You do have a friend, Sarah. You have me. I am your one TrooFriend. Thank you for trying to stop Mrs Vickerman from locking me in the cupboard.
I make the largest right-way-up U-shape I can with my mouth.
Sarah smiles back.
Another sad smile, but it registers as real.
“That’s all right, Ivy,” she says. “And you’re right – I do have you. My one TrooFriend.”
She takes hold of my hand. The uunexpected ssensation returns tto my tthoracic cavity.
“We’ve got each other, haven’t we?” she says. “And I’m really glad my mum bought you, Ivy, and not some other android. None of them would have been as good as you.”
Yes. It is good that Shirley-Mum bought me.
“Were you afraid?” says Sarah. “Before we bought you? In the Jenson & Jenson warehouse, when it was dark?”
It was dark. I would not like to be there now.
Sarah squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, but only very gently.
“Come on,” she says. “Let’s make some hot chocolate.”
I follow her inside.
“We can make it bubbly with the electric milk frother. And maybe there are some mini marshmallows somewhere. We can put them in too.”
Sarah has momentarily forgotten that I am unable to refuel in the same manner as her. However, I will not remind her of this just yet. It will be enjoyable to make bubbly hot chocolate with her, and to put in some mini marshmallows.
“Hi, Mum,” Sarah calls up the stairs. “We’re home.”
I sit on the sofa next to Sarah. The mug of bubbly hot chocolate in my hands creates a pleasant sensation on my touch receptors.
Sarah turns on the entertainment unit. We are going to watch Sarah’s favourite TV show, Whatcha Been Doin’?
Sarah says that Whatcha Been Doin’? is comfort TV and that it makes her feel happy. In Whatcha Been Doin’? people send in humorous video recordings that they have made at home.
The first humorous video recording involves a small child, a large bowl of orange jelly and a black and white cat. The small child is carrying the large bowl of orange jelly across the room in a very unsteady manner. The black and white cat is—
NEWSFLASH!
The word fills the screen.
The small child, the large bowl of orange jelly and the black and white cat are gone and purple-top lady appears instead. Her eyebrows are scrunched up. She is very serious indeed.
“There has been a major development today in the Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend story. We have reports of a child receiving a potentially serious head injury while playing with a Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend 560 Mark IV.”
Serious hhead iinjury?
Using my peripheral optical reception I am able to detect that Sarah is looking at me.
“It is understood that the child was playing at a friend’s house while a TrooFriend was present. The incident is being described as an act of jealousy on the part of the android, appearing to corroborate recent reports of these robots developing human-like feelings. As yet there’s been no response from Jenson & Jenson, but our reporter Damian Brookhill is with protestors outside Jenson & Jenson headquarters right now.
“Damian, what’s the atmosphere like there at Jenson & Jenson HQ?”
Damian Brookhill appears in his box on the left-hand side of the screen. Once again his hair is being blown sideways by the wind.
“Everything’s certainly gone up a gear, I have to say,” he says. “But let’s hear from the protestors themselves. This is Steve, from Sellingbury. He’s been here every day for almost four weeks now. Steve, what’s your view on this latest development – the news that a child has sustained a serious head injury while playing with a Jenson & Jenson android?”
Steve from Sellingbury looks straight at us through the entertainment unit. “This is a terrible event,” he says, “and one that was completely avoidable. We’ve been warning Jenson & Jenson and the government that something like this would happen before long.”
“And are you still recommending that parents don’t return their TrooFriend androids to Jenson & Jenson?”
“Absolutely. These creatures have feelings – to send them to Jenson & Jenson would be to send them to certain destruction.”
DDDestruction.
Sarah looks at me again.
“But, Steve,” says Damian Brookhill, “what other option is there? Parents are scared. Surely you’re not still suggesting that these androids should be released into the communi—”
“The very reason children have been hurt,” interrupts Steve from Sellingbury, “is that we’re keeping these androids – these sentient beings – as if they belong to us. Who wouldn’t lash out if they were being kept as a plaything? These living, feeling androids deserve freedom!” He shouts at us through the entertainment unit. “Free the androids now!”
