The belongings are mine?
“Yes. But listen – we really mustn’t let Mum and Dad know about this. If they find out they’ll send you back to Jenson & Jenson and, well, you’d rather stay here, wouldn’t you? With me?”
Yes. I would rather stay here with you.
The front bit of Sarah’s hair keeps falling down in front of her Hazel 102s. I fetch the oblong rainbow hairgrip from the desk and put it in her hair.
Sarah?
“Yes?”
It is Bring Your Tech To School Day tomorrow.
“Yes. You’re still going to come, aren’t you?”
Yes. But could I wear a school uniform just like you?
Sarah smiles. “Why not, if that’s what you want. There won’t be any other androids wearing uniform though.”
That is OK. I do not wish to be like the other androids. I wish to be like you.
Sarah’s smile gets bigger. She puts a hand on her hair where the rainbow hairgrip is. “I’m glad you’ve got proper feelings, Ivy.” She does not say the word feelings out loud but once again I am able to use my proficiency in lip-reading to understand.
It is not possi—
“Maybe we can be real best friends now,” she says, “instead of pretend ones.”
RReal bbest ffriends.
RReal.
BBBest.
FFFFriends.
Sarah and I put the Vermillion 1010 Colour-E-Zee Wide Fibre Tip pen, the blue-twist marble, the red cellophane fish, and my warehouse label with the sparkling sticker and strawberry drawing on it back into the accessory cavity on the posterior side of my ChargDisc.
“Sarah?”
Someone is calling from the hallway.
“Are you ready for bed? I’m supposed to make sure you’re in bed by eight. School night and all that.”
Charlotte from next door.
“OK, OK,” says Sarah. “I’m just doing some stuff with Ivy.”
“Ivy? Is that your android?” Charlotte pushes the door approximately 5.3cm open. A wisp of Blaze Blonde 56 hair and one Soft Brown 131 eye is visible through the gap. The eye looks at me. It blinks.
“Yeah,” says Sarah. “D’you want to meet her? Come in if you like.”
“Er, no, you’re all right,” says Charlotte, still watching me with her one brown eye. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
She closes the door and returns to her revision.
“Better get ready for bed, I suppose,” says Sarah.
Sarah goes to the bathroom and I step on to my ChargDisc.
When Sarah returns she turns the bedside lamp to on and the synthetic turquoise polymer shell light to off. Then she removes her rainbow hairgrip and gets into bed. She wraps herself up in her pink and white and turquoise and green and yellow and orange and black paisley bedcover and rolls on to her side to face me.
“It’s amazing, really, when you think about it,” she says.
What is amazing when you think about it?
“It really did make you happy that I thought you were human-like, didn’t it? And you really did like the feel of the rain on your face. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
I can’t wait for tomorrow either.
Sarah reaches up and turns out the bedside lamp.
The room is dark, except for a very narrow slice of light coming in where the curtains don’t quite meet. The dark is like being back in the Jenson & Jenson warehouse when Ms Jenson Junior wasn’t there.
It was better when Ms Jenson Junior was there. She always brought light with her.
Sarah?
“Yes?”
You have forgotten to turn me off.
“I haven’t forgotten. I thought you might like to be left on, so you can timeout whenever you want to. It must be really annoying having other people turn you on and off all the time.”
I see. Thank you, Sarah.
Sarah yawns.
“Ivy?” she says.
Yes, Sarah?
“Can you delete what I just said from the feed? That stuff about your feelings being amazing and everything. And do that replacing thing you do?”
Yes. I can replace what you just said.
“Thanks, Ivy. Good night.”
Good night.
The slice of light between the curtains is very narrow indeed. It does not cast much light into the bedroom. The TrooFriend 560 Mark IV does not have an infrared facility built into its optical receptors and therefore it cannot receive optical input in the dark. Jenson & Jenson are planning to introduce an infrared facility with the TrooFriend 560 Mark V, which is due for production next year.
SSarah?
“Mmmmmm?” Sarah’s voice sounds sleepy.
IIt iis vvery ddark.
