Inktober #8: Frail

It was unusual, these days, and seen as more than a little wasteful, to have a funeral for a robot. Emma knew this, and knew it was also the right thing to do for Albert.

Friends and family who had all been served by and gotten to know Albert sat in their seats staring at the open casket. Some shifting uncomfortably, some chatting with friends, some looking after children who didn't quite know what to do. A little less than half were robots. That was nice. A good turnout.

Her friend Jessie was playing the cello. Holding it back, keeping it professional. Albert had loved listening in the final weeks. When he finally passed, Jessie had been hit harder than most. They had shared a connection with that music that no one could really put into words.

The music faded out as Father James walked up to the podium.

"Friends and family, we are gathered here to celebrate the life of Albert. To acknowledge his passing into the electric current of the universe, and to say our goodbyes one last time. Like many of you, I considered Albert a friend. Whenever Emma and her family would come to church, there was Albert, looking after them. For a long time I, wrongly, assumed Albert was like any other serving robot. After all one doesn't get much robotic interest in a human deity. But one day, after a service, as the family was leaving...Emma must have been, what, four? Five? Anyways, after the service and making sure the family was taken care of Albert approached me. And he asked me if he could attend confession. Well, naturally, this just about blew my socks off. I stumbled my way through saying yes, of course, and we retired into the adjoining chamber and I heard his confession. Now I can't tell you what he said, but I can tell you that it changed my life. Albert and I continued our questions and correspondence for years and years...and he never stopped changing my life."

Father James took a brief pause to look back at the casket, and composed himself again.

"I'm sure many of you have similar stories, and there will be time to tell them. But for now I'd like to turn over the podium to the woman who grew up with Alfred, who arguably knew him better than anyone, to tell her story. Emma?"

Emma took a deep breath. She stood from her chair, readied her speech, took a quick look over at Alfred, and stepped up to the podium.

"Hi, everyone. It's really lovely seeing you all here, I know Albert would've appreciated seeing each and every one of you. Um, I'm Emma Fernwood, and like Father James said, I've known Albert my entire life. He first came into our family's service to look after my great-grandparents when they got old. Obviously I wasn't around at the time but I think even back then, there was something that clicked in Albert. Something that made him special. I think it was his relationship with them that settled him on this service, in fact. He always talked about them fondly. Then when they passed on he started taking care of my grandmother and her family, then my mother, and then me."

Deep breath. Deep breath.

"Even when I was young it was clear that Albert was aging. We had offered to get him an upgraded chassis, but he always refused. Said it was important to live the life he'd been given, and make room for another when it was time. 'I have always served your family as best I could,' he said. 'But if I were to try to serve them forever, I would be doing great disservice to whichever robot will come after me, and get to know you.'"

She knew that part would break her, and it did. Father James brought tissues up to her, as she saw many other flurries of white among the crowd. She said a quick thank you to the Father. Took a couple shaky deep breaths, as others did too, and continued.

"Hooooo okay. Okay. Um...Albert was such a joyful part of my life. He would play with me when I was young, gave me dating advice when I was a teen, helped me move, even though it strained his joints, when I went to college. Ran me through current real estate trends when I bought my house. Held me when mom died. And then...And then as he got more and more frail, it became my pleasure, and his ultimate indignity he would swear up and down though I could tell he loved it, to care for him. And when it was time, he let me know, and once again thank you to all of you who stopped by to say your goodbyes, I know he loved each and every interaction. And then he turned off."

She turned back to the casket.

"Thank you, Albert. For every imaginary adventure in Monster Land, for turning me off of Brad Dilbert in the 7th grade...for being there in both body and soul for my whole life. Whoever comes next has a whole lot to live up to. I love you."

Emma descended to immediate hugs. Jessie started up the cello again. People lined up to say their final goodbyes, and the service winded down.

And over in a corner, one robot stood, contemplating. They had been contemplating what to say for the entire service. Longer. When most had said their goodbyes, the robot crossed over to Emma. The conversation they had was much like confession, and private between the two. But at the end the two hugged, and walked out together, and as Emma got to her car, they opened the door for her. She gave them one last meaningful look with tears in her eyes and a smile, and drove away.