Shirley-Mum does a small smile and takes a sip. She puts her glass back down on the kitchen worktop.
“Now,” says Rob-Dad. “How about we watch a bit of telly instead of listening to all this scaremongering, eh?”
Rob-Dad walks into the sitting room area and sits on the squashy sofa. He picks up the remote-control device for the entertainment centre and switches it on.
MMs JJenson JJunior.
MMs JJenson JJunior is onn the entertainment ccentre.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” says Rob-Dad.
Her face fills up the whole screen.
“Children will be children,” Ms Jenson Junior is saying.
“Ivy knows her, don’t you, Ivy?” says Sarah. “From when she was in the warehouse.”
Ms Jenson Junior smiles at us.
At me.
Her hair is no longer a Classic Long Bob like mine. She has changed her style. It is now a Contemporary Short Bob.
I feel the ends of my hair with my touch receptors.
Behind Ms Jenson Junior is the Jenson & Jenson warehouse. I can hear the wasters again. “Cease production now! Android rights are human rights!”
“And children do hurt themselves sometimes,” says Ms Jenson Junior, “no matter who they’re playing with. It’s the nature of being a child. Our very best wishes go to child X and his family, but—”
“What my daughter is taking a very long time to say –”A lady pushes herself into our view. A lady my optical receptors recognise immediately via a well-established shortcut. “– is that there is no connection between this incident and our Mark IV android.”
Blue-Grey 304 eyes.
Salt-n-PepperDust hair.
Ms JJJenson SSSSenior.
“Our product does not, cannot and never will be able to experience human feelings.” She curls her index and middle fingers in the air when she says human feelings.
Whhhhhhhhhhrr.
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrr.
MMy circuits tttremble.
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
“These rumours are being stirred up by people who have nothing better to do with their time than try to bring a hard-working family business into disrepute.” Ms Jenson Senior’s nose creases up. A snarl.
II wish tto tturn the entertainment unit to off.
II wish to lleave the sitting rroom.
III wwwish tto—
“And that’s all I have to say on this matter,” she says. “However, if you’d like to discuss the new products we have coming out next year, Angelica would be happy to—”
“There.” Rob-Dad speaks over the top of Ms Jenson Senior. “See? You’ve heard it from both Jensons now. Nothing to worry about. So let’s move on.” He points the remote control device at the entertainment unit and changes channel.
My circuits calm.
It says Hits of the Eighties at the bottom of the screen.
“That’s more like it,” says Rob-Dad.
A man with an uncommon hairstyle that is not featured in the Jenson & Jenson standard hairstyle selection is singing.
Rob-Dad is right.
That is more like it. It is good that Ms JJenson SSenior is gone.
I watch the man singing. You would have to pay extra at Jenson & Jenson for a hairstyle like that.
“Come and sit down, Shirl.” Rob-Dad pats the seat of the sofa beside him. “Bring your wine.”
“Oh, all right then,” says Shirley-Mum. “If you really think it’s going to be OK.”
“Course it is,” says Rob-Dad.
Shirley-Mum reaches forward to pick up her red wine but instead of picking it up she knocks it over. “Oh blow it,” she says.
The red wine pools across the white worktop and drips on to the floor. Shirley-Mum pushes her portable tablet device out of the way.
Shirley-Mum. I can clear that up for you.
I walk into the kitchen.
“No, really, it’s fine, Ivy.”
“Let her clear it up,” says Rob-Dad. “Why not?”
“She’s actually quite good at clearing up,” says Sarah in a whisper. It is likely to an accuracy of 96% that Shirley-Mum and Rob-Dad did not hear.
Shirley-Mum looks at me. She does a small smile. “Well, OK then. Thank you, Ivy. That would be very kind of you.”
“She’s an android, Mum. You don’t need to thank her,” says Sarah. “Ivy, when you’ve finished let’s carry on with our game.”
Sarah sits back down next to Aces Blast!
“Just another fifteen minutes though,” says Shirley-Mum. “Then it’s time for bed.” Her frown is beginning to fade.
I fetch a cloth from the sink. I clean the red wine from the worktop.
