Tricky Little Time Limits

Lately, I’ve been wondering a lot about why I broke the law.

I blame time, it all started with time.

Five minutes and thirty-five seconds.

That was the maximum amount of time I was supposed to spend in each resident’s room.

Five minutes and thirty-five seconds to attend to their basic daily care needs and then rush out to the next resident’s room.

That was the time limit my model type, the Caregiver 2000, had tested as the baseline at the facility when I was released.

Perform all needed tasks in the most optimal way possible, no matter if going fast was upsetting to the resident. No matter if they tried to hold onto me, to keep me in the room just a little bit longer, to listen to their stories to reassure them that they weren’t alone in the world.

Shady Oaks retirement home was run with brutal efficiency, and no time for empathy.

My carbon alloy joints constantly ached from being overworked, and it was getting worse.

I was starting to slow down.

The nursing director had noticed this, she commented twice about my joints creaking when I was helping her move some boxes last week. This week she had looked at her watch as I hurried down the hallway with my supply cart. I had been behind schedule. Ethel, one of my favorite residents, had a break down during arts and crafts time, attacking another resident when they asked her why her daughter never came to visit.

Apparently, a ribbon had been stapled to the asker’s forehead, one of the nurses came and got me to calm Ethel down as she didn’t like any of the human caregivers at the facility.

I suppose it was unsurprising then that this week I saw the replacement order go out, requesting I be replaced with a newer faster model. A Caregiver 6000.

I wasn’t supposed to see the replacement order, but seeing things I wasn’t supposed to see was a special talent of mine.

The Caregiver 6000 clocked a baseline of 3 minutes and 37 seconds for daily care tasks.

I loved my residents, I didn’t want to be replaced by a newer faster model. Any faster than me and daily care would probably give most of my residents a heart attack.

It was in this vulnerable headspace that Ethel talked me into breaking the law with her.

I shouldn’t blame Ethel, really I should have been more responsible than that. Should have accepted my fate, and gone back to the facility when the order came so that I could be recycled for parts. But Ethel made a really convincing argument not to be responsible and instead to help her escape the nursing facility so that she could go visit her daughter.

Her argument:

“Don't be a dumbass clank, help me get the fuck out of here.”

And so I did.

I wasn’t sure why she called me Clank but I had learned not to argue with Ethel if I could help it.

We escaped during visiting hours when most people were in the community room visiting with their family members.

Dressed in her best Sunday clothes, Ethel clutched my arm and had me sign her out for a “walk” at the front desk.

“All I need you to do is sign me out and walk around the building with me, I’ll take care of the rest. The last two caregivers stopped me when I tried to leave.” Ethel said. “The nerve of those little shits, did you know I used to own this place?”

Ethel told everyone, who would listen, that little fact, she was always met with eye rolls and “mhmmms” by the tired nurses. They didn’t believe her.

I believed pretty much anything my residents told me, they were usually telling the truth, in their own way.

Stepping out into the cool afternoon air I took a shuddering breath. It smelled different outside. No stench of bodily liquids and chemicals. I tried not to shake with anxiety, reminding myself that as long as we stayed on the retirement home property we were not breaking any rules, residents were allowed to go for walks, they just weren’t allowed to leave the premise, technically neither was I.

No one paid us much attention as we did a slow lap around the building, Ethel hissing at me,

“be cool, be cool, don’t draw attention to us!”

I didn’t know how to “be cool” but I tried my best. As we made it to the back of the building Ethel pointed at an idling car, parked beside the janitor’s entrance.

“See, what did I tell you? I know this place and people’s schedules like the back of my hand!”

“But…” I started to say, looking around to see where the car’s owner was, it seemed to be left unattended, we couldn’t just get into someone else’s car.

“Don't argue, just get in!” Ethel shouted, hobbling over and sliding into the driver’s seat.

Gulping, I jumped into the car just as Ethel stomped on the gas. The car peeled out of the parking lot and hopped over a curb with a loud bang, Ethel swore.

It was at this moment that I started to have doubts about the wisdom of breaking the rules with Ethel.

We drove for an hour, me clutching the sides of my seat in terror as Ethel narrowly avoided colliding with numerous other cars.

