Harry is amazing. He is amazing because he is a little robot that cleans your house.
He makes the beds, sweeps the floor, mops the floor, does the dishes AND puts them away. Cleans the toilet the minute it has been used, wipes down the shower and keeps the basin sparkling. The carpets are vacuumed every day and even the ovens and fridge, are kept smudge free and shiny. Not only is Harry amazing at keeping the house spotless, he also detects items that haven’t been used for awhile, and either recycles them or disposes of them swiftly.
Harry is so efficient, that he can detect dust and wipes it away immediately, knowing that if it is left to settle, it would become thicker. Which would after a while, make the house look really dirty and attract mites, which would lead to a bigger problem.
The best thing of all about Harry was he was silent.
You didn’t even know he was there!
Everything was done for you.
No nagging.
No scruffy lists left on the kitchen bench
and best of all, not even a squeak about money!
The only requisite Harry had, was he was to be wiped clean every morning, fed premium fuel, booked in for an oil change every few months and ideally spend 20 minutes absorbing sunlight, every morning. Remarkably, the manufacturers discovered that even though Harry was a robot, he was also rather partial to hugs. And even though it was a little hard to detect,he seemed to run far more efficiently when he felt loved and appreciated.
According to the manufacturer, if cared for correctly, Harry would function for 100 years!
Well!!! Needless to say, soon everyone wanted one.
The neighbourhood was happy.
However, as they say, all good things come to an end.
Because Harry was so efficient and so quiet and never made demands, people tended to forget he was even there. And they promptly forgot all about the manufacturer’s instructions.
Most of the owners were very good at keeping their Harry’s clean. Sadly,however, it was really just to keep up appearances and appease the neighbours.
You see, having a dirty looking Harry meant you were……. lower class. Eww and not to be mixed with. And so just to prove a point, they started to spray a chemical mix over their Harry every day, so that the neighbours would know their Harry was truly clean, because he smelt so delightful.
Harry wasn’t too happy about these extra burdens,and odours to process, he felt like he was a running race with his hands tied. However, not being one to complain, he soldered on.
He would adapt to the extra poisons and the cheap substandard fuel and truck on, because he had a JOB TO DO and he was A TROOPER.
Some days he never saw ANY daylight which made him sad, and though he didn’t give up, it would slow him down a bit. As for hugs, in some houses he would go months without even a kind word!
The worst part was when they would forget to feed him. Then when they did, some people would use cheap manufactured crap made in a factory that some wily businessman had insisted was perfectly fine. A far cry from the premium organic fuel from farmers that Harry was used to.
The wily businessmen got together with other wily businessmen and soon there was crap fuel everywhere. What luck! It was Cheap, It was Colourful and It tasted GREAT! Soon there was one on every corner and sometimes you didn’t even need to get out of your car!. Life was splendid!!
Well for everyone but Harry.
Uncomplaining, he continued to carry out his chores.
After a while, however, Harry started to slow down. The fuel made him dopey and forgetful and he seemed to run out of energy quicker than usual. Plus some of the owners would leave their house in a real mess and so Harry would have twice as much work to do.
It wasn’t before long, the houses Harry had kept so sparkly and clean, started to look a little bit…unattractive.
Harrys owners were furious.
The angrier that got, the lazier they became. The houses got dirtier and dirtier, so much so that some collapsed in a heap, never to be seen again.
‘There must be a better way to keep the Harry’s functioning’ thought the wily businessman. Because even though he was fat, lazy and greedy, he did like a clean house.
‘Well, smiled one, we sell them a solution to the problem, it keeps breaking down, we offer them more solutions. All the more money for us’.
Oh yes! Said the group of overfed, unfit and unsavoury evil friends.
We will take over the universities, the medical centers, the media and the dispensary.
Then with all the money we make we invest in shares of the crap food companies,, because share prices are going to the moon! And We Will Be Super Rich!!!
The evil crew ended the day high-fiving and congratulated each other on their exceptional brilliance.
And so a new industry was made. People took their Harrys to Harry Needs Help Clinics to be repaired by Special Mechanics. Oddly enough, their universities were financed by the same wily businessmen who seemed to be taking over the world. Mostly, the Special Mechanics were good and kind people, however they were informed not to question, otherwise they would lose their licence, job and prestige that went with being a Special Mechanic. And so, instead of recommending daily maintenance,and implementing the manufacturer’s advice, the Harrys were given pills and injections to make Harry work better, longer and sometimes even faster.
Some injections given even promised them that after a couple of shots they would never break down again! Well that just sounded too good to be true.
Soon everyone was lining up with their Harry’s to have injections and pills. For some there was relief, however, just like the wily businessmen predicted, once one problem was solved along would come another.
The manufacturer of the Harry’s looked on in disbelief. The Harry’s were not lasting nearly as long as they should do.
Some only lasted for 50 years, however they figured ‘what the hey, there are no guarantees and oddly enough the owners seemed content they had lasted as long as they did.
One day, the neighbourhood woke up to a commotion.
One of the Harry’s had gone stark raving mad.
Instead of all of its cleaning systems working together to produce a clean and tidy house. It had started attacking the furniture! It had smashed all the windows, destroyed the ornaments it usually so carefully dusted. Water had become spilt all over the floor, because the plumbing was blocked and now the laundry had flooded. Harry was all over the place, going from room to room, knocking things over and making a real mess.
‘Oh my’, said the neighbours and called the emergency services who quickly came and sedated the distraught Harry.
Back at the Harry Repairs Shop, the officials stroked their chins thoughtfully wondering how this perfect machine could go so terribly wrong.
“It’s their age, I mean are they really meant to live to 100 years?” piped up one.
Yes yes, they concurred. That would be it.
‘And most likely a woman. Yes yes. More nodding, they’re always a problem’ they guffawed.
‘Sir? questioned a young intern. Maybe it’s the fuel. I mean I follow the manufacturers instructions to a tee and I have had very little problems at all’.
The official turned round and glared at the young intern.
With a face that looked remarkably like Count Olaf, the official poked the young intern in the chest, enunciating each word very clearly.
Young. Man. Who. Do. You. Think. Pays. Your. Wages. Hmm?
Where Do You Think Those Lovely Big Grants to Fund The Advertising On the Television Come From? Hmmmm?
And Where Do You Think That Lovely Fat Hand Out At Xmas Time Came From? Hmmmmmm?
‘I didn’t get a hand out’ said the intern
‘Yes well’ cough cough splutter, ‘neither did I.
I’m just saying Do. Not. Bite. The. Hand. That. Feeds.You’.
Yes yes, more head nodding.
‘Actually where’s The Marketing chap?
‘An incompetent Harry due to bad ownership is simply bad PR. This would never do.
No!! we will put the blame firmly and squarely on the manufacturers shoulders. No system is full proof, as this clearly shows.
Let’s not raise any unnecessary alarm. Put it up on Google, that the reason the Harry’s are breaking down is due to Age and because Harry is a woman..’
‘Yes Yes Concur Concur’. they all muttered
‘The Fault Will Never Be Ours, The Fault Will Never Be Ours’ they chanted breaking into a conga as they headed to the pub.
And there you have a parody of Autoimmune disease and our current state of affairs.
The Immune System, a perfectly immaculate system designed to keep you functioning and alive.
A system that has gotten man through Caveman days, the Bronze Age, The Iron Age, The Dark Age, The Guilded Age, The Industrial Age And The Nuclear Age. Not to mention Two World Wars and several Depressions and Recessions.
Suddenly after being treated so badly, turns around and attacks the body it is designed to protect.
