At the foot of his bed, the sim-pet alternately barked and mewled. It still wasn’t sure whether to be a cat or a dog around him. Albert ignored it, as always. Try as he might, he couldn’t get over the fact that it wasn’t really alive. There might be people who adored their pets, spending hours and hours fussing over them, but he’d never been able to feel anything positive towards it. He heartily disliked the sim-pet, loathed its frequent attempts to imitate the actions and sounds of animals long since gone, but the Health Department circulars stated that the mental well-being and happiness of citizens were enhanced by pets, so he was stuck with robo-beast here and there was nothing he could do about it. Except what he’d always done—assiduously pretend it wasn’t there. He hadn’t even bothered to give it a name.

The sim-pet cocked its head, seemingly came to a decision and then barked at him, nuzzling at his foot with its metal snout.

‘Go away,’ said Albert, not looking at it.

The sim-pet slunk away, oozing dejection with every step, the drooping tail making a tinny grating sound as it brushed the floor. Albert felt no guilt, because he knew it was all programming—circuits coded to be a canine. Besides he had other things to worry about. Like the girl.

What was he to do with her? The best thing would be to get rid of her, and fast, before anyone realized she had ever been here. He went over his behaviour the previous day for the umpteenth time. She had attacked him! And he’d brought her home! Madness! What sort of fool did that? Then pictures flashed before his eyes—lawbots chasing down children and the sound of explosions and shrieks and the look in the girl’s eyes as she’d stared up at him from the hole—and he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. There was nothing else he could have done. But now that the deed was done, the thing was to undo it, before it became his undoing—and hers.