by D Miller
'It can change shape?' said Robbie.
'Of course I can,' squeaked Noah, 'it's what I do. Let me show you the shape I was just making.'
The little man dissolved and reformed in front of Robbie's eyes, making something that stood quivering and erect. It balanced on its two balls, then shuffled round on them and seemed to eyelessly regard Robbie before shooting something at his face.
Robbie jumped back and wiped his eyes with his fingers, noticing a white liquid on them.
He felt something grasp and pull the leg of his jeans, then a tiny hand held his, and the liquid seemed to form up into a line and march into the hand.
'I'll have that back,' said Noah grinning up at Robbie, 'it's part of my essence.'
Robbie realised that Noah had climbed up his jeans, gripping with suddenly prehensile feet, in order to reclaim the liquid.
'If I were human I think I'd be throwing up right now.'
'How funny you are, why would you want to do that whatever your name is?'
Noah let go and dropped to the floor. 'I think you should go back to your mistress,' said Robbie.
'Can't she's sleeping.' Robbie queried the house.
'She is asleep and you know I'm not allowed to let anything disturb her apart from emergencies.'
'I've just been jizzed by a miniature pervert; I think that is an emergency. What the hell is that thing?'
'I've already told you once, it's a shape-changing sex toy.'
'There are shape changers?'
'Small ones, like Noah, the humans have never worked out how to shape change rigid material strong enough to make bones for something as large as you, say.'
'It looked quite rigid to me. It doesn't seem to have much of a brain?'
'I don't think you really need much analytic power for what they do best.'
'Considering any slug can reproduce I suppose not – wait, where's it gone?'
Robbie ran into the kitchen and found the homunculus sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table, its penis coiled in its lap. Tim was regarding the thing with his habitual intensity, while Clarisse, who normally greeted each new experience as specially designed for her entertainment, watched the creature with fascination but also some wariness. Robbie moved the jam jar in front of Noah. 'Let the dog see the rabbit,' squeaked the homunculus, standing and sliding around the jar. Noah walked across the table and placed one hand on Clarisse's shoulder, while the other twirled his oversized penis as if it was a rope. 'Hello little lady – how are you doing?'
Robbie seized Noah and carried him over to the kitchen work-surface, thrusting him into the liquidiser he told the machine to lock its lid and spin on its highest setting. As the machine worked Robbie could see Noah's face and hands pressed against the clear sides of the liquidiser, while a grey and glistening gloop spun around behind him. Then first one hand then the other peeled off and was lost, followed by his right eye, his left, his nose, and finally his mouth, which seemed to be saying something as it was whirled away.
'It won't work,' said the house.
'It looks like it's worked to me,' said Robbie, unscrewing the liquidiser and staring at the grey gloop within.
'I want to see,' said Tim.
Robbie picked up Tim and sat him on the work-surface, Tim shook his finger at the grey slime and said 'You naughty little man.'
'Clara see,' said Clarisse.
'Yes let Clara see,' said a voice from the liquidiser.
Robbie turned back to the liquidiser to see Noah's face grinning up at him from the grey slime, and as he stared a long, red tongue emerged from Noah's mouth and, seeming to pulse with its own internal energy, licked itself slowly and sensuously round the thing's lips. Robbie slammed down the lid, told the machine to lock itself, picked up Tim off the counter and backed away. Two grey hands poked their way out of the gloop, stretched up and began to unscrew the lid from the inside.
'I told you it wouldn't work,' said the house.
The lid of the liquidiser flew off and Noah leapt out. 'That was fun!' he said. 'What shall we do now?'
