Pink Slip Prophet by George Donnelly Page A

undivided attention - for the rest of the day and tomorrow. He deserves that before I, uh, kill myself . His thoughts wandered to how he would do it. It had to be far away and not leave a mess to clean up. It wasn’t fair to saddle anyone with that, much less burial costs.
    His screen flashed. Someone was calling.
    “Dad,” Jack said. He jerked his head in the direction of Ian’s desk.
    Ian looked away. The screen flashed again.
    “Dad, phone call! It might be important.” Jack went back to his video.
    Ian looked away from the flashing screen. I’m not going to answer it. I just wish I could silence the notifications from here. Jack deserves my time.
    The hammock bounced and Ian swayed up against the rough, cinder block wall. “Ow, hey.”
    Jack was at his desk. The boy grabbed his father’s earbud and tossed it to him. He gestured a thumbs-up at the screen to answer the call.
    “Jack, no!” Ian caught the earbud and hastily put it into his ear. He glared at his son. “Hello, I’m afraid—”
    “Is this Ian Blake?” The voice was old and not terribly formal but definitely British.
    “I’m sorry, this—”
    “The inventor of the Maria domestic robot?” the man asked.
    “Yes, but I’m spending time with my son right now,” Ian said.
    “I can appreciate that. Can we schedule another time to talk?”
    “I’m afraid it’s just not…” Ian choked up.
    “I understand what it’s like to be an inventor and an entrepreneur,” the man said.
    Ian wanted to speak but his throat seized up. If he spoke, he knew the man would realize his pain and he refused to let anyone know what he was feeling.
    “I will call you back in, say, five minutes, alright, Mr. Blake? Just so you know, this is Clifford Fanson of the Divergent Group here in the UK and I aim to license your Maria technology.”
    ***
    It was several hours later when an exhausted Ian and a sleepy Jack exited the elevator on the twenty-third floor with their final Maria in tow.
    Larry waited for them inside the front door. “Why did you hang up on me?” he asked. His arms were crossed and his eyelid ticced. His body radiated a nervous tension that Ian thought could break out at any second.
    Ian skirted around him into the kitchen and pushed Maria until she was behind him. He frowned at Larry a second then, without taking his eyes from the man, asked Maria for a sandwich.
    “What kind of sandwich would you like, Ian?” she asked.
    Ian kept his eyes on Larry. “Something high protein with a touch of sweetness on unusual bread but, of course, working within the limits of whatever is in this kitchen.”
    Larry trundled awkwardly over to the black leather couch and laid back on it. He then sat forward and looked at Ian. “I wouldn’t have approved it anyway. Robots in the home are too dangerous. Look at what happened to Jacky.”
    Jacky? Ian wanted to lash out but he thought better. Just wait before responding. He wants you angry. The thoughts burst back in. Jacky? He’s a boy and you won’t turn him into anything else! He gritted his teeth.
    “In fact,” Larry said, “I want him out of here.”
    Ian laughed. “You want my robot out of my house?”
    “It’s not your house anymore,” Larry said. “And the robot? You didn’t build it, not by yourself at least. You live in a tax-supported ecosystem that empowers you. Lots of people helped you.”
    Ian smiled but kept his thoughts about that to himself.
    Next to him, Maria expertly sunk a knife into a jar of peanut butter - except it was empty, or nearly so. Ian watched as she used the dull side of the butter knife to scrape every last smidge of peanut butter out of the jar and place it evenly on the slice of fluffy whole wheat bread.
    “Careful not to scrape any plastic off now,” Ian said to Maria with a chuckle.
    “Do not worry. That is not happening.”
    The jelly pot looked relatively fresh for some reason and it was completely full. Maria selected a spoon, deftly popped the