Group

By Mark DiStefano

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Group had been good for Walter. Sitting with people who were going through what he was going through, hearing about their respective messes. There was a solace in knowing that there were others, that he wasn’t the only one dealing with this. There was no shame in the room; everyone else had been humiliated and humbled the same way he had. Group made Walter feel less alone as he struggled with the fact that his wife had left him for a fucking robot.

“Who wants to share first today?” Sophia, the gruff group leader, impatiently looked around the room. “Bruce?”

Bruce stood slowly, removing his baseball hat as if rising for the seventh inning stretch of the world’s worst baseball game. A serious, somber man, Bruce’s daughter had recently announced that she was dating a Sentry and didn’t care what Bruce thought about it.

“It’s official. The goddamn bot is taking my Hailey to the prom.”

A murmur from the circle. Ouch.

“And how does that make you feel?”

Bruce’s gaze drifted to the floor, his cheeks flushing as he spoke.

“Not good.”

Walter nodded along in silent understanding. The Sentry 1300 Humanoids were among the most realistic artificial intelligence in the history of synthetic life creation. Even Walter had thought Jerry (he still refused to call his wife’s robot lover by that name out loud) was human when Walter had walked in on Laura straddling the Sentry in their home of thirteen years. Seeing his wife in the throes of passion with a soulless robot had been truly traumatizing, and it had taken most of the past four years for Walter to accept the fact that she was simply happier with Jerry than she’d ever been with him.

“What else?”

“She won’t talk to me.”

“Why do you think Hailey won’t talk to you?”

Bruce looked around the room, hoping someone would bail him out. Walter and the others sat in silence.

“I maybe sort of told her that robot lovers would burn in hell?”

Walter involuntarily spat an “Amen” out before he could catch himself. Sophia leaned back, arching against the top of her chair.

“We’ve been over this, Bruce. Sentries are here, whether we like it or not. They are a part of our reality, and it sounds like Hailey has embraced this. We can either antagonize those who choose to love them, or we can deal with the fact that the people in our lives have accepted them and maybe we need to as well.”

“They’re fucking robots,” Walter growled.

“Walter, Bruce is sharing.” Sophia glared at Walter from across the room.

“Naw, I’m done.”

“Thank you for sharing, Bruce.”

Bruce dejectedly took his seat. Walter stared at the floor angrily.

“Why don’t we hear from our new guest?”

The room turned to take in the pretty, quiet woman in the corner. Walter had noticed her the moment she walked in.

“Hi everyone. I’m Delilah.”

“Hi, Delilah.”

“Would you like to share with us why you’re here?”

“I’d honestly rather not.”

“Well, you can sit and observe your first meeting. But we can only help you if you want to be helped.”

Delilah had taken her seat, and the meeting went on. Other group members shared their own horror stories about Sentry betrayals. Walter rocked back and forth in his chair, the frustration of the hurt eating through him as he heard the others talk. How could someone love a robot? A robot was incapable of human empathy, or understanding, of loving you back even if you learned to love it for what it was.

When the meeting broke, Walter made his way slowly towards the door. Usually, the group met for drinks after, but tonight Walter wanted to be alone. He slipped out into the parking lot, the cool autumn breeze whipping at his neck as he reached his car.

“That was really powerful.”

Walter turned to see the newcomer, Delilah, leaning back against a car to his left. He took her in. She was tall, her dark hair falling perfectly over her face.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, it was a good session I guess.”

Delilah stepped forward.

“Does it help?”

“Group? I dunno. I went from being angry all the time to being angry in a group with other people. At least I’m not so alone.”

“Yeah. I think I know what you mean.”

Walter looked at her. He had planned to watch television alone that evening. Maybe make some popcorn. But Delilah looked like she could use a friend…

“Do you wanna grab a beer or something?” He could feel himself blush as he asked, the blood running to his cheeks.

“Sure.”

Micky’s was quiet. Several regulars nodded to Walter as they shuffled in. He steered Delilah to a quiet booth in the back, and he winced as an early model Sentry approached.

“Good evening. Would you like something to drink?” The robot’s voice was hollow and empty. Walter’s brain took him back to his confrontation with Jerry all those years ago. At the time, he’d tried to take solace in the fact that it wasn’t another human that his wife was seeing. But as time went on, he’d decided that it was infinitely worse that he’d been exchanged for an android. A fucking robot.

“Two beers.”

The robot immediately pulled the beers from his refrigerator stomach, popping both open and placing them in front of Walter. Walter sipped slowly, allowing the crisp beer to transport him for a second.

“You must really miss her.”

Walter choked on his beer, wiping foam on the back of his hand.

“My wife?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, you know, if she’d rather be with one of those things than with me, that’s her shit.”

Delilah watched as he drank, slowly raising her beer to her own mouth and sipping.

“What about you? What brings you to our sad little circle?”

“I’ve also been replaced.”

“Damn. Well, welcome to the club.”

“Thank you.”

They sipped in silence, the cold beers numbing the sting of their respective rejections.

“I think the hardest part is knowing he’s happier with someone else who can love him better than I can.”

“Fuck that. They’re robots!”

“Have you ever had sex with a robot?”

“No…”

“They’re fantastic at it.”

“So? That’s physical. It’s not the same—”

“How do you mean?”

“Shit, I dunno. I mean, sure, a robot can be amazing at sex. But what about love? And feelings? What about sharing emotions and opening up to someone and knowing that even if they’re bad at expressing themselves, they hear you and can be there for you? A robot can’t give you that.”

A tear was creeping down Walter’s eye. Delilah looked up at him and slowly lifted her finger to his face, catching the tear on her hand. And suddenly they were kissing from across the table. She felt warm on Walter’s lips, and he pulled her to him.

They stumbled out into the night, Walter’s hand in hers, making their way to the parking lot.

“I’ll drive,” she whispered in his ear.

And then they were at her apartment. Clothes came off quickly as they ventured to the bedroom. They made love for hours, talking intermittently, holding each other, crying over their broken hearts and souls as they held each other deep into the night. It wasn’t until Walter lay next to her, fast asleep and snoring lightly, that Delilah pulled out her programming chip to recharge. She lay back slowly on the bed, the sting of her human’s rejection for a newer, shinier android momentarily softened by this sad, strange man.

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Mark DiStefano (he/him) enjoys science fiction comedy, accounting things, and anything with pasta, pizza, or peanut butter. No, not mixed together.

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