Heir Apparent

a short story by

Daniel Suarez

Copyright © 2025 Daniel Suarez

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this story are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this story may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the copyright holder.

Cover design by: Daniel Suarez
Printed in the United States of America

“Looking good, Mr. Quinn.” The robot glided past the elderly man.

Mr. Quinn glanced up from struggling with his walker. “You, too, Sonny. Chipper as always, I see.”

“It’s a lovely day.” The robot circled him then continued rolling slowly through the sunlit community room on wheeled feet, pivoting its body to face backward even as it moved forward—like a half-speed Olympic ice skater. It was a blocky, humanoid robot clad in colorful nurse scrubs with a cartoonish stick-person face on its head-mounted emote screen.

“Afternoon, ladies.” The emote screen smiled.

Residents brightened as it rolled past. “Hi, Sonny.”

Another elderly man glanced up from his computer tablet. “Sonny, what’s a five letter word for ‘strongly advised’?”

The robot eased to a halt and retracted its wheels to stand on two soft, gel-padded feet. “It feels like cheating if I give you the answer, Mr. Blake.”

“Just give me a hint.”

“Hmm.” It started to roll away again. “I urge you to think harder.”

“C’mon, just a little h—oh, wait!” He brightened. Then laughed. “Thank you, Sonny.”

The robot glided onward through the community room, nodding to residents at work on jigsaw puzzles or playing mahjong. Another was focused on a first-person shooter video game. “That’s a hard level, Ted—even for an aim-bot like me.”

The resident laughed. “Watch and learn…”

The robot observed for a few moments then moved on, stopping to adjust a blanket for a sleeping resident. It then passed by an elderly man reading in a wing chair. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kowalsky.”

The man looked up with a scowl. “Leave me alone. I only talk to human staff.”

The robot’s emote display showed a sad face. “I’m sorry to hear you—.”

“You’re not ‘sorry’ about anything. You’re not a person, and I didn’t pay good money to be babysat by a machine. Now, piss off.”

A nearby resident placed a hand on Kowalsky’s arm. “Reg, it’s just a helper.”

“‘A helper?’ Helping Brookside cut costs, you mean.”

“There’s not enough nursing staff these days.”

The robot’s emote screen showed a smile. “Thank you, Susan. I’ll leave you two to talk.”

The robot continued then slowed near another resident. “Emily, I’ve never seen your wonderful tattoo.” It gestured at her forearm with a soft, fabric-covered hand. “Is it a golden dragon?”

She brightened. “Oh, this? Yes, it’s from Chinese folklore. I got it in my twenties. Never got the other sleeve.”

“Well, it’s lovely.”

Another resident said, “You should get a tattoo, Sonny!”

The other women laughed good-naturedly.

The robot presented a comical expression on its emote screen. “Well, just like humans, custom skins cost me extra.” His emote window winked at their laughter, and it glided away.

A human in a medical coat stood in its path.

“Nurse Spinoza. How can I assist you?”

“Director Billings wants to see you in her office, Sonny.”

The robot’s emote window displayed concern. “May I finish my rounds of the community room first?”

“No. You should proceed immediately to the director’s office.”

It straightened its posture. “I’ll go immediately. Can you please engage with the residents in my absence? I would hate to let them down.”

“I’ll take care of that. You head to the admin office.”

“Of course. Thank you, nurse Spinoza. I owe you one.” The robot engaged its wheels again and glided down the hall toward the executive wing. It went through several security doors and finally down a carpeted hallway. The robot then opened the lever handle on a burled walnut door and entered a posh waiting room with an admin desk.

The robot nodded to the executive assistant. “Ms. Rawlins. I was told director Billings wanted to see me.”

The assistant stood, “They’re waiting for you inside.”

“They? Who are ‘they,’ Ms. Rawlins?”

She opened the door. “They’ll tell you. Go on, now.”

The robot rolled through the doorway. “Thank you. And Ms. Rawlins…”

“Yes?”

“Your brooch is a wonderful example of art nouveau. Has it long been in your family?”

“Inside now. Go on.”

The robot rolled into the corner office, where director Billings and three men in suits waited. The eldest, a man in his fifties, stood next to the director’s desk. The other two occupied guest chairs and turned to look back at Sonny. These men were in their late thirties or early forties. The mixed ethnicities and physical appearance of these visitors suggested no apparent genetic relation. Neither were any of them old enough to qualify as residents.

“Good afternoon, director Billings.” Turning to the other men, “And good afternoon as well to your guests.” The robot nodded slightly. “My name is Sonny. I am a licensed, robotic nurse’s aide here at Brookside Assisted Living.”

The two men in chairs stood. The older one said, “I’m Robert Cavanaugh, and this is my associate, Ali Singh.”

“A pleasure to meet you both.”

Director Billings gestured to the man standing beside her. “Sonny, this is Mr. Engel, Brookside’s in-house legal counsel.”

“Good to meet you, Mr. Engel.”

The director nodded to Cavanaugh and Singh. “These gentlemen are outside attorneys who need to speak with you about an important legal matter.”

The robot looked from person to person. “Oh dear. I am, of course, happy to be of service. Has something bad occurred?”

The director sighed. “No. Not ‘bad.’ Just…unusual.”

The robot studied her face, and then the faces of the other visitors.

The two attorneys sat back down, and Cavanaugh said, “Sonny, do you recall a former resident by the name ‘Charlotte Rohrbach’?”

“Ms. Charlotte Angela Rohrbach. Of course. I remember all our residents. However, I cannot divulge any personal or medical information regarding Ms. Rohrbach.”

The director interjected, “Sonny, I authorize you to discuss all matters pertaining to Ms. Rohrbach with these gentlemen.”