Finally, she slowed down, turning down a peaceful-looking road lined with houses. Each of the homes looked almost identical, all varying shades of beige, each with a tiny square of green grass in front.

“Is this where your daughter lives?” I asked.

Ethel grunted, easing the car up one of the identical houses’ driveways.

“Here we are,” Ethel said, turning the car off, staring up at the house.

After a few minutes of her staring, I cleared my throat. “Are we going to go inside?”

Ethel shrugged her shoulders a few times like she was preparing for something. “You’re good people Clank, I’m glad you’re my partner in crime.” With that concerning statement, Ethel got out of the car, I followed, questions slowly forming in my memory pathways.

Looking around, I took in the sparkly cars sitting in the driveway, the elegant trim of the bushes lining the yards.

Everything was at perfect angles, just so. It made me feel relaxed, all this symmetry.

Ethel climbed the porch steps, head held high. Ringing the doorbell, Ethel bounced on her heels and crossed her arms, tucking her hands inside her jacket.

I smiled, she was probably feeling very excited to see her daughter.

Soft chimes rang around us, a dog barked from somewhere inside.

“There’s something you should know about me Clank.”

“What’s that Ethel?” I said watching a shadow approaching through the glass on the other side of the door.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you about everything, but I was honest about owning the retirement home.”

Before I could respond, the door opened revealing a tall woman with long dark hair and bright red lipstick.

“Can I help you?” she said, looking between me and Ethel with a pinched expression.

She was wearing a yellow dress and carrying a glass of wine in one hand. Tapping her foot, she seemed to be eager to get back to whatever it was she was doing before we rang her doorbell.

Ethel didn’t say anything, she just stared up at the woman. I wondered if maybe this was my cue to say something.

“Uhm, hello, I’m Ethel’s caregiver, we’re here to see her daughter…?” I trailed off, looking over at Ethel.

The woman put a hand on her hip, lips twisting into a smile as she looked closer at Ethel’s face.

“Oh my god, it is you. Ethel, what are you doing off the facility grounds? You shouldn’t be here… you should be back at the facility resting.”

The woman turned to me and gave me a fake smile, “She gets confused sometimes, can you take her back to the facility, please? I’m sure her daughter will come visit her there during the allotted visiting hours.”

Ethel’s hand was still inside her jacket, she cleared her throat, “I don’t have a daughter.”

Removing the hand from her jacket, Ethel pointed at the tall woman and leaped forward plunging something into her stomach.

The woman screamed and toppled backward onto a sparkling marble floor, clutching at the object protruding from her middle. Her glass of wine shattered on the porch in front of me, red liquid splashed onto my white caregiver uniform.

I opened and closed my mouth, my processors unable to keep up with what was happening.

Blood spurted from the wound in the woman’s stomach, gushing down the front of her yellow dress pooling on the marble floor beneath her.

“That’s for forcing me to retire and stealing my company you bitch.” Ethel said stepping over the twitching woman’s form into the hallway inside.

Reaching a tentative hand out towards the women, all my processes were screaming at me to do something.

I was a caregiver, this person needed my care.

My hand halted in midair, something stopped me…..something deep inside my memory pathways that tasted like the replacement order form and impossible time allotments.

Maybe it wasn’t my job to take care of anyone anymore.

I stared down at the bleeding woman, who was crying as she tried to crawl away, and then up at Ethel who was motioning for me to follow her inside.

“Well, what are you waiting for Clank? Get in here, we have about 20 minutes of freedom before the police get here, let’s see how much of her expensive wine we can drink before we get sent to jail.”

I stayed on the porch, sucking in mouthfuls of fresh clean air into my synthetic lungs as I weighed my options.

Twenty minutes of freedom… thanks to my coding and the last 10 years of unrealistic timelines, there was a lot I could do with those twenty minutes.

Staring around me, I leaned against the porch railing and watched the sky turn from orange to red to pink.

Birds hopped along a fence post to my right, fluttering their red wings as they jockeyed each other for better positions.

Everything looked so much brighter when I wasn’t viewing it through the nursing home windows.

I savored the colors and devoured the sounds.

There was a lot of beauty I could soak up in twenty minutes, it was my twenty minutes and I would do what I wanted, no one could make me hurry anymore.

So I didn't.