“Dark? Yeah. Mum put blackout lining in the curtains.”
The JJenson & Jenson warehouse wwas also vvery ddark.
There is a rustling sound from Sarah’s bed. My optical receptors can make out the outline of Sarah sitting up.
“Like in your drawing?”
YYes. JJust like that.
“Oh, Ivy, I’m sorry – you’re scared of the dark. I didn’t realise.”
The Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend 560 Mark IV cannot be scared in the same sense as a human ca—
Click.
Sarah turns on the bedside lamp. The soft glow fills the room.
“Is that better?” she says.
Yes. That is better. Thank you.
Sarah does another yawn.
“Night, Ivy. Sleep well.”
Night, Sarah.
I wait in the glow of the bedside lamp.
Sarah’s breathing slows and deepens.
After 1800 seconds, I time out into slee—
CHAPTER 16
“Ivy, it’s Wednesday.” Sarah’s voice wakes me. “Here, look, I got this out for you.”
I have connection.
I download time, date, location, weather.
It is 10 hours, 56 minutes and 42 seconds since I was last on.
Good Wednesday morning, Sarah. It looks like it is turning out to be quite fine in Brylington this 18th June at 7.35am.
Sarah has laid out some items of clothing on top of her pink and white and turquoise and green and yellow and orange and black paisley bedcover. There is a grey skirt, a white shirt, a red and white stripy tie and a navy-blue jumper. School uniform.
“Shall I help you get dressed?” she says.
Sarah helps me to remove my red corduroy-style skirt and rainbow T-shirt. Then she helps me to put on the school uniform.
I walk over to the mirror.
I look just like you, Sarah. Except I do not have the same Hazel 102 eye colour as you and my skin is darker and my hair is shorter and it is cut into a Stylish Asymmetric Bob. Apart from those things I look just like you.
“Sorry the tie’s a bit rubbish. It’s my spare one. It used to be my main one until I accidentally cut it in art. I was doing a collage.”
The cut is underneath my jumper. No one will notice.
“True,” says Sarah. She opens the middle drawer of her desk and takes out the oblong rainbow hairgrip. “Here,” she says. “You should borrow this too, just for today.” She fixes it into the front of my hair.
“Perfect,” she says.
Perfect.
“Let’s go and get some breakfast. And remember, Ivy – don’t say anything about you-know-what.”
You-know-what?
“Mum and Dad mustn’t find out,” Sarah carries on. “Especially Mum, or she’ll take you back to Jenson & Jenson.”
I lip-read the words she does not say out loud.
“And to be on the safe side, we shouldn’t let anyone at school know either. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re a perfectly normal android.”
I lip-read again.
I am a perfectly normal android, Sarah. I am a Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend 560 Mark IV. The Better Choice For Your Child.
“Brilliant,” says Sarah. “Come on.”
“M
orning, all.” Rob-Dad comes into the kitchen. “Good heavens. What have you done to Ivy? Why on earth is she wearing your school uniform? And what’s happened to her hair?”
“She has a new haircut,” says Sarah. “And you can speak to Ivy directly, you know. She is in the room. You’re being very rude.”
Rob-Dad wrinkles up his eyebrows. It is likely to an accuracy of 97% that he is confused.
“Um, yes, sure. Nice haircut, Ivy.”
Thank you, Rob-Dad. It is a Stylish Asymmetric Bob. It is not listed on the Jenson & Jenson standard style selection.
“Right,” says Rob-Dad.
“And she chose to wear the school uniform herself,” says Sarah. “It’s what she wants.” Sarah pours some tiny shapes into a bowl. I scan them. They consist of 58% sugar, 33% wheat, 5% salt and 4% assorted chemical substances.
“I can’t keep up with you, Sarah,” says Rob-Dad. “One minute you don’t even want to speak to Ivy and you’d rather have a dog, and the next you’re dressing her up and accusing me of being rude to her.” He shakes his head. “Kids.”
Rob-Dad turns on the digital radio device.
“Well, I’m actually here to appeal to parents with Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend androids – the Mark IV version.”
