From the Community: An Account on the Ground of the ENKIDU Showroom Opening

By Clinton W. Waters

It’s no doubt you’ve probably already heard of what happened at Saturday’s grand opening at the ENKIDU showroom. Bowling Green is a much bigger town that it used to be, but word always has and always will spread fast. However, my friends asked that I reach out to the Daily News to share a firsthand  account of what happened that day, as I had a front row seat (literally). It will be my personal, and undoubtedly biased, account. The quotes you find here are as memory serves, which should not be taken for anything approaching “the record” and what it states.

A personal AI assistant sent me an invite to the event a few weeks ago. I thought it was a mistake at first, my name being too close to someone else’s. A Cliff Winters, maybe. After responding to the assistant and eventually the human it was assisting, I confirmed my invite was meant for me. As a sci-fi author, their Brand Outreach Representative believed I would appreciate the work they were doing. There would be food and drinks and a demonstration of the products ENKIDU had to offer. One thing I’ll never turn down is free food, so I confirmed my RSVP. 

You might remember ENKIDU from the news a few years back. Lots has happened since then, so I don’t blame you if you can’t recall. I’ll jog your memory. During the winter of 2040, a rash of crimes were carried out by lifelike robot androids from a number of manufacturers. Some minor, like gotcha pranks on social media. Some more concerning, such as robbery, where the national face recognition software wasn’t able to match security footage to anyone on file. In some cases, they believably impersonated people of varying levels of importance. A man in Idaho, while not the only person who thought of this, ordered a lookalike and had it do his job for him. He holds the record for the longest run of this particular con, lasting 6 months before he was found out. These various issues all came to a head when the trend ramped into violence. Even murder. 

Although ENKIDU and the other robot manufacturers were not found culpable, the Pygmalion Act of 2042 halted the development of robot androids that could not be easily distinguished from humans. You may not have noticed it, but that’s why you stopped getting ads for things like Boyfriend+ and DreamDate. They stopped appearing on content platforms, performing their various party tricks, and we all moved on. There is an urban legend that a few of them still survive and are out there somewhere. (Cue the X-Files theme). The first one, from last century. Not the reboot. Or the re-reboot. Or the animated fully immersive VR experience.

In any case, I tell you all of this because, while you may not remember, many people have not forgotten.

I arrived at the new storefront early. My first impression walking through the front door is that it smelled like a new car (from what I’ve imagined anyway), and everything seemed to be made out of glass. The space mimicked several at once, like overlapping photos in a collage. Over here, a living room with a glass table, a clear couch and matching chairs, arranged around a transparent TV screen. Over there, a stock room filled with clear boxes. And way back there, a garden, a bushel of diamond strawberries threatening to spill over. Throughout the spaces, circular pedestals dotted the floor.

Every outside wall was a window, but their opacity had been turned down. It would eventually be bright and inviting in the summer, but between the February shade, the drizzle that was threatening to become a downpour, and the opaque windows, it felt like a funeral parlor that hadn’t finished loading. And also that there wouldn’t be a single piece of furniture I didn’t leave a smudge on.  

“Mr. Waters?” a voice appeared at my side, making me jump. A friendly face greeted me, an android with a name tag that read BERT. He extended a hand to me, and I shook it. His skin was transparent, showing the frame and whirring servos that made his hand tighten around mine and up, then down. It took me a moment to realize, but it was warm and felt almost like a human hand. Thankfully, they had not made his face transparent, so I did not see his eyes and teeth floating in the air. He blinked naturally and smiled.  “Can I get you anything?” he asked. His eyes had a dull glow to them, and, while they did not dart around my face, I could tell he was searching for something. 

“Oh, no thank you,” I said, suddenly shy. It occurred to me how strange it was to be face-to-face with the very thing I was writing about decades before this moment. Life has turned out far stranger than fiction in many ways. However, it’s not every day you shake its hand. But I digress. 

Other people began to arrive, so BERT moved on, greeting them each by name. I saw some familiar faces, and there was a general milling about. We talked about BERT, but quietly so as not to be rude. I pointed out that he didn’t make a sound, and we all listened for any hint that his arms and legs were moving. A reporter from the Bowling Green Daily News snapped pictures of BERT and was asking him questions. Someone, who will remain unnamed, mentioned the sizable donation ENKIDU had made to the Bowling Green-Warren County Unified Government Department of Transportation for the BG GO tram system and wondered if BERT or BERTs would be seen around town now.

Soon, a parade of four-legged robots came into the space, balancing trays of drinks and finger foods on their flat backs or arms that unfolded from their shells. They showed off a bit, raising and lowering the trays, showing that they could keep it all from spilling. They were certainly noisier than BERT.

When a guest accidentally bumped another and dropped their drink, the human gasp and following silence that always happens from a shattered glass was interrupted by several small robots, which reminded me of much larger ants. They scurried out and dutifully sucked up the liquid, swallowed the unmelted ice and shards of glass…and were gone again. I had the urge to clap, but no one else did, so I took another mini-torta as it passed by. BERT refreshed the guest’s drink and assured them it was no bother. 

“Hey y’all!” someone said from the ghostly living room. Fahrad Osman, the Regional Sales Manager for ENKIDU, climbed up on one of the pedestals and introduced himself. He looked like one of the models from the Boyfriend+ ads. 

“Thank you so much for coming out today,” he said. Hopefully you’ve been enjoying our locally sourced snacks and beverages–thanks to the great team at Taquería Los Vázquez!” 