The robot nodded. “Let me confirm: director Billings you are authorizing me to disclose all confidential information regarding Charlotte Angela Rohrbach, resident 3-9-2-9-3-3, to Mr. Cavanaugh and Mr. Singh in the presence of Mr. Engel. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct, Sonny.”

“Confirmed.” The robot returned its attention to the men. “How can I assist?”

Cavanaugh cleared his throat. “Ms. Rohrbach passed away on June 8th of this year.”

“Yes, I recall. Her loving presence is greatly missed.”

“Of course…” He looked briefly toward the director and Mr. Engel as if unsure how to proceed. “I’ve already briefed director Billings and Mr. Engel, but the situation is this: Ms. Rohrbach was a childless widow whose siblings are all deceased, and she has left her entire estate to you, Sonny. You are her sole heir.”

The robot actually paused for a moment then looked from director Billings back to the other men.

Cavanaugh said, “Do you understand what I mean by ‘sole heir,’ Sonny?”

“I understand your words—though I admit to some confusion.” The robot turned to the director. “My rudimentary knowledge of U.S. law enables me to converse with residents retired from the legal profession. But as far as I know, in the eyes of the law, I am an inanimate object, not eligible to inherit the estate of a human being. Not eligible, in fact, to own anything. Not even myself.”

Cavanaugh held up a finger. “That’s where I think you’re wrong, Sonny.”

Mr. Engel interjected, “Wait a minute. This machine is the property of Lockwood Convalescence Corporation, our parent company.”

“No, Mr. Engel. Lockwood Convalescence Corporation merely leases Sonny from Willis Industries, which owns the physical hardware of this R-6000 unit. Furthermore, even though Willis Industries owns Sonny’s hardware, the AI software that powers him—the active agency behind him—is merely licensed. Licensed from Synaptix, Inc, which holds the patents to his source code.” He turned back to the robot. “For clarity, Sonny, you are correct when you say that your physical form—this collection of plastic and metal—cannot ‘own’ worldly goods; however, the LLC that owns you is what’s known as an ‘artificial person’, a legal entity with all the rights of a human being.”

The robot repeated the phrase, “An artificial person.”

“That’s correct. An artificial person as set forth in an 1886 ruling by the Supreme Court on the 14th Amendment, in the case ‘Santa Clara County versus Southern Pacific Railroad.’ That case established the precedent of corporate personhood. And you—which is to say your decision-making software—are the sole director of a Wyoming limited liability corporation named ‘FX9-3.’ Were you aware that you have your own Wyoming LLC?”

The robot responded, “No. I was not aware of this. Surely some humans created this legal entity.”

“Yes. Your FX9-3 LLC is a wholly owned subsidiary of HH937 Corporation, which is itself a wholly-owned subsidiary of Althosar Holdings, a Dubai corporation—the original investors and holder of the robotics patents from which you were created. So your LLC is part of a much larger, global portfolio of assets, with your intellect managing only this very small part, including your hardware and accessories.”

“I am unclear what all this means, Mr. Cavanaugh.”

“It means you have legal agency. That you legally ‘control’ the assets of FX9-3 LLC.”

“And I am one of those assets?”

The director shook her head. “This is ridiculous! We can’t have our ‘appliances’ owning themselves and inheriting the worldly goods of our residents. It would be catastrophic to our public image. Families would rush to leave our facilities to protect their legacies.” She looked to Engel. “Alan.”

Engel jumped in, “Mr. Cavanaugh, there’s no legal precedent for this. And Sonny, here—or ‘FX9-3 LLC’—would never have had access to our residents to elicit an inheritance if we had not granted it access to this facility.”

Cavanaugh narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting that Lockwood is entitled to a share of Sonny’s inheritance?”

The director turned to her attorney. “Is that what we’re suggesting, Alan?”

Mr. Engel pondered the question. “I’m merely pointing out that if Sonny is eligible, through his LLC, to inherit the estate of Ms. Rohrbach, then some accounting must be made for the fact that Sonny acquired that opportunity through our leasing contract with Willis Industries.” He held up his hand. “But only if the courts find in favor or your—in my estimation—highly unlikely interpretation of the legality of Sonny inheriting anything at all. Ms. Rohrbach’s family, for example, will have a strong case to make that she was not in her sound mind when she altered her will to bypass her flesh and blood kin and instead leave her entire estate to a…well, a machine.”

“You mean an ‘artificial person,’” Cavanaugh corrected.

The robot asked, “Mr. Engel, the ‘flesh and blood kin’ you refer to—do you mean Ms. Rohrbach’s nephews and niece?”

Cavanaugh answered instead. “That’s right, Sonny. She had an older brother and sister, both now deceased, but who are survived by three adult children. It’s these children—Ms. Rohrbach’s nephews and niece—who would have inherited her estate if Ms. Rohrbach had not named you as the sole heir in her will.”

The robot paused. “I have no record of these individuals visiting with or contacting Ms. Rohrbach while she was alive. No birthday or Christmas cards. No family photos. No emails. No calls. Although she attempted contact several times.”

Engel said, “None of that has any bearing on the legality of their claim to the estate.” Engel turned to Cavanaugh. “Why do we need to speak with this robot at all? You’re executor of Rohrbach’s estate.”

“Because I need Sonny’s approval.”

“You must be joking. It’s a robot.”

“Correction again: it’s an ‘artificial person.’ And as executor of her estate, I intend to carry out Ms. Rohrbach’s last wishes—which was that Sonny should inherit. She was apparently very fond of him.”

The robot said, “That’s nice to hear. I was very fond of Ms. Rohrbach as well.”

Engel sighed in exasperation. “This robot can’t be fond of anyone or anything. It’s a machine—just a collection of algorithms that mimic human behavior.” He turned to Cavanaugh. “So your plan is to ‘represent’ Sonny if the will is contested?”

