Back at the house, Pam was showing her pre-programmed parenting skills to be inferior to those a human could have shown. After she had gotten her electronic 'thoughts' all sorted out she had come out of the bedroom still unprepared to effectively deal with the situation. Marcus looked remorseful but was still defiant. He was also still sad about Charlie dying the day before. Jessica was obviously very sad about that.
Pam went about the evening as usual, reheating leftovers and cooking a little bit of new food to add to it. She had barely spoken to the children, and that intrusive quietness almost drowned out the TV. She had no protocols, subroutines or algorithms to fall back on for this kind of thing. All she was able to do was to maintain configuration 6.12 on her facemask. That look was meant to convey the type of sadness called for by the recent happenings.
After the table had been set and the half new, half old meal set out, Pam told the children to wash their hands and sit down for dinner. That caused trouble right away with the boy.
"My hands are clean." he said. "I already washed them."
"Not recently." the machine replied.
"It doesn't matter!" he shot back.
Pam looked at him while Jessica went to use the soap and water. The android pulled up the appropriate files and gave him the standard line. "You have to wash your hands before you eat. It's important. If you don't, I'll tell your father."
"He doesn't care what you say too!" the boy shouted. "He wouldn't have left if he did!"
Pam's logic circuits couldn't calculate the exact meaning of all those words, but her AI knew from his expression and body language that he wasn't being friendly or polite. Her silicone facial covering reconfigured itself again, now looking mad and authoritative - expression 5.32.
"If you don't wash your hands, I'll tell your father." she said. error messages started flashing before her electronic eyes as soon as the words left her speaker. The top levels of her hierarchical AI system had caught her being overly repetitive. She froze the way she was while the processors in her chest sorted out some of this mess.
Marcus just walked away from her and sat down at the other end of the table. He made sure to be as loud as he could be as he took the covers off the pots and spooned the food onto his plate.
Pam's head turned to look at him. Her face was still set in that most recent expression, but her cognitive functions were bogged down with attempts at error correction. She needed to buy some time for herself. She pulled up the right program and ran it through her CPU.
Tears came to her eyes as she started simulated crying. She half-ran up the stairs and retreated to her bedroom. Once inside, she continued to make those sobbing sounds, though they eventually trailed off into nothing. She remained standing inhumanly straight and still just behind the door however.
Jessica was almost too scared to come out of the washroom when she heard the imitation adult go past. The kid timidly opened the washroom door and looked around the hallway. When she got to the table, she asked her brother "What happened?"
"Pam's crying because I didn't wash my hands." he said.
Things were a little more lively over at the bar. Khaled had joined Brad at a table in the corner so he could listen to his friend whine about his relationship. He too had gotten a steak sandwich, and was now forking the last of the ketchup-soaked French fries into his mouth.
"You know," Brad said "the more I think about it the less special she is."
"You said that already." Khaled reminded him.
"Yeah, but it's true." Brad said firmly. He thought now about her similarities to his deceased wife, but he wasn't ready to admit to his friend what he was just beginning to admit to himself.
"You could have lots of other women." Khaled told him. "I noticed that waitress was staring at your chest."
"That's okay, I've been staring at hers."
They laughed. Brad emptied the remaining contents of the pitcher into his glass.
"I guess we should go soon, eh?" Khaled asked.
"Why? You wussing out on me?"
"Dude, We have to work tomorrow."
"You know what?" Brad said. "Fuck it. Fuck work. I need to get drunk."
"Hey, I don't have as many sick days as you do."
"Come on Khal, take one for the team."
He looked at Brad. The man's eyes were starting to get that sloppy, happy glow.
"Sure." he said. "The long weekend starts now I guess."
"Atta boy!" Brad said. "Let's get another jug."
"Okay, we can just stare at that waitress until she comes by."
"That's an easy job." Brad said as he leaned back.
"So you pretty much made your mind up then?" Khaled asked.