scrolls he finds line after rhyming line inside his head. Augustus was a chubby lad. Fat ruddy cheeks Augustus had. When the door squeezed her flat she replied, what of that? That courageous young lady of Norway.
My head is full of poems from fifty years ago, things I haven’t thought for years and didn’t even know I still knew, he says to Miles.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Miles says sitting down across from him.
I know that one, Hugo’s wife Caroline says. Hello Mark. I’m glad they’ve put me next to you.
Did google twitter in the blog, Miles says.
Yes, Caroline says. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how very visionary he was. Imagine inventing all those words, words we use every day now. Brilliant.
She holds her full glass of white up for clinking.
To you, she says. And to—Miles, was it?
It was and is, Miles says.
I’m glad. How long have you two been together? she says.
About three and a half hours last Saturday and (glancing down at his watch) twenty minutes tonight, Miles says. Oh no, we stayed and had a drink last Saturday too. Four and a half.
We’re not actually what you’d call together, Mark says.
Oh, she says.
She puts down her glass. She looks a little affronted.
Everybody is sitting down now except the woman whose house it is, Jan. Mark goes round the table naming everybody to himself. Start with Caroline on his right, then Hugo, uh, Hannah the blonde, then Miles. Then, is it Eric, the grey man? then Bernice, then the child, then the space where Jan will sit, then Terence, then directly on Mark’s left what’s his name, reedy man, microdrone, Richard.
Richard is the person Mark most hoped he wouldn’t be put beside, apart from Caroline obviously (duh). Through in the sitting room, all through drinks, Richard had talked about his job.
Well, it’s police we’re doing the main selling to at the moment, he said. Though we’re pretty much open to bona fide offers from anywhere.
Loves his work, Rich, Hugo said.
What’s not to love? This thing markets itself, Richard said. Hardly like work at all.
What’s a microdrone? Bernice had said.
Richard then described the versatile smallness, the engine size, the battery voltage, the weight that means they’re not illegal and don’t need clearance from Civil Aviation, the adaptability, the camera type, the HD quality, the facial recognition range (fifty-five yard), the mph (fifteen, in this particular model, though others are even more phenomenally nippy), the flying range (five hundred yard), the flying time (thirty-minute, we’re working on that), the relative silence, the way they can be operated from inside a van or even in some cases from home, the training time (fifteen-minute) involved for the first-time user, and the way that even if some yob wings them with an air rifle they’ll still function pretty well all said and done.
What he hasn’t said is how cute they are, Richard’s partner Hannah said. I want one for our boys. Like little toys.
Actually classed as toys, Richard said. Which is why they don’t need clearance. Fantastic for football matches, protest meetings, you name it.
And then there’s Project Anubis, eh, Rich? Hugo said.
Yes, Richard said, well, no point in being naïve about it, it’s a nasty old world out there and it strikes me all sensible people will feel the same way as I do about it and if they don’t they ought to. And what I always say is, what a relief it’ll be when it comes to conflict, combat, and it’s robots who’ll do the work and so on. Efficiency is one fantastic thing, but the psychological liberation is a whole other massively important knock-on effect. To kill without actually having to. Hand to hand combat, gone in the wink of an eye.
I don’t understand, Terence said.
I always think when we have this conversation, and we have it every time we all have supper together, Hugo said, that it’d be a lot more useful if our great minds were put to the task of sorting our
My head is full of poems from fifty years ago, things I haven’t thought for years and didn’t even know I still knew, he says to Miles.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves, Miles says sitting down across from him.
I know that one, Hugo’s wife Caroline says. Hello Mark. I’m glad they’ve put me next to you.
Did google twitter in the blog, Miles says.
Yes, Caroline says. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how very visionary he was. Imagine inventing all those words, words we use every day now. Brilliant.
She holds her full glass of white up for clinking.
To you, she says. And to—Miles, was it?
It was and is, Miles says.
I’m glad. How long have you two been together? she says.
About three and a half hours last Saturday and (glancing down at his watch) twenty minutes tonight, Miles says. Oh no, we stayed and had a drink last Saturday too. Four and a half.
We’re not actually what you’d call together, Mark says.
Oh, she says.
She puts down her glass. She looks a little affronted.
Everybody is sitting down now except the woman whose house it is, Jan. Mark goes round the table naming everybody to himself. Start with Caroline on his right, then Hugo, uh, Hannah the blonde, then Miles. Then, is it Eric, the grey man? then Bernice, then the child, then the space where Jan will sit, then Terence, then directly on Mark’s left what’s his name, reedy man, microdrone, Richard.
Richard is the person Mark most hoped he wouldn’t be put beside, apart from Caroline obviously (duh). Through in the sitting room, all through drinks, Richard had talked about his job.
Well, it’s police we’re doing the main selling to at the moment, he said. Though we’re pretty much open to bona fide offers from anywhere.
Loves his work, Rich, Hugo said.
What’s not to love? This thing markets itself, Richard said. Hardly like work at all.
What’s a microdrone? Bernice had said.
Richard then described the versatile smallness, the engine size, the battery voltage, the weight that means they’re not illegal and don’t need clearance from Civil Aviation, the adaptability, the camera type, the HD quality, the facial recognition range (fifty-five yard), the mph (fifteen, in this particular model, though others are even more phenomenally nippy), the flying range (five hundred yard), the flying time (thirty-minute, we’re working on that), the relative silence, the way they can be operated from inside a van or even in some cases from home, the training time (fifteen-minute) involved for the first-time user, and the way that even if some yob wings them with an air rifle they’ll still function pretty well all said and done.
What he hasn’t said is how cute they are, Richard’s partner Hannah said. I want one for our boys. Like little toys.
Actually classed as toys, Richard said. Which is why they don’t need clearance. Fantastic for football matches, protest meetings, you name it.
And then there’s Project Anubis, eh, Rich? Hugo said.
Yes, Richard said, well, no point in being naïve about it, it’s a nasty old world out there and it strikes me all sensible people will feel the same way as I do about it and if they don’t they ought to. And what I always say is, what a relief it’ll be when it comes to conflict, combat, and it’s robots who’ll do the work and so on. Efficiency is one fantastic thing, but the psychological liberation is a whole other massively important knock-on effect. To kill without actually having to. Hand to hand combat, gone in the wink of an eye.
I don’t understand, Terence said.
I always think when we have this conversation, and we have it every time we all have supper together, Hugo said, that it’d be a lot more useful if our great minds were put to the task of sorting our
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