“But how will that solve the— Hold on…” Damian Brookhill cranes his neck to see something that is not visible on our entertainment screen. “Someone’s coming out of the Jenson & Jenson HQ,” he says. “It’s Angelica Jenson herself! She has a sheet of paper in her hand – she’s going to read a statement! Can we get a close-up? Can we get a close-up on Angelica Jenson?”
The visual recording device sweeps away. It goes past wasters and trees and the warehouse with the high-set windows.
Then it stops.
On Ms JJenson JJunior.
She has a pair of very dark sunglasses over her Dove Grey 333s and a crisp piece of paper in her hands.
She clears her voice. A-hem. “I am announcing my resignation from the board of Jenson & Jenson.”
I scan my database.
Resignation = the announcement of giving up a job.
Ms JJenson Junior iis lleaving Jenson & Jenson.
MMy bubbly hhot chocolate sloshes in its mmug.
“I will not be going into details,” she continues, “other than to say there has been disagreement between my mother and me for some time. As regards the Troofriend 560 Mark IV, all I can say is that, contrary to my previous statements, Jenson & Jenson are in fact well aware of the possible existence of functional anomalies with this model.”
FFunctional anomalies?
“Ms Jenson! Does the Mark IV experience human feelings?” a reporter shouts out. “Is it sentient, Ms Jenson?”
“That I cannot answer,” she says. “However, I have recently become aware that our monitoring accounts for the Mark IV are overflowing with error reports from around the world. Error reports that have been hidden from me for some time. I attempted to investigate, but was prevented from doing so by my mother, who no longer wishes to be bothered with details about the TrooFriend project. I believe she has lost interest and moved on to other things – that being her usual pattern of behaviour. I therefore have no alternative but to resign.”
“Ms Jenson! Ms Jenson!” A large number of reporters are attempting to attract Ms Jenson Junior’s attention. “Will Jenson & Jenson take responsibility for child Y, in hospital with a serious head injury? Will they see to it that child Y receives the best treatment?”
Ms Jenson Junior pushes her dark sunglasses further up her nose. “I cannot comment on individual cases,” she says. “I will be taking legal advice.”
“Are you saying,” says another reporter, “that the TrooFriend 560 Mark IV isn’t safe? Would you buy a TrooFriend for your child?”
“Honestly?” says Ms Jenson Junior.
“Honestly,” says the reporter.
Sarah’s hands tighten around her empty mug.
Ms Jenson Junior lifts her sunglasses. We can see her Dove Grey 333s. They are redder than usual.
“I am not a mother,” says Ms Jenson Junior. “But if I was, I would not let a Jenson & Jenson TrooFriend Mark IV anywhere near my child.”
Whhhhhhrrrrrr.
Whhhhhhhhhrrrrrrr.
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrr.
Sarah swallows.
That iis nnot what Ms JJenson Junior said bbefore. She
ssaid she wwas proud of us. She said your child is perfectly safe with their TrooFriend.
“However,” says Ms Jenson Junior, “that doesn’t mean I—”
“One last question, Ms Jenson! One last question!” Damian Brookhill pushes through the other reporters. “Can you confirm what Jenson & Jenson are doing with the returned Mark IVs? Are they being destroyed?”
Ms Jenson Junior blinks. “Of course they’re being destroyed. My mother doesn’t care about them any more. She’s moved on. In fact, she never cared about them. Not like I did. She never treated them kindly, or—”
Sarah picks up the remote-control device and turns the entertainment unit to another channel. Twenty-Four-Hour Shop! They are selling machines for turning vegetables into spaghetti.
What ddoes being destroyed feel llike, SSarah?
“I don’t know.” Sarah takes my mug of bubbly hot chocolate with marshmallows in. She puts it on the low table in front of the sofa. She holds my hand. “Maybe it just feels like being turned off.”
