The next morning, Eliza awoke and sauntered out of the bedroom to find Henry Higgins asleep at his workbench. The lab coat he had peeled back and let fall over the back of his chair along with his jacket. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up past his elbows.
She carefully took his lab coat and jacket and hung the first upon the hook near the door, and the second she brushed carefully and hung up on one of the hangers in Henry's closet.
She found a pair of slippers on the closet floor, and she decided to take them into the lab.
Carefully, she removed the professor's worn old Cordova and slipped the slippers on in their place.
Just as she finished, a soft buzzer sounded. She recognized it and ran to press the button for the downstairs door.
She dashed toward the laboratory door quickly, remembering quickly to look down at herself. Yes, she had indeed remembered to put on her pajamas the night before. Therefore she was suitably dressed to receive whatever delivery person was undoubtedly dropping off some new piece of equipment Henry had ordered over the internet.
She heard footsteps outside the door, and when they stopped before it, she turned the latch and opened it before the person could knock.
"Oh!" A young woman with orange-red hair blinked in surprise. She wore a dark green cardigan over a pressed blouse of bumblebee yellow. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a matching green hair ribbon. A set of rimless ovular spectacles and a smattering of delectably Irish freckles decorated her face.
"Hello," Eliza said. "Dropping off or picking up?"
"I- Er- I beg your pardon?"
"Are you dropping something off or picking something up?" Eliza said, looking around behind the girl for a dolly or a package on the floor.
"Erm, is this Professor Henry Higgin's Residence?" Her accent was Northern Irish, possibly Derry.
"It is," Eliza said. "You aren't a delivery person, are you?"
The girl had a bag over one shoulder. She wore flats and white stockings under a green woolen skirt.
"Do I look like one?" She asked.
"No," Eliza said. "It just Henry doesn't have many visitors, Miss."
"Professor," she corrected. "Professor G. Bernice Shaw, Trinity College, Dublin."
"Top o' the mornin'," Eliza said.
"It's half past 1 in the afternoon," the girlish professor corrected, taking in Eliza's flannel pajamas and bare feet.
Eliza did a quick analysis. This woman was young for a professor - could hardly have been past 26.
"Is Professor Higgins in?"
"He is," Eliza said. "However, I think you're catching him after he spent something close to 28 hours working solid." She opened the door wide to allow the young woman in. Together they both watched as Henry Higgins let out a soft snoring grunt from where his head was nestled on a stack of digital readouts that were growing damp from a small puddle of drool.
"I see," she said. "And you would be his... assistant?"
"He's my father," Eliza offered. "Eliza Higgins. Well, since your here. Can I offer you tea? Coffee? I was about to brew some coffee for Henry- I mean Dad. He's a terrible ogre if he's been up all night without coffee."
"I'd love some," Professor Shaw said, closing the door and setting her back on the bench by the door. She seemed to be taking in the lab. "My word," she said. "He must be very close to building one, mustn't he?"
"Building one?" Eliza said, moving to the kitchen and pouring water into the electric kettle.
"Oh," Shaw said, coming to join her at the kitchen counter. "I've read all of their work," she said. "His and Professor Dolittle's treatise on Artificial intelligence and nano-robotics. I've written him quite a few letters since I began studying the subject myself as a young girl in Derry."
"Knew it," Eliza smiled, putting the kettle on and moving to get the coffee beans out of the refrigerator. She scooped a liberal amount into the electric grinder, and then, holding up a finger, she smiled. "Prepare yourself, Ms. Shaw. The Kracken awakes."
Eliza pressed down on the grinder, and it whirred resoundingly to life. With a start and a stumble, so did Professor Henry Higgins. After a moment of disorientation, he steadied and turned, his finger coming up as if to begin a tirade of blue profanity.
"Dad," Eliza cooed. "We have company."
Higgins took in the young woman sitting at his kitchen counter. He looked down at his rumpled vest and trousers and the slippers on his feet. "I could have sworn I was wearing shoes at some point," he said.
"Professor Higgins?" Ms. Shaw said, standing and presenting her hand for a shake. "Such a pleasure to meet you at last! I'm a great admirer of your work."
Henry shook the young woman's hand. "Why, thank you. And you are?"
"Professor Galatea Bernice Shaw," Eliza sang out. "Professor of theoretical cybernetics at Trinity College Dublin. M.D., dual PhDs in Mechanical and Biochemical Engineering. Single, owns a Pyrenean Mastiff named George."
"That's..." Professor Shaw blinked as the freshly brown coffee was poured into a large press. The kettle was boiling. The girl behind the kitchen island poured the hot water over the grounds and then went to fetch milk from the refrigerator while replacing the bag of beans. "How does she know all that?"
"She's... Very intuitive," Henry said, glaring still groggily at Eliza. "Um, yes, of course, I've heard of you, Professor Galatea Shaw. You've written numerous letters."
"Few to which you ever responded," she scolded. "I prefer my middle name. Bernice is fine."
"I don't recall responding to any of your letters, Bernice," he said. "Although I did read them. Every one."
"Well, your wife was kind enough to respond to me at the outset of my research," she said. "I figured you weren't ignoring me. You were simply a man too busy to respond. I'm here in person because I've been offered the chance to spend the upcoming summer lecturing in your department. Also, to inform you of my discovery."
"Discovery?"
"Yes! I've been going over everything you and Professor Dolittle worked on, and I think a fully functional artificially intelligent humanoid is achievable in our time. I've brought some schematics of what I think a functional positronic neural matrix might look like." She reached into her bag and brought out a large notepad.
Eliza pushed the plunger down on the press and took three cups from the cupboard, and placed them on saucers on a tray.
A schematic appeared, folded neatly from the young woman's notebook and spread across the granite countertop. "You see," the young woman said, "I've designed a few microprocessors that could be used here, here, here, and here." She'd produced a pencil from somewhere and was pointing at various points across the map of circuitry. "The sheer programming of such a complex unit would take years, even decades normally, but with these shortcuts, programming could be reduced to a matter of weeks."
"Even days," Henry said, accepting a cup from the tray and looking cautiously at Eliza.
Eliza looked at the schematics. In the lower right-hand corner, she noticed a name. "Robby," she smiled. "That's cute."
"What can I say? Thank you." Ms. Shaw accepted a cup of coffee and added a dollop of creme. I love 50s Sci-Fi movies."
Eliza smirked at Henry. "Morbius, something is approaching from the southwest."
"Um, if you'll excuse me, Professor Shaw. I need to have a word with my daughter in private." Henry grabbed Eliza's hand and pulled her toward the bedroom.
"Certainly," the young woman said. "I'll wait here. This coffee is wonderful, by the way, Eliza, was it?"
"Yes."
*****
"Why did you let her in?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Eliza said. "I thought she was UPS delivering something or other. You never get visitors. Especially not ones who are so attractive."
Henry's finger came up. "No! You stop that thought right there."
"One of these days, Henry Higgins, you're going to wag that finger in my face, and I'm going to bite it just to spite you."
The finger went down. "I've grown accustomed to my solitude, Eliza. But for a few classes and graduate thesis students, I am content to live my life up here in my lab on my own terms."
"You'd like her, Henry. I'm reading everything she's ever published. She's smart and spunky, and you can tell she's already got a bit of a crush on you."
"Now, stop."
"Your finger again."
He put his finger back down. "She's here for one cup of coffee, and then you're helping me find some way to get rid of her."
