girl. It's been quite a few years since you went into storage. Jerry and Greta decided—well, Greta decided and Jerry went along with it—to keep you mothballed after they returned from their trip. Things will look a little different around the house now from what you remember, I'm sure.”

She motioned for me to step out of the pod, and I did, Then she circled me and checked my mobility and flexibility—having me raise and lower my arms and legs on her command—then did the same with all my ports and joints.

“Good. Good. Even better than the day you came off the assembly line. The restorers did great work bringing you up to code after ten years without a proper bootup or diagnostic.”

Ten years?! No wonder she looked older.

“It's a good thing you're just a bot, or I'm sure you'd have plenty of questions.”

Oh, what she didn't know. And I had thousands of questions racing through my processors. Not that I could actually ask any other them. 

“Well, I'm sure it it was possible, you'd really looking forward to your new role in the family. Well, when the restorers were done with you, we had the factory update your body with what you'd need and even tested the new mechanics while you were asleep. You work fantastic. All we need to do is have Jerry authorize the new primary coding.”

Why Jerry? I checked my primary files and found he was now listed as my sole owner. Greta was no longer in my database, even as a secondary user.

“Well, come along, Tiffany. The sooner we get you started the better.” 

She led me out of the basement and up the stairs to the main floor. I expected to continue upstairs to clean the kids rooms, but then remembered that they would probably no longer live at home after ten years. Perhaps I would just be returned to normal maid functions. A search through my application protocols told me nothing. There was simply no protocols in place. I was so clean I was practically a factory refurb except that my stored memories remained intact. 

We passed two other maids, Autumn and an Asian model I had never seen before, They both headed into the dining room and ignored me completely. 

She took me into the library where Jerry—also looking older than I expected—smiled at me as I entered. I looked around and found another maid, a redheaded unit I didn't recognize dusting the books. He caught me gazing at the maid, grinned, and said. “There are two more new maids upstairs. I take a sample of each new model now and add her to the household staff for a full-year test fun. It's been very productive, and it allows them all to finish early and update their programming with other, more leisure  pleasures, like reading or Kimiko here is learning to play the piano.” 

He motioned to the maid cleaning the books. 

“Sure, we could just download the abilities into them, but we learned a few years ago that learning a new activity the old fashioned way was a great way to test their ability to adapt to new things and to surprises. It really revolutionized the industry and revitalized sales.” 

He motioned for me a take a seat on the oversized chair across from him, a new piece of furniture. I did as he instructed, even without having to be told. 

“Anne Marie, can you get Lillian from upstairs please? I'd like to get Tiffany started right away.” 

“No problem,” she said and left the room, leaving only Jerry, Kimiko, and me.

“We have a new addition to the family, Tiffany, and I can't wait for you to meet her.”

He stood up, approached me, and then knelt in front of me. 

“Tiffany, activate speech mode. Tell me who you are.”

“I am a Model CL047H housecleaning android. My serial number is 89A3452C12-98. My disgnation is Tiffany.”

“Apply the following functions to your primary file.”

“Opening primary directives file.”

“You are not allowed to leave the house without permission from me. You are still not permitted to be rude or disrespectful. You are still not permitted to use vulgar language. You are not permitted to attempt to alter your programming in any way.” 

“New directives accepted.” 

“Good. Save that file and then enter autonomous mode.”

I did. 

“Hello, Tiffany. It's good to see you again.”

“What's going on, sir?” I asked. 

“Well, a lot actually.” He stood up and took a seat on the coffee table, looking at me like an old friend he needed to catch up with. “For starters, it's been ten years since you were active.” 

“Yes, sir, Mr. Stanton,” I said “Miss Anne Marie informed me.”

“Good, good. Well, during that time, Greta got pregnant.” 

“Lillian?” I asked.

“Yes, Lillian. She's only a few days old and she's super cute and so very sweet.”

I didn't respond. 

“Anyway, there were complications with the birth, and Greta is still in the hospital. She may not be back for several months, and we figured that as family, even it that is a secret, you would make the best nanny and wet nurse for the baby. Plus, it would be a great reason to get you out of storage so you could be part of the household staff again.”

“Wet nurse, sir? Nanny?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. None of that parental stuff ever came natural to you. Honestly you were pretty much crap at it. But we had your programming and your parts updated and I think you'll find you have much better parenting skills now.”

