Scared to Death--Ten Sinister Stories by the Master of the Macabre Page 7

  “Are you really a machine?” Cameron asked.

  “I am. But you don’t need to think of me that way, dear. I’d like to be your friend.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Tamsin.”

  “Tamsin? Tamsin?” Cameron played with the name for a moment. “If you’re really made of metal, I’m going to call you Tin Sam,” he announced.

  And that was the name that stuck – even though the most state-of-the-art robots contained almost no metal at all and certainly not a trace of tin. But in the months that followed, Tin Sam proved herself to be worth every one of the two million I¥ she had cost. She was a great cook. She tidied and cleaned the house. She made sure the boys were properly dressed and gently told them off if they forgot to vibro-clean their teeth or made too much noise. She loved playing games – whether it was hover ball (she didn’t break any windows) or Space Monopoly.

  She took the boys on trips around London. Tin Sam loved ancient buildings. She took them to the Gherkin, which had once been an office block but had been converted into a museum of extinct animals. She pointed out the tigers and the polar bears and seemed to know all about them. She took them walking in the maze of dark tunnels that had once housed an underground transport system, and they went swimming in the crystal-blue water of the Thames. Very soon the three of them became close friends, just as Tin Sam had hoped. She never lost her temper and – it seemed to Sanjiv and Nicole – the boys had never been happier. The whole house felt quiet and relaxed.

  Finally the day came when the two parents had to be away at the same time – both of them on business trips. Nicole had further to go. She had completed her work in the Sahara desert and was now travelling to the moon – via the Jump Station in Florida, USA. A whole new colony was being set up in the shadow of the Taurus Mountains, and she was designing the interiors of the SLUMS – or Self-sufficient Life Utility Modules, to give them their full name. Sanjiv was heading back to China. The children would be on their own with Tamsin for a whole week.

  It was as the parents were leaving that the accident happened. At least, that was what they decided later, when they were trying to work it out. It was a Tuesday morning and Nicole and Sanjiv were sharing a magno-cab – which would ride the magnetic fields over London to the Heathrow Teleportation Centre. From here, Nicole would be beamed over to America while Sanjiv – his body briefly turned into a billion separate molecules – travelled in the opposite direction to Shanghai. Tamsin had baked a delicious zero-calorie cake to celebrate their departure. And she was there with the boys when they came down to wave goodbye. The two brothers weren’t at all worried about being left behind. In fact, they were thinking of the whole thing as quite an adventure.

  Sanjiv was carrying a heavy briefcase. Nobody bothered with luggage any more, but he had a number of contracts which, for legal reasons, still had to be printed on old-fashioned paper. What happened really wasn’t his fault. As he swung the case into the back of the magno-cab, Tamsin leaned forward to help him and the full weight of the case hit her on the shoulder. For a moment, she stood there as if frozen. Nicole glanced at her in alarm. She saw something flicker, quite literally, in Robo-Nanny’s eyes … a tiny short circuit that flared up and then was gone. “Are you all right, Tamsin?” she asked.

  The nanny raised a hand to her forehead. “Yes, thank you, Mrs Mahal.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Sanjiv muttered. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

  “It’s quite all right, sir. I’m not programmed to feel pain. And I don’t think you’ve done any damage.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Sanjiv glanced at his iBand. “It’s time we were on our way,” he said.

  Mr and Mrs Mahal kissed the two boys goodbye and got into the magno-cab. As they were swept into the air, Nicole looked out of the back window. The last thing she saw was Tamsin – or Tin Sam – standing between Sebastian and Cameron, holding each of their hands. The three of them couldn’t have looked happier together. Even so, Nicole was uneasy … without knowing why.

  Things went wrong very quickly.

  It began that same afternoon. To cheer the boys up after their parents’ departure, Tin Sam had agreed to take them to the anti-gravity play centre in what had once been the traffic interchange known as Piccadilly Circus. Seb and Cam had been looking forward to it all week. But when they came down to the hall, Tin Sam was frowning. “Which one of you left the lights on in the bathroom?” she demanded.

