Extract from Jodie Two (pre-publication)

Family meeting

It was late. The biscuits were eaten, the coffee consumed, and the flames from the logs in the firepit were reduced to golden embers. Nobody wanted to break the atmosphere by standing up and declaring bedtime. There was more to be spoken but the words seemed elusive.

Trust Alison.

'How do we know we're not robots?'

Helen struggled to sit up.

'How do we know we're not what?'

'Not robots.'

'Don't be daft. We're human. Blood, bone, muscles, brains. Human stuff. Trust me, I'm a nurse.' She snuggled back into my son's embrace. Alison took the bait.

'Agreed, we're made of components. Like a robot. All the bits and pieces you've mentioned can be made, are being made, in laboratories. Look at Jodie, repaired so she can walk again, look at my hand, perfect working order. Repaired. Like a robot. We could all be high grade semi-autonomous robots. Almost on a level with those computers down in the basement.'

I had to join in.

'We can switch those machines off any time we like. Just unplug them. Cut off their life blood, 240 volts of it, and they are useless. Simple. We're the master race.'

'Mum, we're not. I tried. They aren't actually connected to any thing, any more than we are. I checked. They're not fixed to the desks or walls or cupboards or anything. They are just there, levitating, no wires, no switches, no discernable power supply. They didn't like me checking; they all flashed up warnings; there was no sound but I could hear them, angry, inside my head. They told me to warn all of you not to interfere with them, just go on as we are and there won't be a problem.'

This time there was silence, a frightened, unbelieving silence.

'They can read your thoughts. Our thoughts. Now. There're listening.' I heard myself saying the words. Helen said, slowly,

'Ali, you're one of them, aren't you? Just like Bill and Susan? They couldn't have children so they adopted Jodie. They can re-model people but they can't generate them? You say you've got two children, Ali, but nobody's ever seen them. They don't exist, do they?'

'Helen, you're the one of us most likely to be a robot. You work for Sir John Thingy, the surgeon? Who else is likely to need a team of robots? Who else needs a group of dedicated robots, robotically obeying his every command, ideally placed to form relationships with the children of every human whose had robotic surgery and feed the master robot robotic feed-back? I rest my case.' Ali smiled, poured herself another coffee.

'It's not funny, folk.'

'People used to scare one another with ghost stories.'

'There you are; we're all robots so we tell robot ghost stories.'