Emmie scooted low in her chair. The stage was still visible between the heads of the two people seated in front of her, but hopefully, she wouldn't be noticeable to anyone on it.

Trisha nudged her. "You're being paranoid. The lights are going to make it impossible for him to see anyone in the audience. Besides, who cares, really? Is it such a big deal if Ryker knows you're here?"

"No." She scrunched lower. "Maybe." It was true; she was being paranoid. She'd come all this way to Seattle with Trisha to see Ryker give a TED talk and present UMA to the group of people gathered in this auditorium, and it was silly not to want to let him know she'd come. After all, it would shine her in a positive light: Emmie, who was mature enough to put aside their past issues; Emmie who could forgive and move on; Emmie, who was the bigger person between the two of them, clearly.

Only, perhaps this wasn't so clear. The thought of him seeing her made her want to revisit the tuna fish sandwich she'd eaten on the journey north. The truth was, she had so many conflicting feelings regarding Ryker, she didn't know if she wanted to hide from him forever, or throw herself into his arms and hope he'd wrap those arms around her. She hated both options, frankly. Both made her feel weak, broken, and co-dependent. She didn't need him; she was doing fine without him. But if that sexy dream she'd had was any indication... she still wanted him.

The fact that he hadn't shown up at her art opening stung more than she cared to admit. Feeling his absence that night, she'd chatted with guests and kept up a reasonably happy persona around Sam and her friends. On one level, she had been happy, of course. The opening was everything she could have hoped it to be, except for the fact that she had also hoped for Ryker. He was the one missing ingredient in an otherwise perfectly prepared meal.

To add to the emotional confusion, Melody had called her the day after the opening to tell her an anonymous patron had come in and bought every one of her pieces that were available for sale. It had taken her several minutes for the shock to wear down to the point that she could even begin to contemplate who that anonymous patron could be. Melody refused to say.

Her joy quickly turned to suspicion. It could be Trisha. She might want to cheer Emmie up by an act of kindness, but she and Dan had spent half of the opening debating between three pieces which they wanted to buy. It seemed doubtful after all of that that they'd go ahead and purchase the whole lot. Shelly had the money, for sure, but she probably wouldn't have seen the point in not taking credit for such a generous purchase.

She toyed with the uncomfortable idea that Sam might be the one. He'd come all that way just for her show. But it didn't seem very professional for him to buy so much of her art, plus Melody had said the buyer came to view her work in person, and Sam had mentioned he had an early morning flight to Chicago the day after the opening.

That left one extremely obvious suspect.

The lights in the auditorium dimmed and the "suspect" walked out onto the stage, trailed by UMA, who glided smoothly to the spot Ryker designated. They stood together for a moment, both staring out at the audience with an alarmingly similar crystalline grin on their faces. Emmie was grateful to be siting more than midway back and to the right of the stage. His gaze never ventured close to where she sat.

Ryker clicked his presentation remote and the screen behind him came to life, briefly displaying the MechaJames logo before launching into a montage of UMA-related images and video clips.

"My name is Ryker James and I'm the co-founder of MechaJames. I know, I know... robots are fantastic, but you're really here to see these chiseled by the gods cheekbones. Am I right?" He winked at the laughing audience.

Beside Emmie, Trisha groaned as she shook her head. "Such a conceited bastard."

"Allow yourselves this moment," he gave them another grin and paused looking up at the stage lights like a roman emperor on a coin. "And now, please turn your attention to the true star of the evening, UMA." Standing aside, UMA glided forward, her rollers barely noticeable beneath the long flowing skirt she wore. Other than lack of feet, she was made to resemble a human woman as much as possible. A long-sleeved blouse covered her "chest," where Emmie imagined her control panel to be. At least, that's where it had been on OMA. Everything else above the neckline and beyond the cuffs of the blouse appeared to be synthesized skin. Hands clasped neatly in front of her, UMA waited, eyes blinking just as a person's eyes would.

As the audience clapped for her, UMA waved them off and turned her head to the side, lips curled up in a shy smile. "You're too kind," she told them in a gracefully lilting voice. "I don't deserve such high praise, but I do thank you for it."

It was still obvious to Emmie that she was a robot, but her speech patterns were surprisingly natural. She was definitely a huge improvement over OMA.

Ryker turned to his creation, launching into a history of her prototypes and development. The idea to make an assistant robot, he said, was born from an experience he'd had working at Iola's Eats as a teenager. One of the diner's elderly customers, a woman named Mrs. Betty who had known Ryker since he was a little boy, had fallen at her home while trying to reach for a bowl high up in one of her kitchen cabinets. Mrs. Betty had broken her hip, leaving her immobile and therefore unable to call for help. It hadn't been until the next day, when her daughter came to check in with her, that she'd been found and received medical assistance. Mrs. Betty had never fully recovered, mentally or physically, from the trauma of that episode; she died six months later.

Ryker believed that whole incident could have been avoided if she'd had a full-time assistant aiding her. But most families, including Mrs. Betty's, could not provide around the clock care and she had always shunned the idea of moving into a nursing home. "I knew then that we could better care for the vulnerable members of our society. I knew that through technological innovation, we could provide them with the independence and security that is their due. That's why I went into robotics, that's why I created MechaJames, and that's why UMA exists today."

Emmie wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Ryker had never told her about Mrs. Betty, but she'd always known his intentions with his robots were noble. Hearing her story, however, made it personal. Dammit, she hated when had to go and be so likeable!

