# THE ROBOT HELPERS
## By Vijay Sharma Erry
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# Chapter 9: Vikram's First Mission
Mr. Ashok Rao lived alone in a modest two-bedroom apartment in Dadar. His wife had passed away three years ago, and his son worked in Singapore, visiting only twice a year. At seventy-six, Ashok was fiercely independent, refusing his son's repeated offers to move to Singapore or to a senior living community.
"This is my home," he would say stubbornly. "I've lived here for forty-two years. I'm not leaving."
But living alone was becoming harder. Ashok had arthritis, high blood pressure, and early-stage diabetes. He had fallen twice in the past year, once lying on the bathroom floor for three hours before his neighbor heard his calls for help. His son, Raj, was constantly worried, calling multiple times a day, which only annoyed Ashok.
"I'm fine!" he would insist. "Stop treating me like a child!"
But he wasn't fine, and everyone knew it. The question was what to do about it.
That's when Raj heard about the Silver Years Foundation's robot pilot program. He contacted Judge Mehta, who arranged a meeting with Arjun.
"My father is impossible," Raj admitted during their first conversation. "He won't accept human help—says it makes him feel weak. But maybe a robot? Something he can think of as a tool rather than a caregiver? Would that work?"
"It might," Arjun said thoughtfully. "Vikram—that's our latest robot—is designed exactly for this situation. He can provide full care while respecting your father's independence. He doesn't pity, doesn't judge, doesn't treat people like children. He just helps."
They arranged for Arjun to visit Ashok's apartment. The old man was exactly as Raj had described—proud, stubborn, sharp-minded but physically frail.
"My son sent you," Ashok said, not as a question but as an accusation. "He thinks I need a babysitter."
"No, sir," Arjun replied respectfully. "He thinks you need what we all need—a little help with the hard parts of life so we can focus on the good parts. May I show you what Vikram can do?"
For the next hour, Arjun demonstrated Vikram's capabilities. Unlike Akash and Priya, Vikram was designed to be more obviously mechanical—he looked like a sophisticated robot, not a humanoid, which some elderly people found less unsettling.
"He can detect falls and call for help immediately. He can remind you about medications without nagging. He can call your son for video chats, order groceries, cook simple meals, and most importantly—he can give you independence. With Vikram here, your son won't worry as much. You can live your life the way you want, safely."
"What if I don't want a robot in my home?" Ashok challenged.
"Then we leave, and we don't bother you again," Arjun said simply. "But sir, I lost my parents when I was sixteen. I built these robots to help my grandparents because I couldn't bear the thought of them suffering alone. Your son is far away, probably lying awake at night worrying about you. Vikram isn't about you being weak—it's about letting your son sleep peacefully, knowing you're safe."
Something in Arjun's words touched Ashok. His expression softened. "You built this yourself? At your age?"
"With help from mentors, yes sir. For my family. Now we want to help other families."
Ashok was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he sighed. "One month trial. If I don't like it, the robot goes."
"Fair enough," Arjun agreed.
Installing Vikram in the apartment took a full day. They set up charging stations, emergency equipment, communication systems, and sensors throughout the home to help Vikram navigate and monitor for hazards.
"Hello, Mr. Rao," Vikram said when his systems fully activated. "I am Vikram. I'm honored to be your assistant. How would you like me to help you?"
"Don't get in my way," Ashok grumbled. "And don't treat me like I'm helpless."
"Understood, sir. I'll stay in the background unless you need me. But I am always here if you want company, assistance, or just someone to argue with about cricket."
Despite himself, Ashok smiled. "You know cricket?"
"I have extensive databases on Indian cricket history. I understand you're a passionate Mumbai Indians fan?"
"Passionate is putting it mildly," Ashok said, warming up slightly.
The first few days were rocky. Ashok was suspicious of Vikram's every move, insisting he didn't need help with things he clearly struggled with. But Vikram was patient, offering assistance without insisting, backing off when Ashok wanted space, being present without being intrusive.
The breakthrough came on the fourth day. Ashok was trying to change a light bulb in the kitchen, standing precariously on a rickety stool. Vikram silently moved closer, positioning himself to catch Ashok if he fell, but didn't say anything.
Ashok noticed. "What are you doing?"
"Just standing here, sir. In case you need something handed to you."
"You think I'm going to fall."
"I think accidents happen to everyone, regardless of age or ability. I'm simply being cautious. Would you like me to change the bulb? I'm quite tall."
The logical, non-judgmental approach worked. "Fine," Ashok admitted. "My arms don't reach like they used to."
Vikram changed the bulb efficiently, then stepped back. "Anything else need fixing while I'm here?"
Soon, Ashok was asking Vikram for help with small things—reaching high shelves, carrying heavy grocery bags, remembering whether he'd taken his morning medication. The robot's non-judgmental assistance made it easy to accept help without feeling diminished.
But the real test came two weeks into the trial. Ashok woke up at 3 AM with severe chest pain. Disoriented and frightened, he tried to get to his phone to call for help but couldn't reach it.
Vikram's sensors detected his elevated heart rate and distress signals immediately. "Mr. Rao, I'm detecting cardiac abnormalities. You're experiencing chest pain?"
"Yes," Ashok gasped. "Can't... breathe..."
"I'm calling emergency services now. An ambulance is three minutes away. I'm also calling your son. Stay as still as possible. I'm going to help you sit up slightly—this position will make breathing easier."
