Mrs. Magillicutty’s Fix

The following short story is one of the thirteen original Science Fiction stories in the upcoming compilation Stepping Stones in Time... by Bill Ernest, Jr.

Mrs. Magillicutty’s Fix

Bill Ernest, Jr.

Margaret Magillicutty was in her smallish modern but quite lovely kitchen preparing to fix the morning meal for Mr. Magillicutty, who was up stairs preparing for his day. She had laid out all necessities for creating a well-balanced and nutritious breakfast (a cantaloupe from the garden, a large knife & cutting board, eggs, bowl & whisk, Synth-ausage, skillet & spatula, sMilk powder and Tang and the gallon jug of purified water to rehydrate them…) when a knock came to the front door. This was unusual, her morning routine of prepping Henry’s breakfast while he shaved and finished his morning routine, had (to the best of her recollection) never been interrupted. She wondered who it could possibly be. A century or so had passed since the days of the morning milk delivery and nearly as long since there was any such thing as a “paperboy,” and today was an even numbered day--- so, there’d not be any mail-service ‘til tomorrow, either. The knock came again.

She untied her apron and made her way from the kitchen thru what could only be called an average-middle-class living room; in an average middle-class house; on an average-middle-class street; in the middle of an average-middle-class neighborhood, the kind which had not changed here in Middle America since days when father knew best and Wally & the Beav had to be home before dark. Though they had no children, Mrs. Magillicutty was herself a bit of a throw-back to those simpler times, while most of the wives in the neighborhood chose to spend their days outside the home working for others; she spent her days working for the Magillicuttys (at least that’s how she saw it). She quickly checked her appearance in the entryway mirror and opened the door.

She would not have been more surprised to have found Jesus standing on her front porch as she was to find a Sheriff’s Deputy and what appeared to be a uniformed Sears’ deliveryman with a clipboard and an empty heavy-duty dolly. “May I be of assistance to you gentlemen?” Margaret asked a bit uneasily.

“Are you… ” the man from Sears began as he paused to check the name on the clipboard’s FAKE-perwork (real paper, being illegal), “… Missus… Magillicutty?” He gave the deputy a glance as if they were sharing some inside joke but the Deputy did not look the least bit amused. The Deputy remained silent but shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“I am.” She glanced nervously up and down the street to see who might be out and about, worried what they might think.

“Is Mister Magillicutty at home, ma’am?” asked the man from Sears, Joe, as his name-patch proclaimed him to be.

“He is upstairs dressing for work,” she turned to the Deputy, “what’s this all about officer?”

“I am only here to observe, ma’am.”

The man from Sears cleared his throat, “Ma’am . . . I am from the Sears Appliance Reclamation Department and I am afraid that your ... husband...” He said as he flipped thru the faux pages again, “… Henry J. Magillicutty, of 4242 Isaac Avenue, Indianapolis Indiana… is as of today, now 90 days delinquent on his account and it is our unpleasant duty to re-acquire the unpaid-for-purchase.”

“My goodness… I don’t know anything about this… but I am sure there must be a mistake.”

The man from Sears looked from the numbers above the door to his clipboard and back again and looked at the Deputy, who simply looked unhappy. “No mistake, Ma’am.”

“Henry will be down shortly and I am sure he can straighten this all out… I guess you’d better come in then,” and stepped aside.

The Deputy and the man from Sears, dragging his dolly behind him, entered the Magillicutty’s humble abode and Margaret closed the door behind them.

. . .

“Would you gentlemen care to wait in the kitchen? There’s coffee, unless you are here to repossess the coffee-maker, that is.” Mrs. Magillicutty chuckled a bit, trying to make light of an uneasy situation.

“Depends if you made the coffee…” the man from Sears chuckled back and shot the cop that same knowing look.

“That would be fine, ma’am,” the seemingly somewhat displeased Deputy replied.

She looked at smart-guy-Joe, “Don’t worry, it hasn’t been poisoned…” the men were taken aback by her new joke, “I had no idea you were coming.” She laughed and led the way into the kitchen.

