by Paul Vayro
Chapter Twenty
“JUST OPEN THE DOOR”. Dandara returned to shouting as a method of communicating with the pubescent ship.
“Why can’t I come?” Spanish Counterpart replied. The dull echoic quality of his voice suggested he was locked in a room.
“Because you are a ship. We’re supposed to be blending in to the surroundings and we can’t do that if we’re being followed by a chunk of metal the size of most buildings."
“If you hate me you can just say it. I know it’s the truth anyway.”
“I hold no emotion for you whatsoever, good or bad. You are a functional object that gets me places quickly. Now please do one of your most basic tasks and open the door.”
“You never give me any credit. It’s a very complicated lock on that door you know. It’s hard work protecting you from the ravages of space.”
“If I say well done on the door will you just open it?” Dandara’s patience had surpassed thin and moved on to threadbare.
“You don’t know what that means to me. To finally be appreciated.” The voice emerged from behind its self imposed room. “Today is a wonderful day.” The craft's door opened with a hiss and a clunk. The two ladies strolled down the ramp, the ship calling after them.
“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”
“I don’t know why you even bother getting in to arguments with it. You know it just wants t bicker. You give it exactly what it wants.” Bettina offered her non constructive advice.
“I’d rather focus on the mission if it’s all the same to you.”
Bettina and Dandara stepped out on to an Earth in the twenty third century. They had landed upon Noel Hill. Walking down it they were quickly enveloped by row after row of high rise buildings, laser blue and sleek in nature. The windows merged in to the rest of the buildings making them appear to stand as single blocks of material. Puddleton had finally become the city it had meandered towards.
The roads were devoid of people or vehicles. The sense of life was weak, but not entirely absent.
“Humans haven’t died out have they?” Dandara posed a perfectly reasonable question. The future for humanity had always faced a bleak prediction.
“No. They’ve got a few millennia yet.” Bettina gazed up at the buildings. She liked tall things.
“So where is everyone?”
“They don’t come outside anymore.” A voice neither woman recognised forced them to turn and discover a thin screen on a pole. It had appeared from the ground. Its' twitchy back and forth movements suggested it had full mobility. “I say they. I actually mean most of they. There’s a few wandering around but they don’t see any use in us information posts anymore.” A sigh escaped its microphone followed by a hunching of its stanchion. Dandara was not in the mood for another machine trying to sway her emotions.
“What do you mean they don’t come out anymore? Why?” She ignored the cry for sympathy hoping it understood none would be forthcoming.
“I don’t know. I only have to live with the results. Used to be I never got a moment’s piece. Where’s this, where’s that, where can I get stamps, whe…”
“So what changed?” Dandara maintained her patience for one more question.
“Like I said, they just stopped. Less people around, less places open to be directed to. Everyone just stayed in. There’s a few people wander around to check everything works okay. They sometimes ask me questions just to keep me happy. I know they don’t really need to know where to go but an information post's got to take what it can in these lean times.” The angle of the screen suggested it would like a question, even out of sympathy. Dandara refused to give in and folded her arms. She stared upwards in thought instead. Bettina didn’t mind appeasing the machine and moved on to a more personal level of chat.
“So what do you all do all day? I’m guessing you’re not the only post.”
The screen perked up. “Well I always live in the fruitless hope that people will once more flood out on to the streets, but alas I spend each morn disappointed. I sometimes give guided tours of Puddleton to the leaves that blow by. The old fountain’s been in the square for nearly four hundred years don’t you know, but mainly I sit in the overgrown parks reading through the pamphlets in my database. Some days I help in the refuge centres for posts that have sought solace downloading corrupt files. I tell them it’ll lead to a crash, but they tell me I don’t understand. They hate the logical path data takes. They like to 'mess' with it. None of it satisfies my need to inform though. How can anything function without fulfilling its purpose?”
Bettina looked towards Dandara to see if she wanted to say anything. “I’ll only get annoyed if I speak right now.” Dandara declared her position.
“Would you do me a favour?” The post turned to Bettina. He sensed a co-operative soul. It was either that or ambivalence. He could never distinguish between the two.
“Ask me the favour then I’ll tell you if I’ll do it.” She wasn’t falling for that trick twice in a lifetime.
“Would you ask me a question about the surrounding area?”
“Well I was wondering about two things.”
“Oooh Oooh, ask me, ask me.” The post hopped giddily.
“I was wondering where the people that do still wander around spend their time? And where can we get a stiff drink?”
The screen's display changed to a satellite image of the surrounding area. Zooming in Dandara and Bettina could be seen talking to a post. “I believe you are looking for The Pub. It is here.” A building glowed red, a dotted line showed the route from themselves to it. It was only around the corner.
“Thank you very much. You’ve been extremely helpful.” Bettina motioned to pat the screen before realising it may be seen as patronising. She left it at verbal gratitude.
“No, thank you. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt genuinely helpful. It’s marvellous.” The post span with joy. “Wait until I tell post 923. He’ll be so jealous. La la la la la la…..” The post slid away, singing merrily. Dandara stared at Bettina’s smug smile. Bettina responded with a tongue firmly in her cheek.
“What? Just because I have a way with machines.”
“You pander to them and their fake personalities. You don’t know the first thing about them. You’re a technophobe. You still think a toaster’s clever.”
“I’m not a technophobe I’m just a traditionalist. And turning bread into toast without fire is a skill worthy of applause.”
“My point proved exactly.”
“Well I struggle to see how…..” The duo made their way to the pub. Fortunately it was only a brief stroll.