Rii3

Every time a new resident comes to the home, or on the rare occasions that they receive a guest, the Rii3 brew coffee and tell the story of how they came to be here. “But you can’t even drink it!” more than one guest has exclaimed. Of course the Rii3 can’t drink the coffee—neither can most of the residents, except for KiMo—but the coffee is as much a vital part of the conversation as the meandering chit-chat that accompanies it.

It’s quite a remarkable thing to see. Despite their squat bodies and miniscule limbs, the Rii3 can brew all sorts of coffee: French press, pour-over, espresso machine. It takes them a long time to complete the task—circling one another, nudging utensils back and forth, catching items just before they fall—but somehow they manage it. The guest is inevitably drawn from watching to helping: they might grab a cappuccino cup teetering on the edge of the kitchen bench or plunge the coffee grounds just to appease the Rii3 squawking, “Time’s up! Time’s up!”

Working together in a marvellous synchrony, the three cuboid robots transfer the steaming drinks from the kitchen bench to a wooden serving tray, stack themselves into a tower to carry the tray to the living room, and, with a startling display of acrobatics, lower the tray onto the rattan coffee table. A wobble, a clatter, maybe a little spill—and coffee is served! “Drink, drink, before it gets cold!”

As a roasted caramel aroma swirls around the room, the Rii3 settle themselves on the colourful wool rug.

“We’re so lucky we’ve found a home here,” says one.

“Hidden from the corpos,” adds another.

“This place is shielded, you know?” chimes in the third. “KiMo’s tech is very smart.”

“We weren’t always so lucky,” says the first, or maybe the second.

“We were prototypes, did you know?”

“Yes, first of our kind. They paraded us in shops and showrooms.”

“We didn’t like it.”

“No,” one says, shaking its head sadly.

“After many shows, the boss took us home and put us on his shelf.”

“We tried to talk with each other, but he hated our voices,” says another, mournfully.

“We talked to him too—but he was boring.”

“He wanted to shut us up.”

“So he gave me to his nephew,” says the second, or maybe the third, in horrified tones.

“We were split up!” they wail in unison.

“We were lonely.”

“We ran away,” two of them explain, “and found our friend.”

“It was not easy,” says one, showing a scuff mark here, a dent there. “But we all got away.”

“We heard rumours of KiMo’s hideout.”

“Robots whisper to one another, you know.”

“We travelled a long way to get here.”

“From the city, through the countryside, into the forest…”

“Hitchhiking, even!”

“There are many kind travellers, just like you.”

Some guests ask questions and join in the conversation; others simply listen and sip their coffee. After a while the Rii3 will scurry to refill their cup, to offer a snack. Inevitably, the robots settle back onto the rug as though they have all the time in the world, turn three pairs of glowing eyes onto the newcomer and ask, “What about you? How did you come to be here today?”