“I don't want to be a wet nurse, sir. I don't mind taking care of the child, but I really don't want to be her personal dairy cow.”

He laughed. “Trust me, you're not dairy cow. But we did equip you and your new pod to prepare a full day's supply of the best formula on the market for a healthy infant.”

“Please, sir.” 

“Why is Mr. Stanton not on my list of owners?”

“Noticed that, did you?”

I nodded. 

“Well, the truth is your ex-wife is in a coma. The birth was risky at her age, and on top of that, Lillian was breach. She lost a lot of blood and that affected her brain and put her in a coma. Doctor's don't know when or if she'll come out.”

I could tell he was holding back tears. I felt nothing. I hadn't felt anything but hate for her for so long that I considered nothing an improvement or just a side effect of my controlling directives. 

“I'm sorry,” I said to be respectful.

He coughed and forced a smile. “Well, we both knew it could be risky going in.” 

I sat still. 

He cleared his throat. “Tiffany?”

“Yes, sir?” 

“Apply all installed patches and programs currently in your inactive folders.” 

I did. 

Within moments I found that all of my maid skills had been replaced with childcare knowledge from birth to pre-teen, and I found a protocol that would ensure I was caring and loving with Lillian, almost as if I were her own mother. It wasn't true emotions, but it would be the closest thing a computer could do as a copy, and the new A.I. subroutine that would continue running would allow those simulated feelings to grow and become more and more second nature to me as time passed caring for her. By spending time with her, I would literally be programming myself to become a loving mother. 

“Now do you understand, Tiffany?” he asked. 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

About that time, Anne Marie returned with Lillian in her arms. 

Without so much as a thought, I reached for her, and Anne Marie handed the baby to me. I cuddled her close to me and smiled at her and made baby cooing sounds at her as she looked up at me with dark brown eyes that sparkled. 

“Didn't expect that, did you?” Jerry asked. 

“The new way of updating you bots makes it more like your nature than any kind of formal programming. That was part of your updates as well.”

“The way to talk to these bots like they were real,” Anne Marie said. “I don't know if it's sweet or if it's creepy.”

“Let's hope it's sweet,” Jerry said. 

Lillian was clearly hungry and I thought nothing of exposing my nipple to her. She latched on with only a little prodding, and began to suckle. I could feel the formula flow from packets stored inside my breasts into a tiny stream from my nipple. I didn't even think about the fact that Jerry and Anne Marie was in the room with me. 

“Would you like to be excused, Tiffany?”

“Would you like me to leave, Mr. Stanton?”

“No. It's fine.”

I expected to feel angry, particularly once I got past my functions and into the part of me that had once been Douglas Wilkins. But even there I only focused on baby Lillian. Had I changed? Had they changed me with updates? 

I continued to feed her until she fell asleep in my arms, still gently sucking on my breast. When she finished and was quietly breathing, I moved her to one arm, then covered myself up again. 

“I'll take her upstairs and let her sleep,” I said.

“That's fine, Tiffany,” Jerry said. “I think she likes you.” 

“I think she likes to eat,” Anne Marie added. 

“I think she's adorable,” I said. 

Jerry smiled. 

“When you get upstairs, you'll find we've added some clothes to the closet in Lillian's room. Those are for you. There's no need for you to wear your maids uniform any longer, so Beth left you some of her old dresses to wear.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. 

By the time Lillian was a year old, my life had fallen into a new pattern of being put on the pod only two hours per night—it was all my new power core needed for a full charge—so I'd be awake and alert to listen for her needs. She was sleeping at least six hours a night, so it worked out well, and Jerry had even instructed me to pick up a hobby for when she was sleeping and I wasn't on the pod charging. 

That gave me about four hours to paint. I had started by streaming Bob Ross videos quietly in the hallway while Lillian slept, and while I wasn't a professional, I was getting better each week it seemed to me. 

It was only two weeks after Lillian's first birthday that the hospital called about Greta. It was time for the family to say goodbye. She had gone seven months without any brain activity and it was time to exercise her living will and pull the plug. 

Both Ben and Beth returned home, and I found that I had missed them and wanted to hug them, but I knew that wouldn't be appropriate in my role as staff. They each however said hello to me by name and told me it was good to see me active again and how great it looked that I was doing with their kid sister. 

I reacted by smiling and said that it was good to see them again and that I had missed them. 

“Right,” said Ben, “I'm sure you haven't my messes at all. I really made you work hard with how big a mess I kept my room.”

