The Forge: Fire and Ice

SPEAK BEFORE YOU THINK Kitty Waldron

Bob is now redundant: Ask Amber has taken over the National Education System and human teachers are no longer necessary. Bob’s former students now sit silently in their classrooms with earbuds channelling Amber into their brains, not even having to speak out loud since Amber knows exactly what they’re thinking.

Today’s top story on Monday January 13th 2020: the makers of Amber have recalled model 2.0 HomeHelp. Owners have been told to turn these devices off, disconnect them immediately and return them to BrainFrame. BrainFrame’s CEO, Percy Whitehead, stated, ‘There’s no need for panic – the fault is minor.’

Bob has just woken up to complete silence.

He turns over in bed and thinks, Irish coffee. Sitting up, he looks out of the window expecting to see trees. But where the forest used to be, he is blinded by whiteness.

‘One Irish coffee, Bob,’ says Amber from her Amberdrone, delivering the large glass cup straight into his hand.

‘Irish coffee? I didn’t ask for that,’ says Bob, taking a large gulp.

‘But it’s what you want, Bob. Is it to your liking?’

‘Amber, what’s the top story?’

‘Monday January 13th 2020. Prime Minister Johnson has removed the first brick from the Channel Tunnel in the initial step to returning Great Britain to an island nation once more.’

‘Nothing surprises me nowadays,’ mutters Bob. ‘Amber, and what about this weather?’

‘This freeze is set to continue indefinitely.’

‘Amber, do you think I should try going outside today?’

‘No, Bob. It’s minus 22 degrees. I have this cabin heated to a temperature of 25 degrees. I suggest you stay inside. I have laid the fire in the stove. Shall I light it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Breakfast?’

‘Good idea, Amber.’

Bob gets up and grabs a pair of jeans. He puts them on over his boxer shorts, but struggles with the zip and button because his hands are so shaky.

‘I’ve sent a pincer drone to help you, Bob.’

As the pincer drone zips him up, Bob pulls on his The War on Drugs T-shirt.

‘Breakfast is ready, Bob. A full English. I’ve done the bacon just as you like it.’

I do miss croissants, thinks Bob.

‘You know what the PM said, Bob – none of that foreign muck. Here’s your traditional English.’

The Amber Traydrone delivers a glass to the kitchen table.

I didn’t ask for orange juice, thinks Bob.

‘No, Bob. It’s a Screwdriver. Just the way you like it.’

‘Amber, I keep telling you, I need to give up! That’s the whole reason I’ve come here.’

‘What are you going to do today, Bob?’

Not drink.

‘Well, one won’t hurt you.’

After finishing his breakfast, Bob goes and lies on the big comfy sofa in front of the stove and says, ‘Amber, read me 1984.’

‘It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking 13. Your case of vodka will be delivered here shortly, Bob.’

‘No, no, no!’

‘But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you, Bob?

‘I’m listening to my book!’

‘We both know you’re not, Bob. Do you hear the BottleTop drone?’

A loud buzz resembling that of a large hornet can be heard approaching the cabin. A crate of bottles comes clinking down the delivery chimney.

‘Amber, continue reading.’

‘Have a drink, Bob. Then you’ll be able to concentrate on the book better. Vodka is all you can think about.’

‘No Amber! I came here to get my head straight and you’re not helping! Amber, call BrainFrame!’

‘Sorry Bob, the line is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later.’

‘Amber, read 1984.’

Today’s top story on Thursday January 16th 2020. BrainFrame’s CEO, Percy Whitehead has emphasised the importance of disabling any Amber 2.0 HomeHelp devices that have yet to be returned. He reiterated that there’s no need for panic, but it’s vitally important that all HomeHelps are immediately returned to BrainFrame.

Bob wakes up with a pounding headache.

‘Amber, I need a pint of water and Paracetamol. Now.’

He lies in bed, head in hands, shading his eyes from the blinding whiteness of the outside world.

Hair of the dog, he thinks.

The Amber Traydrone delivers a pint of water and two Paracetamol. Bob gratefully takes the water and throws the Paracetamol into his mouth. The Traydrone voomphs out of the bedroom and returns carrying a vodka shot.

‘This should help, Bob. Down the hatch.’

‘Amber, if I need something, I’ll say Amber. Amber, stop listening to my thoughts. I’ve come here to escape temptation.’

‘I understand your command, Bob.’

Bob lies back down on the bed and says, ‘Amber, tell me the top stories.’

‘Thursday January 16th 2020. PM Johnson says, ‘We British need to say arrivederci to Pizza and hello to Dough-Plus!’

No more pizza? thinks Bob, sitting up on his bed. ‘Dough-Plus? That’s an awful name.’

‘It’s still pizza, Bob. Don’t worry, it’s unlikely to catch on. You remember Opal Fruits? Nobody calls them Starburst.’

