‘I beg your—what on earth are you talking about?’

‘Well, all these animals can’t look the same, can they? Now, this thing of yours, it always looks the same. So I wanna see what the others look like. You ain’t very sharp now, are you, Mac?’

Albert had never been slapped repeatedly by a wet sock filled with sand, but it seemed like every time he spoke to this girl he left with an enhanced understanding of what it might feel like. It also dawned upon him that this was the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he had been accused of unintelligence by this—this—child. He began to wonder if that was indeed the right word for her. Surely children everywhere were not like this.

‘Please stop immediately.’

‘Huh? What?’

‘Stop!’

‘Aight, aight. There’s no need to shout, y’know.’

‘I am not shouting!’

‘Yes, you are. And now you arguin’ too.’

‘I am not—’

He stopped himself, realizing how futile this was.

The girl nodded approvingly. ‘That’s right, Mac. Always best to shut up when yer wrong.’

‘Will you please get up?’

‘You seem a lil’ ticked off, Mac. What’s bothering you?’

‘You are!’

The small bright eyes gazed at him earnestly. ‘Me? What did I do?’

‘Nothing. Everything! Just stop, all right?’

‘Stop what, Mac?’

‘These—these things you keep doing.’

‘What things?’

He waved his hand, gesturing towards the electronic graveyard in the midst of which she nestled happily. ‘These things!’

‘What? Looking for animals? Fine. I didn’t know it was a secret. I won’t look for ’em any more. What else?’

‘Eh? What?’

‘You said things. So, what other things ain’t I supposed to do? Tell me, Mac.’

Albert searched his mind for an answer, but couldn’t put his finger on it. He’d disliked—no, hated—the sim-pet, and unfortunate as the nature of the circumstances surrounding its demise had been, he’d felt no sense of loss at its passing. The resultant mess wouldn’t take the home sanitation system more than a minute to clear up. No, it wasn’t the mess, either. So what exactly was it that she had done that bothered him so much? And she was still staring at him, waiting for him to say something.

‘Stop calling me Mac,’ he said sulkily.

‘Why?’

‘It makes me feel like a primitive machine.’

‘You mean, like old?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘But you are old.’

‘I am not old—’

‘Well, you look old.’

‘I do not look old—’

‘Listen to yerself, talking now! I am not! I do not! Huh! Who talks like that, anyway? You even sound old!’

Albert opened his mouth to answer her, but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound old. So he fell back on what he was fast realizing was his best line of defence against this girl.

He left the room.