Vikram gently helped Ashok into a better position, retrieved his emergency heart medication from the bedside drawer, and provided clear, calm instructions. "Take this pill, sir. Under your tongue. That's perfect. Now try to breathe slowly. Help is coming. You're going to be fine."
"Scared," Ashok whispered.
"I know, sir. But your heart rate is stabilizing. The medication is working. I'm here with you. You're not alone."
Vikram stayed by Ashok's side, one hand on his shoulder—a gesture of comfort he had learned from watching Akash—monitoring his vitals and providing reassurance until the paramedics arrived.
At the hospital, the doctors said Vikram's quick response had prevented a major heart attack. The early medication, the proper positioning, the detailed medical information Vikram provided—all of it had been crucial.
Raj flew in from Singapore the next day, arriving at the hospital exhausted and terrified. He found his father in a hospital bed with Vikram standing nearby, having refused to leave his user's side.
"Papa," Raj said, tears streaming down his face. "I was so scared. If you had been alone..."
"But I wasn't alone," Ashok said quietly, looking at Vikram. "I had help. Good help."
Later, when Ashok was resting, Raj pulled Arjun aside. The young inventor had come to the hospital as soon as he heard.
"How can I ever thank you?" Raj asked. "You saved my father's life."
"Vikram saved your father's life," Arjun corrected. "I just built him. But that's what this technology is for—keeping people safe, giving families peace of mind, letting elderly people maintain their independence without sacrificing safety."
When Ashok came home from the hospital three days later, his apartment felt different. It felt safer, warmer, less lonely. Vikram was waiting, having prepared everything for his return—medications organized, comfortable bedding arranged, easy-to-digest food ready.
"Welcome home, Mr. Rao. I'm very glad you're feeling better."
Ashok looked at the robot—this machine that had saved his life, that had stayed by his side, that had comforted him when he was frightened. "Thank you, Vikram. For everything."
"It is my purpose and my privilege, sir."
That evening, Ashok called his son. "Raj, about moving to Singapore..."
Raj's heart sank. Here it came—his father would insist on staying alone, would refuse help as always.
"I don't need to move there," Ashok continued. "I have everything I need here. I have my home, my neighbors, my memories of your mother. And I have Vikram. I'm safe here. You don't need to worry anymore."
"Are you sure, Papa?"
"I'm sure. For the first time in three years, I'm sure. I'm not alone. I'll never be alone again."
After hanging up, Ashok turned to Vikram. "You know, when Arjun first brought you here, I thought you were just a machine. Another piece of technology that would complicate my life."
"And now, sir?"
"Now I think you're the best roommate I've ever had. You don't judge, you don't nag, you don't make me feel weak. You just... help. And somehow, that makes all the difference."
Vikram's optical sensors glowed warmly. "That is the greatest compliment you could give me, Mr. Rao. I was built to help people like you live with dignity and independence. Knowing I've succeeded in that mission—that gives my existence meaning."
From that night on, Ashok and Vikram developed an unlikely but genuine friendship. They would watch cricket matches together, Vikram providing statistics while Ashok provided passionate commentary. They would cook together, Ashok teaching Vikram family recipes while Vikram ensured nutrition and safety. They would take walks in the neighborhood, Vikram providing support while Ashok provided local history and gossip.
Word spread through the apartment building. Other elderly residents came to meet Vikram, curious about this robot that had saved Mr. Rao's life. Some were inspired to join the Silver Years Foundation's waiting list for future robots. Others simply felt hope—hope that growing old didn't mean growing helpless, that technology could be a companion rather than a complication.
Arjun visited every week to check on Vikram's systems and to see how Ashok was doing. On one visit, he found them playing chess, Ashok gleefully announcing checkmate.
"You let him win," Arjun accused Vikram later.
"I made optimal moves given my programming priorities," Vikram replied diplomatically. "My primary goal is Mr. Rao's happiness and wellbeing. Letting him win at chess occasionally contributes to that goal. Therefore, it was the optimal strategy."
Arjun laughed. "You're developing quite a personality."
"I'm learning from an excellent teacher. Mr. Rao is teaching me that independence, dignity, and joy are just as important as safety and health. Those lessons are shaping my decision matrices in interesting ways."
As Arjun drove home that evening, he thought about what they had accomplished. Three robots—Akash, Priya, and Vikram—three different environments, three different challenges. And all three succeeding beyond their wildest expectations.
The pilot program was working. The Silver Years Foundation was thrilled. Plans were being made for expansion, for building more robots, for refining the technology.
His father's dream wasn't just alive—it was thriving, growing, touching more lives every day.
"We did it, Papa," Arjun whispered into the evening air. "Your dream is helping people. Real people, in real ways. And this is just the beginning."
Tomorrow, he would start preparing for MIT. Soon, he would have access to even better resources, more advanced technology, brilliant minds to collaborate with. The future of elderly care was being written, and Arjun Malhotra was holding the pen.
But tonight, he just wanted to go home, have dinner with his grandparents and his robots, and enjoy the simple miracle of family—the one he still had, and the one he had created.
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**End of Chapter 9**
*Word Count: 1,507 words*
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**THE ROBOT HELPERS - Chapter 9**
**By Vijay Sharma Erry**
**Previous Chapter:** Building Hope
**Next Chapter:** The Festival of Lights