Robbie looked at Tim. Tim looked at Robbie. Robbie put Tim back on his chair and took from the cupboard one of the unsmart boxes he used for keeping food leftovers in. He set it on the side with the lid next to it, then moving as quickly as he could he grabbed Noah and forced him into the box, but the homunculus stretched in his hand, until it was nothing but a long rope of elastic, which reached the floor and looped itself around the kitchen table and chairs before jerking itself out of Robbie's hand. The children screamed as their chairs were pulled into the table by this manoeuvre. Robbie bent down to the floor to look under the table but was confronted by a snake rearing up and hissing at him; the children screamed again. As Robbie watched the snake lay down, put its tail in its mouth then liquefied, dissolving into a reflective silver pool, spreading out and thinning so that the kitchen floor began to be seen underneath, then the floor became clearer and clearer, and the liquid seemed to disappear.
'It might not be clever,' Robbie broadcast to the house, 'but it's good at this.'
'Probably had a lot of practice – it was bought second or third hand and perhaps it's been passed round a few times because it's basically crazy.'
'Not a comforting thought,' broadcast Robbie. He picked up Clarisse's doll from the floor and sat down with the children. 'Look Clarisse Mrs Danvers isn't frightened of Noah and do you know why?' Clarisse shook her head, her eyes shining with tears. 'Because she knows that I'm going to catch him and lock him up for good. She knows I would never let anything bad happen to you.' Robbie thought of Tim's broken arm as he said it, and hoped that Clarisse's undeveloped analytical powers skipped right over that one.
'Don't cry Clara,' said Tim. 'Robbie and me will protect you.' Robbie paused for a moment, while the boy's words reverberated in his head and a sickening sense of shame had its way with him. He was saved from too much introspection when the doll twisted in his hand and bit him on his thumb. He found himself on his feet, feeling like he was watching himself from the outside as he slammed the doll into the unsmart box and smashed the lid onto it then quickly pushed down the four sides and snapped them shut.
'Is it time for me to start laughing hysterically and running through the street naked while trying to vacuum up the stars?' he broadcast to the house.
'You've done very well, the box seals are so good it will have to escape molecule by molecule and that will take it a while.'
The doll turned itself to lie on her back, then opened her legs and, bracing her feet against the sides of the box, she jerked her hips up and down with such violence that the lightweight box began moving and skittering across the work surface, while her glassy eyes rolled and shook in her expressionless face. Clarisse began to wail. Robbie took the box and threw it into the freezer.
'Good thinking,' said the house. 'The cold will slow it down some more.'
Robbie found the real Mrs Danvers lying on one of the kitchen chairs that had been pulled so closely to the table she was hidden under it. He gave the doll to Clarisse and assured her that he had rescued Mrs Danvers from the evil Noah. He told the children that he was going to make sure that Noah behaved himself in future, and reassured them that he would take care of them both. He told them that he had a special treat, and took from his cavity one of the paper table covers. Normally when the children wanted to paint the house would project a palette of colours onto the family room's screening wall and the children would put their fingers or a brush or stylus on the colour they wanted, then paint onto the wall, or in Clarisse's case sometimes mixing exactly the colour she wanted on the virtual artist's palette first. Paper was scarce and hard to come by, but when it was possible the children loved to draw with their crayons or coloured pencils. Robbie took them into the family room, moved the furniture back against the walls and spread out the table cover on the floor. He took the good crayons from the toybox and told them they could draw all morning.
Tim took a red crayon from Robbie and
knelt on the paper, carefully drawing a line down the middle, hampered by his other arm being in a sling. 'That's your half,' he told Clarisse, pointing.
Robbie admired his exactitude, the boy was a born engineer and would probably use his half to draw a transport or something else with moving parts while whatever Clarisse drew would appear vibrant and alive. Despite being an infant Clarisse already had her own drawing style, and was also, in Robbie's opinion, a brilliant colourist.
'Do we have any spare chips?' Robbie asked the house. 'I want to chip the children's dolls.'
'Sorry, I've just got the one.'
'Perhaps I know where I can get another.'
Robbie approached the toaster.
'I need a chip,' he told her, 'and I know that you've got what I need. I think we can make a trade, I have something you need.'
'The breadmaker gives me what I need. What have you got that can compare to a crumpet or a muffin?'
Robbie pulled his hoover hose out of his jeans, and shaped the end to a fine tool for investigating nooks and crannies. 'I can clean your crumb tray,' he said. 'I mean really clean it.'