  Seb looked at Cam. Cam looked at Seb. It could have been either of them – but what did it matter anyway? All the lights in the house were nuclear powered. They could burn for a million years without ever needing a change of bulb.

  But obviously Tin Sam thought differently. “You should switch the lights off to save energy,” she said. “So we’ll stay at home this afternoon.”

  “But Sam…!” Seb began.

  “Are you arguing with me, Sebastian?” There was something in Tin Sam’s voice that made both the boys tremble very slightly.

  “No…” Cam muttered.

  “And are you, by any chance, speaking with your mouth full?”

  It was, sadly, true that Cameron was chewing a small piece of Astromint gum, although that hardly counted as having his mouth full.

  “What…?” Cam muttered.

  “You don’t mean what. You mean pardon me.”

  “I don’t understand…” Cameron said.

  “Well, you can go straight to your room and try to work it out,” Tin Sam said. “I don’t want to see either of you until tomorrow.” There was something in her voice that persuaded the boys it wouldn’t be a good idea to argue. Rather grumpily, they both went up to bed. They just hoped she would be in a better mood in the morning.

  But she wasn’t. At breakfast the next day, things got even worse.

  As usual, Seb and Cam came tumbling into the kitchen in their pyjamas, the unpleasant events of the day before already forgotten. They were expecting Tin Sam to serve her delicious organic, free-range, non-chicken scrambled eggs and Beta-Fix breakfast cereal. But they were in for a surprise.

  As they came in, she ran her eyes over them. “You haven’t cleaned your teeth!” she accused, a frown of indignation spreading across her face. “My sensors can detect seven different bacteria. You also haven’t brushed your hair or washed your hands.”

  “We can do that later,” Sebastian said lazily.

  “You’ll do it now!”

  “Oh come off it, Tin Sam…”

  It was as far as he got. Tin Sam was holding a bowl of cereal which she suddenly upturned all over Sebastian’s head. Sebastian yelled out as ice-cold milk dripped down the back of his neck.

  Cameron laughed. That was a mistake. Picking up the wooden spoon that she had been using to stir the eggs, Tin Sam brought it cracking down, just above his left ear. Cameron howled.

  “You really shouldn’t laugh at your brother,” Robo-Nanny explained. “It isn’t kind. It isn’t polite. Now, go away and wash and then I’ll serve breakfast.”

  The two boys did as they were told. Tin Sam had never behaved like this before and they were puzzled. At the same time, they had to agree that she had a point. Their mother was always telling them to wash their hands before they sat down to eat. In restaurants and other public places it was actually the law. Maybe, before she had left for her job on the moon, Mrs Mahal had instructed the nanny to enforce the rules a little more strictly.

  But their ordeal wasn’t over yet. Indeed, it had barely begun.

  When they returned to the kitchen, Tin Sam served breakfast, but Sebastian had barely taken one mouthful before her hand slammed into the back of his head, almost knocking him off his seat. “You were eating with your mouth open,” she explained.

  “But if I don’t open my mouth, how can I eat?” Sebastian demanded, not unreasonably.

  Whack! Tin Sam hit him again – this time even harder. “Don�
�t argue, Master Sebastian,” she said. “You should never argue with grown-ups.”

  “But you’re not a grown-up. You’re a robot!”

  Sebastian was going to wish he hadn’t argued a second time. Without another word, Tin Sam seized hold of his collar and jerked him out of his chair.

  “What are you…?” Sebastian began.

  “You can stand here, Master Sebastian! That will teach you to make rude remarks…”

  She dragged him across the room and forced him into a corner with his hands behind his back, and that was where she made him stand. All in all that might not have been such a terrible punishment, but seventeen hours later Seb was still there and she still wouldn’t let him leave, even though his legs were aching and he was desperate for the toilet.

  In the meantime, Cameron had got into trouble too. First, he was told off for not making his bed, even though he’d never had to make it before. And when he did – grudgingly – do as he was told, Robo-Nanny took one look at his handiwork and flew into a rage.

  “Sheets?” she shrilled.

  They were crumpled.