. . .

She offered the men seats at the room’s petite kitchen table. The man from Sears stowed his dolly next to the upright water cooler/sanitizer and made himself at home in the breakfast nook, while the Deputy chose to remain standing and looking uncomfortable.

“How do you take your coffee, gentlemen?”

“Milk and sugar, please?”

“Really? I was not aware they paid the police so well that they can afford milk & sugar, what with the war and all… We regular folk must make do with rationed sMilk and sucrose.”

“That is fine, if you can spare it ma’am.” The red faced Deputy said shyly.

“Justa cupla ice cubes for me, if ya please… I prefer it cold and black…” The man from Sears requested.

“Quite like your heart, I suppose?” Margaret interjected before the man from Sears could finish the tired-old-cliché.

“’Xactly! No sucrose, saccharine, or strychnine for me, thanks.” The man from Sears chuckled and Margaret did too, in spite of herself. The Deputy simply looked displeased, as if he were sitting in his doctor’s office and his physician had just pulled out the rubber gloves.

Mrs. Magillicutty prepared each mug to order and distributed them to her guests. “You still have not told me what miracle-of-modern-science you have come to rip from my life…”

“I’m afraid that I am only at liberty to discuss the matter with the actual purchaser… comp’ny policy, ya know…”

It was at that moment when the aforementioned Mister Magillicutty entered the kitchen. “Darling, you haven’t seen my purple-tie, have…” He froze in his tracks in the doorway at the surreal sight of the man with the gun and the badge standing in the middle of his middle-class kitchen. “Is there a problem officer?”

“Speakin’ of the devil,” the man from Sears said from the breakfast nook. Henry turned to notice for the first time the uniformed delivery man sitting at the table and drinking from Henry’s “I hate Mondays” Dilbert mug.

“Henry, these men are here to see you.”

“Are you Mr. Henry J. Magillicutty?” The man from Sears, now standing himself, glanced again at the clipboard, “Mr. Henry J. Magillicutty of 4242 Isaac Avenue, Indianapolis Indiana?”

“I am.”

“Mr. Magillicutty, as of today, you are now 90 days delinquent on your payments for one Sears M-Robot Companion Model: HW3000…”

“I was just coming to see you guys about that.”

“A companion mod --- Henry Magillicutty! You have a whore-’bot in my house.”

“SEARS does not sell porn-‘bots!” the man from Sears stated quite indignantly.

“I swear it’s not at all what you think, Margaret!”

The Deputy turned to the man from Sears, “I can’t stand it when they don’t know.”

“Henry…” Mrs. Magillicutty’s face froze in a look of utter confusion as the man from Sears came up behind her and touched the ON/OFF switch between her shoulder blades and she became inanimate. He then proceeded to scoot the heavy-duty dolly beneath her feet as the forlorn Henry Magillicutty could only stand and stare.

“Sir, by law you now have 60 days to pay off the remaining balance on your purchase and re-claim your merchandise. If after 60 days you have not paid the balance in full: the chassis will be stripped-down, refurbished, and returned to stock.” He handed Henry a copy of the fake-perwork and began to wheel Mrs. Magillicutty towards the front door.

“I’ll come for you, Margaret!” Henry called after them.

The somewhat beleaguered Deputy followed the man from Sears out of the kitchen.

. . .

As he slammed down the rear door of the Repo-truck, the man from Sears saw the sort-of sickened look on the young Deputy’s face. “What’s yer story, bub?”

“I just can’t stand it when they don’t know they’re a ‘bot,” he stated and then moseyed off to his patrol car as the man from Sears made his way to the truck’s cab. The two men started their vehicles and began to pull away from the curb.

“I’ll come for you, Margaret,” shouted Henry from the porch. Leaping the front steps and running into the streets he continued shouting, “I’ll come for you!”

The average middle-class neighbors all gathered and stared at Henry, kneeling in the street, and never again wondered about the Magillicutty’s lack of children.

B.E.Jr.