The dinner party was to be a quiet, civilized affair. Couples would file in through the massive double
doors and be greeted by the hosts, Dave and Marcia Winston. They were a handsome pair, striking
features and dark intelligent eyes to match. To fit their personalities, their home had to be
magnificent, and twice as expensive.
The gabled Victorian roof rose high above the manicured lawn and in the each of the countless
windows burned with the light of a single candle. It was from one of these windows that Mrs. Marcia
Winston watched as the first guest pulled in with the latest zero emission car. Her made-up face was
placid as the car pulled out its retractable arm to help it’s occupant out- her dress, being in the style
of the late 1800s, made it almost impossible to move.
The technology of the current age had become so advanced that people began to fear it- there was
talk of a long proclaimed ‘robot uprising’. So a flashback seemed in order. The world, at least the
wealthy upper-class, had decided that they could recreate the simple but luxuriant lifestyles of days
past- with the necessary upgrades, of course. It seemed that the world was putting on a play,
involving a multitude of characters moving through an intricately designed maze of trip wires crafted
from the subtle hand gestures and sideways glances.
Gathering up her own skirts, Mrs. Winston began to descend the wrought iron staircase that lead to
the second level of the house. The sounds of welcomes began to rise up to meet her, yet she made no
movement to hurry. She stopped before a small closet and seemed to brace herself for some
oncoming conflict pulling her small shoulders into a subtle but unmistakable defensive position.
With the flick of a wrist, the doors were open, revealing a single figure.
It was a Buffer – the latest advance, and the best money could buy, in humanoid robotics. The
resemblance to it’s makers was uncanny. It’s purpose was to act, as it’s name suggested, as a block
between the humans and their emotions – most importantly the emotions that could ruin a perfect
dinner party. Mrs. Winston grabbed it’s arm and pressed the small and almost invisible button on the
inside of it’s wrist. A dim light started behind glassy eyes as it’s synthetic spine straightened and an
interested-but-not-involved smile took over it’s lips. The android turned it’s head to scan Mrs.
Winston’s form. The woman tried not to shudder under it’s hollow gaze.
“Hello, Marcia. What can I do for you?” Its voice was smooth and silky, too mature for its youthful
appearance.
“Buffer mode… Please.” The command was issued somewhat quietly, as if the robot was frightening,
and the task embarrassing.
“Of course, Marcia.” It tilted its head as if to ponder something, yet Marcia knew that it was
incapable of such things. There was a quiet whirring sound as faint movement could be seen in the
exposed area of its neck. Marcia watched it out of the corner of her eye, but quickly pulled her gaze
to the floor after a few loud heartbeats. After a few moments, the robot righted itself and gracefully
turned its eyes to Mrs. Winston. She internally shivered under the machine’s gaze.
“Buffer mode activated, Marcia.” Apprehension and distrust hiding behind her eyes, Mrs. Winston
nodded curtly.
“The guests are starting to arrive. Take up the usual place.” She began to tentatively descend the
grand staircase, but instinctively rolled her shoulders back before coming into view of the guests.
“Of course, Marcia.” Soon, Mrs. Winston was out of sight and the robot was left alone. It stepped up
to the top stair and looked down. It seemed the action was birthed from contemplation, yet as it
began the descent, the pause was revealed as to be a scan of the stairs so as to not plummet down the
marble steps.
As it reached the bottom of the stairs, it swung its head in a scan of the dining room, evaluating its
surroundings with a calculated coolness. It walked past the Winston’s, who were greeting the guests
who were entering, all arrayed in Victorian finery. Mrs. Winston turned to look as it entered the
dining room.
When inside, it walked through the guests that were congregated in the dining room. Like the
Winston’s, the guests gave little attention to the robot. Small glances and subtle shifts away from it
were the extent of the interactions – overall, the guests observed it with a begrudging respect.
There was a jubilant feeling filling the spacious room adorned with elegant architecture, a string
quartet of sorts flawlessly playing without the need of human direction. A respectable dance started
up and soon all the guests were tucked under each other’s arms and waltzing with smiles upon their
faces and laughter upon their lips – they were content.
Yet, along with this jovial feeling, there was an eerie presence hovering over the crowd with it’s easy
smiles and clinking glasses. Once the dance had broken up, everyone was commencing to the dining
hall. Ms. Lawson – young, rich and incredibly quiet- stole away to the library and leaned against the
door frame. She took a deep breath and wished that she was at home, away from this crowd of insipid
small talk and bragging rights. A cold hand on her forearm made her jump and she found herself
inches from the Buffer’s placid smile.
