Tail In A Twist

TW: Mentions a knife.

Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a dog that didn’t poop, dig up your garden, bark for no reason, or embarrass you by searching through the entire contents of your friends’ shopping bags whenever they visited?

**

When Fred entered Margi’s life, he was like a rainbow emerging from a cloud, bringing joy and colour and dispersing all the grey.

Margi was determined to get it right when it came to looking after him. Mindful of the fact that he wasn’t an ordinary dog, she knew she’d be fine unless she got dementia or some other debilitating disease. She might not be as agile as she once was, but she was good at crosswords, often getting the conundrum right on Countdown, one of her favourite tv shows. Apart from forgetting the odd thing, which could easily happen to someone younger, her mind was in good shape. According to her daughter Jenny, she was “as sharp as a tack.”

Even so, signing a contract permitting a well-known robotic company to keep an eye out for any signs of mental deterioration, hadn’t been easy. In return, she’d agreed to take part in a trial on how “an older person” would respond to a state-of-the art robot pet. Margi was allowed to have the latest edition of Robodog on the condition everything was recorded by the company. That way, the interactions between the two of them could be closely monitored. After the trial period, its continued use was strongly encouraged, but not a requirement.

The journey into acquiring Fred had been challenging for one so fiercely private. It had involved numerous assessments and a high level of trust. While Margi had passed the assessments with flying colours, the trusting part proved trickier. Naturally suspicious of people’s motives, Margi had always found it easier to connect with animals, especially dogs. Yet her decision to recreate a prototype of her beloved Bruno had been driven by the most powerful of human emotions: love of her pet and fear of being alone.

**

A year earlier, Margi had been cuddled up with her dachshund, Bruno, when she came across an article about a high-tech company that were promoting a model robot dog based on the one you already had, but not subject to infirmities. Or, when it came to it, death. That basic design flaw in both humans and animals did not exist here. Unless, by some quirk, you wanted to keep it; that could be arranged too. Hardly able to believe what she was reading, she excitedly faced-timed her daughter in Australia.

“What do you think Jenny? Shall I look into it?”

Jenny, who felt guilty about being so far away from her mother, began considering all the options.

“Bruno’s getting frail. I don’t know what I’ll do when he goes.” Margi was not above exaggerating Bruno’s physical problems, but her fear of being isolated was real enough.

“Let me look into it, mum. I’ll get back to you when I find out more,” Jenny promised. “We can discuss it properly when I come and visit you.”

True to her word, Jenny researched the company and found it had a reputation for excellent service. Reassured, Margi’s quest for her new “pet” began in earnest.

**

Handing over her beloved dachshund to lab technicians was bound to be stressful, even if it was only for a week. A security man had escorted Margi to a pleasant reception area featuring an enormous marine tank. She sat on a plush sofa nervously sipping coffee while light classical music played through unseen speakers.

The man in charge of the project was called Steve.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking Margi’s hand warmly. Bruno whimpered pitifully in his basket, and a lump formed in her throat when she was about to hand him over, complete with his favourite playthings and bowl.

“He’ll be unhappy if he hasn’t got those,” she explained. “Please, please take care of him, whatever you do. He’s not used to being away from me. It was bad enough getting his teeth done. I don’t want him to suffer pain.”

With a trembling Bruno gazing at her through the gaps in his basket, Margi hoped she was doing the right thing.

“Don’t worry, we’ll treat him well. There won’t be any pain,” Steve promised.

**

With Bruno gone, the house felt empty. When Margi wasn’t distractedly cleaning every surface, she had sleepless nights. The future seemed rosy, but she wondered whether she should have researched more into the procedures the company used. But then, maybe it was best not to know too much.

Finally, on the morning of her dog’s return, she rang the tech company. A receptionist informed her that everything had gone well, and that Bruno was ready for collection later that day. It wasn’t entirely true that he’d experienced no pain, but it had been minimal. Blood and DNA samples had been taken and he’d been tranquilised while the team worked on him. Amongst other things, his brain had been scanned and he was photographed from every angle.