  “Duvet?”

  It wasn’t straight.

  “Pillows?”

  Cameron never found out what was wrong with the pillows. Seizing hold of them, Tin Sam tore them in half. A moment later the air was full of simulo-feathers fluttering around her head.

  “You are a naughty, lazy, difficult child,” she remarked, her normally cheerful face bright with anger.

  “But…” Cameron began.

  “No lunch. No sweets. No treats. No talking.” The eight words came rattling out as if from a speak-your-weight machine rather than the world’s most advanced robot – and she meant what she said. Cameron spent the rest of the day hungry and silent. It was only when it grew dark that he found the courage to ask if he could perhaps have a glass of water. It was a mistake. Tin Sam grabbed him, bent him over her knee and gave him six blows with the palm of her hand. It hurt. A week before she had used the same palm to drive nails into wood.

  The two boys went to bed in a state that was close to terror. They didn’t understand what they had done wrong – or why everything should have so suddenly changed.

  How were they to know that, as he had left the house, their father had accidentally swung his briefcase into Robo-Nanny’s Severity Control, moving it immediately from level two to level five? That would have been bad enough, but during the first night, the control had gone into meltdown. Robo-nanny had a safety mechanism to stop her becoming too severe, but unfortunately this had failed. By breakfast-time on the second day, the Severity Control had reached the equivalent of level nine – and it was still rising.

  Sebastian and Cameron cleaned their teeth several times, brushed their hair until it looked as if it had been painted on, and came down to breakfast as quietly as they could – but that still wasn’t enough for Robo-Nanny.

  “Aren’t you going to say good morning to me?” she asked.

  “Good morning, Tamsin…” the boys chorused. They had decided to use her proper name.

  “That’s better. Now, sit down!”

  The boys sat. They ate what they were given without saying anything, not even remarking on the fact that the toast was a little burned and the Bio-Rice Crispies were perhaps a little soggy. Their behaviour was perfect right up to the last moment when Cameron set down his knife and fork – about half a centimetre apart.

  “When you finish your meal, you should put the knife and fork next to each other,” Robo-Nanny said, and picking up the knife she jammed it into Cameron’s shoulder.

  Cameron screamed.

  “You should cover your mouth when you scream,” Robo-Nanny said, and picking up the fork she plunged that into him too.

  “Stop!” Sebastian yelled. As the older brother, he knew he had to protect Cameron, but he wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Shouting at the breakfast table?” Tamsin demanded. She reached out for the saucepan – which was still hot, having just come off the stove – and swung it in a wide arc, catching Sebastian on the side of his head and throwing him off his feet.

  “You wait until Mum and Dad get back…” Cameron wailed. He was crawling across the carpet, trying to get away.

  “I didn’t hear you ask to leave the table,” Robo-Nanny said. She leaned down and picked him up. Cameron suddenly looked smaller than ever. He seemed to weigh nothing in her hands. Holding him by the shoulders, she swung him round her and hurled him at the wall. He crashed into it, plaster and brickwork cascading around him, then slid to the floor next to his brother.

  “You’re mad!” Sebastian shouted.

  “What did you say?”

  “You’re…” The words died in Sebastian’s throat.

  Robo-Nanny’s eyes seemed to have widened. There was a soft light pulsing behind them. A moment later, she lunged forward and seized him, holding him in a vice-like grip. “How dare you call me that!” she responded. “How dare you be so rude! Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, Master Sebastian. I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap and water.” And, dragging him over to the sink, she did exactly that, forcing half a bottle of detergent down the struggling boy’s throat and following it with a viciously rotating Pulsa-Brush which she had turned up to maximum speed. Sebastian tried to fight back – but he didn’t have a chance. Lying on the floor, Cameron heard the terrible screams and gargling sounds. Then – probably fortunately – after just a minute or two, his brother closed his eyes and, though he continued breathing, he lay completely still.

  Terrified and whimpering, Cameron dragged himself out of the kitchen. Moving as quickly as he could, trying to ignore his injuries, he made it to his room and barricaded the door.