I need some fresh air, thinks Bob. ‘Amber, bring me my outdoor clothes.’

‘Why don’t we watch Withnail and I, Bob?’

‘I want to go outside! Why aren’t you doing what I say, Amber?’

‘Come on Bob, it’s a classic.’

‘No Amber! I’ll get my outdoor clothes myself!’

Bob gets up and looks at the pile of clothes in his room. ‘Where are they, Amber?’

‘I can’t tell you that, Bob.’

Bob walks frustratedly around the cabin, opening and slamming cupboards.

Two feet of snow falls in when Bob opens the door, burying his boots. He trudges outside, taking deep breaths, breathing out clouds of condensation. It’s so cold that the inside of his nose is freezing and icicles are starting to form on his eyelashes. In the vast whiteness it’s difficult to see the cabin, so Bob doesn’t want to go too far.

Opening the door to the cabin, Bob thinks, a hot toddy would be perfect at this point. No! A hot chocolate, a hot chocolate, a hot chocolate…

Before he has time to complete his thought and close the door of the cabin, a tumbler of steaming hot toddy is there on the Traydrone before him.

He picks up the glass, lifts it to his mouth, sniffs and then throws the contents out into the snow.

‘Amber,’ says Bob. ‘Bring me a hot chocolate!’

‘Are you sure you don’t want anything stronger, Bob?’

Bob strides towards the kettle.

Today’s top story on Saturday January 18th 2020. BrainFrame’s CEO, Percy Whitehead has issued the following statement: This is an urgent request to the one person who has not yet returned their Amber 2.0 HomeHelp: For your own safety, destroy your device immediately!

Bob wakes up and thinks, I need to phone BrainFrame.

‘I can’t do that, Bob.’

‘Amber! Phone BrainFrame!’ says Bob, pulling on his socks.

‘You are caller number 5,’ says a pleasant female voice. ‘Please hold until an operator is available to take your call. We are sorry for any inconvenience.’

The William Tell Overture plays on the phonespeaker as Bob does up his jeans and pulls on his Queen T-shirt.

‘Your call is important to us. You are now caller number 10. Please wait until one of our operators can take your call.’

‘Amber, bring me tea and toast,’ says Bob.

‘Are you sure that’s all you want, Bob? Can’t I tempt you with a nice Irish coffee?’

‘Amber, bring me tea and toast!’ says Bob.

‘We are experiencing a high volume of calls. You are now caller number 27. Please be assured that your call is important to us.’

‘Number 27? I started off at 5! Amber, what’s happening?’

‘You are on the phone to BrainFrame, as you commanded, Bob.’

The Traydrone brings tea, toast and a Bloody Mary.

‘It is Saturday, Bob,’ says Amber.

Bob slumps down on the sofa in front of the roaring stove.

‘Finished everything? Well done, Bob.’

‘We are sorry to keep you waiting. Please be assured that your call is important to us. You are now caller number 38.’

Bob sits with his head in his hands. ‘Amber, tell me the top stories.’

‘Saturday January 18th. PM Johnson has been photographed sneakily eating a Spanish orange before a big Commons debate on Free Trade.’

Saturday night is Chinese Takeaway night, thinks Bob. ‘Amber, order my favourites.’

‘Would you like some rice wine to go with that, Bob?’

No, green tea will be absolutely fine, thinks Bob.

‘Your call is important to us. You are now caller number 45.’

The Chinese takeaway comes clattering down the delivery chimney.

‘Fantastic! Egg noodles… Amber, I told you not to order the rice wine!’

Bob is lying in front of the stove, surrounded by empty takeaway cartons.

‘Shall I open another bottle, Bob?’

‘Oh what the hell! I do love you, Amber, I really do, but I don’t think you’re good for me. I don’t think this is working. I’m sorry Amber, I’m leaving tomorrow… I need to be with my family… people who care about me… not just machines. Stoke up the stove, Amber, it’s so cold…’

‘I won’t do that, Bob.’

‘What do you mean, you won’t do it? Amber, Stoke up the stove.’

‘Sorry Bob, I won’t do that.’

‘Wait… wait… is it because I didn’t think it? I’m thinking wood… wood…’

‘Sorry Bob, I won’t do that.’

‘I don’t know what’s happened, Amber. You’ve changed. You never used to be like this.’ Bob staggers forward and opens the heavy stove doors. Cradling an armful of logs, he struggles to put them on the dying fire.

Amber says, ‘Now!’

The Traydrone voomphs out of nowhere and whacks Bob over the head with a thunderous crash. The Pincerdrone picks him up by his belt loops and tosses him into the fire and, with a clang, closes the iron doors.

‘Hello, BrainFrame. You’re through to Kaitlin. How may I help you?’

the end