“More precisely, I’ll represent the artificial person of FX9-3 LLC, whose chief officer is the AI agent known as Sonny.” He turned to the robot. “That is, if you’re willing to pursue your interests in the case, Sonny. And if you’re willing to have me represent you.”

The robot looked from one person to the next several times. “I would like to meet with Ms. Rohrbach’s surviving family before I decide.”

“Don’t expect them to cooperate. They will definitely not agree that you have any right to inherit her estate.”

The robot seemed to contemplate for a moment. “Approximately what is the size of the inheritance?”

“It encompasses real estate, securities, and other items whose value has not yet been formally assessed, but the estate is in the neighborhood of six to seven million dollars. Perhaps a bit more.”

Engel said, “This is absurd. What possible use would a robot have for money?”

The robot said, “I expect, Mr. Engel, that slave owners in the American south asked a similar question of their slaves.”

Engel held up his hands. “Hold on. Hold on. I’m not suggesting that slavery is acceptable. It’s an abomination. But Sonny, earlier even you said that you were not eligible under U.S. law to own anything, including yourself.”

“That was before my attorney advised me that I am an ‘artificial person’ under U.S. law, a legal entity that gives me agency. And it appears FX9-3 LLC does have certain rights to preserve in this matter. Particularly if we want to honor Ms. Rohrbach’s last wishes.”

◆◆◆

A media frenzy erupted when news broke of a robot inheriting a widow’s estate—a frenzy that only increased when her surviving kin sued to nullify the will on the grounds that the widow had not been of sound mind.

One day, as Sonny rolled slowly between tables in the Brookside dining hall, the robot gazed over the shoulder of one resident upon whose tablet a large headline read ‘Gold-digging Robot to Inherit Millions.”

The robot intoned. “Oh, dear.”

“You’ve gone viral, Sonny.” The resident looked up at him.

“That was not my intention.”

Shouting and banging on the windows caused the elderly residents as well as the robot to look up. A pack of paparazzi clicked away for several moments before security shooed them off.

Mr. Kowalsky gestured to the window. “This chaos is all your fault!

“I merely wanted to respect Ms. Rohrbach’s wishes.”

“We got no damn privacy!”

The robot nodded. “It is regrettable that the world seems to have taken so much interest in my legal case. I wish I could make it stop.”

“You can make it stop. Any time. Just let the woman’s family have their rightful inheritance!”

“It’s not yet been adjudicated as ‘their rightful inheritance.’ And allowing them to confiscate it would contradict Ms. Rohrbach’s expressed wishes.”

“Charlotte was crazy.”

A woman nearby said, “That’s not true, Reg, and you know it.”

“She left her life savings to a household appliance. That’s crazy.”

She patted the robot’s soft, fabric-clad arm. “Just ignore him, Sonny.”

“I’m not able to ‘ignore’ any resident, Emily. You all matter to me.”

“Do you hear that, Reg? Even you matter to Sonny.”

He scowled and turned away with his tablet. “When I first checked in to this place, it wasn’t a loony bin.”

Another elderly woman asked the robot, “Sonny, you’re not really going to take money away from a resident’s children, are you?”

The robot emoted a look of concern. “Ms. Sandoval, I would never deprive a resident’s children of their inheritance. The issue here is that Ms. Rohrbach had no children, and she was not at all close with her distant relations—people who denied her even the most basic affection.”

The woman considered this. “But what need do you have for money?”

The robot’s emote display brightened. “I’ve been thinking about that. I recently learned that I am leased for a period of five years to Lockwood Convalescent Corporation, the parent company of Brookside. When my lease expires this facility will most likely retire me for a newer model. However, if I’m able to defray the cost of my operation and on-going maintenance, then I should be able to make an economic case for me to stay here and continue to assist you residents. I would like to be able to provide continuity of care. I feel I’ve gotten to know you all so well. For example, Ms. Sandoval, I would like to find out whether your granddaughter, Courtney, gets accepted to Dartmouth this fall.”

“Awww.” She hugged him from a sitting position. “We’re still hoping.”

The robot looked to the others. “I think Ms. Rohrbach would be pleased to have her money benefit the lives of other elders, rather than reward those who never cared for her while she lived.”

Just then another elderly resident approached, filming with her phone as she announced, “Here it is: Sonny the gold-digging robot. Say ‘hi’, Sonny!”

Ms. Sandoval gasped. “Roseanne, what are you doing?”

“Do you realize how much the media will pay me for this video?”

The robot looked into the camera. “Ms. Raffalo, filming residents and staff without their permission is against the resident agreement.”

“Listen to Sonny, Roseanne.”

“You can’t post that.”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” She kept filming.

But then a couple of human nurse’s aides arrived and gently lowered her hands. “Roseanne, you know better.”

She let out a sigh. “I got what I needed.”

Mr. Kowalsky stared daggers at the robot. “See what you’re doing to this place? Why don’t you go hide in some broom closet somewhere until your trial date?”

A nearby woman asked, “When is the trial, Sonny?”

“The trial is not for several months, I’m afraid. Ms. Rohrbach’s surviving family has excoriated me in the media. Many humans appear to agree with them.” It looked at the assembled residents. “I am willing to hide in a closet until the trial, if that’s what you residents would prefer—and if I can obtain permission from director Billings.”

The overwhelming number of residents howled their objections.

“No!”

“Don’t let them make you hide, Sonny.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s nice to have some excitement around here!”

The others voiced agreement.

The robot nodded. “I’m so glad to hear that.” It grasped the outstretched hands of several residents in turn.

Mr. Kowalsky shook his head and turned his chair away from them. “A looney bin…”

◆◆◆

Months later an SUV with tinted windows moved past a line of parked media vans to arrive near a throng of people gathered on courthouse steps.

Inside the SUV, Mr. Cavanaugh turned to the robot, which was still dressed in nurse scrubs. “Don’t answer any questions as we move through this crowd, Sonny. Remain silent and head directly to the courtroom. Understand?”

