Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 18

"'Coz," said the younger robotic guard, "I'd fink you'd have the-uh selfiebot on your person if it was to be-uh returned."

"Uh," repeated Will, before involuntarily holding his breath.

Miranda cried again, clutching her selfiebot like a stuffed toy. How could he concentrate if she didn't shut up?

"Oh," said Will, breathing once more, his mind finally ticking over, an air of confidence landing over his demeanour. "It's over there. With my daughter."

Bobb turned toward Miranda. Then back to Will.

Miranda was young, but Will wasn't exactly an old fart, so it was a stretch to think they could be related paternally. It almost seemed as if Bobb's immutable metal face was contorting with the strain of understanding.

"Teen pregnancy," said Will.

"Oh, awwight then," said Bobb, and rolled away.

These automated guards were just as stupid as human ones, thought Will.

"Wait," said Bobb, facing toward Will while his body kept rolling away.

Again Will held his breath.

"Wot exactly," said Bobb, needing to raise his voice, "is a, an' I quote, teen pregnancy?"

Will was happy to explain: "When a young mummy and a young daddy love each other very much..."

OK, so you might be able to tell he used some slightly alternative vernacular, of the kind much more fitting to his character. But this story is rated PG and I would never subject you to such explicit verbiage, let alone the accompanying uncouth contortions. You're very welcome. No, no, really, it was my pleasure. Well, if you insist: send your money orders to Narrator's personal yacht fund, c/o <insert publishing company here, please, editor>.

"Awwight," said Bobb, satisfied, picking up speed once more.

Will released a long breath of relaxation.

...until Bobb turned. Again. He was now thirty metres away. "An' wot, may I ask, is a teen?"

"I will explain at a la'er date," said Bob. "Now come along, come along, nothin' ta see here."

"Awwight," said Bobb, having to turn the corner before smashing into the far wall. He yelled, "Where we goin' next for our guardin'?"

Once is was clear the pair had gone, Will sauntered to Miranda. "Excuse me," he said, "I need to make a complaint."

Miranda clutched her selfiebot tighter.

"Now come on," said Will. "I need to make a complaint about your guards."

She stopped crying and looked up at him, perplexed.

"You're in charge here, right?" said Will.

"No," she said, seriously.

"Don't try to lie to me. You're clearly the one in charge of this whole factory. I can tell."

"I'm not. Weawy."

"Hmm," said Will, studying her face. "Are you sure you're not the boss?"

Miranda's face hinted at a smile. "I'm only a wittle girl," she said.

"It is a pretty good disguise," agreed Will.

Miranda grinned. "It's not!" she said. "My pawents are outside."

"Really? So what are you doing inside?"

"I have ta return tha selfa-bot."

"Ahh. And where do you have to return it to?"