Other than being slightly subdued when Margi picked him up, there were no obvious signs of distress. Bruno eagerly licked her face, and they made their way home in a taxi.

**

Now, having endured the heartbreak of losing Bruno to heart disease, Margi was ready to take the next step. Her heart raced when the doorbell rang. She was relieved to find it was Steve on the other side. He’d recently grown a beard and got married, though not necessarily in that order. Most importantly, he was carrying a basket.

“Well, here we are again, Margi. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever going to be.”

Steve gently opened the basket door where a little creature was whimpering. “He’s all set up,” Steve said as the creature scampered out.

“Oh, my!” Margi exclaimed. The dog was an exact replica of Bruno. It had the same black fur, soft, velvety ears, light brown muzzle, and lively, yet mournful eyes. Tears of joy rolled down her face as she held out her arms. The dog which felt soft and warm, immediately relaxed, resting against her shoulder, and repeatedly licking her face. The tongue had the texture and wetness of a real dog’s tongue, but without the dodgy breath.

“Thank you so much Steve. You don’t know what this means.”

Steve smiled. “You know, making people happy is the best part of it. A good job’s been done of making him like your old dog, hasn’t it?”

“It’s incredible! Looks like he’s going to settle in easily, too!”

“That’s what we want. But don’t forget that while he’s an amazing product of AI, he’s not an actual dog. He’s been programmed to behave like one, but he’s been created under lab conditions. He has the same DNA as your dog in terms of skin, but there are also features unique to him. The chip in his neural processor which makes up his artificial brain makes him more compliant than most dogs; less likely to react to things typical of his breed. We’ve ironed out the less desirable traits.”

“You mean I won’t have to put up with him trying to dig up my garden while he goes on the hunt for small animals. My plant tubs will be left in peace?”

Steve laughed amiably. “Hopefully not. He should be pretty docile.”

Margi remembered the close shaves experienced by delivery workers when Bruno had been less than welcoming. Especially if they were men.

“My old dog used to like snapping at the heels of postal workers. He could be quite aggressive for a small dog. Is that likely to be a problem here?”

“Most unlikely,” Steve reassured her. “The chip overrides any aggressive instinct. But make sure you read the instructions thoroughly and don’t hesitate to get in touch if you have any problems. Especially round behaviour.”

“Will he be alright round other dogs?”

“There shouldn’t be a problem there. Actually, other dogs don’t seem all that interested after the first sniff.” Steve grinned sheepishly. “You shouldn’t have anything to worry about when it comes to chasing female dogs, or humping stranger’s legs. Also, incessant barking is unlikely. If he barks, it will be in a limited way. The programme for more concerted barking can be reset if it would make you feel safer. He’s been properly house trained too, of course. Although he will need to pee and poop if you decide to actually feed him, we’ve fixed a device to deal with that if you’d rather he didn’t do it the natural way. It will certainly be less messy.”

But Margi shook her head firmly. “A bit of poop won’t kill me. I want him to live as normal a life as possible. I intend to take him for regular walks. I want him to enjoy running through parks and fetching a ball. It will be good exercise for us both.”

“Sounds great. Have you decided what you’re going to call him yet?”

“I had planned on calling him Bruno, seeing he’s so much like my old dog. But now, I think I’m going to call him Fred, after my husband. He had big brown eyes that pulled at my heartstrings, too.”

“Excellent choice of name,” Steve agreed. “Now, before I go, are you happy about charging him up every night when you sleep?”

“I’ve got two charger beds set up already. That way he has a choice.”

“Just make sure to report any problems. Let us know if there’s anything out of the ordinary particularly in the trial period. You have three months before fully committing.”

“I will.”

“You remember the code words, right? You have to say them three times.”

“Yes, they’re easy to remember. I only hope I never have to use them.”

“It’s unlikely. But if you do, someone will be sent to help you, day or night. We have your spare key.”

