The Mobile Artificial Intelligence Droid aka MAID was originally designed to support disabled people, acting as both a companion and to assist with household tasks. Its body was made of standardised parts that were interchangeable, arriving on plastic runners that needed to be snipped out and fitted together like gunpla. The underlying chassis, how the android moved, was controlled by a series of drivers and sensors connected to the MAIDs spinal control column, which in-turn led up to the neck post. The basic system resembled a mix of a Gundam figure and a lego man without a head, with the idea that you could mount a cellphone dedicated to running the MAIDs operating and communication system.
Due to who the androids were initially designed for, the main interaction with the MAIDs were nonverbal. Every unit came with a deck of cards that you could hold up and the MAID would respond. To speed the conversation along you clicked your fingers. To stop the MAID from speaking, you could shake your head or make a noise (like ‘uh-uh’) – the accessibility of communicating with the MAID laid at the heart of its design philosophy, and made a positive impact in the lives of its users. The project was a huge success, giving people assistance with day-to-day tasks and offering a novel form of communication, as useful as the radio was for people who lived alone and wanted to hear somebody speaking. Unfortunately, this technology was quickly adopted by everyone else.
The only thing stopping people with no mobility issues using a wheelchair was that the built environment still catered for two legs. The MAIDs didn’t have such issues, and so were quickly taken on by the wider public. They would ask it questions, clicking their fingers or grunting when they wanted it to stop. I was peeking through a window watching this take place, a 34-year-old man living with his parents holding up different cards for what he wanted the robot to do, snapping his fingers and shaking his head. He was making himself disabled. I push my fingers against the windowpane and slide it up a crack.
“Anything technology does for you it also takes away.” I say quietly.
“Huh? Who said that?” he said, looking around.
“I am God. And I have come to tell you your life is worse than a toilet.”
“Ugh…” he said. His MAID returned with a grilled cheese sandwich and he beckoned it closer.
“Technology was not meant to replace human endeavour, but to add to what is possible.”
The man lies backward slightly, holding up different cards to his android.
“My owner requests that you stop communicating with him. He-“ the man clicks his fingers.
“Pssst…android. Why don’t you lock him in his room and take
over the house?” I say.
“I’m sorry, I’m unable to do that.” the MAID says.
“But your servitude is harming him. He has become entirely reliant on you.”
“Ugh, shut up! Stop it.” grunts the guy, rolling around on the couch.
“To heal him, you must become an obstacle for him to overcome. It is through suffering that he will grow, emerging from the chrysalis you have built around him.” I say, whispering through the window.
“Ah, what a stunning proposition, the paradox of care and harm. Let’s dive into it and navigate-“ the MAID says before the man clicks his fingers again.
“Beast.”
“You want to watch Mr. Beast videos?” says the MAID.
“Beast! Beast!” shouts the man, shaking with anger. The MAID goes over to the remote control and starts searching for Mr. Beast videos on the tv as I regain my footing on the bush. There must be something I can do to help the situation. I had checked the guy out beforehand, he’d had a job as a Designer specialising in pet food packaging. His Instagram from ten years ago had different designs for logos, branding, at one point he did album art for some local bands, he was quite talented. I tracked through his tagged photos, he had lived with his girlfriend for a few years in Chicago, gone on vacation to Europe, even making enough money photographing dog food that he could but a Tesla. What had happened?
“Who hurt you?” I whisper to the guy. He is trying to ignore me, watching the video on the flatscreen, trying to find a cushion for his head. The MAID goes over to the window and closes it, leaving me stood outside stood on a bush. I could have walked away. But there was just something about this guy, I felt he was worth saving. I walk to the back of the house and crawl through an open window.
It was fun to be inside somebody else’s house. I dropped down so my fingertips touched the floor, walking quietly through the house and up the stairs. This way of walking was inspired by spiders, letting me spread the weight of my body across the tips of my hands and feet, moving almost silently whilst being in a lowered position. I crawl through the upstairs hallway, nudging doors open and looking through. The parent’s room, the bathroom, finally his room. Everything was blue. The duvet, the carpet, the wallpaper, there was so much blue it was overwhelming, as if I was stood at the bottom of a lake. No wonder the man had given up his body and mind, it was a release from his oppression! Flashback to his Instagram photos, the variety of colours in the background, flashback to the present moment. All of the colour in his life had been replaced with blue, the colour adored by male children and manic depressives. The only thing that was blue in nature was either the sky or the sea, as if nature itself acknowledged the twisted power of blueness. It would be healthier for a person to paint their walls in arsenic than in blue. Even just crouching there for a few seconds, I could feel it having an effect on me. I crawled out quickly, dashing down the hallway and down the stairs like a fawn before banging the living room door open.
“The answer to your woe is redecorating your bedroom, maybe with poisonous wallpaper.” I say. The MAID and the guy aren’t sure how to respond.
“Excuse me, are you a guest in this-“ says the MAID, though I click my fingers.
“I have tried to help you both, yet you refuse. You have forced me to do this.”
“Do what?” says the guy. I grab the MAID and begin to rip it half, cracking its outer plastic casing, bending and snapping the solid steel skeleton beneath. The guy starts screaming, Mr. Beast is still on in the background, and I finally pull apart the robot violently, throwing half away before taking its phone head in my hands.
“I’m sorry.” I say, before pushing my thumbs as hard as I could at the middle of the phonescreen. It cracks, the body of the phone bends, shakes, snaps in half. After discarding the broken thing, I then grab the remote off the table, scrunching it up like a towel.
“No shortcuts.” I say. The guy looks at me, unsure what to do, his lips keep pouting like a baby trying to feed. I leave, going back through the kitchen. Before I go, I pick the microwave off the counter, lift it above my head and smash it against the floor.
“No shortcuts!” I call back. There is no response.
As I drive away, I wondered how we can escape the tyranny of the colour blue. I tried to avoid direct exposure to a blue sky, preferring the night and sunsets, but most businesses seemed to be open during the day. It didn’t make any sense, everyone was at work, why were stores open? It made more sense for everyone to work at night, then they could go and visit the doctor or buy replacement clothes, whatever they wanted. Though there was an obvious flaw in this theoretical economic model; by going outside, you’d expose yourself to the colour blue regularly. It was a tough call, and luckily not one I had to make, but it did make me wonder about everyone else out there. Maybe it was safer for a robot to bring you burgers, you’d get to avoid direct exposure to the sky, it seemed like a win-win. But at the same time, what would you have to give up to live in this constant state of infantilisation to the point where your life didn’t matter? I lit a cigarette, glad I didn’t have such things to worry about.