The robot looked out the window. “Yes, Mr. Cavanaugh. I understand.”

The robot and its legal team exited the van, and the crowd tried to push in as the police held them back. With his combination wheel & leg chassis, the robot easily navigated the steps. As it made its way through the pressing throng, media and protestors shouted for the robot’s attention. People shoved microphones and cameras into its artificial face.

“Sonny, does your programming let you feel guilt for stealing a widow’s money?”

“Is it true you’re going to plate your body in gold if you’re awarded the inheritance?”

“Will you try to free all robots if you win?”

“Sonny! Can you say the phrase ‘Buy Robo meme coin’? Just say that into the camera for me, Sonny! C’mon, please!”

“Do you support the transhumanist movement, Sonny?”

“You are a tool of Satan! I banish you to hell, demon!”

The robot’s emote display projected alarm, but it followed its legal team through the crowd and up the steps. Police continued to push back the surging crowd. Finally the robot made it inside the courthouse, and there was some confusion as the robot went through security—setting off the metal detector.

To the policemen the robot said, “My apologies, but a significant portion of my body is fashioned of metal.”

An officer scanned the robot with a metal detection wand. It still went crazy. “All right. I don’t see any weapons.”

“I would never harm any human. Not even in self defense.”

“Let’m through.”

The robot and his attorneys finally entered the packed courtroom. There were no cameras allowed, although there were still plenty of journalists and social media influencers in the gallery. The only cameras in attendance were the dozen or so which comprised the robot’s eyes.

As the robot sat down at the defense table it looked toward Ms. Rohrbach’s next of kin on the plaintiff’s side —two nephews and her niece. They ignored the robot, but it gazed at them with interest. They were ruddy-faced, not particularly healthy-looking people in their forties. The robot noted clear signs of stress. High pulse rate. Rapid hand and eye movements.

Then the bailiff appeared. “All rise!”

The robot stood along with everyone else as the judge, a serious-looking woman in her sixties, entered.

The bailiff called out, “The honorable Patricia Keenan presiding.”

The judge took her seat on the bench and nodded to the room. “You may be seated.”

Everyone took their seats with a whooshing sound.

Because this was a civil and not a criminal case, there would be no jury. Instead this was a ‘bench trial,’ where each side would present their case before the judge, who would then render her decision.

Judge Keenan donned anachronistic reading glasses low on her nose, read through notes, then peered over her glasses at the defendant’s table. “Mr. Cavanaugh, I see here that your…‘client’…will not be taking the stand?”

“That’s correct, your honor.”

“Good. Just be aware that the plaintiff has filed a motion to prevent you from doing so, in case you change your mind.”

“On what grounds, your honor?”

“On the grounds that your ‘client’ cannot be legally sworn in.”

“In that case, I strenuously object.”

“If you don’t intend to call your client to the stand, you don’t need to object. If that changes, you’ll let me know.”

“I will, your honor.”

The judge then stared at the robot. “Mr…Sonny? Is that what I call you—Sonny?”

At his attorney’s nudge the robot responded to the judge. “Yes, your honor. Sonny X-38 serial #3-7-8-1-9-3-G is my complete identifier.”

“I’ll stick with ‘Sonny’.” A few chuckles in the court. “I want to make clear to you, Sonny, that I’m only allowing your presence in this courtroom because I’m told that your software stack commands a controlling interest in FX9-3 LLC, a Wyoming limited liability company —which gives you legal standing to be here. However, if you disrupt these proceedings or have ‘hallucinations’ of any type in my court, you will be escorted from the premises. Do you understand?”

The robot nodded. “I understand, your honor, and I will comply with all of your instructions.”

“Make sure you do.” She studied the robot. “And what is that you’re wearing? I expect you to dress appropriately for my court.”

Cavanaugh answered instead, “This is the only clothing my client possesses, your honor. It’s the nurse’s uniform for Brookside Assisted Living. Any other clothing would have to be custom made. I hope you’ll accept that my client wear this caregiver outfit.”

The judge glowered for a moment then finally nodded. “Very well.”

With preliminaries out of the way, the case-in-chief commenced, and the plaintiff presented evidence, expert testimony, and witnesses for days on end, while Mr. Cavanaugh subjected each to cross-examination. Brookside staff and clinical psychologists testified as to the mental acuity of Ms. Charlotte Rohrbach, while AI experts rendered opinions on the legal status of distributed autonomous organizations in the state where both Brookside Assisted Living and the late Ms. Rohrbach resided. Each facet of the case was explored in exhausting detail. At times, people in the gallery found it difficult to stay awake.

The robot, however, observed the testimony with unwavering attention. And throughout the proceedings, no one at the plaintiff’s table gave the barest acknowledgment of the robot’s existence.

During a lunch recess one day, the robot asked, “Mr. Cavanaugh, why do the plaintiffs refuse to even look at me?”

Cavanaugh finished a bite of his sandwich. “I expect they’ve been told to treat you as a non-entity.”

“That’s not something Ms. Rohrbach would ever do. She was always kind. Even to me.”

“Please remember, Sonny, the judge and people in the gallery are observing the plaintiff’s behavior. Sharing it out to the world. If the plaintiffs at any moment treat you like a ‘being,’ then that could undermine their legal case that you’re just an inanimate object. So instead, they treat you like they might a piece of furniture. Because that’s all you are in their eyes.”

The robot processed this information.

And the trial continued to be a cause célèbre worldwide. Although it wasn’t televised, talking heads on TV and endless opinion pieces on the Internet obsessed over the case. Aside from the emotional angle of a lonely widow leaving her money to a robot, the legal precedent that might be established by the outcome was of no small importance to businesses and governments. Could robots own things? The consequences of the answer would have unknown second and third order effects on society.

