story. She remembered the glow on
Henie's face when she found the cat and her family. She lost that
happy look quick enough when Karen gave her a hard time about the
cat. Henie turned really glum when they discussed Amy coming after
her.
Karen couldn't stop Amy from taking
the robot away, but if Amy was right about the robots having
emotions, she should apologize to Henie for being so hard nosed
about the cat. After all, Sock wouldn't be trying to get in the
house any time soon now that she had to stay in the barn with the
kittens.
Karen tilted her head toward the
door. The house was quiet. Earlier, she thought she'd heard Henie
climbing the stairs. Maybe the robot was in her room, charging her
battery.
After a quick check in Henie's
room, Karen called, “Henie, where are you?”
She didn't get an
answer.
The third story attic door was open
at the top of the second flight of stairs. Henie must be up there
again. She was curious why Henie kept going to the attic. Karen
climbed the narrow, creaking stairs to find out.
Henie's head was leaned back
against a rocker like the one in front of Henie's bedroom window.
She had a framed, eight by ten picture upside down on her lap as
she rocked slowly. The attic floor around her was covered with
stacks of boxes and trunks, all trapped in dust and cobwebs.
Henie's shoe tracks showed in the dust from the door to the
rocker.
“Henie, are you busy?” Karen
asked.
“Do I look like it? I was just
thinking is all,” Henie said, straightening up in the
rocker.
“I've been wondering where did all
the clothes in your closet come from? You have more changes than
would fit in that satchel you brought with you,” Karen
inquired.
Henie pointed to the open trunk in
front of her. “I found them in here. I didn’t think you would mind
if I wore the dresses and aprons. After all, you're a little old to
play dress up with the clothes in this trunk, and I needed clothes
to wear. I can be a messy cook you know.”
Karen looked around, thinking what
an undertaking it would be to clean up the attic. “Why do you
suppose the people who lived here didn't throw anything away or get
rid of stuff?”
Henie placed the picture face down
in the trunk and gently shut the lid. “Attics seem to collect the
past. Guess the previous owner couldn’t bear to throw away items
that represented her memories.” She pushed herself out of the
rocker. “I think I’ll go to my room awhile before I start supper,
dear. I’m feeling rather tired.”
Karen listened to the hollow, slow
footsteps going down the stairs before she lifted the trunk lid and
turned the picture over. A couple, in their forties, smiled at her.
The picture was probably taken around 1900 from the style of their
dark stiff clothes.
Karen closed the trunk lid and sat
down on it to take the old metal frame apart. She took out the
cardboard and read on the picture's back - Henrietta and Clell
Crane.
She stared at the young woman's
face. A chill went through her. If she didn't know any better,
she'd think that was Henie when she was young. Now wasn't that the
craziest thought in the whole wide world? Henie had never been
alive. She was a robot. She was ageless, sealed within that metal
body of hers.
Karen recalled what Henie just
said. She was tired. How could a robot feel tired? Oh, my! Her
battery must need charged. She said she could do it herself, but
Karen hadn't seen her do it. Or, was that teenage Henie that was so
sure she could charge herself?
Karen put the picture back together
and placed it in the trunk before she raced down the steps to
Henie’s room.
Henie wasn't on the bed or in the
rocker by the window. She turned to leave and did a double take.
Henie was stretched out in the wicker basket. Her eyes were closed,
and her hands were folded over her chest.
Flashbacks of deceased people at
visitations posed just like Henie. Karen felt there was too many
things too unreal since the robot moved in. Weird enough that
Henie's face when she found the cat and her family. She lost that
happy look quick enough when Karen gave her a hard time about the
cat. Henie turned really glum when they discussed Amy coming after
her.
Karen couldn't stop Amy from taking
the robot away, but if Amy was right about the robots having
emotions, she should apologize to Henie for being so hard nosed
about the cat. After all, Sock wouldn't be trying to get in the
house any time soon now that she had to stay in the barn with the
kittens.
Karen tilted her head toward the
door. The house was quiet. Earlier, she thought she'd heard Henie
climbing the stairs. Maybe the robot was in her room, charging her
battery.
After a quick check in Henie's
room, Karen called, “Henie, where are you?”
She didn't get an
answer.
The third story attic door was open
at the top of the second flight of stairs. Henie must be up there
again. She was curious why Henie kept going to the attic. Karen
climbed the narrow, creaking stairs to find out.
Henie's head was leaned back
against a rocker like the one in front of Henie's bedroom window.
She had a framed, eight by ten picture upside down on her lap as
she rocked slowly. The attic floor around her was covered with
stacks of boxes and trunks, all trapped in dust and cobwebs.
Henie's shoe tracks showed in the dust from the door to the
rocker.
“Henie, are you busy?” Karen
asked.
“Do I look like it? I was just
thinking is all,” Henie said, straightening up in the
rocker.
“I've been wondering where did all
the clothes in your closet come from? You have more changes than
would fit in that satchel you brought with you,” Karen
inquired.
Henie pointed to the open trunk in
front of her. “I found them in here. I didn’t think you would mind
if I wore the dresses and aprons. After all, you're a little old to
play dress up with the clothes in this trunk, and I needed clothes
to wear. I can be a messy cook you know.”
Karen looked around, thinking what
an undertaking it would be to clean up the attic. “Why do you
suppose the people who lived here didn't throw anything away or get
rid of stuff?”
Henie placed the picture face down
in the trunk and gently shut the lid. “Attics seem to collect the
past. Guess the previous owner couldn’t bear to throw away items
that represented her memories.” She pushed herself out of the
rocker. “I think I’ll go to my room awhile before I start supper,
dear. I’m feeling rather tired.”
Karen listened to the hollow, slow
footsteps going down the stairs before she lifted the trunk lid and
turned the picture over. A couple, in their forties, smiled at her.
The picture was probably taken around 1900 from the style of their
dark stiff clothes.
Karen closed the trunk lid and sat
down on it to take the old metal frame apart. She took out the
cardboard and read on the picture's back - Henrietta and Clell
Crane.
She stared at the young woman's
face. A chill went through her. If she didn't know any better,
she'd think that was Henie when she was young. Now wasn't that the
craziest thought in the whole wide world? Henie had never been
alive. She was a robot. She was ageless, sealed within that metal
body of hers.
Karen recalled what Henie just
said. She was tired. How could a robot feel tired? Oh, my! Her
battery must need charged. She said she could do it herself, but
Karen hadn't seen her do it. Or, was that teenage Henie that was so
sure she could charge herself?
Karen put the picture back together
and placed it in the trunk before she raced down the steps to
Henie’s room.
Henie wasn't on the bed or in the
rocker by the window. She turned to leave and did a double take.
Henie was stretched out in the wicker basket. Her eyes were closed,
and her hands were folded over her chest.
Flashbacks of deceased people at
visitations posed just like Henie. Karen felt there was too many
things too unreal since the robot moved in. Weird enough that
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