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What was right about a cat girl maid cafe when they were all robots? Walking in felt like going through a shopping aisle. Ace leaned back in the leather seat, watching cars buzz down the highway. Mist spiraled off the road as rain banged against the window from the grey sky. He leaned back. The pastels in the cafe’s interior strangled of color.
“So, what do you think?” Paul asked as he kicked back, crossing his arms behind his head.
Ace expected whirring to rip from the maids as they pranced around—instead jazz, smooth as chocolate, flowed through his ears while the sweet smell of coffee cuddled him. He couldn’t help but relax, yet their smooth faces made him more tense than he would’ve liked to admit. “They’re beautiful.” He murmured, his eyes following one as he came over.
Pink ribbons and frills stuffed his maid dress and his tail swished enthusiastically behind him. The skirt hit mid-thigh yet jutted out so far Ace doubted he could walk through a doorway. Ace rested his chin in his palm, setting his elbow on the table. While he faced Paul, he scanned the robot to the side. Could they process gawking?
The maid’s silky black curls bounced on his shoulders. His black cat ears fell and shot up. He sang the cafe’s anthem—a bouncy jazz ballad. For those thirty seconds, Ace’s eyes lingered on his face. The cutting light rolled off his face like a rubber ball. His glassy eyes glided from Paul to Ace as he tilted his head from side to side while his hands danced. A chill ran down Ace’s spine.
Paul leaned close, his wide grin sparkling as he sang along.
“Welcome, we’re happy to have you!” The maid, bustling with cheer, beamed. “What would you like to order today?”
“I’d like my usual!” Paul chirped.
“Your usual?” Sang the maid, Paul nodded. “No problem, Paul!”
He turned to Ace, who flashed a halfhearted smile. “What would you like today—and what would you like me to call you?” He spoke softly, packed with as much elegance as how he carried himself. His lips moved normal enough to chill Ace—again. Ace glanced outside. His coat hung on the back of his chair. He dreaded putting it back on and wished he brought another.
“Ace.”
“Ace?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Bruce. What would you like to order?”
“Black coffee.”
The robot nodded. “Anything else?” Ace and Paul shook their heads. He bowed before prancing off.
“Don’t seem so down.” Paul shrugged. “They can sense it.”
Ace raised his brows—”What do you mean they can sense it?” He fought himself not to scoff. Paul sighed. He looked away for a split second.
“I see you’ve not kept up with the times.” He teased through his dismissive exhale. Ace squeezed a chuckle. “But yeah, they’re uh.. pretty advanced for robots.”
Ace looked out the window. The tight street corner shadowed by buildings blurred. His reflection stared back at him, his eyes hollow, gloomy, starving for something he couldn’t name.
“You can’t say that.”
Ace spoke barely above a mumble. His voice cracked like a parrot.
“Say what??” Paul exclaimed.
“Left and right, I heard about, y’know, people marrying those things.” Ace lightly scratched his neck. “But now it doesn’t even make the news anymore.”
“I still remember when even buying them was a hot topic.” Paul reminisced, gazing out with Ace. “It was insanity.”
“It really was.”
People were marrying them now. ‘People buy them and marry them.’ Ace thought, his fingers pressing into the table and his jaw. His guts tightened. ‘Is that why it’s so hard to get into a relationship nowadays?’ How long ago was that anyway? How could someone marry something they bought? How could.. Ace’s eyes widened.
“Paul,” He furrowed his brows, looking where his shoes would be. “I got a stupid question.”
“What is it?”
“If their feelings are manufactured, why marry them?”
“Easy. They have feelings and thoughts. You can fall in love.”
“Buy they’re not.. human.”
Quiet cut into the conversation. Paul shrugged. “We created them. I still think they can love.”
“But how right is it, if they can think and feel,” Ace’s voice grew tense as he was. He counted on his fingers, “For us to be able to just buy them for things like marrying and-”
“I don’t think it’s right.”
“Shouldn’t they be like us then? Should the companies no longer be able to determine their purpose?”
Paul’s eyes drifted toward the cafe. He gulped down a rock. He glanced at Ace, swearing he coked on the smoke from him thinking. He sighed, wringing his hands.
“What’s taking them so long?” He said through a chuckle. “I want my coffee.”