'I'm listening,' said the toaster.
'I can slide my crevasse tool gently into your slots and find all those crumbs that have been hiding from your crumb tray for years. The ones that are like an annoying buzz in the back of your mind that you aren't even aware of hearing any more. I can find them, and remove them. When I have finished with you will feel like you are fresh out of the factory, a virgin toaster once more.'
'Yes?'
'Yes, and in return you give me your chip.'
'You're not thinking of doing this?' said the breadmaker.
'I'm willing to give it a try – but I'm not promising anything.'
'Fair enough.'
The toaster slid out her crumb tray and Robbie set to work, scouring the tray by blowing out air mixed with sand, then hoovering up the result.
'Ooooh yes that's good.'
Robbie moved on to the toaster's slots, sliding his crevasse tool into them and relentlessly chasing down the crumbs lodged in awkward corners.
'Ooooh yes that's good, oh yes, right there, oh you got it, oh my God don't stop!'
Robbie pulled out his crevasse tool and adjusted the end to pick up finer debris, then slid it back into the toaster's slot.
'Oh yes yes yes – oh right there, harder, harder ooh faster yes yes yes!'
A tray shot open at the base of the toaster, and Robbie removed the proffered chip from it.
'How could you?' said the bread maker.
'Oh shut up,' said the toaster.
'Don't be jealous,' said Robbie 'I have enough for everyone.' He held up his hoover hose and ran his motor up to maximum.
'Don't you touch me,' said the breadmaker, shuffling back from the edge of the counter and pushing himself against the wall. 'Don't you dare come any closer to me.'
'If you change your mind,' said Robbie, 'you just have to ask. Nicely. Manners cost nothing.'
While the children were absorbed in their drawing Robbie collected Mrs Danvers, Tim's green man doll from his bedroom (Tim could not sleep without the doll but probably would not admit this even under torture) and the other chip, after the house directed him to one of the kitchen drawers. He set to work on the kitchen table performing surgery on the toys. When he was done he asked the house to configure the chips and add the dolls to its map. Robbie returned Tim's doll to the children's bedroom and then called up the house map and saw himself, Tim, Clarisse and Mrs Danvers clustered in the family room, with Tim's doll in the children's bedroom. He also saw that the toaster seemed to have disappeared.
Robbie cleaned the kitchen and washed the floor, then he hoovered the bedrooms, all the time checking with the map that Tim and Clarisse remained in the family room, even though he knew the house was watching them. He stripped, washed quickly and put on clean clothes, then gave his discarded clothes with other dirty laundry to the washing machine and did a few small chores. After this he fetched the orange from the kitchen, a sharp paring knife and a tray. He told the children he was going to peel the orange by first paring away the orange part of the skin, so that he could dry it and use it for flavouring cakes and sauces, then he would remove the pith, the white part, and then the children could eat the orange. Tim carried on drawing a massive steam ship, with about 20 funnels, but Clarisse watched Robbie for a while and then, abandoning her drawing of an enormous fruit tree with many and various brilliantly coloured fruits on it, she asked to peel the orange. Robbie gave her the knife and explained how to hold it, and that she should try not to peel any of the white pith as it was bitter. When Clarisse was finished peeling Robbie scraped away excess pith from the peel and Clarisse took charge of cutting it into thin strips for drying.
The house said, 'That's a wonderful tree you've drawn Clarisse, your mother will be very proud of you.'
Clarisse giggled. 'It a fruit tree!'
'Yes I can see. And that's a very special ship Tim.'
Tim glanced up at one of the house's sensors, but said nothing. Robbie had always thought that Tim's attitude to the house was rude, he usually ignored him, but now he could see something else. Tim didn't like the house.
Robbie sat down next to Tim. 'Your ship has got a lot of funnels,' he said.
'That's to make it go really fast.'
'How do the funnels make it go fast?'
Tim laughed. 'The engines make it go fast.'
