Waiting on the Stars - Chapter 10

 

“Vera, I’ll be finished at 10:15. Please have the climate set at seventy‑two degrees,” Adele sighs, hoping Morena will actually be on time tonight, as they had agreed. Adele likes Morena’s sons, but they can be a handful and need constant supervision to manage their curiosity and adventurous spirits. As she picks up her bag and walks away from the landing pad, Adele takes a deep breath to settle her thoughts before entering the home.

The prompt elevator is already waiting on the lower level. As Adele steps inside, a fine mist sprays to disinfect harmful allergens, mixed with a sweet, inviting floral scent. When the clear glass doors slide open, she quickly surveys the room, gauging what state things are in this evening.

Nelson has left his hoverboard halfway perched in a potted plant, as if it were an intentional parking place. Miniature hover cars are scattered across counters, floors, and furniture. A holographic homework book—forgotten and still active—projects an image of Abraham Lincoln, president more than two hundred years ago, endlessly repeating the Gettysburg Address. A pair of music buds lies abandoned on the counter, each tinier than a collar button. Adele has a strong suspicion they will be lost soon, followed by an argument over who hid them from whom.

The dinner dishes remain on the island, just as Adele expected. Morena clearly anticipates some cleaning along with sitter duties, without any adjustment to the babysitting fee. An amber rim pulses around the dishes, signaling that they require cleaning and disinfection, as if that weren’t already obvious. Morena always favors the newest kitchen trends, though this particular feature feels redundant.

The refrigerator displays expiration dates for every stored item, alongside a second list of products ready to be reordered with a single tap. The groceries will arrive conveniently at the doorstep within two hours. Adele notices a note written in translucent gel stuck to the fridge. Nelson has drawn a somewhat accurate picture of her beneath the words: 

I love you, Adele. 

Haha!👽

 PeRsHIng, 

The boys truly love Adele, and she cares deeply for them. Having wanted children of her own for a long time, Nelson and Pershing have helped fill part of the ache she feels is missing. Suddenly, she hears the soft zoom of gliding sleepers, and both boys rush into the backs of her knees, wrapping her in a tight bear hug.

“You’re here! I love you so much! Do you want to see my new Mr. Heroic? He can say every single line of the movie!”

Adele lifts Pershing into her arms and gives him a nose‑to‑nose Eskimo kiss. “I missed you too,” she replies sweetly, believing—if only for the moment—that being with him is the happiest she could be.

A few minutes later, Nelson shuffles in, rubbing his eyes and fighting back tears. “My 3‑D image glasses broke while I was playing my game. Do you think you could fix them?”

“I can try,” says Adele. “What happened?” She already knows Nelson tends to lose his temper when he’s losing one of his favorite games.

“I was riding my L‑7 bike, and Jalon—my best friend at school—was playing online with me. He kept passing me!” Nelson explains with a frustrated sigh. “I yelled at him, then he yelled at me. We were just yelling at each other. I got so mad that I threw my glasses at the screen, and the bridge broke.”

“Let me see… I think your mom keeps magnetic adhesive in this drawer,” Adele says, rummaging beneath the counter. “Ah—here it is. This should work.”

She applies a cool alloy compound that instantly welds metallic or magnetic materials together. The broken pieces fuse seamlessly.

“There,” she says. “Good as new. Just be careful next time. And you might think about apologizing to your friend. It’s just a game—not worth staying mad over.”

Shrugging, Nelson sighs. “I guess you’re right. But… but… he shouldn’t have passed me. I was winning.” The doubt in his voice betrays him.

“How about we pick up the toys and put them back in the playroom?” Adele suggests, bending to retrieve a stray hover car.

Disgusted at the thought of manual labor, Nelson replies, “Adele, you don’t have to pick them up.” Then, eager to show off his new birthday gadget, he grins. “Watch this!”

He lifts the necklace he’s wearing, dotted with various colored tags, and presses the blue one. Instantly, the toys bearing his digital signature slide across the floor and compress into a single conjoined pile, like magnetized metal snapping together.

Just then, Gladys—their friendly house nanny—glides into the room carrying a basket. She collects the pile of toys and returns them to the playroom.

“Thanks, Gladys,” Nelson says, repeating what his mother’s taught him, though he doesn’t entirely understand why he must be polite to robots as well as people. “Mom says I have to be nice.”

“Yes, kindness matters,” Adele replies gently. “Bots help make our lives easier. Treating them the way you’d like to be treated is always a good idea.”

Watching Gladys glide down the hallway, Adele recalls a discussion from her college AI ethics class. Though made of metal and wires, humanoids represent life and culture—programmed reflections of humanity itself. Traits like kindness, compassion, and mercy, she had argued, were essential to prevent people from becoming cold, purely logical beings—a dangerous outcome, given humanity’s volatile, selfish, and unpredictable nature.