  It was just a shame that he had forgotten to take his homework with him: ten seconds later, the door was blown off its hinges and there was Robo-Nanny with a Burglar Blaster automatic handgun in one hand and a dozen of his school books in the other. “What is seventeen times seven?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know…” Cameron wailed. Maths had never been his best subject.

  “Who was the first man on Mars?”

  Cameron had forgotten the answer – but even if he’d remembered it, he wouldn’t have had time to spit it out. Robo-Nanny fell on him. First she emptied the remaining bullets into him. Then she slammed all twelve of the books down on his skull. Finally, she tore out some of the pages and tried to stuff them into his ears. With the last of his strength, Cameron managed to lash out. His fist caught her on the jaw.

  “Well, really!” Robo-Nanny exclaimed – and tore off his arm.

  “Stop it!” Sebastian groaned. The older brother had recovered from his encounter with the Pulsa-Brush and had somehow arrived at what was left of the bedroom door. Cameron noticed that he was missing several teeth. “I’ve micro-texted Mum and Dad. They’re coming home.”

  “You naughty, naughty boy!” Tamsin shrilled, hitting him repeatedly with his brother’s arm.

  “They’ll deal with you!” Cameron whimpered.

  “But not before I’ve dealt with you!” Tamsin replied. She reached into her pocket and took out the laser carving knife which she had brought up from the kitchen. “Now which one of you is going to be the first to be punished…?”

  Sanjiv and Nicole Mahal got back that same night.

  They knew at once that something was terribly wrong. The house was shrouded in darkness. The central computer had been deactivated and all the alarms and voice activation systems were turned off. Everything was much too quiet. Dreading what they might find, they tiptoed into the hallway. Sanjiv reached out and pressed the manual override on the lights.

  Robo-Nanny was sitting, giggling quietly, surrounded by what was left of Sebastian and Cameron. She had cut the boys into about fifty pieces each, and the Mahals knew at once that they would never even be able to tell which child was which. There were cogs, wires and bits of circuit board everywhere. One of one boy’s plastic hands was lyi
ng on the carpet, the fingers still twitching as the last beats of electricity flowed through it. A glass eyeball lay near by. One of Sebastian’s arms, with its own control panel, was sitting on the hall table. They knew it was Sebastian’s because the serial number was still visible.

  Fortunately, Cyber-Life agreed to provide Sanjiv and Nicole with two new robo-children, and a week later the family was exactly as it had been when this all started. If anything, the two new boys were even more perfect than the old ones had been. They had been programmed with a slightly lower naughtiness level, so although they were occasionally mischievous and disobedient, nothing in the house ever got broken.

  Tamsin herself was taken away and the Mahals didn’t ask what had happened to her. The two of them did argue occasionally about whose idea it had been to employ her and they never came to any agreement. But then again, they were human … so what do you expect?

  MY BLOODY FRENCH EXCHANGE

  I MIGHT AS WELL SAY IT STRAIGHT away. The French exchange was my dad’s idea. As usual, he was thinking what would be best for me without wondering if I would actually like it. As far as I was concerned, the whole thing was unnecessary. Yes, my French wasn’t up to much. But my GCSE exams were still a whole year away and I was pretty sure that by then I’d be able to scrape through without spending two weeks being force-fed Camembert and French conversation.

  But that’s my dad for you. An over-achiever. It isn’t enough that he’s a farmer with about a million acres of land in the Cotswolds. He has a whole load of businesses too. So one day he’s in Wellington boots, the next it’s a pin-stripe suit. And he expects everyone in the family to be the same. That’s how I ended up with a twin sister who was top in just about every class in school and a cross-country champion too. A mum who was brilliant at everything. Even a dog that probably knew how to read.

  And I hadn’t done too badly myself. Ticks all the way down my school report. Captain of football. Captain of cricket. School prefect. And in case, by now, you’re thinking I must have been a complete jerk, I actually had friends too. We even got into trouble from time to time. I could tell you about the great peeing-out-of-the-window incident, for example. But that’s another story. And one that’s a lot less horrible than this one.