Categories: uncategorized
Date: 01 January 1970 00:59:59
I really love my sister.
She bought my son a robot. One of those "interactive virtual friends" which come accompanied with a 20-page instruction booklet obviously translated from the Japanese for mums to spend Christmas Day reading. (And no, I did NOT read aloud the bit that says they can be linked up to the internet!)
This robot proved to be simultaneously endearing and infuriating.... just like my sons, really! It joined in every conversation unbidden, burbling merrily away in robot language, and giggled every time I told the boys off (yes, more and more like my sons!) and my heart fell as I read that it had to be fed twice a day, have its teeth cleaned, be checked for viruses, be entertained.... although it was some compensation to discover that if you swung it round by the legs, it would go dizzy, but without throwing up on the carpet. It was apparently programmed to go to sleep at 9 pm and wake at 8 am, though nobody seemed to have told him that as he was still burbling away well after 10 on Christmas night!
Trouble is, after two days of me being irritated by the thing, Smudgelet brings it to me in distress "Mummy, why has it got a skeleton face on it?". AAAaaggggggghhhhh - the blasted thing is dying! I do all I can to administer first aid, but all in vain... the robot is dead! How do I tell Smudgelet? How do I reconcile my guilt at wanting the thing dead and gone now that I discover that it will no longer burble merrily at me?
Now comes the scary bit, mind. I had hidden the dead robot in my bedroom - out of sight, out of mind being the theory. 5.45 am and I am woken by inane giggling... this from a dead robot which is supposed to respond only to sound and motion, hidden in a cupboard in a silent bedroom. It giggled repeatedly every three minutes... but when I got up to check on it, there was no sign of life on its blank face. Aaaggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Am I going to be haunted by this creature for the rest of my days?