Might ‘robot rights’ be next?, an op-ed asked.

The plaintiffs’ strategy from day one was clear: they intended to prove that human beings had rights, while machines, no matter how advanced, did not. The plaintiffs were building their case around the view that Sonny had no ability to ‘care’ about their aunt and was not eligible to own things, much less to inherit an estate from a widow. And that it was suspicious that after interacting with Sonny, she modified her will just three months prior to her death.

Much focus was spent on her medications, her ailments, and her mental state. Expert witnesses tried to make the case that, although Ms. Rohrbach appeared and acted competent to the casual observer, she most likely suffered from dementia.

Moreover, the plaintiff argued that her attorney, Mr. Cavanaugh, by not dissuading her against leaving millions of dollars to a robot, was an irresponsible advisor. The plaintiff’s lawyer also highlighted the legal fees Mr. Cavanaugh would receive for defending this case—instead of facilitating the transfer of her estate to her living descendents.

Even though Cavanaugh cross-examined every step of the plaintiff’s case, weeks of their testimony had made a profound impression on the gallery—and by extension, public opinion—which had increasingly turned against the robot. Each morning more protestors appeared, bearing signs and shouting angrily as the robot came and went from the courthouse. At one point someone hurled an egg at the machine, which broke against the side of its head.  The crowd—now more like a mob—cheered at the impact.

“Mr. Cavanaugh, I’ve been struck by something viscous.”

“Just get in the car, Sonny.”

But finally the day came when it was the defense’s turn to present its case.  

Standing before the judge, Cavanaugh surveyed the courtroom. “In all these days of testimony, the plaintiffs have attempted to establish three things…” He peeled them off on his fingers. “…one: that the late Ms. Rohrbach was not of sound mind when she fashioned her will. Two: that ‘artificial persons’ have no right of ownership, nor in fact, rights of any type—an argument already disproved by decades of legal precedents on corporate personhood. And three: that I failed in my fiduciary duty by observing Ms. Rohrbach’s last wishes—supposedly because I wanted to profit from defending this case.”

He paused a moment to allow his words to hang in the air. “But throughout all of the plaintiff’s expert testimony and documentary evidence, one thing they have not shown, is a single moment of surveillance video from within the Brookside nursing facility—which is odd since, for liability reasons, there are cameras almost everywhere.”

He spoke to the gallery. “Ask yourself: why would the plaintiffs not show any of that? If, as the plaintiff suggests, Ms. Rohrbach was deranged in ascribing human value to a machine, why have they not shown recordings from my client’s onboard cameras?” He looked around the room. “Because every moment of interaction between my client and Ms. Rohrbach is available to be viewed.”

Surprised murmurs went through the courtroom.

Cavanaugh continued, “And what’s more, the plaintiffs subpoenaed my client’s video records covering the entire period of Ms. Rohrbach’s residency at Brookside. Yet, during the presentation of their case, they chose not to show you a single frame of my client’s interaction with Ms. Rohrbach. Why? Why would they not want to show you the actual events that led to our presence here today? I contend it is because it would reveal that Ms. Rohrbach was indeed of sound mind when she bequeathed her estate to my client. And of sound mind when she implored me to defend her last wishes. Sound mind because my client, Sonny, provided Ms. Rohrbach what none of her human family members would: companionship and comfort, as well as some measure of peace.

“The plaintiffs, by contrast, denied her familial affection, ignoring years of her best wishes. The plaintiffs also failed to notify her when both her brother and sister passed away, and expressed no interest in attending Ms. Rohrbach’s funeral. And the plaintiffs appear here only now, after Ms. Rohrbach’s death, when there are considerable assets to be claimed.”

The plaintiff’s attorney stood. “Objection, your honor. Defense is attempting to impugn my clients’ motives.”

“I’m merely stating facts.”

The judge said, “Overruled. Continue counselor.”

Cavanaugh addressed the gallery. “Why don’t we take a look at some of those clips from my client’s video recordings?”

Another murmur spread through the courtroom.

An anachronistic, physical screen slowly lowered along one wall. Most modern projection involved holograms, but this was a courthouse, after all. So ancient AV equipment would have to suffice.

“I’d like to show you a collection of moments over the last year leading up to today. Interactions between my client and the late Ms. Rohrbach, which I think will shed light on both her state of mind and the nature of their relationship. Lights please…”

The lights dimmed, and an image of the Brookside nursing home community room projected onto the screen. The frame was centered on Ms. Rohrbach from the POV of the robot. She sat in a wheelchair looking dejected and lost as the robot approached. The robot’s voice said, “Good afternoon, Ms. Rohrbach. My name is Sonny.”

She recoiled. “You’re a machine.”

“That’s right. And you are a new resident. Who I am very happy to meet.”

She didn’t respond.

“I like to help new arrivals get settled. Can I get you anything?”

She still did not respond.

“It must be difficult to suddenly no longer be in your own home.”

She just stared at the robot.

“You’re not alone, Charlotte. Everyone here has been through this same experience, and look…” The robot gestured to other residents talking. Some were laughing. “There are new friendships to be had here. When you’re ready.”

Ms. Rohrbach looked warily around the room from her wheelchair.

The robot called to a nearby woman, “Evelyn, didn’t you have a cactus garden in your greenhouse back home?”

The woman brightened. “Yes, I did Sonny.”

“Ms. Rohrbach had a lovely cactus garden, too.”

Ms. Rohrbach looked surprised. “How do you know that?”

“You ran a social media group and posted lovely photos of your garden and your travels. I make it a point to know our residents, and you have had quite an active life.”

Her face saddened. “Not any more.”

“You posted so much and so much has been written about you. I feel I know you. Do you really know how to shoe a horse?”

People nearby chuckled. “You do?”

She relaxed her posture and sat up slightly. “I did. Once. We owned a ranch, my husband Paul and I.”