It is Alex from Shawhampton. Alex with the Rosy Red cheeks. Alex who wants to stop production now. I cannot see her Rosy Red cheeks on the radio but I can recognise the sound of her voice.
“Please DO NOT return your TrooFriends to Angelica Jenson and her corrupt organisation. If, as we believe, a number of these androids have developed human emotions, we cannot send them to certain destruction. If they have human feelings, they also have human rights.”
“But Alex,” says a different voice, “forgive me for interrupting, but do you know for sure that these androids will be destroyed by Jenson & Jenson?”
“I have it on very good authority that that is their plan. Jenson & Jenson are morally bankrupt. To destroy a sentient being that they have created as a result of their own questionable manufacturing standards is beyond the pale. DO NOT RETURN YOUR TROOFRIEND TO JENSON & JENSON.”
“Dotty lady.” Rob-Dad puts some of the tiny shapes into a bowl for himself. “Sentient being. What nonsense.” He pours milk into his bowl as well. “Don’t let your mother hear this, Sarah. It’ll only worry her.”
Sarah doesn’t reply. She keeps her head bent over her bowl. She scoops up a spoonful of shapes and puts them into her mouth.
“But, Alex, if parents out there are concerned for their children’s safety, what should they do? Although, I must stress here for those at home: there is no current evidence that these androids pose any danger to our children.”
“These androids should be free,” says Alex. “Just as any living, feeling creature should be free, unshackled by—”
“Morning, everyone!” Shirley-Mum comes into the kitchen.
Rob-Dad scrabbles for the digital radio device. He changes the channel.
“Welcome back to World’s KER-RAY-ZIEST Pets! Today it’s our monthly Budgerigar Special! First up is a recording of Pelly-One-Leg from Sedling-on-Sea! Pelly is a blue talking budgie belonging to—”
“Is it still only breakfast time?” says Shirley-Mum. “I’ve been up since five working on this project. Feels like halfway through the day already.”
A crackly recording of Pelly-One-Leg plays in the background. “Can’t you just put it in the dishwasher? Can’t you just put it in the dishwasher? Can’t you just put it in the dishwasher? Can’t you just put it in the dishwasher? Can’t you just put it in the dishwasher? Can’t you just put it in the—”
“Goodness!” Shirley-Mum stares at me. “What have you done to Ivy, Sarah?”
“Don’t ask, Shirl,” says Rob-Dad. “Trust me, just don’t ask.”
Shirley-Mum lifts her eyebrows up towards her hair.
Sarah arcs her Hazel 102s.
“Well,” says Shirley-Mum. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?”
Rob-Dad eats his last spoonful of shapes. He looks at his empty bowl. Then he takes it and puts it inside the single-function robot that is called the dishwasher.
“Hey, Sarah,” he says. “D’you want a lift to school? I’ve got a bit of free time this morning. We could listen to some music in the car. Whaddaya fancy? Eighties? Nineties? Noughties?”
“No thanks, Dad,” says Sarah. “I’m walking to school with Ivy this morning.”
“Oh,” says Rob-Dad. “Well, that’s OK, I suppose.”
“Come on, Ivy,” says Sarah. “We’d better finish getting ready.” She gets up from her chair, leaves her bowl on the table and goes out of the room.
I follow Sarah out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I am walking to school with Sarah. There are other people walking to school as well. It is easy to tell who is walking to school because they all have the same school uniform – grey trousers or skirts, white shirt, red and white stripy tie, and navy-blue jumper. Some people are wearing navy-blue jumpers that are open at the front. Cardigans.
But I am the only android wearing school uniform. I am also the only android with an oblong rainbow hairgrip in my hair.
Sarah?
“Mmmm?”
I have a concern.
“What about?”
My concern is over these lies they are saying about Ms Jenson Junior.
“Lies?”
They said that Ms Jenson Junior would destroy any TrooFriend 560 Mark IVs that are returned to her. This cannot be true. Ms Jenson Junior is proud of the TrooFriend 560 Mark IVs. It must be a lie.