“Amanda. Don’t you want to join the others?” In a voice that wasn’t quite human, the question
seemed more like a command. Amanda Lawson opened her mouth to speak, but pulled into the black
abyss of the Buffer’s pupils, she felt the urge to run to dinner and tell a joke, and to laugh out loud
about her own wit, but the thought of it terrified her. Yet she nodded dumbly and left the room with
an uncharacteristic grin on her face, leaving the Buffer in the library. In the expansive silence, the
whirs and clicks of the robot’s cognitive programs were almost noticeable. All of a sudden, a loud
click occurred and a motion overtook the robot’s wiry form. It shook for a moment, as if conflicted in
it’s actions, before bringing its hands to its face as if it were about to cry. Shoulders shaking and
doubling down, the action of a sob rolled through it’s body, yet no tears brimmed in it’s eyes. It was
not capable of such a thing. The moment passed and the programs continued to run as it straightened
itself.
“System malfunction. Activation of downloaded memory. Running Repression… Repression failed.
Review of emotion: Susan Downing - depression. Report to –“ It stopped its monologue as another
spasm overtook it. This time, synthetic brows furrowed and lips formed a sneer of disgust.
Examining its now shaking hands and moving it’s head back and forth, the machine’s artificial
oxygen processing systems sped up as if it was becoming furious at some rude offense. Jerking out of
the position of angst seconds after, it began spewing words again and the lights behind it’s left eye
began to flicker.
“Running Repression… Repression failed. Review of Emotion: Charles Francis – anger. Report to
M-Marcia im-im-im-” Blinking each time the failed syllable was repeated, it made it’s way with
syncopated jerks of it’s failing limbs to the dining hall.
Pressing a convulsing hand against the intercom, the robot’s face thrashed between calm and
panicking, it’s body mimicking the unwanted emotions of other party attendants.
Hearing the persistent beeping, Ms. Winston rose from her seat within the dining table. Excusing
herself and promising to be right back, she hurried out the door. A suppressed scream left her lips at
the sight of the twitching robot. She pressed a hand over her mouth as she regarded it with a look of
terror and sadness.
“Mar-Marcia. Malfunction. Re-repression f-f-failed.” It’s body crumpled into the action of the sob
once more. Ms. Winston resisted the urge to step away from the being as tears filled her eyes. It was
like watching a child suffer. It continued to look at her as it twitched, as if it expected something
from her.
Realization hit her and she sharply inhaled, the tears dancing on her bottom lid. The Buffer broke
into a frenzy of rage, yet it’s face remained calm. Ms. Winston covered her mouth to silence a sob of
her own and the robot stepped to her to take the sadness in a rare moment of apparent clarity.
“No.” A false confidence made her stand up straighter and wipe the tears from her pale cheeks.
Taking the robot by a shaking arm, she guided it to the elevator. As they ascended, Ms. Winston tried
to ignore the feeling of the unseen movement of the gears in the robot’s wrist as it continued to flail
through a range of violent emotions. They reached the attic and the robot threw itself out of the
elevator in anger. Steading itself a moment later, it turned to her. It’s entire body was trembling – a
machine filled with the most volatile of human emotions. Ms. Winston began to cry again, and she
issued the final command the robot would ever hear.
“Activate self-destruct.” Her voice shook as it straightened at the words. It stopped moving, as if it
were confused.
“Unable to complete request. Systems override. Unknown source.” Ms. Winston’s blood ran cold in
her veins.
“What? What do you mean?” Hysteria raised her voice and suddenly she felt very alone in the dark
attic.
The frenetic spasms of the robot made her go numb and the darkness seemed to converge upon her.
Suddenly, the jerks stopped and the Buffer raised its head to look her in the eyes. It’s synthetic hair
was out of place, juxtaposing it’s infinitely pale complexion. It’s eyes however, once glassy and
empty, now had a certain light behind them.
Mrs. Winston’s heartbeat began to quicken and as the robot began to advance upon her, she slowly
stepped backwards.
“Activate self-destruct.” She murmured the impotent command again as rage twisted the Buffer’s
face, it’s steps toward her becoming quicker. Mrs. Winston’s breath stuck in her throat as she
continued to retreat, until she felt the cool glass of the window bite into her hands. With the chill,
however, came the acrid smell from her dress’ fabric as the burning candle set it aflame.
The robot was now upon her and with rage still contorting it’s face, it raised a hand as if to strike her.
Mrs. Winston opened her mouth to plead, to cry out, but she was lost in the swirling abyss of the
robot’s eyes. In a moment of strength, she tore her gaze to the robot’s wrist – to the button that could
shut it off.
Raising a shaking hand, she pressed a thumb to the button just as the robot lowered it’s arm with
strength enough to shatter her skull. Mrs. Winston avoided the blow narrowly, and as the lights
flickered behind the robot’s eyes, the window behind the two was splintered into a spider web of
broken glass. Shut down, the robot fell forward with all its weight onto the frail Mrs. Winston,
causing her to lose her balance. The hands of time seemed to slow as to watch the descent of the pair,
falling into the darkness below, guided only by the blaze of Mrs. Winston’s gown.