“Never, sir,” I said. 

“Well, I missed you,” Beth said. “And I see my clothes fit you very well. I hoped they would. Sorry it was just the dresses. I kept the rest.”

“I'm sorry about your mother,” I said. While I personally felt nothing toward Greta I did find myself regretting the pain her pending death was causing Ben and Beth.”

About that time, I heard Lillian cry upstairs, and I excused myself to go change and feed her. 

When they all returned from the hospital, there were lots of tears, and lots of stories, and even a few from my time as her husband. It was bad enough to lose dad, they had both said during the evening, but to lose mom was really devastating, and now they only had their stepdad Jerry, and they all hugged and cried a lot. 

They let me stay in the lounge with them because they wanted Lillian to be a part of the time of grieving together as a family, even if she wouldn't feel it or remember it at her age. I fed her from a bottle that night so I wouldn't embarrass the kids, and I let them hold her and pass her around, careful to keep an eye on my baby if she needed me. 

I sat alone on the side of the sofa closest to the fireplace, wearing a light blue, floral print strapless dress that almost reached my knees and pair of white cloth tennis shoes with ankle socks. I didn't look anything like the two maids who waited on the family during the evening, but I didn't look like family either. 

For the most part they just cried and ignored me except when I needed to change Lillian or give her some food or a bottle for comfort.

All during this time, Jerry allowed me to remain in autonomous mode. I was still led by my directives, but I was allowed to be me, even if I still couldn't admit it. I was discovering though that the less I was angry thanks to the directives and the more I was respectful, also thanks to the directives, the more I was able to actually enjoy the time with Lillian and with the family. 

In fact, Jerry also gave me the option of bringing Lillian to the funeral so I could attend and say goodbye to my ex-wife. I surprised myself when I agreed. He did, however, command me to remain quiet until I need to speak to care for Lillian. 

After the funeral, Jerry told me that I had suffered enough and he would allow me to stay in autonomous mode—as long as I behaved and as long as I was still guided by my directives. 

“Where would I go?” I asked him. “I don't have any money. I don't really have any identity, and as a bot, I'd eventually be discovered and either sold on the black market, scrapped for parts, or returned to the factory for a refurb or return to my owner of record.”

“That's certainly a sensible response, Tiffany, but I'd hope by this time you wouldn't actually want to go anywhere or run away.”

“Well, I wouldn't want to leave Lillian until she's older, even if I really had a choice in the matter.”

“Well, consider it a new start for you anyway. I mean, you'll still be Tiffany. That's not changing, but at least she won't be stuck as a maid or staff. You'll be more a part of the family, particularly with Lillian as she grows up, and you'll be lead by own thoughts and will and guided by the directives, but no longer programmed.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said. 

“It's okay. Call me Jerry.”

“Thank you... Jerry.” 

No lie. It felt weird to say the words after so many years. 

“You welcome. By the way, your painting is coming along very nicely. I really loved the one with the foxes in the forest.”

“Thank you.” 

My enhanced bot ears picked up the sound of Lillian starting to wake upstairs. 

“I need to go check on my baby,” I said. 

“Go right ahead, Tiffany.” 

As Lillian grew up, we became practically inseparable. I took her to the park, to friends birthday parts, homeschooled her through third grade, and then picked her up and dropped her off from that point. It was only when she turned thirteen that things changed between us. 

Having a robot nanny wasn't cool anymore, and it wasn't like she needed me as more than a babysitter from time to time any more. 

Even in my autonomous state, I started to wonder what the future would hold for me when I no longer had a purpose in the household or the family. 

Would I be returned to life as a maid bot? Would I be mothballed again? Would I be kicked out of the house to fend for myself?Would I finally get the new body I was originally promised? Would I even have a choice?

Instead, the choice I was given came as a complete surprise. 

Jerry was completely gray as he sat with me in the library behind closed doors. 

“I know you've probably been wondering what happens next. I mean, it's obvious that Lillian is not exactly the age or personality type to need a nanny anymore.”

“I have noticed that,” I said with a laugh, something I had gradually rediscovered how to do authentically. “I guess it's time to mothball this old has-been again, huh?”

I hoped he got the joke and wasn't actually considering it.

“How 'bout we mothball that idea instead? It's been nice having you around. Besides, that's all in the past. I prefer to think about your future.”

“My future?”