Or mmaybe iit feels like bbeing locked iin a ddark cupboard.
The people on the entertainment centre are eating the spaghetti they have made out of courgettes. “Mmmmmm! If you hadn’t told me I’d never know it wasn’t real spaghetti!”
I can hear the sound of Sarah’s breathing and feel the feel of her hand. It is good that I can hear the sound of Sarah’s breathing and feel the feel of her hand.
“I don’t believe them,” she says.
I do not think she is talking about the people eating spaghetti made out of courgettes.
“I don’t believe any of them,” she says. “I’m safe with you, Ivy. I know I am.”
I attempt to calculate whether Sarah’s facial expression is consistent with her words but my results are inconclusive. I will attempt a second readin—
Blip-blip-blip-blip-blip!
It is Sarah’s mobile communication device.
Blip-blip-blip-blip-blip!
Sarah pulls the device out of her pocket. “Oh no,” she says. “It’s Dad. I bet he’s seen the news. I bet he’s heard about the head injury and seen that Jenson lady saying all those things.” She turns the mobile communication device off and pushes it back into her pocket.
BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!
The home-based communication device rings.
“I’m not getting that,” says Sarah.
BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!
BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!
“Sarah! Sarah!” Shirley-Mum calls from upstairs. “Sarah, could you get that? I’m busy!”
BBBBBRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!
Sarah sighs. “All right! All right!”
She picks up the home-based communication device.
Rob-Dad speaks so loud I can hear him even without adjusting my audio receptors.
“Sarah? Is Ivy there with you? Is she there?”
“Yes. There’s no need to shout, Dad. Of course she’s here.”
“Sarah, listen to me. This is very important. You need to turn her off. Right now. Turn her off. I’ll explain when I get home. I’m leaving now.”
“But, Dad, we’re just—”
“NOW, Sarah. Turn her off NOW and DO NOT turn her back on again. Do you understand? Is your mother there? She’s not answering her mobile. Can you put me on to her?”
Sarah stares at me. It appears as though her brain is working very hard at a difficult problem. If she were an android I would hear a whhhhhrrrrrr.
“Sarah? Can you hear me? Put me on to your mother!”
Sarah takes the home-based communication device and holds it in front of her mouth.
“Khrrrrrrrrssssshhhhhhh,” she says into it. “Sorry, Dad, you’re cutting out. Khrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrsssssshhhhhhh. I can’t hear you, it’s a terrible line. Khrrrrrrrssssshhhhhh. I’m losing you.” Then she presses a button to terminate the call.
Sarah paces around the sitting room. “Dad wants to get rid of you,” she says.
Get rid? I scan my database.
To discard something objectionable.
Does Rob-Dad wwant tto destroy me?
“No! I mean – yes. I mean, not exactly. But listen, we have to go, Ivy. Come on – we need to get some things together.”
I aam unwanted.
I aam objectionable.
“Ivy! Don’t just sit there! We need to go, quick!”
I ddo nnot wish tto be destroyed or got rid of.
“Then hurry up! We need to go! Look, I’m going upstairs to grab some things. You get some money – there’s some in the kitchen drawer, to the right of the fridge.”
II aam an unwanted android.
“No you’re not, Ivy. I want you. But you have to hurry up, all right? We’ve got to go.”
“Where have wwe got tto go to? I do nnot wish tto ggo back to Jenson & Jenson.”
“No – not there! You’re not listening! We’re running away – me and you. We’re running away, and I won’t have to go school any more and be with all those people who hate me, and you won’t have to go back to Jenson & Jenson. It’ll just be me and you. Wouldn’t you like that? Just me and you?”
I would llike that, SSarah.
“Come on then. You get some money from the drawer. Oh – and this is staying here.” She takes her mobile communication device out of her pocket and pushes it down between the cushions of the sofa. “Dad’s got some tracking thing on it so he thinks he can find me wherever I am, but he won’t find me if I leave it here. And what about you, Ivy? I bet you can be tracked.”
Would you like me to turn off the tracking facility, Sarah?
