The main difference between reals and ARs is that real people don’t usually get up in your face the way the intrusions do. Shandy told me that most AR bots are coded in the US and have to be redesigned for the UK market to make them less rude and loud, but only high-end advertisers can afford to do that. Which means that crossing Central London at rush hour you’re seeing a riot of colourful clothes, hearing mostly American accents, and getting distracted by AR literally singing and dancing for your attention as you try to move unobtrusively through the stream of grey commuters. For someone like me – who passes out when overstimulated – avoiding this kind of thing is a matter of basic street defence. It’s one reason I bike, the other being poverty. As it turns out, cyclists are divided into the haves (who cycle for fitness and conscience) and the have-nots (who cycle for lack of bus fare). That means I only ever have to fend off the lovely AR designed for rich people, because nobody bothers trying to sell to the destitute.

I’m actually glad for the chance to cycle off some of my nervous energy. It will help me deal with Melodie better. Even her botmessage was overwrought.

‘I’m scared to go to sleep. They put me in a new suite because of the bathroom door. But I can’t settle down.’

I don’t have any bots (can’t afford) but I messaged back, ‘Have sex. Drink chamomile tea. Watch a silly movie.’

Have sex? What is with me? Why do I not think it’s a little inappropriate for me to be commenting on her sex life with Antonio when she may not even know that me and Antonio used to be a – well, I’m not sure what we were, really. Not an item. A thing? A thingie? Anyway, sometimes I think I’m missing the region of the brain that is supposed to give you discretion.

Mel’s bot made an emoticon face that looked sly and pleased at the same time. Where does she get these emoticons? How does she find the time to search for cool emoticons and also keep her nails manicured and master the music of Debussy? I don’t even have time to buy new trainers. My left trainer’s sole is peeling off and keeps catching on the pavement, so as I lock up my bike and scurry through the crowd, I alternately trip and hop.