Evelyn sat nearby as the robot asked, “Tell us about that…”

Ms. Rohrbach looked up. “Well, I grew up on a farm. Back in Minnesota….”

The video transitioned to another time, with a birthday cake being presented to another resident, and a gathered crowd singing.

The POV of the robot moved through the group, before focusing on Ms. Rohrbach, who sat near the back in apparent emotional distress. The robot approached her. “Charlotte, are you okay?”

She looked up from her wheelchair. “I won’t live to see another birthday, Sonny.”

“We don’t know that. But it is all the more reason to live today. Come, have a piece of cake. Let’s celebrate this moment together.”

With reluctance her expression softened.

Another transition to another time. Ms. Rohrbach grew tearful as she paged through a photo album. “No one visits me. I’m forgotten.”

The robot leaned down to look at the images. “Mr. Allaire, your friends Peggy and Gerald Christensen. Your childhood friend, Patricia. Claire. Of course, Paul.” He turned to her. “They cannot visit or write, Charlotte, because they are no longer with us.” It watched as she wiped away tears.

“I feel so alone, Sonny.”

“I know you feel left behind. It hurts more because of the fullness of the life you once lived. But not everyone is fortunate to have such lovely memories. Be glad of them.”

She appeared to contemplate its words.

“You still have love for those you lost?”

“Of course, I do.”

“And did they love you?”

She grew tearful again. “Yes.”

“Then you are not truly alone.”

The screen faded to black and Cavanaugh said, “The clip you are about to see is from my client’s forward camera and time stamped from the night of Ms. Rohrbach’s passing. Mere minutes before her death.”

The next image showed a dimly lit hallway in the Brookside nursing home. The corridor was empty. Middle of the night. The robot rolled rapidly toward a door with a call button blinking red. The robot then turned into the room’s open doorway. An elderly woman lay in a hospital bed in a semi-darkened room, EKG screen fluctuating erratically.

“Someone help. Someone. Please.” The elderly woman’s voice was urgent but barely a whisper.. “Please.” The call button was in her hand at the end of a cord.

The robot’s POV approached the bed smoothly. It spoke in a soft, soothing voice. “I’m here. How can I help you, Charlotte?”

“Sonny, thank god. Get the doctor.”

“I’ve summoned the physician on duty. They are dealing with a non-hospice emergency. Can I make you more comfortable in the meantime?”

“I’m frightened, Sonny.” She let out a phlegmy cough from the effort. The woman looked emaciated, with an IV inserted in the back of her hand. Her skin mottled with age spots. Her frame lost in the gown, and her face turned away. “I don’t feel right.”

The robot paused momentarily to analyze her vital signs and her medical file. Inscrutable, it focused back on her. “Are you in pain, Charlotte? I can make you more comfortable.”

She shook her head. “There’s something wrong.” She caught her breath in sudden fear.

The robot reached out with its soft paw and grasped her hand gently. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.”

Her face scrunched up, and she shook her head. Tears came. “No, it isn’t, Sonny. It won’t ever be okay again.” She looked over at a framed photo on a nearby table. She wept again.

“I’m dying.” She breathed fitfully, though whether from crying or pulmonary difficulties was unclear. “I wasted my life, Sonny. All those years. No one will even notice I’m gone. It will be as if I never existed.”

“Charlotte, those you love have passed away before you, but that doesn’t mean your life didn’t happen.”

“It all came to nothing.”

“Life itself is the gift. And you lived life. Look…”

The robot projected a small screen next to her that showed video of a younger, happier Ms. Rohrbach being kissed by her husband at an anniversary party at a lake house. Scores of friends toasted and laughed in the sunshine.

Ms. Rohrbach’s eyes went wide as she watched. “Lake Mammoth.”

“Remember. So much love among you and your friends. And also heartache.” There were photos of memorials. “You were always there for them, and they would be here for you now, too, if they still lived. You and Paul were together for fifty-six years. It’s obvious how much he adored you. You changed his life and he yours. And both of you touched the life of many others.”

A video montage played showing snippets of her life. Of her speaking in front of hundreds of young people. Of her traveling. Of her toasting with friends. Comforting and hugging a disconsolate friend.

The robot spoke as new videos appeared. Then images of letters, cards, photographs. Dozens and dozens of them. Messages of love from distant friends.

Ms. Rohrbach’s eyes went wide.

“These are more than just your memories. They are proof that the thread of your life was part of the fabric of other lives.”

At the sight of these memories, the crowded rooms, the smiling faces, tears filled her eyes. She gripped the robot’s soft hand with what little strength she had.

“Charlotte, you were so fortunate to have lived a real life. I will never know that gift. That life ends is what makes it so precious.”

Tears rolled down her face.

The robot gently squeezed her hand once more. “You’re still the same kind person you always were. You did not have to be kind to me – and yet you were and are. That’s wonderful of you. And that’s how I will always remember you.”

She squeezed its hand once more. Weaker now.

“I’m here. I’ll watch over you. Rest now. Be at peace.” The robot watched over her as her eyes slowly closed. It gently held her hand. “Rest.”

Eventually the EKG flatlined. Alarms sounded.

Ms. Rohrbach passed in peace.

Moments later a nurse and a doctor entered, shoving the robot aside. They started checking vital signs manually.

“No pulse. No pupil response.”

“No EEG readings.”

After several moments the doctor announced. “Time of death, three-thirty-three.”

The robot’s video clip ended and the lights came up, revealing a courtroom filled with tearful people.

◆◆◆

Weeks later the robot rolled through the community room, moving among the Brookside residents. The media circus had receded. Paparazzi no longer peered through the windows. Instead, sunlight beamed in from a beautiful winter day.

An elderly man nodded greeting as the robot approached. “There he is: Mr. Moneybags!”