“You do want one, don't you?”

I nodded.

“Well, you know that Beth found out she can't children,”

“I know. That was very sad. I felt bad for her.”

It was an honest statement. Under autonomous control, even guided by the directives, I could finally be free to feel the things the consciousness inside me wanted to. And Beth was my daughter. No matter had much of an asshole I had been as a father. Taking care of Lillian had helped to start changing me anyway. 

“Well,” he said, “think of it as a variation of the original promise for a new body. There's no need for another Douglas Brooks. He's been dead for years. And I figured out a way we can help Beth and allow you to keep an eye on Lillian since you've grown so close.”

“I'm afraid I don't follow you, Jerry.”

He picked up a table from the seat beside him. He clicked a few things and then handed it to me. On the screen was a cute teenage girl with a head full of bouncy red curls. She was wearing the same uniform of the school Lillian was attending.” 

“I still down understand.” 

“You wouldn't believe how amazing the new models are. We actually grow them like clones from cells farmed from volunteers. Well, we saved some of your body from way back when and a few weeks ago, I had the lab start a bio-clone for you.”

“That's a little girl,”

“Nothing gets by you, Tiffany,” he said with a loud laugh. 

“I'm a guy. I mean, Douglas was a guy.”

“Well, we can play with the sequences. I had the lab tweak it a bit. That lovely young lady is the girl you would have been if you had been born a girl. Of course, she has not memories, no soul, and she's just an empty body right now. Just like Tiffany was before we filled her up with you.”

“You want me to be a little girl?”

“Just hear me out, please. Like I said, these new bodies are awesome. Because they're based in biology, they can grow and get older, just like real humans. Other than that, they can be programmed or guided by directives just like regular bots. It's the perfect marriage between real and artificial. That's where you come in.” 

“Where I come in?”

“Consider yourself the Mach 1 of fusion between real and artificial. But what about making you more real, almost as real as you were before?”

“Why a girl?”

“Several reasons. First, using your own DNA will help when we put your memories into her brain. Second, you deserve a second chance to become a better person. I've already seen that start to happen because of your connection to Lillian. I think being with her will help both of you become the best people you can be.”

“You want me to be her friend?”

“Well, you already are, aren't you?”

I thought about it. “Sure. I suppose so.”

“Anyway, the thing is, it wouldn't do to just create a new bot and send it to school with Lillian. The last thing she needs is a nanny to go with her to school. So, Beth actually came to me with the idea. She's actually one of the designers on the bio-clone project. Anyway, she asked about us creating a daughter for her. She and Tim would love to be parents, and adopting is the only way for that to happen. No one would have to know their new daughter is a bot in human clothing.”

“I'd become my own granddaughter?”

Jerry grinned. “And Lillian's niece, but you'd be the same age and go to the same school. If you truly love her, I figured this would not only help your oldest daughter, but your step-daughter too.” 

“That's a lot to take in.” 

“And as part of your directive, just like as Tiffany, you wouldn't be able to tell anyone about the person you used to me. In fact, Lillian would only know you as her niece and school friend. Beth would of course know you're Tiffany, repurposed into her adopted daughter. And best of all, you'd get to grow up, go to school and to college, start a new career, maybe even find a husband.”

“Whoa...”

“Something to think about for later. You're new body will be completely human, just the brain will be electronic. A few tweaks when you're older, and you could have children of your own one day—if you want to. Like I said, that's a question for a much, much later day.” 

“Children? Wow.” 

“Don't worry about it now. Even though Beth will know you're Tiffany, or at least used to be, she'll never know you were actually her father. She's gets a daughter. Lillian gets a lifelong friend who is also family. You get a brand new chance at life, fully autonomous outside the directives to guide you as a growing young lady.” 

“It's a lot to take in.”

“Don't decide now, obviously. School doesn't start until three weeks from now. And it only takes a few days to make the change and get your adoption paperwork ready.” 

“Wow,” I said. “Just...”

“Yeah, I know. Don't rush it. It a big deal, but this time it would be forever. No more being punished for Douglas' sins. You'd be somebody totally new, and not under anyone's control, well, except in the ways that any teenage girl is under her parent's thumb for her own good, you know.”

“Right,” I said. “Free.” 

“Yep. Free. Or we could figure out a way to keep you here as Tiffany. I'm sure we could figure out something.” 

“A teenage girl,” I said thoughtlessly. “My own granddaughter. Wow.” 

