Mette Ivie Harrison, Children's writer, triathlete, marathons, Ironman, training, fitness, workouts, The Princess and the Hound, Mira, Mirror, The Monster In Me, The Hound and the Bear, Young Adult Books, Fantasy, Romance, yoga


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1000 Robots John and Judy were tired of their job. Or rather, John was and Judy wasn't. Oh, it paid well. It was simply boring. John invented the whole plan. "Robot Police Force." After all, why use valuable human minds to solve logical problems? Why couldn't a robot firect traffic, give tickets, or any of the menial tasks too long suffered by the human police force? (John had tried the job, he knew.) "Of course they could," said Judy. That's why she set to work at developing the perfect mechanical policeman. And then the factory was set up. (It never hurt to have friends in high places, though John frequently). So what was the problem? Naming the robots! "You couldn't just give 1000 robots numbers," agured Judy. "Why not?" asked John. "That's like naming your children, child #1, child #2, child #3, and so on." "Yes?" John was not fond of children. "It's inhuman!" "But robots aren't human--they're machines." "John!" Judy had that look in her eye. "All right, Judy." Johnw as used to acquiescing. There was the time when Judy had insisted on decorating each of her plants' holders to personally make a "home" for each plant. And then there was the time she'd insisted on giving the television, the toaster, the fridge, and every other major and minor appliance in the house holidays, weekends, and two weeks of summer vacation "off." And so on. Times without number. Judy was one scientist who really got involved with her subjects. But giving 1000 robots names? Absurd! It had to be done according to Jude. But every time John suggested a name, it was "wrong" for the "character" of the robot. They were all identical! WHo cared if John's Henry was Judy's Marienne? 1000 names personally picked for each one! "Let's take a break," said Judy. "Agreed," said John. There were two recliners and a pot of hot coffee nearby. "What if we get a book with a list of names for babies? The work would go twice as fast." "But half the fun is fingins just the right name yourself!" exclaimed Judy. "As you say dear," mumbled John. Masochist, he thought, and fell asleep. Two minutes later, Judy woke him up to start again. "Back to the old grindstone," she said cheerfully. John was beginning to hate her cheerfulness. A robot stood in front of him. A large, metal, inanimate robot. "What do you think, dear?" "How about Natalie?" "Oh, that's all wrong. Look at those masculine features, those broad shoulders, those slim hips, and those muscles." John looked. "Definitely Joshua. Joshua McKay." "Next," said John. Joshua went past him on the belt, and another robot stood in front of John. "Oh!" squealed Judy. "Alfred. Alfred Holmes. He's the spit image of my high school biology teacher." Spit image? Biology teacher? Poor guy! "Next," said John. Alfred Holmes moved on. He was still unactivated. He wouldn't remember John or Judy as the people who gave him the name Alfred Holmes. But he was stuck with the name anyway. Pity. John and Judy went home that night with just one robot left to name. Judy had to think on it. Alfred stayed in the storage room waiting for the next day when he was scheduled to be turned on and set loose on the unsuspecting public. He was a traffic controller. As coincidence would have it, John and Judy were traffic increasers in the same area (as a matter of fact, it was as Judy would have it, not coincidence, but they were just the same.) "Alfred!" yelled Judy out the window as JOhn drove by. Alfred did nothing. "Drive by again," she ordered, not listening to his objection that robots have jobs, too. "Alfred!" she yelled again. He didn't recognize his name. Judy was crushed. After all the time she'd spent naming the robots, they didn't respond to their names. The next day, Alfred was no longer a traffic controller. He was back in the factory being worked on by John and Judy. "There's nothing wrong with him. Why does he have to know his name? He's just a robot." "John, how could you? Just a robot? He's my creation--my brain child. Every child has a name and knows their name. Mine will, too." Alfred came home with John and Judy that night. He was now Alfred Holmes Smith. And he knew his name, but not his "mother." The next day, Alfred was calling John "daddy" and Judy "mommy." She thought it was cute. He wanted to shoot the thing. Judy took Alfred to the Grocery Store with her the next day and forever after that, he was "her" Alfred and went everywhere with her. Judy registered him at school. He was the smartest student in the class and got skipped to the sixth grade in a week. Judy was very proud of her "son." "Dear, what about the rest of the Police Force? They're all still sitting in the factory unactivated," John said, and regretted it. Judy thought about it for a minute. "You're absolutely right, John. We really can't keep Alfred here while the others are at the yucky old factory." John nodded. "We'll have to bring them all home." John shook his head in hopelessness. The next day they had 1000 robots at their three bedroom apartment. "They hardly take any room at all. And look at how bright they are. Everyone knows their own name and yours and mine, too. Isn't it wonderful?" John nodded. Boy was it wonderful! John came home from work and found Judy teaching the robots to answer the telephone. John had an idea. That night, while Judy was out shopping, John showed each of the robots how to open the plate on the telephone and touch the electrical wires. When Judy came back, there weren't any more robots at all. After the funeral, she mentioned putting the factory back into use and making 2000 robots. John handed her a piece of paper. She opened it and handed it back. "A divorce?" John nodded and pulled out a fun and shot his wife. "Quickest divorce in the west." The funeral was beautiful. Judy Smith and her 1000 robots were buried all in a row, each with an anonymous tombstone. Return to home page

1000 Robots

John and Judy were tired of their job. Or rather, John was and Judy wasn't. Oh, it paid well. It was simply boring. John invented the whole plan. "Robot Police Force." After all, why use valuable human minds to solve logical problems? Why couldn't a robot firect traffic, give tickets, or any of the menial tasks too long suffered by the human police force? (John had tried the job, he knew.)