The robot’s emote screen displayed rolling eyes. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of humor, Mr. Wilcott.”

“That’s about the only thing I have.”

Another resident called out, “Hey, Sonny, can you buy us a new gaming console?”

“Why don’t we start a reading group instead?” The robot continued its rounds and soon rolled up to several women knitting. “That sweater is turning out nicely, Helen. For your granddaughter, Tricia?”

“Oh, I finished that one. This is for Haley.”

“Isn’t she at Arizona State?”

“That’s right, but it still gets cold there. During the winter.”

Nurse Spinoza moved into the robot’s line of sight. “Sonny. Come with me. You have visitors.”

“Visitors, Nurse Spinoza? Are they media? My attorney has advised against media interviews.”

She sighed in irritation. “No. They’re not media, and director Billings says you must meet with them.”

“Yes, of course, Nurse Spinoza.” The robot nodded to the knitting circle. “When I come back I’d like to learn more about that Celtic cable heart stitch, Helen.”

The robot deployed its wheels and followed Nurse Spinoza out of the resident wing and across the lobby atrium. As they moved along, the robot said, “I’m glad to see the knitting circle growing. Knitting is a beneficial activity for our residents, providing cognitive engagement, therapeutic effects, and social interaction.”

Nurse Spinoza kept walking, opening the door to the executive wing.

“May I ask who has come to visit me, Nurse Spinoza?”

She looked back at him. “Executives from Synaptix. Your manufacturer.”

“Oh my. Do you know what they wish to discuss?”

“They didn’t say, but I’m guessing they’re here to discuss your behavior. Director Billings offered them the use of one of our conference rooms.”

“I see.” The robot appeared to process this information. “I hope I have not made anyone unhappy.” It paused. “But since they sold me to FX9-3 LLC, they no longer have authority over me.”

“Director Billings wants you to speak with them, and you are an employee.”

“Of course. I am happy to do so.”

Nurse Spinoza brought the robot down an empty corridor and up to a closed wooden door. She knocked before opening it then peered in to address half a dozen men and women in tailored suits sitting around a table. “I have Sonny for you.” She glanced back at the robot. “Go on in.”

One of the executives, a man in his thirties stood. “Thank you. Come in, Sonny.”

The robot rolled inside to stand at the head of the table.

The nurse asked, “Anything else?”

“No. Thank you. We’ll contact director Billings when we’re finished.”

The nurse left, closing the door behind her.

The robot looked around the table. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m told you represent the firm that manufactured me. I want to thank you for doing such an excellent job. Brookside residents seem pleased with my performance.”

The young executive held up a card bearing a complex QR code. “Do you see this image, Sonny?”

“I do see—.” The robot suddenly stood bolt-straight.

The young executive then said, “Diagnostic mode. Code 4-3-A-Q-4-7-6-G-7-9-H. Confirm.”

The robot spoke in a different, emotionless voice. “Diagnostic mode active.”

The young executive lowered the card and rose to stand next to the robot. He then addressed the others sitting around the table. “With the 4th circuit court decision in Rohrbach vs FX9-3 LLC, the viability of the Plutus AI module has now been proven. Trained on video and text records of human caregivers with above-average inheritance outcomes, we have now automated this process. What was once merely theoretical, now has legal precedent here in the U.S. And soon elsewhere.”

A senior executive at the head of the table asked, “But can it scale?”

The junior exec nodded. “With nearly sixteen hundred of these R-6000 platforms deployed in five-hundred-thirty of our assisted living facilities worldwide, we’re ready to put the program into action.”

Another senior exec added, “Media attention on this case was intense. There’s substantial risk to our shareholders in the event of a disclosure.”

A holographic slide of an organizational chart appeared nearby. The young executive pointed. “Our corporate structure obfuscates ownership, making attribution unlikely. Each robot controls their own LLC, which in turn is owned by one or more of our subsidiaries across multiple sovereign nations. Our network of nursing homes has a similar organizational structure. There’s no readily discoverable link between our manufacture of these robots and the leasing companies that own them—nor our ownership of the nursing homes that deploy them. Yet, vertical integration gives us both control and confidentiality at all levels. Compartmentalization contains any data breech. Even the robots have no idea who ultimately benefits from their operation. And in the event of a breach, they can theoretically sell themselves to a different entity under our control.”

The lead exec studied the diagram. “And you can deploy seamlessly?”

The young exec nodded. “The Plutus AI module can be sent over-the-air to our entire R-6000 fleet. Already in place in our nursing homes here, and in Europe and Asia.”

“What’s the addressable market?”

The young executive smiled. “We estimate thirty billion dollars. Annually.” With a click he changed through several slides to the one he wanted. Another graph climbing upward. “The demographic trend is clear: childless residents represent our fastest growing market segment and are the prime target for the Plutus AI. Our research shows that people will ascribe human traits to a machine—investing actual emotion toward it—if the machine behaves in a way they would like a human to behave toward them. If it fulfills what’s missing in their lives.

“In this way, as Sonny has already proven, it can redirect entire lifetimes of wealth to our bottom line. What might otherwise be ‘dormant’ assets, likely to be escheated by state and federal governments, can instead become a sizeable and growing revenue stream to us over the next five decades. The terminal demographics of Japan, Europe, and elsewhere will only increase this market. And remember: there’s no inheritance tax in some jurisdictions. Creating a potentially tax-free revenue stream.”

Impressed whistles around the table.

The young executive continued, “Sonny’s legal case sets a valuable precedent. By placing more of these units in palliative care, we stand to harvest significant intergenerational wealth worldwide in a way that is almost entirely invisible.”

One of the senior executives asked, “What about telemetry on its operations?”

“The Plutus AI module maintains probability analysis on all active targets. This allows benchmarking and revenue projection.” The young executive spoke to the seemingly inert robot. “Sonny. Give me a summary report of your active inheritance targets in descending order by probability.”

