I had never quite imagined it all. So perfect. Flawless, as a matter of fact. This is why they say man is the big boss around here. Down here. And they’re right, they definitely are. Only God might have done it better. But He’s God, so that makes sense.
One year ago, I went for a drive around the neighborhood, with no clear thought in mind. It had been a most exhausting day and to top it all, Annie kept nagging about I don’t know what maid. Damned maid, as if we could actually afford one, I kept telling myself, but – of course – it would’ve been pointless to argue with her. She always knew best. Anyway, it was Saturday evening and I sincerely doubted there’d be a chance of me hiring a maid on that given day, so I figured I’d just go chill somewhere, in a pub or something, with the lads. England was playing Qatar and they had that amazing striker, brought in from Africa I think, seven feet tall. They were talking about him everywhere, those days. So I just gave in to temptation and took a seat in the nearest recreational center – as they had begun to call them then – and ordered myself a beer – a good, old Amstel. During the second half of the game, a most peculiar man sat down next to me. He was wearing a white coat, white jeans and white shoes and he was so clean that everything around him looked dirty, even though it was not. He seemed middle-aged, but I never really got a good look at his face.
Just a few minutes after he had entered, a girl stepped into the pub. Normally, she would have blended in with the crowd, but she had a rather clumsy walk, as she stepped toward us, which I happened to notice. The man next to me took her by the waist and whispered something in her ear. She nodded discomforted and went back outside, with the same curious walk. Just as I thought of plunging myself back in the depraved match (Qatar was leading 2-0), the man tapped on my shoulder and asked me in the most polite tone I have ever heard, whether I didn’t perhaps require the assistance of an HIV - household improvement vehicle. And that’s how it all began.
They called it a vehicle because it was not solely a mechanized unit - it was capable of more than just a (how our ancestors called them) robot. When I returned home with the girl, Annie seemed pretty distressed. She was trying not to let it show, but I could tell. I always could. However, I never understood women the way other man say they do. For instance, I just couldn’t understand why she was displeased by my great find. Nobody could’ve gotten a better maid on a Saturday evening.
I named her Doris, because I had always liked that name. She was part of the newest generation. I was shocked a few months later, when Annie said she didn’t like a girl that young (and that pretty) living in our house. When I told her that Doris isn’t human, she didn’t believe me. These women! I thought, as Annie tried hard to convince herself that I wasn’t telling the truth.
My relationship with Doris was of a stranger sort. At first, I had considered her inferior to us. I mean, she had that clumsy walk of hers and it happened often enough that she just....jammed. But as the days became weeks and the weeks became months, I began to realize her potential. I mean, she was as gorgeous as any other woman I had ever met. Only...better streamlined. She always smiled at me with those bulging eyes of her, no matter what. Whenever I needed anything, she was there to help me. No matter what it was I needed. In time I started to feel terribly attracted to her. I mean, a woman as delightful as her…who could resist! All these emotions heightened, as Annie kept on bugging me about Doris in the most obtrusive of ways. It sounded almost as if she wanted me to get rid of her. I tried to argue with Annie, that getting rid of her would mean killing her, because she was programmed to serve only one family, but she wouldn’t listen.
It was then when I first thought of doing her in. Annie. I mean, what the hell! Few Brits who move to the US make a healthy transition. It would’ve been very easy to make it all look natural. Annie had always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, so by doing her this favor, I would’ve done myself a favor.
Now, I’ll be frank: normally, I would never had done it. But what she did, it drove me nuts! Just about one month ago, she came home with an eerie smile on her face. I admit, I was scared at first, for I had never seen her smile like that. She was carrying the digital edition of the local newspaper. As she dropped it on a table next to me, I glanced at it and fell back in my chair with a clinging sensation of despair: a large headline read “Mechanized maid wants to steal her husband!”. Next to it, I could see Annie’s face, frowning again and again. Then I looked at her, standing next to me, and, bluntly said: I was disgusted. She was smiling triumphantly, like a bloody broad who had never tasted success in her whole miserable, pathetic, excuse for a life! I could’ve shot her on the spot, had I only had a gun nearby.
The next few days, I tried to play it coolly. Some press came around the house the day after the article had been published, but I didn’t let them in. During the followin two weeks, I knew I had to distance myself from Doris and do Annie’s will. Most amazingly, she actually began to trust me and my intentions in so short of a time span! I had to ask myself, who was the real robot in our house. To my delight, Doris didn’t seem to mind at all. She was being her cheerful self, as usual. When I suggested to Annie, that we should visit the Grand Canyon, she gave in immediately. Even as she was packing her bags, I couldn’t trust my eyes. It was just too good to be true.
Three days ago, I got back from the Canyon. Annie was gone and all I had to do, was call in the press and explain to them how Annie had always had some mental problems and ask them to judge for themselves: did Doris look, feel and act like a robot? The women were more skeptical than the men – it’s always like this – but in the end, they had to concede defeat.
Man is truly great, that’s what I think. I have the perfect woman, the perfect job, the perfect life. It’s love, as perfect and ideal as it should be. It’s life, the way God meant it to be. Life, without pestering, malfunctioning machines, like Annie.

P.S. "Adaptation" of "Modern Romance", William J. Harris