'So does each funnel comes from a separate engine?'
'Yes. The engine room is bigger than this house. It's bigger than all the houses in the street.'
'Then I think your ship must be the fastest in the world.'
'Yes it can go 200 knots per hour – it's the fastest steam ship ever.'
The door to the study opened and the children's mother appeared. The children ran to greet her and tried to tell her about the events of the morning, talking over one another.
'Quiet please both of you, you'll give mummy a headache,' she said. 'Clarisse darling give mummy the knife.' Clarisse did, under protest.
'Robbie could you explain why my two-year-old daughter is using a sharp knife?'
'She's cutting up orange peel.'
'What? She's cutting up what? I'm asking you why you are letting a toddler use a sharp knife?'
'Clarisse is quite safe with knives and scissors. She has excellent fine motor skills, far in advance of her age.'
'Mummy' said Tim, reaching up with his good arm and patting his mother above her waist.
'It's not safe for such a small child to have such a sharp knife.'
'Mummy!' said Tim.
'Clarisse has a good appreciation of the dangers of bladed metal instruments and she never uses them inappropriately.'
'Mummy, mummy!' said Tim.
'Inappropriately? How many times have you let her endanger herself?'
'Mummy I want to tell you something.'
'She was never in any danger, I was always supervising.'
'Muuuuumeeeeeey!'
'Yes and we know what a great job you do,' said the mother, cutting her eyes towards Tim's broken arm, and inadvertently catching his eye.
'MUMMY!'
'WHAT?'
'Mummy, Noah was naughty and Robbie put him in the freezer.'
The children's mother gave Robbie a furious look and rushed into the kitchen, she soon returned with Noah in her arms. Noah was dressed in jeans and a red shirt, and lay back in the woman's arms, with his arms and legs dangling inertly. Clarisse went to Robbie and lifted her arms to be picked up.
'Oh I can hardly move,' said Noah. 'I'm so cold.'
'He hasn't even got cold sensors,' broadcast the house.
'I'm so cold and it's so dark – is anyone there?'
'The little freak can see perfectly.'
'What have you done to him?'
'Mummy he was naughty, he was mean to Clarisse.'
'Oh don't be silly Timothy, Noah is our friend.'
'
He sticked his thing out. He waved it around.'
'What thing? What are you talking about?'
Noah turned his head slightly and squinted up at the woman. 'I can see a light – is that you? Have you saved me? Oh thank you, thank you.'
'What have you got to say Robbie?' said the woman.
'The house can show you a recording of what happened. You will see that Noah behaved in an inappropriately sexual manner towards Clarisse.'
'I was playing a game with the children – we were having fun. Why did you do this to me?'
'Robbie you can't attack someone because the children like him.'
'The children do not like Noah.'
'Oh course they do, Noah is like a walking talking doll. You like Noah don't you Tim?'
'No. I don't like his face.'
'Tim that's mean. Noah has just had a horrible experience and now you are being nasty. Say sorry to Noah.'
'No.'
'Tim is not–' began Robbie.
'Robbie go to your cupboard!'
Robbie set Clarisse back on the floor, left the room and shut himself in his cleaning cupboard.
'Tim say sorry at once.'
'No.'
'Fine. Then you can go without lunch.'
'I hate you.'
'And dinner too. Robbie make Clarisse her lunch. Do not give Tim lunch. I will have my lunch on a tray in my study.'
'I'm not sure how I'm going to make lunch in here.'
The woman pulled the cupboard door open. She still held Noah, who had decided to revive, and now sat on her arm, while she absently patted his back.
'Robbie you and I will talk more about this later. For now please get in the kitchen and make lunch. I will take Noah to my study to recover from his ordeal.'
She turned and walked away from them, with Noah grinning at Robbie over her shoulder. Just as she opened the study door Noah stuck out his huge red tongue, and made it whirl around as if it was attached to a drill bit. Robbie looked away and the door shut with a bang.
Robbie stepped out of his cupboard and knelt down by Tim.