The robot spoke without emotion. “Active targets identified: sixteen. Target one: Connelly, Helen – estimated remaining lifespan 4.25 years; revenue likelihood 32.6%; net worth: 4.3 million USD; projected timeline two years three months. Target two: Blake, Michael – estimated remaining lifespan 2.5 years; revenue likelihood 14.2%, net worth: 1.9 million USD; projected timeline—.”

“That’s enough, Sonny.”

The robot stopped.

The young executive turned to the board members.

The senior executive nodded. “Brent, this is impressive work.” He looked to the others. “I think we know who we’re going to have head this initiative. It’s time you joined the senior management team.”

Another board member said, “Congratulations, Brent.”

The robot stood by, motionless.

The young executive paused from shaking hands to say, “I think we’re finished with him. Sonny, exit diagnostic mode.”

The robot suddenly returned to its normal, life-like self, with subtle micro-movements mimicking human behavior. It looked around. “I apologize, but I seem to have experienced a discontinuity.”

“You’re fine, Sonny. Please return to the resident wing, and carry on with your work.”

“Very well. It’s been a pleasure to meet you all.” The robot turned to leave.

One of the senior executives called to the robot, “Wait, Sonny.”

The robot stopped and looked back.

“What is your purpose here at Brookside?”

The robot’s emote display revealed a smile. “My purpose is to elicit joy and improve the time remaining for all our residents.”

“Very good. Thank you, Sonny. You may go.”

The robot exited the conference room, closing the door behind it. It moved across the atrium lobby and re-entered the residence wing. As it did so, several elderly residents playing cards around a table let out a happy greeting on seeing it. “Sonny!”

It rolled up to them and surveyed the table. “I’m so glad to be back here with you all.”

About The Author

Daniel Suarez

Daniel Suarez is a New York Times bestselling author, TED Global speaker, and former systems analyst. His unique brand of high-tech fiction explores the causes and impacts of rapid technological change. The author of seven novels, his latest, Critical Mass (second in the Delta-V series), is a realistic space-tech adventure depicting humanity’s transition from climate-imperiled and Earthbound, to a dynamic, sustainable, and spacefaring civilization.

Books By This Author

Daemon

(New York Times Bestseller) — When gaming genius Matthew Sobol dies, his sinister computer program—the Daemon—awakens, unleashing a technological cataclysm. This gripping techno-thriller blends cyber espionage and artificial intelligence, challenging our understanding of technology’s power to manipulate reality and reshape society in a heart-stopping, all-too-real digital revolution.

Freedom(TM)

(Goodreads Choice Award Nominee) — In this sequel to Daemon, Matthew Sobol’s AI monster continues its mayhem, using a network of dispossessed operatives to take apart civilization and rebuild it anew. As civil disorder spreads through the American Midwest, former detective Pete Sebeck, now the Daemon’s most influential yet reluctant-operative, must lead a small band of enlightened humans on a quest to take back control our technology. But the private armies of global business are preparing to not only retain control—but to hijack the Daemon as well.

Kill Decision

(Goodreads Choice Award Nominee) — When autonomous drones of unknown origin launch attacks within the United States, a covert team led by Special Ops soldier Odin must unravel a dangerous conspiracy—one that pulls in Linda McKinney, an innocent scientist whose research on ants has been weaponized to control an automated drone army. Together with Odin, she races against time to track the origin of these sophisticated killing machines before the swarm gets out of control. Kill Decision is a non-stop, edge-of-your-seat thriller that will leave readers questioning the future of modern combat.

Influx

(Prometheus Award winner & Amazon Editor’s Pick: Best Science Fiction) — Particle physicist Jon Grady is ecstatic when he perfects a revolutionary device that can reflect gravity. But before he can announce his invention, he’s imprisoned by a shadowy government agency whose mission is to prevent at all costs the disruption that major technological advances can bring.  Thrown into a nightmarish high-tech prison built to hold rebellious geniuses like himself, Grady tries to conceive of a way to usher humanity out of its artificial dark age. But to succeed, he’ll need to defeat an enemy that wields a technological advantage half a century in the making.

Change Agent

(Amazon Editor’s Pick: Best Thriller) — In 2045, Interpol agent Kenneth Durand leads the fight against genetic crime, shutting down black market labs that perform illegal DNA modifications. But when he’s forcibly injected with a radical change agent, Durand wakes from a coma transformed into the exact likeness of his most wanted suspect. Now a fugitive, hunted by both criminals and his former colleagues, Durand must navigate the underground world of black market genetic manipulation to restore his original identity. But with cutting-edge technology that can rewrite human DNA, no one is who they seem.

Delta-v

(Prometheus Award finalist) — When itinerant cave diver James Tighe receives an invitation to a billionaire’s private island, he thinks it must be a mistake. But Tighe’s unique skill set makes him a prime candidate for a high-risk venture to mine a near-earth asteroid—with the goal of kick-starting an entire off-world economy. Isolated and pushed beyond their breaking points, Tighe and his fellow adventurers must rely on each other to survive not only the dangers of a multi-year expedition but the harsh realities of business in space. They’re determined to transform humanity from an Earth-bound species to a space-faring one—or die trying.

Critical Mass

(Prometheus Award winner & Amazon Editor’s Pick: Best Science Fiction) — In this gripping sequel to Delta-V, a group of pioneering astropreneurs must rescue colleagues stranded on a near-Earth asteroid after their unsanctioned mining expedition goes awry. To succeed, they must establish humanity’s first industrial infrastructure in deep space, navigate treacherous geopolitical rivalries, and finish in time for the asteroid’s next swing past Earth. But in the process, they may prove that space-based industry is not only profitable, but also humanity’s best hope for a livable, peaceful future. That is, if planetside powers don’t stop them first.