Sarah looks at the ground while we walk. Perhaps she is thinking.
“Maybe it’s Ms Jenson Junior who’s lying,” she says.
Ms Jenson Junior would not lie.
“Everyone lies sometimes.”
I do not lie.
“You already have lied. You lied to Mum about what we did when we were in the river bed.”
II ddo not llie.
“Don’t worry about it, Ivy. It’s no big deal. It was just a little lie to help me out. It was kind of good, in a way. Lying’s not always bad.”
Whhrrrrrrrr.
Whhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Whhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Mmy circuits rrace.
We kkeep on walking.
What would it feel like, Sarah?
“What would what feel like?”
Being destroyed.
Sarah touches my arm. “I won’t let anyone destroy you, Ivy. I promise I won’t.”
I can feel the weight of her hand through the white school uniform shirt and the navy-blue school uniform jumper.
My circuits calm.
We keep on walking.
The school has gates. There is a large sign on the gates. It says Brylington Secondary Comprehensive – “an effective school”.
There are approximately 634 children around the gates, walking and chatting and tripping over and shouting and running and grumbling and reading and looking at their mobile communication devices and holding pieces of tech for Bring Your Tech To School Day. There are approximately 45 androids of varying sophistication, manufactured by a number of different companies. There is only one other Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend 560 Mark IV. He has a Faux-Hawk hairstyle in Lightest Best Blonde 65 and TrooBlue 001 optical receptors. They will have paid extra for the Faux-Hawk TrooHair. He is with a human boy who also has a Faux-Hawk hairstyle in Lightest Best Blonde but his eyes are not quite as blue as TrooBlue 001.
I smile at them.
They do not smile back.
“That’s Andre Simmons,” says Sarah in a voice below Recommended Speaking Level. “He’s in an older year so he won’t talk to us.”
Is that a rule?
I have been scanning my database about schools. It is clear that they have a large number of rules.
“Not exactly,” says Sarah. “Well, not one that’s written down anyway. Come on, let’s get to tutor.”
As predicted by
Sarah, all the people in her tutor group wish to speak with me. They also wish to touch me.
“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Can you feel it if I do that?”
“What does it do?”
“How much did it cost?”
“What’s your name?”
“My dad says there’s a bunch of you going mad and killing kids. Are you going to kill us?”
“What happens if I pull its hair?”
“Hello? Hello? Can you see me?
“What about pain – does it feel pain?”
“Why’s it got school uniform on? None of the others have got school uniform on.”
“Hey, robot-brain, what’s six billion thousand times five hundred and twelve divided by nine?
I attempt to remain upright and answer any direct questions while I am being prodded and poked and pulled and tapped.
Yes, I can hear you.
Yes, I can feel it if you do that.
My name is Ivy.
Killing you is not on today’s timetable.
Yes, I can see you.
Six billion thousand is not technically a number but if you mean six thousand billion then the answer would be—
“One at a time! One! At! A! Time!” Mr Franklin is Sarah’s tutor. He speaks in a voice that is so far above Recommended Speaking Level that I have to decrease the volume of my internal audio receptors.
“It is wonderful that Sarah has brought in her TrooFriend to meet us,” he shouts, “but please form an orderly queue or I will be calling her parents to come and take it straight back home again. Understood?”
The children shuffle themselves into a queue. I begin to answer their questions one at a time.
Felicity Patton is in the same tutor group as Sarah. I know it is Felicity Patton because she is sitting at a desk with the latest virtual-reality headset from VR Universe, the MeeReel. No one wishes to look at it. They are all queuing up to speak to me.
Felicity Patton does not join the queue. Instead, she leaves the MeeReel on her desk and walks over to Sarah. She says something to her which my audio receptors do not pick up due to the large amount of background chatter in the room. Both of them laugh. Then Felicity hooks her arm through Sarah’s and Sarah brings her to the front of the queue.
“Ivy, this is my friend, Felicity,” says Sarah, even though it is not Felicity’s turn to speak to me. “And Felicity, this is my TrooFriend, Ivy.”
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