What’s the Difference?

Rebecca Knight was worried. Something seemed different about her husband Marcus, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Marcus had been coming home from work late every night. After several weeks of this, she stopped waiting up for him and went to bed. When she awoke in the morning, he was already gone. He had occasionally worked on Saturdays for a few hours, but now he was working all day every weekend, both Saturdays and Sundays. He was rarely at home when she was awake. Their relationship had been comfortable and companionable ever since they married eight years before. They rarely argued or even had an important difference of opinion, so this new work schedule caused her serious concern. Was he staying at work because of something she had done or said? Rebecca waited up late one evening and tried to get him to talk about it, but he just said, “We’re getting close to a breakthrough in the lab and I need to be there.”

Still upset, and not satisfied with his response, she decided to confront him. She drove to his office in downtown Austin where he headed a team that was investigating potential military uses of robotics technology. Rebecca was aware that his work was classified, so she knew better than to ask him about it, and he never volunteered any information.

When she entered his office, there was a new receptionist at the front desk. The woman promptly put aside her work and looked up with a smile. “May I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Marcus Knight. I thought I’d surprise him and see if he has time to go out for lunch with me today. Is he available?”

“Please wait here, Mrs. Knight. I’ll be right back.” The woman used a coded ID card to open the door behind her semicircular desk, then closed the door carefully behind her. Rebecca heard a heavy click as it locked.

Strange, thought Rebecca. There was a higher level of security here than she had seen on previous visits. A moment later, Marcus came through the door, smiling. He walked quickly around the desk and took her hand in his.

“What are you doing here, Rebecca? Mrs. Ames told me you’d like to have lunch today. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a good time.”

“Of course, Marcus. I’ll see you at home later.” Rebecca forced herself to smile as he immediately turned around and went back into the inner office, the door again locking with a heavy click. His curt reaction was strange. He had always made time for her when she went to his office, planned or not.

Her unexpected visit was successful in that it precipitated a change. That evening Marcus came home for dinner at 5:30. He spent the evening with her, watching the national news then an old movie until bedtime. Rebecca fell asleep in his arms, her head nestled on his shoulder. He didn’t toss and turn as much as he normally did, and she slept through the night.

The next morning, she noticed that he didn’t put on the new Fitbit she had given him for Christmas. When she asked if something was wrong with it, Marcus said he preferred his old watch. He said he was sorry to disappoint her, but it made his wrist itch. Rebecca knew he had enjoyed the Fitbit when he first started wearing it. His change of mind was unexpected, but at the time Rebecca accepted it without further thought. Later she wished she had paid more attention.

Marcus reverted to his previous schedule, coming home for dinner at 5:30 and going to bed with her after the evening news. One morning he suggested that she meet him for lunch near his office. They seemed to have settled back into their old routine.

Rebecca relaxed, believing that life had returned to normal.

Then Marcus dropped a glass in the kitchen as he was making breakfast, scattering shards of glass all over the tile floor. Although he was barefoot, the glass didn’t cut him. At the time Rebecca just thought he was lucky to have escaped injury.

However, a few days later, when she went for her regular morning run through her neighborhood, the pieces started to come together. First, she mused, he stayed away from home for long periods of time, then he didn’t wear the Fitbit which he had liked because it told him exactly how many steps he had taken that day and monitored his heart rate. Then his feet weren’t cut, though she had seen him step on the broken glass. When as she thought about the reason for their move to Austin, his new job, the last piece of the puzzle slid into place.

The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became. Marcus’ team worked with artificial intelligence, specifically in relation to robotics. What if it wasn’t Marcus who had come home this past week, but an extremely well-crafted robot? Was he really her husband? Was she going crazy? Maybe she just had too much time on her hands. She had to know, once and for all. She decided to test him.

Her hands shook as she prepared his favorite dinner, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. She watched him as he ate. Finally, he noticed she wasn’t eating and asked if something was wrong. “No,” she said. “You didn’t comment on the change I made to the meatloaf recipe and I was wondering if you liked it.”

Marcus stopped eating and put down his napkin. He stood up and left the room, coming back a minute later with a small box in his hand. It was wrapped in silver paper and had a tiny silver bow on top.

“What’s this?” she asked. “It isn’t my birthday or our anniversary.”

“No,” he smiled. “I just wanted to give you something. It’s been a while since I surprised you.”

Rebecca looked into his eyes, searching for that questioning look they always held when he gave her a gift and waited to be sure she liked it. It wasn’t there; neither was the habitual little tilt of his head slightly to the left as he evaluated her response. Something about him was different. It wasn’t her imagination. She suspected he gave her the gift to distract her from his failure to notice the change in his favorite dish.

When Rebecca confronted him with her suspicions, Marcus stood up and left the room. She heard him make a call on his cell phone and say, “She knows.” The front door slammed behind him, then she heard his car back out of the driveway.

Her hands were shaking. Not knowing what else to do, Rebecca cleared the table, wrapped up the remaining meatloaf and put it in the freezer. Tears trickled down her face as she rinsed their dinner dishes and put them into the dishwasher. A loud knock on the front door startled her. When she looked through the peephole she saw two men in military uniform. She opened the door and invited them into the house. They remained on the front porch, and the taller man said, “Please get your coat, ma’am, and come with us.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as she reached into the foyer closet for her brown leather jacket. “What’s going on?”

“We’re not at liberty to say, ma’am,” the shorter man said, taking her arm in a firm grip.

“Where’s Marcus? I want to see my husband.” She struggled to free her arm.

The men didn’t respond as they gently but firmly pushed her into the car. The door locked and they drove away.

A week later, a For Sale sign went up on the front lawn. When the next-door neighbor asked the realtor where the Knights had gone, he was told that Mr. Knight’s company had reassigned him to a different location. “Yes, it was a bit sudden,” the realtor agreed, but she didn’t have any other information.