Everyone Died+My iPhone Stopped Working: An Oral History of The Robot Apocalypse

A House Cleaner With One Arm

Phillipa, 29

House Cleaner

Phillipa, you'll recall, was Lila's long-suffering house cleaner who was aghast at her former boss's indifference to the limb she lost (which was, for the record, an arm). As an immigrant to this country from South America, we thought that Phillipa would have a unique perspective on recent events and we were hoping to learn about her experiences.

The first thing we learned, though, was...

My name is not Phillipa.

It's not?

It's Mirabel.

But Lila said—

Philippa is the name of the woman who worked for her before I did. It seems she could not tell us apart, even though Phillipa was an eighty year old Swedish woman with cloudy eyes who smelled like anchovies.

I told Lila my name a thousand times, but it didn't matter. In the end, it was easier to answer to "Phillipa" than to keep correcting Lila. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. And you can't teach Lila anything.

So what was it like working for her?

I come from a very poor country. Life was difficult there. Life was difficult here, too, but my parents, they told me that if I am to succeed in America, I must work very hard. And I believed them.

Until I met Lila.

Why?

She told me that she is an "aromatherapist." When I found out what that was, I could not believe it!

"Here. Smell this. Nice, yes? You must pay me one hundred dollars!"

I could not imagine anything more stupid! But that is her actual job!

Lila was sure I must have heard of it. I told her no. In the fourteen years I lived in Honduras, no one ever said the word "aromatherapist" to me. Or if they did, I could not hear it over the sound of my neighbors being murdered with machine guns.

What did Lila say about that?

She found it very sad.

That your neighbors were killed?

That there were no aromatherapists in Honduras.

Really?

She said that Honduras needed healing. And essential oils — whatever those are — are very good at healing. Although she never told me which one would make my arm grow back.

Right. Your arm. What happened?

The robots attacked. Our building was hit. I was trying to get out before it collapsed. And I was ninety-five percent successful.

I imagine that was very traumatic.

A lot of people think that.

Are they right?

Yes.

But Lila, she did not care. She did not even notice. She just said, "Oh, m'god! I am like, just so spiritual! Dead people are soooo annoying! [hair flip] Do you know whose earring this is?"

[NOTE: Her impression of Lila is uncanny.]

So I take it you're not a fan of Lila's?

Is anyone?

Good point.

Lila said that I stole from her. That I was lazy. Me! I had three jobs and took art classes at community college. Most of my money went to food and rent, the rest I sent back to Mama and Papa in La Paz.

I remember one time I said to Lila, "I need a raise."

And she said, "What you really need is a Vision Board."

And I said, what I really need is a raise.

She said I would get my raise if I put it on my Vision Board.

I asked her why she couldn't just give me a raise.

She said that is not the way the universe works.

So I made a Vision Board. I drew a picture of Lila giving me a raise.

Did you get a raise?

No. So I drew a new picture on my Vision Board of Lila being stabbed.

And was she stabbed?

[smiles] Not yet.

The worst part is that she spends her money on such stupid things! She spends more on her eyebrows than I earn in a year! A hundred dollars a day on cleansing juice! Three thousand dollars on a psychologist. For her fish!

What kind of fish?

The kind you flush down the toilet.

Wow. All that money on a fish psychologist and the fish died?

It was a suicide. I know this because Lila also spent six hundred dollars on a pet psychic.

But she did have some positive traits, right?

Lila? Or the fish?

Lila.

No. But the fish was very sparkly.

OK, but to be fair, Lila does let you address her by her first name.

Yes. I am a year older than her. And she lets me call her by her first name. Someone tell the Vatican that there is a new candidate for sainthood.

Listen. Life was hard for me. It was hard for a lot of people. I do not mind the good fortune of others. But please! Be humble. Be thankful. Lila deserved nothing, but she thought she deserved everything. Her life was good, but she acted like everything was bad. She complained more about the VIP section at Coachella than I did when my arm was torn off at the shoulder!

And that is why I cannot wait until the Robot War is over!

I don't follow.

You see, Lila thinks she will just be able to go back to the way things were. But she is wrong. The cities have been destroyed. So when the war ends, you know what we will need to do first?

What?

Clean up. And you know what we will not need?

Aromatherapists?

Yes! Lila will be nothing! She will be even less important than a house cleaner with one arm.

I can picture it: "Oh, m'god! Like, why am I, like, living in a non-recycled cardboard box? [hair flip] Why do I have to sell, like, my blood just so I can, you know, buy gross food that isn't even, like, GMO-free?"

That will be so sweet.

You've thought about this a lot.

I have. And I picture a day when I see Lila on the street, cold and hungry, and she recognizes me and she begs, "Please, help me, Phillipa!"

And you know what I will say?

What?

"It's Mirabel, bitch!"

Awesome!

And then I will help her.

You will? But you just said she was a bitch.

She is.

But I'm not.