"Of course they could," said Judy. That's why she set to work at developing the perfect mechanical policeman. And then the factory was set up. (It never hurt to have friends in high places, though John frequently). So what was the problem? Naming the robots!

"You couldn't just give 1000 robots numbers," agured Judy.

"Why not?" asked John.

"That's like naming your children, child #1, child #2, child #3, and so on."

"Yes?" John was not fond of children.

"It's inhuman!"

"But robots aren't human--they're machines."

"John!" Judy had that look in her eye.

"All right, Judy." Johnw as used to acquiescing. There was the time when Judy had insisted on decorating each of her plants' holders to personally make a "home" for each plant. And then there was the time she'd insisted on giving the television, the toaster, the fridge, and every other major and minor appliance in the house holidays, weekends, and two weeks of summer vacation "off." And so on. Times without number. Judy was one scientist who really got involved with her subjects.

But giving 1000 robots names? Absurd! It had to be done according to Jude. But every time John suggested a name, it was "wrong" for the "character" of the robot. They were all identical! WHo cared if John's Henry was Judy's Marienne? 1000 names personally picked for each one!

"Let's take a break," said Judy.

"Agreed," said John.

There were two recliners and a pot of hot coffee nearby. "What if we get a book with a list of names for babies? The work would go twice as fast."

"But half the fun is fingins just the right name yourself!" exclaimed Judy.

"As you say dear," mumbled John. Masochist, he thought, and fell asleep. Two minutes later, Judy woke him up to start again.

"Back to the old grindstone," she said cheerfully.

John was beginning to hate her cheerfulness. A robot stood in front of him. A large, metal, inanimate robot.

"What do you think, dear?"

"How about Natalie?"

"Oh, that's all wrong. Look at those masculine features, those broad shoulders, those slim hips, and those muscles." John looked. "Definitely Joshua. Joshua McKay."

"Next," said John. Joshua went past him on the belt, and another robot stood in front of John.

"Oh!" squealed Judy. "Alfred. Alfred Holmes. He's the spit image of my high school biology teacher."

Spit image? Biology teacher? Poor guy! "Next," said John.

Alfred Holmes moved on. He was still unactivated. He wouldn't remember John or Judy as the people who gave him the name Alfred Holmes. But he was stuck with the name anyway. Pity.

John and Judy went home that night with just one robot left to name. Judy had to think on it. Alfred stayed in the storage room waiting for the next day when he was scheduled to be turned on and set loose on the unsuspecting public. He was a traffic controller.

As coincidence would have it, John and Judy were traffic increasers in the same area (as a matter of fact, it was as Judy would have it, not coincidence, but they were just the same.)

"Alfred!" yelled Judy out the window as JOhn drove by. Alfred did nothing. "Drive by again," she ordered, not listening to his objection that robots have jobs, too.

"Alfred!" she yelled again. He didn't recognize his name. Judy was crushed. After all the time she'd spent naming the robots, they didn't respond to their names. The next day, Alfred was no longer a traffic controller. He was back in the factory being worked on by John and Judy.

"There's nothing wrong with him. Why does he have to know his name? He's just a robot."

"John, how could you? Just a robot? He's my creation--my brain child. Every child has a name and knows their name. Mine will, too."

Alfred came home with John and Judy that night. He was now Alfred Holmes Smith. And he knew his name, but not his "mother." The next day, Alfred was calling John "daddy" and Judy "mommy." She thought it was cute. He wanted to shoot the thing.

Judy took Alfred to the Grocery Store with her the next day and forever after that, he was "her" Alfred and went everywhere with her. Judy registered him at school. He was the smartest student in the class and got skipped to the sixth grade in a week. Judy was very proud of her "son."

"Dear, what about the rest of the Police Force? They're all still sitting in the factory unactivated," John said, and regretted it.

Judy thought about it for a minute. "You're absolutely right, John. We really can't keep Alfred here while the others are at the yucky old factory." John nodded. "We'll have to bring them all home." John shook his head in hopelessness. The next day they had 1000 robots at their three bedroom apartment.

"They hardly take any room at all. And look at how bright they are. Everyone knows their own name and yours and mine, too. Isn't it wonderful?"

John nodded. Boy was it wonderful!

John came home from work and found Judy teaching the robots to answer the telephone. John had an idea. That night, while Judy was out shopping, John showed each of the robots how to open the plate on the telephone and touch the electrical wires. When Judy came back, there weren't any more robots at all. After the funeral, she mentioned putting the factory back into use and making 2000 robots. John handed her a piece of paper. She opened it and handed it back.

"A divorce?"

John nodded and pulled out a fun and shot his wife. "Quickest divorce in the west." The funeral was beautiful. Judy Smith and her 1000 robots were buried all in a row, each with an anonymous tombstone.

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