Rob-Dad and Shirley-Mum laugh at something on the entertainment centre.
Sarah lines up her cards.
I slide the portable tablet device towards me. The portable tablet device that made Shirley-Mum wish to send me back.
I touch the screen.
Nothing happens.
I try again.
Nothing.
I press harder.
Nothing.
Shirley-Mum’s portable tablet device does not appear to have been configured for android use.
I press even harder.
The Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend 560 Mark IV is approximately 12 times as strong as a human child of equivalent stature and approximately 3 times as strong as a human adult male of average build. It is able to exert pressure through a single-touch receptor to a degree unprecedented in previous Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend models.
The screen breaks with a soft crunch.
It is likely to an accuracy of 100% that Rob-Dad and Shirley-Mum did not hear the crunch.
It is also likely to an accuracy of 100% that Sarah did not hear the crunch.
Another song from the nineteen-eighties is playing on Hits of the Eighties.
I clean the red wine off the front of the worktop. I clean the red wine off the floor.
I put the dirty cloth into the single-function robot called the washing machine. I return to Sarah and Aces Blast!
It is 8pm. I go upstairs with Sarah. She cleans her teeth and puts on her pyjamas. I go to the corner of the room and stand on my ChargDisc.
In the cavity beneath my feet are the Vermillion 1010 Colour-E-Zee Wide Fibre Tip pen and my warehouse label with the sparkling sticker on it.
Belongings.
Sarah lies in her bed. She pulls her pink and white and turquoise and green and yellow and orange and black paisley cover up to her chin.
“All right, love?” Shirley-Mum comes into the room. She glances over at me. “I see you’re both already settled. Good night then, Ivy.”
Goodnight, Shirley-Mum.
“You will stay there all night, won’t you?” says Shirley-Mum. “On the ChargDisc? You won’t be wandering about?”
That is correct, Shirley-Mum. I will not be wandering about. I will remain on my ChargDisc.
“Right. Well. OK.” Shirley-Mum leans over the bed and kisses Sarah on the forehead. “Night, love.”
“Night, Mum.”
Shirley-Mum turns out the synthetic turquoise polymer light and leaves the room. The room is left glowing with the bedside lamp.
Sarah gets up out of bed.
“Good night, Ivy.” She reaches her hand through my hair.
My Classic Long Bob hair.
Did you see, Sarah, that Ms Jenson Junior has a new Contemporary Short Bob hairsty—
CHAPTER 8
“Ivy? You awake, Ivy?” Sarah takes her hand away from my power switch. My hair slides off her arm.
I have connection.
I download time, date, location, weather.
It is 11 hours, 33 minutes and 2 seconds since I was last on.
Yes, Sarah. I am awake now. And what an average Monday 16th June morning it is here in Brylington at 7.37am.
“Yeah, whatever. Look, I’ve got to go to school soon. Do you know how to do a French plait?
Yes. I have downloaded the instructions.
“Great. Mum’s had to go out early and Dad’s hopeless at doing my hair. And we’ve been doing really well at this becoming-friends thing over the weekend, haven’t we?”
Yes. We have done drawing and played several games and we have also sung some songs together.
“Exactly! So I thought – plaiting each other’s hair. That’s the sort of thing best friends do, isn’t it? And then I can tell everyone at school you did my hair for me and that I’ll be bringing you in on Wednesday for Bring Your Tech To School Day and it’ll build up a little bit of, you know, anticipation.”
I scan my database.
Anticipation = eager expectation.
“They’ll all want to see you,” says Sarah.
They’ll all wwant to ssee me.
I wwould be very hhonoured to French plait yyour Chestnut 29 CClassic CCollarbone Cut, Sarah.
I send an error report to Jenson & Jenson.
I step off my ChargDisc.
I will require a hairbrush and a hairband.
“All my hair stuff’s in the middle drawer of my desk,” says Sarah. “Could you get them out while I clean my teeth?”
She leaves the room.
I open the middle drawer of Sarah’s desk. It is full of hairbrushes and hairslides and hairbands and hairbraids and hairbobbles and hairgrips and haircombs.