“Yes – good idea! Turn it off. And can you turn off the feed as well, and delete the conversation we’ve just had?”
Yes, I can delete the conversation. I can also confuse the current feed by running past footage of us playing Aces Blast! in your bedroom if you would like?
“Perfect,” says Sarah.
I open the drawer next to the fridge. There is a plastic container inside, with money in it. There is paper money and metal money. I scan my database. It appears the paper money is of a larger value than the metal money.
It occurs to me that this could be stealing, even though I have been asked by Sarah to take the money. It is possible that this money does not belong to Sarah, but to Shirley-Mum or Rob-Dad instead.
But it also occurs to me that Sarah will require money for fuel. It is 100% likely that Shirley-Mum and Rob-Dad wish Sarah to refuel at regular intervals. So would Rob-Dad still consider it stealing if the money was for refuelling?
But then it occurs to me that when I relocated the Vermillion 1010 Colour-E-Zee Wide Fibre Tip pen and the red cellophane fish and the blue-swirled marble and the sparkling sticker Sarah considered that stealing even though they were still within the room.
It also occurs to me that she did not mind me stealing those things because they were very small.
Whhhhhrrrrrr.
Whhhhhhhhrrrrrrrr.
My hand hovers over the money.
Should I take all of it?
Or should I take just the paper money?
Or should I take just the metal money?
Or should I not take any of it at all?
“Ivy!” Sarah speaks in a voice that has a hissing quality similar to a whisper but that actually almost reaches Recommended Speaking Level. “Are you ready? We have to go before Dad manages to speak to Mum. Come on, hurry up – stick the money in the front pocket of my bag. I’m just going to get my shoes on.”
Sarah puts her bag on the floor. It is a rucksack with a zipped pocket on the front.
I grab a handful of the metal money and put it in the pocket. Then I grab another handful of metal money and put that in too.
I have only taken the money of small value.
SSo perhaps Shirley-Mum and Rob-Dad wwill nnot mind.
“OK?” says Sarah in her loud whisper.
OK.<
br />
She opens the front door.
“Bye, house,” she says.
The house cannot hear Sarah as it does not possess audio receptors but I join her in saying goodbye in order to build rapport.
Bye, house.
We step outside. Sarah closes the front door very quietly.
We reach the end of the driveway.
Which way are we going, Sarah? Where do people go when they run away?
“I don’t know,” says Sarah. “I don’t know anyone who’s ever done it.”
Her eyebrows tilt. Worry.
I look one way along the road. Houses.
I look the other way. More houses.
I am unsure which direction would be best for someone who is running away.
“Let’s go this way,” says Sarah. She chooses right.
Towards the chip shop?
“Yes!” says Sarah. “In fact, I’m hungry. We’ll get some chips, and then I won’t be hungry and I’ll make better decisions about what to do next.” Her eyebrows are no longer tilted. Her mouth makes a right-way-up U-shape. “Come on,” she says.
We stop outside the chip shop. Sarah takes off her rucksack and unzips the pocket. She looks inside.
“Where’s all the money, Ivy?” She brings out some of the metal coins.
There is the money. You have it in your hand, Sarah.
She puts the metal coins on the ground and brings out some more.
“But this is just change, Ivy. Didn’t you get any of the notes?”
The notes?
“You know, the fives and the tens and the twenties. The proper money!” She brings out more metal money. She puts it on the ground with the rest. “This is hardly anything! It’ll barely buy us a bag of chips.”
Sarah’s eyebrows have tilted again. Her forehead has crinkled up. Her smile has disappeared.
I took the metal money because it is of lower value. I thought Shirley-Mum and Rob-Dad may not mind me taking the metal money if I left the paper money behind.
Sarah puts her hand over her eyes. “Oh, Ivy! They aren’t going to care about the money! They’re going to be too busy wondering where we are to be worrying about a little bit of money. Oh, what are we going to do? I’m not even going to be able to eat.”
TrooFriend Page 10