Ryker went on to talk about future applications of UMA, emphasizing that robots shouldn't be viewed as replacements for humans, but instead should be looked at as the ones to fulfill mundane, repetitive and sometimes arduous tasks so that human helpers would have more time for quality interaction with their clients or family members.

"That said... everyone needs a break. An exhausted son and daughter caring for a parent with dementia, for instance, can feel assured that in their absence, their loved one will still have someone to speak with and relate to. UMA never grows tired or runs out of patience. If you need to leave the room because the ordeal of caring for an individual with severe memory loss has taken its toll, rest assured, UMA will pick up the slack for you. Let's see her in action."

He motioned for UMA to roll towards him until they were side by side. "Hello, Dr. James. Are you having a pleasant evening?"

"I am. And how about yourself?"

"Every day is wonderful for me. Thanks for asking! How is your work coming along?"

"Quite well, UMA. But let's play a game."

"I love games! I'm programmed to understand the rules of two hundred and thirty-two games. My favorite is checkers. Would you like to play checkers, Dr. James?"

"Maybe later. Right now, the kind of game I'd like to play is a pretending game."

"I enjoy pretending. It's how I explore the world and am able to learn more about it."

"Well, right now, I'd like for you to pretend that I'm in need of assistance because I'm old."

"Is there a need to pretend? Aren't you already old?"

The audience laughed and so did Ryker. "Compared to you I am. But what I mean is, I'm going to pretend that I'm in my mid-eighties and your job is to converse with me as though that's the case. Forget that I'm Dr. James. Just call me Ryker."

"Okay, Ryker. I've always been fascinated with the nineteen forties. Are you old enough to remember the war?"

"Yes, my older brother fought in the Pacific. I was too young to sign up but I idolized him."

"Of course! Family is important. Do you know who I idolize? Cary Grant. Such class!"

They continued conversing for a while until Ryker, speaking of the hypothetical children he had in the early sixties, intentionally trailed off, unable to recall either of their names. UMA waited a moment. The crowd was silent, wondering how she would handle the situation. Emmie leaned forward in her seat.

Ryker kept repeating... "My older one was... No. It was my younger one...she was..."

Finally, UMA broke in gently. "I bet your daughter looks a lot like your wife. Is that true?"

Ryker, all smiles, nodded. "She has her mother's eyes."

He patted UMA on the shoulder. "Thank you for the conversation, UMA." Turning back to the clapping audience, he bowed slightly. "Wasn't she great?"

UMA slid back a few feet and Ryker resumed the spotlight, finishing the talk on how UMA's interaction protocols would continue to be upgraded so that she could understand the subtlest of cues from people indicating they may be in distress. There was no way to go but up from here. No one need ever fear again their loved one falling from doing a task UMA could do, or be in a physically compromised position with no way to call for help. UMA was more than an assistant. She was a lifesaver and a friend to those in need.

As the talk ended, Emmie jumped to her feet along with the rest of the audience, so enraptured by what she'd seen that she failed to think about her desire to stay hidden. It was unlikely he'd be able to make her out from the throng around her. Trisha, however, felt no need to stay in the shadows.

She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled, a loud ear shattering sound that easily carried over the claps and cheers. "Ryker!" she waved her hand to draw his attention, seemingly oblivious to Emmie's growing unease.

"Trisha, what are you doing?" She pulled on her arm. "Stop it! He'll see us!"

"I'm just so proud of that little shit." She continued to wave. "Don't worry, Emmie, it'll be fine! There's so many people here, he's not going to notice you."

Famous last words. Emmie froze in place as Ryker, huge Cheshire cat grin, aimed his attention towards his boisterous sibling. One second later, his gaze rested upon her. He nodded so slightly, it could have been her imagination, and then turned his attention back to other audience members.

"Great. He saw me."

Trisha shrugged. "Well then, you won't mind going to say hi to him back stage."

She did mind, but at the same time, she also minded the thought of leaving without speaking to him. Now that he knew she was here, it would make her look like she'd lost all social graces if she refused to at least say hi.

"Let's get this over with." She followed Trisha out into a corridor that lead to what must be the backstage area.

Trisha flashed an ID badge at the man attending the door. "I'm Dr. James' sister, Trisha James-Park. This is a family friend, Emmie Marsden."

The man nodded and opened the door. "He mentioned you might be by."

Emmie slapped Trisha's back as she followed her through. "You had this all set up, didn't you?"

Trisha grabbed her hand and pulled her along until they reached an area filled with costumes and discarded set pieces. "I didn't have anything set up, but it's all worked out very nicely, anyways. All we have to do is congratulate him on a job well done and then you and I can get out of here and go check out Pike Place Market, okay? Easy-breezy."

Nothing was ever easy-breezy with Ryker, but Trisha's plan seemed tolerable enough, that was... until Ryker showed up. She nearly jumped when he spoke, his tone cold as it was confrontational.

"Emmie, what are you doing here?"

https://youtu.be/eAnHjuTQF3M

A/N: Above is an interesting TED Talk given by Cynthia Breazeal that I watched while researching this chapter. I thought you might like it too. The future is now!

Why does Ryker seem upset at the close of this update? Is he really mad that Emmie is there or is there some other perfectly rational reason? 

Thank you for supporting this story! Your vote today will be used for the fun outing Trisha and Emmie are hoping to have in Seattle. Something tells me they're going to need that fun after the next update...

We will be approaching the dramatic conclusion soon and things are going to be building now. There will be cliffhangers! I am seriously biting my fingernails wondering how all of you are going to react to how things are about to go down. Sit tight!