At 1am the town was quiet as Sadie turned in to her street. A shadow outside her building made her slow down and put one hand to her backpack. Thing 4 could squirt cleaning fluid with useful accuracy. But the shadow quickly resolved itself to be the harmless old lady from the third floor.

Sadie shifted from concern about herself to the condition of her neighbor. She knew she was a little eccentric and forgetful.

“Good evening Mrs Z, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside huh?” She gently took the old lady’s elbow and steered her to the lobby door.

“I don’t have my key dear. I don’t have my key.” The old woman muttered, looking bewildered.

“We don’t need one see?’ Sadie put her palm to the scanner and the door opened. She bustled them up the two flights of stairs before the old lady looked at her and declared:

“I don’t know you! Who are you?”

“Quiet down there!” a man’s voice called out from a higher floor. “She’s been mumbling and wittering for an hour, they ought to send her to a dementia ward.”

Hearing his hostility changed Mrs Zimmerman’s mood toward Sadie. She trembled and said fearfully.

“I don’t want to go! He can’t make me go!”

Sadie hushed her as she pointed at a blue door.

“You live here I think?”

Familiarity kicked in this time and Mrs Z remembered her palm. She unlocked the door and tripped in happily. Sadie almost left her but hesitated just long enough for the door to swing open and reveal the old woman standing, again bewildered, at the end of a short hall. Maybe if she just got her to bed, Sadie thought, someone would turn up in the morning to check in on her.

So Sadie stepped in, ready to leave as soon as she wasn’t welcome. Meanwhile the old lady trotted further into the interior, making clanking noises that might be mistaken for a person making tea. Sadie put down her pack by the front door and followed.

The kitchen was in a jumble. There were for small containers of milk on the bench that should have been in the refrigerator. The auto shopper was blinking – it wanted to confirm an order of milk, eggs, and various other items that Sadie could see Mrs Z already had. Sadie set cleaning up and wiping the place up. She sniffed to see what was fresh, ditching a few items and putting the rest in their place. Soon the autoshopper list was down to only a few items that were ‘running low’ and the usual ‘specials’ that people like Sadie never ordered. She hit ‘check in 24 hours’ and cancelled the pending supermarket delivery. How had old people managed before kitchens did stocktakes?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Here you are dear!” Mrs Zimmerman handed her a mug, which looked clean enough, with a tea bag sitting inside but no water. She looked very pleased with herself. Sadie thanked her and put the mug under the hot water dispenser and soon had a steaming mug of something that smelled lovely. She breathed in the pleasant fragrance.

Meanwhile the old lady was heading back into the hall, but she stopped in a doorway.

“Oh! Have you done all this? And… is that your cat?”

Sadie, looking over her shoulder, noticed the uncharacteristic order straight away. Objects were piled neatly, books were straight, and Thing 2 was just adding a final piece to a jigsaw on the table.

Sadie looked at her much emptier bag in the hall, she took two steps and looked in another room – a gleaming bathroom. Thing 1 was polishing the taps. The Things were fabulous with bathrooms, rarely needing prompts because the process was pretty much the same for any office. Porcelain, tile and mirror. Sadie grabbed the little bot and stepped back out as her neighbor, oblivious, headed to the commode.

Too late, Sadie remembered she’d switched off perimeter controls to let Thing 4 go down the trash chute.

“I’m really sorry,” she said, backing out of the room.

“I’ll just spend a penny if you don’t mind,” chirped Mrs Zimmerman, she smiled at Sadie as she pushed the bathroom door shut.

Alone in the hallway Sadie heard the hum of the vacuum kick in – Thing 4 hadn’t been able to resist the cleared floors. A banging from the ceiling above reminded Sadie it was not a great time to be cleaning house and she opened her bag and called the Things back. They scurried back to her and folded themselves together.

Mrs Zimmerman came out of her bathroom and entered her bedroom. As she sat on her bed she tripped a care sequence. An automated voice said:

“Mother, it’s nearly bedtime. Have you been to the bathroom?”

“Hmph. Of course.”

“Are you ready to sleep?”

“Yes dear, good night dear.”

The lights were dimming, Mrs Z, fully clothed still, nestled into her bed. Sadie let herself out and headed up to the attic loft – her considerably smaller apartment.

She was dead. She peeled off her clothes and pulled on a fresh t-shirt. She called the Things to their chargers and powered them down. As she hung up the Thing bag she felt a bump – that bag of smashed tech. She should have tossed it in the trash when she was back at the engineering building. Oh well, maybe there was something useful she could recycle. The weekend stretched ahead of her.

She pulled down her bed and stretched out.

“Prrrt. Are you ready to sleep?” Thing 3 asked.

“You’re supposed to be powered down! “

“Prrrt. Are you ready to sleep?” Thing 3 repeated.

The Things had learned something new for their language protocols.

“Yes Sweet Thing.”

In the 45 seconds before The Things powered down:

Thing 1 added new bathroom data to the cleaning protocol.

Thing 2 replayed putting the jigsaw pieces together. Were there more puzzles in the places the Thing cleaning crew had not yet cleaned?

Thing 3 analyzed and sorted vocabulary collected for the day.

Thing 4 noted that the apartment four floors below was not yet completed. Must return when not in regular schedule.

Sadie went to sleep with the taste of chamomile tea on her lips.