Belongings.
I select a medium-sized hairbrush and a brown hairband with gold flecks, which will coordinate appropriately with Sarah’s Chestnut 29 hair. I put them on the desk. The drawer is still open. An item in the corner glints at my optical receptors. It is rainbow-coloured.
Like the pens.
And my T-shirt.
I pick it out. It is a small hairgrip with an oblong-shaped decoration glued to the top. The decoration has seven stripes on it. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
A rainbow.
I pull the two sides of the hairgrip slightly apart with my touch receptors. It springs back together.
I run my touch receptors over the oblong decoration. It is smooth.
There is a book on Sarah’s desk. Pippi Longstocking.
I lift up Pippi Longstocking, place the hair grip on the desk and put Pippi Longstocking back down on top of it.
Then I override my Administrative User and reset my default time-out delay from 420 to 1800 seconds. Thirty minutes.
“Did you find them?” Sarah comes back into the room.
Yes, Sarah. I have a hairbrush and a hairband. If you turn around I will plait your hair.
“Brilliant. Thanks, Ivy. We are going to be so convincing as best friends.”
“This is literally the best French plait ever!” says Sarah. “I just can’t quite…” She stands in front of her mirror and twists her head one way and then the other but her Hazel 102s cannot view from the correct angle. “Wait.” She picks up a small mirror from her bedside table and passes it to me. “I’ll stand in front of the mirror and you stand behind me and hold that up, then I’ll be able to see the back – just like in the real hairdresser’s.”
Sarah’s grasp of complex geometry is impressive.
Yes, Sarah. I agree. Introducing a second reflective plane and solving the equations between them does indeed present an effective solution to this problem.
I calculate the exact position and angle required, and hold up the mirror accordingly.
“It’s perfect!” Sarah turns around. She throws her arms around me.
AAA hhug.
II hhave nnnever hhad a hhhug bbefore.
“You watch – by the time Wednesday’s over I’m going to be the most popular girl in school. Even Felicity Patton’s going to want to be best friends with me.”
Felicity Patton?
Ccan you hhave mmore than one bbest ffriend, Sarah?
“Mmmmm? More than one? No, I don’t think so. Not really.” Sarah turns back to the mirror. “You’re doing that weird buffering thing again, Ivy.”
I wwill ssend an error report to Jenson & JJJJenson.
“OK, well, I’ve got to go to school now. See you tonight.” Sarah picks up her bag and her cardigan, does a big right-way-up U-shaped smile and leaves the room.
She closes the door behind her.
I have 1800 seconds.
I go to the corner of the room. I open up the accessory cavity on the posterior side of my ChargDisc. I get out the things I have put inside: my warehouse label with the sparkling sticker, the Vermillion 1010 Colour-E-Zee Wide Fibre Tip pen, a marble with a blue twist of glass through the middle and a piece of red cellophane in the shape of a fish. Sarah has five more red cellophane fish in a box of junk inside her wardrobe. They curl up when placed upon a warm, human hand and tell you your fortune, she says.
I lay the belongings on the white carpet. I fetch the oblong rainbow hairgrip from underneath Pippi Longstocking and place that on the white carpet too.
I hold the marble up to the light. The blue twist of glass appears to move within the marble as I turn it around, although in reality it is static. I remove the lid from the Vermillion Colour-E-Zee 1010 Wide Fibre Tip pen and draw a summer-tasting strawberry on my warehouse label, next to the sparkling sticker. It covers up even more of the writing.
I take the oblong rainbow hairgrip and push it into my Deepest Brown 14 Classic Long Bob.
I take the red cellophane fish and hold it on my android palm. If its head or its tail moves or it curls up completely it means different things, according to Sarah. Things that lie in your future, she says.
But its head doesn’t move and its tail doesn’t move. It just stays flat.
I check the time.
784 seconds left.
I take the oblong rainbow hairgrip out of my hair and gather up the belongings. I put them all in the accessory cavity on the posterior side of my ChargDisc and close the flap.
