The night was young and the rain have stopped. I took the pills and a raincoat just in case the weather changes its mind. Few nights ago, I spent a lot of money, but I hoped there was a few credits left. I didn’t minded that, because tomorrow I will receive the Veterans Bonus, something equal to a pension check.
Carefully I combed my grey hair and put on the gel to keep it in place. I picked my glasses from the nightstand and went for the elevator. I had a minor problem selecting the call button, but my young neighbour helped me.
The doorman call for the Uber and driverless car glided down to pick me up. I typed in the address, and the artificial holo-driver smiled when it saw where I was going. The journey was short and the car stopped near the door of a Stellar Center where another elevator zoomed me up in the needle of a levitating skyscraper. The platinum doors opened and the music started playing.
“Welcome back Mister Wolowitz. Back for another round?” The robot by the bar said cleaning the class.
“Yup. Pour me another one Jeff. I swear, this is my favourite part of the day.” I panted while climbing the stool and broadened my elbows over the counter when a Jack in a glass landed on the stripe of ice before me.
“Excuse me Mister Wolowitz. It appears you are running low on credit. Shall I put this on your tab?” The machine asked in the same tone it always had.
“Yes please. Say, could I get the other service on my tab too?” I whispered over the counter, watching for the other guest.
“Please, let me go ask.” He said and rolled to the other side of a bar where a man sat on a chair and watched the game in his glasses, and rolled back to me in a minute. “The man said he will help you, but he also said that this should not become your custom. He will think about it the next time.” The robot said and I winked at him and went to the back of the room.
There was a service bot, one of those that were semi-combat drones, not agile for war, but very good at being bouncers. He scanned my card and his monitor wrote ‘Insufficient Funds’, but with a click of a button, the monitor wrote ‘Access Granted’ and opened the door for me.
On the red sheets was a fifth generation gynoid, inefficient but still in function. It had custom made shell and changed leg. It waited for me to get undressed and finish the drink before I joined it on the bed.
“The usual Mister Wolowitz?” It asked and I sighed.
“Yes please. Do I need to show you her picture again?” I said unwillingly, but the bot nodded away and changed its shell to the picture of my late wife when she was young and beautiful, so I hugged it and went to sleep.
And some very loving stories.