“There is no possible scenario where you benefit from this incident.”
Kel is already in the bathroom when he hears her from outside the door. She hasn’t knocked. Hasn’t said anything before this to indicate that she knows he is in there; knows what he is doing. He clears his throat to cover the sound of putting the pill bottle back where he found it. Then he says, “Excuse me?”
More silence. He imagines her servos whirring in anticipation, hoping to catch him in a lie or an action that would be construed as legitimate cause to harm.
“I’m using the bathroom!” He calls out again.
“You are not. You are stealing pills.” Her voice is flat, judgement in monotone.
He flushes the toilet. He turns on the sink, washes his hands. She remains silent.
There are no windows in Kaitlyn’s bathroom. So, he turns to the door, wet hands gripping brass, and opens it. The robot fills the doorway. She looks like a caricature of a human woman, big eyes, small waist. Other parts of her are larger than they should be as well. He’s always thought it was Kaitlyn’s choice to order that model, more as a distraction from herself than a joke.
Kel shoves wet hands in his pocket, looking at the treads below the robot’s wide feet.
“How many did you steal?” It’s one of those questions that force admission. He knows it, even as he looks up and shrugs, the lump in his throat disappearing.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The robot blinks like a shade coming down on a window and popping back up. “Thermogenic scans indicate falsehood. How many did you steal?”
He tries to step to the side, but the robot shifts, meeting his position. He sighs and says, “none.”
The robot tilts its head, following the invisible line of his esophagus down into his stomach. She says, “Then there will be no problems if I check.”