Here, everyone clapped, and of course my hands were full of said locally sourced snacks and beverages. 

“When we first researched Bowling Green, I immediately knew we needed a store in your town,” Fahrad said with a big grin. “I’ve lived here for the past few months as we’ve gotten everything off the ground, and I just have to say I love it here. I’m excited to be a part of your community and the amazing things y’all are doing here.” Here, I wondered if we’d conditioned him into saying y’all, or if it was a marketing ploy. Maybe both.

“You’ve already seen several of our models in action today. What we’ve hopefully demonstrated is that we have a wide range of robots in a wide price range, for any of your daily needs. From an extra set of hands with a RIBO,” he said and gestured to one of the four-legged robots that stood taller and waved an arm, “or a smiling face to pitch in at your small business,” he said, and BERT smiled widely, waving at everyone. 

“I also wanted to introduce you to our sales team here in the Bowling Green branch,” Fahrad said and gestured to a line of people in an array of business casual uniforms that filed in and turned to the crowd. “I’m excited to announce that partnering with the Second Chance Initiative here in town, we are providing jobs to these amazing local individuals who needed a little help getting back on their feet.”  Another round of applause. 

“I’m going to give the floor over to someone who has been working closely with us since the very beginning, Bowling Green Area Chamber of Commerce President Lam Htoo!”

Htoo swapped places with Fahrad. “I won’t take up too much of your time,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you it has been an honor to work with Fahrad and the other members of the ENKIDU team. Decades ago, Bowling Green walked boldly into the future, which is now here. Industries from all over the world have come and taken root, flourishing into the city we know today.” 

Htoo stopped for a moment, considering his words carefully. “I believe some of you will be familiar with the bad press associated with this company in the past.” Here, some glances were shared around the room. “However, much like those in the Second Chance Initiative, ENKIDU has grown and addressed those issues in the years since. Their documented dedication to the communities they join via stores and factories stood out to me, and I hope that stands out to you as well. Welcome home, ENKIDU!” A healthy round of applause followed Htoo as he traded places with Fahrad again. 

“Thank you again for opening your homes and businesses to us. We hope this is just the beginning of something beautiful,” Htoo said. More robots came into the room (was there a secret hatch in the floor, where were all these people and robots coming from?) and took their places on pedestals, striking various “on the job” poses.  

Fahrad invited us to the store’s entrance for the official opening. The windows became clear again and revealed not just a rain storm in full swing but also a huddled mass of people in coats, holding signs up in the air. A sparse line of Bowling Green Police officers stood with their backs to the protestors, their black helmets reflecting the windows and all of us inside. The rain had smudged some of the protestors’ work, but their messages were clear. 

WE REMEMBER
ROBOTS ≨ HUMANS
ENKIDU SUCKS

One sign in particular has stuck with me. It read, “We Remember Sofia Lios 2021-2040” along with a picture of a smiling woman whose face had now become warped from the rain. 

Fahrad seemed to take this in stride. “We always welcome input from the community. Please don’t let the rain deter you from the ceremonial ribbon-cutting, We’ll make sure you stay dry!”. BERT and the other robots left to fetch umbrellas. BERT was fixing to open the one he was carrying, but I asked him not to. 

“Sorry, force of habit,” I said. “It’s bad luck.”

“Oh, I see,” BERT said, and I saw the wheels turning, committing this information to memory. 

We did go out into the rain, and the robots did their best to keep us dry. Two pulled a big red ribbon taut between them in front of the doors. Fahrad came out of the building with BERT, who handed him a comically large pair of scissors. I had always wondered if that was a real thing. The crowd of protestors booed in unison at Fahrad’s appearance. BERT seemed very concerned. 

We watched as Fahrad snipped the ribbon, which fell with a wet slap onto the concrete. The impulse to clap went through us, but we all must have unconsciously agreed not to. BERT did not receive this signal and clapped loudly, the umbrella held in the crook of his arm. He didn’t stop as everyone tried not to look at him. Fahrad leaned close and said something, which made him stop and look at everyone. 

What happened next is a bit of a blur. I might have just gotten old without realizing it, but this is what I remember. 

BERT handed the umbrella he was holding to Fahrad and stepped into the rain.

I think Fahrad tried to stop him. It was hard to hear over the rain and the crowd working into an uproar.

BERT stepped forward slowly, his hands open and slightly lifted, as if asking for a hug.

When he reached the line of protestors, he smiled. He said something and offered his hand to the closest person. 

The protestor looked down at the hand and then back to BERT. I think they were going to shake it. I really do. 

BERT jerked suddenly, his hand crashing into the person’s face. 

The protestors surged, shoving BERT back and pouring through the line of enforcement officers. 

BERT fell onto his back in front of me. I could see now that his clear body cavity was filling with rain. Tiny fireworks blackened the inside of his shell. 

Protestors began stomping and hitting BERT with whatever they had handy. 

“Please, stop,” BERT said placidly, like he was asking for someone’s drink order. “Please-” 

Everyone was scattering, the crowds melting and dispersing out into the wet streets. I didn’t stick around to see what happened next, but I’m told BERT was the day’s only casualty. 

ENKIDU’s official statement is that BERTs are not meant to function in all weather, and the display model especially was not intended for use in rainy conditions. The person he hit hasn’t said anything publicly. 

Posts range from calls to shut ENKIDU down, end times prophecies, and those that defend the company’s right to do business. I encourage you to seek out other sources and determine how you feel. 

I, for one, might get some of those cleaning ants.