the Ten Commandments.
Is a robot a graven image, Claire?
It’s a ballpark likeness of a God-given human.
A likeness that comes to life?
I wouldn’t call it life. We’re fooling ourselves if we call a robot alive. Only God can create life.
Claire, are you sure?
I don’t want to take any chances, Dr Shelley. I have to think of my eternity.
That’s certainly taking the long view …
Yes, it is.
A young woman wearing tight leather trousers and an oversize buckskin fringed jacket rushed up to the desk, interrupting without even noticing she was interrupting.
She said, I’m looking for Intelligent Vibrators. Where are they?
Claire took a breath before she answered. Ma’am, are you an exhibitor, a demonstrator or a purchaser?
I have an emergency!
What kinda emergency?
The woman shuddered inside her leather and buckskin as she said, I have accidentally posted pictures of myself, mostly naked, except for two tassels, using the Intelligent Vibrator, on my Facebook page.
That wasn’t very intelligent, I said.
The woman glared at me.
It’s a privacy infringement! I need to speak to the demonstrator at the stand. They showed me how to work the camera on the vibrator. I knew it had a remote control. They didn’t tell me it would remotely upload to my default app if I didn’t reset it.
Claire pursed her lips and went to her screen. I could see her manicured fingertips tapping out Intelligent Vibrator. I asked the woman – because I had to know –why would anyone want a vibrator featuring a camera and a remote control?
She looked at me with a mixture of anger and contempt. She said, Teledildonics.
Pardon me?
She said, Haven’t you heard of teledildonics?
Sadly, never. But I am British.
She raised the kind of eyebrow that says: What are you even doing here, dude?
She sighed. (Heavily.) She said, The idea, the idea, is sexplay with your partner, or partners, from separate locations. It feels like they are in the room – doing things to you. Does it?
Yes, it does. And you can share the photos.
With all your friends on Facebook?
Actually, this is none of your business, OK?
It’s a bit late to be asking for privacy.
I thought she was going to hit me. Fortunately Claire swung back into the zone.
Your name, miss?
Polly D. Just the initial D. I am on the list.
We don’t have a list, ma’am.
The VIP list. I work for Vanity Fair.
We don’t have a VIP list, Miss D. I have paged the company. A representative from IN-VIBE is coming right now.
Haha – good pun, Claire, I said.
Now Claire was glaring at me too. She folded her arms in a goodbye-and-get-lost kind of a way.
I have to do my job, Dr Shelley, and I guess you have to do yours. The Adult Futures Suite is to your left and signposted.
Is he in pornography? said Polly D. I mean, he’s obviously not a real doctor. What is he? Some kind of Dr Jackoff?
I ignored her. Thanks for your help, Claire. Good luck, Polly.
I turned away, hearing:
Asshole!
On the way to the Adult Futures Suite I pass the Singularity Suite. There’s a large screen showing an interview between Elon Musk and Ray Kurzweil talking about the Singularity – the moment when AI changes the way we live, forever. Some young guys are wearing T-shirts with the slogan ‘Give Up Meat’.
It’s not that the future will be vegetarian – just that they believe that soon enough the human mind – our minds – will no longer be tied to a body that is a substrate made of meat.
But for now we are still human, all too human (strange phrase, that, when you think about it), and eighty per cent of internet traffic is pornography. The first non-biological life forms sharing our homes won’t be waiters with tomato-recognition issues, or cute little ETs for the kids. Let’s start at the very beginning: a very good place to start. Sex.
The guy waving two cell phones and wearing a headset sweeps me inside the Adult Futures Suite. He’s got the body and build of a nightclub bouncer: broad chest, overweight, short legs, thick arms, sweaty in a crumpled suit. Coke cans line the coffee table in front of the couch. Ron Lord snaps open two more and hands one to me.
It’s a long way from Three Cocks, eh, Ryan?
I beg your pardon?
Three Cocks. The village in Wales where I started the future.
That’s a big claim, Ron.
I think big, Ryan. Google Maps. See for yourself. Three Cocks. My mum’s a bit psychic. She said it was a sign. Three Cocks is where I built my first sexbot. Mail-order doll. All her parts arrived in separate bags like a chainsaw massacre. I put her together with one screwdriver and the instruction video. Really, it’s Lego for adults.
I knew you’d started at the bottom, I said to Ron.
Yeah, it was her bottom where I started, said Ron.
Sitting on the couch was a human-scale doll with soft brown hair falling onto her shoulders. The doll was wearing double-denim, shorts and jacket, and underneath a pink top stretched across breasts the size of lifebuoys.
Is that her? Your first one?
Show some respect, Ryan! My first is retired. She wasn’t even a commercial variety. I still have her and I love her, but she’s archive now. This one here, she’s part of my franchise range.
Watch this! Ready? Film it on your phone! Go on!
Ron swings up the doll from the couch and points to a bright pink mat underneath her. The mat says PUSSY.
You see this mat? says Ron. This is a SmartMat. This mat powers her up while she sits next to you. You can have it in the car too – works on the cigarette-lighter socket. Electrodes in her bum.
Look at this – (swipes iPad with fat finger) – here’s the factory in China where the dolls are made. Torso comes through first,