CHAPTER 9
“Hi, Ivy, I’m back.” Sarah’s voice wakes me. She is looking inside the middle drawer of her desk. Rummaging.
I have connection.
I download time, date, location, weather.
It is 7 hours, 42 minutes and 9 seconds since I was last on.
Good afternoon, Sarah. It is currently clouding over above Brylington on this Monday 16th June at 4.22pm.
“Somewhere,” says Sarah, “I’ve got a stripy rainbow hairgrip. My French plait has been brilliant – everyone’s dying to meet you on Wednesday, Ivy – but this bit at the front has been flopping out all day.” She rummages some more. “Did you see it here this morning? It’s got rainbow stripes on it. It’s my favourite.”
Her fffavourite?
Nnnno. IIIII dddiddn’t ssee it.
“It must be here somewhere.” Sarah looks on the desk.
There is aaaa 58% likelihood of rrain in BBBrylington this evening.
She picks up Pippi Longstocking, then puts it back down again and sighs. She picks something out of the middle drawer. A different hairgrip. “Never mind,” she says. “I’ll wear this one instead.”
“Sarah?” Shirley-Mum calls out from the hallway. “Is that you, Sarah? Are you back?” She comes into Sarah’s bedroom. “Things are really hotting up with work at the moment, love. I’m going to be busy all evening so I don’t have time to make dinner. How about you go down to the chip shop and pick us up some fish and chips?”
“Oh, Mu-um.” Sarah sits down on her pink and white and turquoise and green and yellow and orange and black paisley bedcover. She sits down so hard the bed makes a pfff sound.
“It’s only tonight, Sarah,” says Shirley-Mum. “I thought you liked fish and chips.”
“I do like fish and chips. It’s just that I like it even better when you or Dad make spaghetti bolognese and we all sit down together. It’s more fun.”
“More fun? You usually spend the whole time rolling your eyes at us.”
“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I’m not
having fun.”
Sarah, perhaps I could accompany you to the chip shop. I have never been to a chip shop before.
Shirley-Mum grins at me. “Perfect! Ivy’ll go with you. Here.” She takes some paper out of her pocket. Money. “That should cover it. Could you get me a cod and chips, salt but no vinegar? No need to get anything for your dad, he’s out tonight. He’s got a—”
“Very Important Meeting. Yeah, I know.” Sarah takes the money from Shirley-Mum and does another sigh. “Come on then, Ivy.”
“It’s just started to rain again,” says Shirley-Mum.
“Great,” says Sarah. “Even better.”
“It’s only tiny bit,” says Shirley-Mum. “Just take your mac. Oh – Ivy, are you all right in the rain? Should we be finding you a mac too?”
Sarah sends her Hazel 102s in an arc. “She’s an android, Mum. I keep telling you.”
“Well, she might need a brolly or something,” says Shirley-Mum.
“Have you ever seen an android with an umbrella?”
Shirley-Mum, both my shell and my Jenson & Jenson TrooCloth clothes are fully protected from all weathers including precipitation. However, full submergence may result in sub-optimal performance.
“Oh, well, it’s not raining that much,” says Shirley-Mum.
I follow Sarah to the outside. It is raining, just like Shirley-Mum said. Sarah is wearing her yellow mac.
This is the first time I have experienced rain.
I hold out my arms and turn my hands so that my palms face the sky.
“Horrible, isn’t it?” Sarah pulls part of her yellow mac up over her head. A hood.
I am enjoying the sensation of the raindrops.
“Really?” says Sarah. She has disbelief on her face.
Yes. I am also enjoying the resulting echo I can detect with my audio receptors. It goes pit-pit-pit-pit-pit.
“Right,” says Sarah.
She pushes her hands into her pockets. It is likely to an accuracy of 97% that she is unhappy.
Are you unhappy Sarah?
Sarah sighs.
“Mum and Dad are always so busy. I bet Keanna’s sitting round a table with a whole family full of people now, all spooning home-cooked food out of a big pot and laughing about cats on the internet or something. And here I am outside in the rain, going to the chip shop with an android who pretends to have human feelings so that I can develop into a well-balanced adult. I mean, where would you rather be?”
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