“He’s scared that something bad might happen.” I took our son’s hand and walked toward the entrance.
“To you?” he asked.
“To all of us.”
Theo dragged his feet. I looked at my watch. I bet an Amby would have a song to hurry this along, I thought.
“If something happens to you,” he said, “the Ambys will be my daddy, right?”
Guilt twisted my gut. I kneeled in front of our son and looked into his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
He squinted, doubtful. “Tukuku?” There was a hesitant, pleading note to his voice.
“Tukuku,” I assured him. The word, I admit, felt strange and musty in my mouth. But it seemed to be the correct answer; he hugged me, relieved, and we went inside.
A kid I didn’t recognize greeted Theo with a hug, and the preschool Ambys took up a chorus: “Welcome, mimu!” Theo spared a look back at me. The other kid said, “Tukuku, remember?” and Theo turned around and they ran off together onto the playground.
I sidled up next to the teacher, Mary. The human overseer. “Tukuku’s a new one, isn’t it?”
“I can’t keep track,” she admitted. “Something new every day. Do you remember ‘six-seven’? ‘Gruzz’? ‘Skibidi’? That was a simpler time.” She sighed wistfully. “Every generation finds a new way to distance itself from the old order. Anyway.” She handed me a flyer. It was a bird’s-eye map of the neighborhood with a nearby address circled. “This is where we’ll go if the sirens start while the children are still here.” Her hand was trembling.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, even though it already wasn’t. “See you this afternoon at pickup.”
I got back home with four minutes to spare. I figured there was a good chance the client would cancel, so when I heard the knock, I sent a small prayer of thanks to the universe.
I opened the door. A young couple stood on the doorstep: Annie and Anil Padmakumar. Annie cradled their baby in a front carrier. They owned a national franchise of licensed day care operators, the last all-human holdout. They’d run the last three years at a loss. If I could land their account, Corporate promised me a guaranteed lifetime Tier 3 income.
“I wish we were meeting at a less … unsettling moment,” I said. Anil gave a small nod. “Armageddon doesn’t negate the creditor’s call.”
“Hello!” I said warmly. “I’m Daniel Baldwin. Thanks so much for coming. Please, come in, make yourselves at home.”
They stepped in. I could tell she didn’t want to be here; she kissed her daughter’s head, avoiding my eyes. Anil tried to appear genial, but discontent simmered under the surface.
I welcomed them into the living room, which was cluttered with the authentic detritus of toddlerhood: alphabet puzzles, wooden building blocks, magnetic tiles, a stray sock. I could see them taking stock; this disorganization wasn’t what they’d expected. My job wasn’t to sell optimization. It was to humanize optimization.
“I wish we were meeting at a less … unsettling moment,” I said.
Anil gave a small nod. “Armageddon doesn’t negate the creditor’s call.”
His frankness surprised me. “I won’t waste your time, then. I know you’ve gotten the full pitch already. You’re smart people. You know how to read a tech spec. What the documentation can’t tell you is how it feels—for the child. For you.” I opened my arms wide, a gesture of transparency, and Theo’s Amby purred into the room next to me. “I’ve had this model at home with my son, Theo, since he was born. Ask me anything.”
Annie’s eyes flared from the Amby to me with a sharp flash. “How does your wife feel, Mr. Baldwin?”
She’d seen the photos on the walls, the shelves; how could she miss them?
“My wife died when Theo was two,” I said. “Cancer.” I kept my tone soft; I didn’t want to embarrass her.
She flushed anyway. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I said. “My Calmby therapist helped me process my grief. To answer your question, my wife was skeptical of the Ambys too, when they were first released. But as the years went on, the evidence became undeniable. Children co-raised by Ambys exceeded every developmental benchmark. Prosocial behavior increased astronomically. It felt like we were truly turning the tide toward a better future.”
“But they’re not doing anything human parents can’t do,” Annie insisted.