Dinner that night was lentil and rice pilaf and a salad with lots of weird greens and radish slivers. It was almost as tasty as it sounds.
Mom was bubbly for a change, telling Dad what had happened with Norman and Robin at the help center. “It was pretty darn incredible,” she said. “Judy and I have been working with Robin for nearly a year, trying to find something she’d enjoy doing, even if she didn’t want to talk. But five minutes with Norman and she’s singing like she’s in a choir.” She glanced at the robot. “What did you do? Or say to her?”
Norman finished nibbling on a radish. “I simply said, ‘Would you like to sing with me?’ When she was hesitant, I told her to follow my lead. All children enjoy singing. Once we got started, it was easy.”
“Still, it’s pretty amazing,” Mom said, “a robot doing what several humans were unable to accomplish. Good work, um, Norman.”
“Thank you, Maman,” Norman said. For once Mom didn’t turn purple when he said this.
Dad was chewing and thinking.
“I can’t say I understand it, but Norman appears to be going far beyond his programming,” he said. “Norman is learning, and growing as a . . . person. If it wasn’t happening before my eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. But it truly seems he is absorbing cues from others, interpreting those cues, and learning from them as a way of humanizing himself.” He nodded appreciatively. “Wow!”
“Merci, Papa,” Norman said, apparently not knowing that a piece of radish was stuck between his porcelain teeth. Gross! “But I am certain that everything that happens with me is due to your advanced coding. Any other explanation would be illogical.”
Mom smiled. “Norman is starting to sound just like you,” she said to Dad.
“He’s a real chip off the old block,” Dad said, with an insane grin. “Get it, as in a microchip? Never mind!”
Pretty funny, for my dad. He doesn’t have the best sense of humor.
“I’ve been thinking,” Mom said. “Well . . . perhaps Norman can stay with us longer than a month. You know, for the sake of science. Why don’t we get through the holidays and then decide what we want to do. Play it by ear.” She turned toward the robot and slightly nodded at him.
Boy oh boy, was I glad that I dragged Norman along to the Community Help Center—it totally changed Mom’s view of him. Go me! But I also thought that her change of heart had nothing to do with “science.” Could Norman be growing on her? I wondered.
“Thank you for the extension, Maman,” Norman said, after swallowing a chunk of something. “But what will happen to me when my time here is finished?”
I realized that no one had told Norman about the plan to eventually scrap him and Jean-Pierre Jr. and build more advanced robots.
“Uh, well,” Dad said, avoiding Norman’s eyes. “At some point we will travel to France so you can meet your uncle and brother.” Yeah, meet them at a scrap yard!
“Wonderful,” Norman said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “I do wish to meet Jean-Pierre Junior and my uncle.” But he was looking kind of nervous. Was it possible that he could tell when we were lying? Freaky thought, but it could be true.
Okay, I know you’re wondering how Norman is able to eat, and what happens to the food, so let me explain. Norman chews his food just like you and I do, but when the level reaches a certain amount, a suction tube opens in his throat and directs the chewed food to a storage container in his butt.
That’s right, his butt!
As it turns out, Norman’s butt pulls out like a drawer so it can be easily emptied and cleaned. My brother has a removable butt!
But listen closely: I am never ever going to be the guy who empties and cleans Norman’s butt. Not once! Grossness has its limits.
So now you know what happens to the food Norman eats. But maybe you wish you didn’t? Too late!