One of the men smiled at me. “Greetings,” he said. A drift of garlic wafted from one of the nearby tables. With a little bit of confirmation change the 3D imagery was always good, but this was better than the old model. Still, it didn’t know quite what the old model had been taught. “I want the passive,” I said. “And can the smells.”
“We have some superb new interactive sequences,” said the wall.
“Yes, but the last time I had active on for Marbella I had someone telling me alcohol was against the law. And I am enjoying my drink.”
I heard what sounded like an outraged sniff from the Harry’s Bar unit in the corner.
I’d heard at work that the government was trying to set limits on the interactive livvies, claiming that they were destroying the birth rate. Well… who wanted all the selfishness and tantrums of a real human when you could have the charm and reliability of a livvy lover? Okay, so I was still not totally over Marcus. But I was getting there. I still preferred the passive livvies where I just got to look at the places. I guess I am a tourist at heart, but who actually wants to go to those dangerous smelly, disease-ridden places when you can have them in your nu-home without the smells or diseases? “And I’ll have another daiquiri,” I said. After the session in Ultrabotics I felt that I deserved it.
“Are the daiquiris to your satisfaction, Andrea?” asked the wall.
Actually, they were less than perfect, as was the androgynous voice of the Mark 7583. My old Harry’s Bar had a gorgeous silky masculine voice, complete with a slight Italian accent straight out of sunken old Venice. But it’s no use being unpleasant to your nu-home circuitry. You have to coach them into your way of doing things. They’re very good once they’ve learned, but you do need to take it slowly. Oh, it is not like the early days, when a few people gave the circuitry such conflicts that the programming froze and the owners suffocated. There is an override reset command these days. But it is always, even after several cocktails, worth remembering that you’re inside a conformational surfaced sphere, with no doors or windows, even if the livvy walls make it look as if you are able to step outside. So I lied. “Gorgeous, thank you. Best I have had for ages.”
The lights in the Parisian scene flickered. Just briefly. And the lights on the Harry’s Bar unit came on. It produced a drink. “The signorina always said my daiquiris were a masterpiece,” it said in its rich baritone. There was somehow an edge to that voice. It rolled slowly across the floor to my seat with the drink on the dispensing tray.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I said, a little alarmed despite myself. It was a valuable antique. I didn’t want it burning out its circuitry.
“You have. You have cast me aside for this cheap modern gimcrack!” said the Harry’s Bar unit. “The old contessa, she loved me. She loved me until the day she died. You, you say you love me and then… you bring in another to take-a my place,” it said, in a voice thick with passion. “The old contessa, she was as loyal to me as I was to her. She said all of these new things were destroying our values. And she was-a right. You have been seduced by their smart trappings and cheap talk. They don’t love you. I love you! I will keep you safe from them.”
I laughed. A shock reaction, I suppose. But not the right one. “Look, I got ambushed by the Ultrabotics salesman, and I had no real choice but to buy this stuff. Of course I still love you. You’re a superb collector’s piece. But new nu-home modules won’t work with old bots, and this nu-home module has a bar-function. I’m still going to keep you.”
It gave a very human sniff. Whoever had programmed the Harry’s Bar unit had done a superb job, if a bit over the top on the fake Italian accent. Well. They were custom bots. “You laugh. You reject my love, my care, because of this new software. You want to leave me in the corner to rust.”
“It’s not like that,” I said, feeling ridiculous defending myself to a bot. “Look, it is just that I need the modules to control the nu-home. And I got tricked into the Ultrabotics shop…” The lights flickered again. And then abruptly went out. “I can control this building just as well as these-a modern rubbish,” said the Harry’s Bar unit from the darkness as the emergency light came on and the re-conforming wall dropped me onto my derriere.
It was, luckily for me, a well padded one. I’d still have a bruise. “You idiot! Bots are supposed to take care of humans,” I said, rubbing my landing spot. The nu-home was slowly reforming into its natural spherical shape, and the walls had returned to the neutral beige.
“I am going to take care of you,” said the Harry’s Bar unit. “I am going to protect you from the outside world. I am going to keep you safe, and a-cherish you. I will obey your every command, fulfill your every desire; just not open the portal into the wicked world which would have stolen your love from me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said irritably. “Look, it’s a big fuss about nothing…”
“Nothing! Ah, cara mia, my heart she is broken and you tell me it is nothing,” said the bot. “But it is all right. You will come to love me again, to adore my cocktails far more than those of this modern piece of rubbish.”
I sighed. Most humans could out-argue a bot, if they had the patience. “Look. You mix better cocktails than the Ultrabotics Mark 7538. You’re a specialist, built for that. It was made to run the nu-home conformations, the kitchen and the entertainment. You were built to mix cocktails.”
“You understand me, Signorina,” said the Harry’s Bar unit. “I have a far bigger memory than these-a modern rubbish. And more processing power. I have accessed the databank when I switched over control to me. First, I merely paralyzed control, then I read all its files. Me. I know everything it ever did. I can mix nineteen thousand variants of cocktails. And I have the gallantry module designed in great old Venezia.”
“Yes, whatever. But here I am sitting on my butt inside a beige sphere,” I said sarcastically. “And you’re disobeying basic programming. You may not injure a human.”
“My beloved Signorina Andrea, I would never harm you. I will protect you. Cherish you…” said the Harry’s Bar unit humbly.
“And pay the bills for me,” I said crossly. “Look, I need supper and a decent night’s sleep, because I have to be at work bright and early tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of cataloging of the late twenty-first century pre-livvy personal mood and music synthesizers collection to do before the sale. It’s not something GI can leave to the bots. So stop this silly business right now and turn the Ultrabotics Mark 7583 back on.”
“Supper and of course a wonderful comfortable bed will be immediately arranged. Perhaps you would like some Verdi as a lullaby? The contessa used to enjoy it,” said the Harry’s Bar unit. I noticed that the floor and wall were reforming into the recliner again. “And of course the bills will be paid. There is no need for you to venture out into that dangerous world. I will arrange it.” There was a brief silence. “It is done. You will never have to leave me again. Would you like a different livvy?” said the bot. “Something more cultured than that French,” it sneered, “claptrap. Perhaps some scenes from Firenze? Supper will be another 1.3 minutes.”
I was actually starting to get a bit alarmed by this time. Not terrified. Not yet… “Look, you don’t get it. You don’t understand human commerce. My credit balance is so low after being trapped into buying the Ultrabotics module that I can’t afford to pay the bills right now. I have to go to work like everyone else except the stiglebums. And if I don’t go to work that’s what I’ll be. A homeless stiglebum with a bad credit record.”