“Nanny Gladys has been with us since I was born,” Pershing explains. “Dad says we need an upgrade, but I don’t want to lose her.”

“Maybe she just needs a software update,” Adele suggests, though she knows his father always wants the newest technology. “If not… maybe she could stay with me for a while.”

The boys cheer and jump excitedly.

“I’ll see what your dad says first,” Adele adds thoughtfully.

“I would be willing to relocate, if Ms. Morena approves,” Gladys offers. “I have 7.341 years remaining on my lifestyle battery.”

“I’d be grateful for your help, Gladys,” Adele replies sincerely.

“I have a list that Ms. Morena supplied before departing for the evening. I will work on these errands unless you request my help,” Gladys replies gently, pausing for Adele’s response as she has been programmed to do.

“Thanks, Gladys. I think the boys will be all right with me for a little while,” Adele replies assuredly, smiling.

Gladys pauses, then offers a reflective smile in return. “Thank you, Ms. Adele.”

The bot heads toward the kitchen to check the customized automated hydration system tending to the home’s growing potted plants.

After the boys return to the living room in their Mr. Heroic‑themed pajamas, Adele collapses onto the sofa, Nelson and Pershing tucked snugly at her sides.

“What shall we watch tonight?” she asks.

In unison, both boys shout, “Mr. Heroic 4!”

“Really?” Adele asks. “Didn’t we watch that the last time I was here?”

“Yeah, but you can watch it again,” Pershing replies. Then, in his sweetest voice, he adds, “Pleeease!”

“All right. I do like the story between him and Emily Freebird,” Adele concedes.

“Yuck! I don’t know why they added her to the story,” Nelson remarks frankly, not quite old enough to appreciate romance in movies.

Pershing puckers his lips, making exaggerated kissing noises. “They like to kiss,” he offers, not fully understanding the nuances.

“Yes, they do,” Adele agrees, blushing slightly as she wonders why certain scenes are included in movies meant for children. “But we’ll fast‑forward through those parts so you don’t have to watch them again.”

“I hate that part!” Nelson exclaims. “Mr. Heroic doesn’t need Emily Freebird to do anything!”

“Yes, he does,” Pershing counters. “She’s smart. He’d do a lot of stupid things without her. She knows stuff he needs to know to catch the bad guys.”

“I guess you’re right,” Nelson considers. “She is kind of pretty—like my teacher last year, Mrs. Wheelhouse.”

“What about this year?” Pershing asks, not knowing what Nelson’s current teacher looks like.

“This year I have a bot. Her name is Ms. Wentworth. She’s okay,” Nelson says thoughtfully. “But she doesn’t play fun games with us like Mrs. Wheelhouse did or give us as much free time.”

“I can hardly wait until I’m in third grade like you!” Pershing replies enviously. “But I do like my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Pulse. She helps me tie my shoes. I don’t want to learn how to tie them myself because she’s so good at it.”

“Maybe we can work on that tonight if you’d like,” Adele suggests. “I’m sure there are other things—like drawing—that you enjoy doing with Ms. Pulse, too.”

“Ummm… maybe,” Pershing says, thinking. “Maybe she can help me draw monsters with big scary ears and gigantic hands. What do you think?”

“Sounds interesting! You’ll have to show me your pictures once you’ve finished them,” Adele replies genuinely, already imagining them joining the rotating gallery of the boys’ artwork displayed on her family room wall at home.

“I’ll make a monster that looks just like you, Adele!” Pershing exclaims excitedly, already devising ideas.

“I’d like to see what that looks like,” Adele says sincerely, noting Pershing’s natural artistic talent with his gel digital crayons.

Rolling his eyes, Nelson adds matter‑of‑factly, “Adele isn’t a monster. She’d look better as a zombie. She’s got a lot of bags under her eyes.”

Adele chuckles, acknowledging the truth in his words—she hasn’t slept much lately, her thoughts often drifting back to the possibility of working with Raiden again.

“I’m tired, Adele. Can you read us a bedtime story instead?” Pershing asks, yawning mid‑sentence as he clutches Mr. Bolox, his favorite stuffed panda.

“Yes, I think Mr. Bolox might be tired too,” Adele says softly, gently tapping the panda on the nose.

The boys take her hands as they wander down the hallway to their rooms. They climb into their cave‑designed bunk beds, complete with sculpted cavern lamps glowing softly in the corners. Adele settles into the hanging nest chair nearby. She scrolls through files on her wrist and projects a holographic image of The Five Nights Fairy Tale.

As the soothing narration begins and images unfold in sync with the story, the boys’ eyes slowly close, slipping into a peaceful sleep.