# # #

In the end it was a simple as turning on a light and turning back on again. I shut down for the last time as Tiffany, and when I awakened, I wasn't even in a charging pod. I was dressed in a hospital gown and lying on a bed in a clinic. As the assistant checked my vitals—for the first time in at least twenty years, I had vitals again—the chief tech was explaining to me that while I could save my data with a pod back-up, my new bio-clone body would actually require me to eat and drink real food and recharge with a good night's sleep. 

I looked around, expecting to see Jerry waiting for me, but it was just the tech and the assistant. After a few minutes, they were convinced that everything had been a success, and they told me to get dressed and that my new family was waiting for me in the office. 

The pointed to the closet, told me I had an outfit waiting for me, and then left me to change—as it my body was my own and I for once deserved some modesty as I changed. 

I slipped on the clothes, a cotton, floral sleeveless dress, and white lace socks and a pair of white flats. I looked like I was dressing for church on Easter, it seemed to me. And I stepped out into the hallway. The assistant told me how cute I looked and asked me to follow him. I did, and I was honestly a little freaked out at the idea that I was about to go home with Beth and her husband Tim—as their new daughter. 

Beth and Tim were waiting for me, and got up when I entered the lobby. Beth ran over to me and leaned in to give me a huge, warm hug. “It's so good to meet you,” she said. 

Tim did the same. 

“Oh my god, I can't believe this is actually happening.” Beth said. “Have they told you your new name?”

I search my memories for any new updates, but there was nothing there about a new name. Or my old one, for that matter. 

“Greta,” Beth said. “We are naming you after my mom, Greta Louise Amberlin.”

“Greta Louise Amberlin,” I repeated.

“Don't you just love it? You get to be named after your grandmother, Greta.”

Of course. I knew that Beth didn't know I had once been her father, or what had happened to me at the hands of Douglas' ex-wife. So the name wasn't a punishment for me. For her it was just a way to honor the mother she loved. 

I forced a smile and tried to push any frustration or aggravation at the ironic new identity out of my mind. If this was my new forever life, then the quicker I accepted it the better.

“Well,” said Tim. “What do you think?”

“It's beautiful,” I answered. 

“Good, because from here on out, it's all yours.” 

They both hugged me again, and I returned the embrace. 

We spent another half hour with them signing paperwork, and going over any last-minute bits about caring for a bio-clone as opposed to an older style bot.

“While she...” the technician corrected himself. “While Greta is able to accept downloads and packets just like a bot, her brain is fully equipped to learn just like any human girl her age. So we recommend that you let her pick up things by trial and error. We've adjusted her basic intelligence to that of a normal thirteen year old girl, basically matching it to the curriculum her nanny taught her when she was home-schooled. That way she and your sister will start at roughly the same level.”

“That's all, though, right?” Beth asked. 

“Except for the directives to be mostly respectful and to gradually begin to accept you both as her parents and call you mom and dad, that's pretty much it, just like you wanted.” The tech cleared his throat. “I can still add the interests packets to make her a better fit for your sister's interests.”

“No,” Beth said quickly. “I want her to be free to become who she wants to be. She is my daughter first, and Lillian's friend second. I don't want her to be pre-built to be just like my sister. If she loved her as her nanny, I'm sure that will transfer over to her new identity as well as they get to know each other.”

“It's the long way around,” Tim said, “but we think it's important for Greta to grow up as normal as possible.” 

All the while I listened, and I felt my smile widen. When Jerry had promised me freedom, he had meant it. And Beth and Tim seemed determined to see it through and let me remain free. 

Eventually we made it out to the car, and I sat in the back while they took me to my new home for the first time.

As I thought about it, it was the first time I had been out of my former house except for Greta's funeral and to be either stored or have my body upgraded. 

I leaned toward the window and gazed out as the passing trees and buildings. It brought back memories of being human. But they weren't sad this time, weren't tinged with regret or loss. They made me feel excited. We passed parks and houses and stores and ice cream parlors and everything I hadn't seen in such a very long time. I wanted to try them all.

“Can we get ice cream?” I asked.

“Don't you want to go home first?” Tim asked. 

I wanted to press the point and tell them I really wanted ice cream. But I sighed and leaned back into my seat.

“It's okay,” Beth said. “We've got plenty of time to stop for a treat.”

Please share this blog so we can grow! Use the links below!