When Steve left, Margi gently put Fred down. She enjoyed the way his dainty feet pitter-pattered across her wooden floor. In the kitchen, he stopped to investigate Bruno’s basket. After thoroughly sniffing it, he stepped inside as if it belonged to him.

“Ah, you look very cosy,” Margi said, covering him with Bruno’s old blanket. The dog yawned and closed his eyes. He had been designed to open them if Margi said the words, “Time to wake up.” His breathing was slow and regular, electrical activity slow and rhythmic. To all intents and purposes, he was asleep.

The next day, the chance to test his placidity or otherwise came when there was a knock at the door. Fred cocked his ears and waited. In the past, the house would have been flooded by Bruno’s noisy barking as Margi strained to keep him under control.

“Well done, Fred,” she said relieved when he failed to snap at the postman’s heels as a parcel was handed over.

Later, when she told Fred they were going for a walk, he wagged his tail enthusiastically, but there was no wild barking. Just like Bruno, he enjoyed raking through leaves, sniffing grass, and delicately avoiding puddles. They passed various dogs, but other than a brief sniff, there were no dramatics.

After three months, it was a no-brainer. Margi had no hesitation in deciding to keep her new pet.

**

One night a few months after this, Margi woke to find Fred growling in his basket on her bedroom floor and broke into a cold sweat.

“What’s the matter Fred?”

Fred’s growling grew more insistent and when she went to pick him up, his body was rigid.

“What is it? Can you hear something I can’t?” When she opened the bedroom door, Fred shot out and raced down the stairs before she could stop him.

Heart pounding, Margi unplugged her cell phone and tiptoed down. She got the fright of her life when she came across two men ransacking her living room. By now, Fred’s barks were deafening. 

“Keep out the way and shut that dog up,” the taller one snarled. She was horrified to see he was carrying a knife and cringed against the wall.

Suddenly, Fred’s eyes flashed red, and his tail twisted in a way Margi had never seen before. In a move that was both robotic and doglike, the mouth snapped open, and he bared a set of sparking teeth, bolting an electric current into the tall man’s legs. Keeling over, he dropped the knife which skidded along the floor.

“Arg! Help me!” He shouted to his accomplice.

As the other man tried to grab the knife, electricity shot through his leg and he fell to the floor, moaning in terror.

“Get it to stop,” he begged.

“You shouldn’t have broken into my house. The robot is only trying to protect me.” It was the first time Margi had thought of Fred that way and it shocked her. Fred had cast aside all attributes of loving pet and now stood poised for further action.

“Fred! That’s enough for now!” Margi said.

Fred’s eyes continued to flash red. By the time he’d finished, the men were blubbering wrecks.

Margi’s initial relief that the intruders had been immobilised crystallised into fear. She didn’t want to have to deal with two dead bodies. Hands shaking, she scrambled for the phone in her pocket. It had been set up so the code words would be immediately recognised and picked up in an emergency.

“Tail twist. Tail twist. Tail twist,” she repeated urgently.

Unexpectedly, Fred’s systems began shutting down. Unbeknownst to Margi, the dog was responding to a signal that had been hardwired into one of his circuits. She now had to deal with the intruders alone.

One of the men raised his head. Margi picked up the knife and pointed it at him.

“If you move, I’ll use this,” she yelled.

The man didn’t need telling twice.

**

Nigel from the Public Relations side of the Robotech company, who was Steve’s superior, had brought round a magnificent bouquet of scentless flowers. Unimpressed, Margi placed them in the sink where they lay unopened. Nigel crossed his legs, smoothly apologetic, as he sipped a cappuccino in Margi’s spotless lounge. The company had paid for a new rug and the costs of tidying up after the “incident.” Beside him, Steve shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

“I didn’t see that one coming. I thought I was set up for life,” Margi complained to Nigel.

“We owe you an explanation,” Nigel said. “Unfortunately, there was a glitch in that particular model’s programming. Amongst other things, we discovered a rogue chip had been added to its circuitry and we’re currently investigating the matter. As soon as we’ve resolved the issue, we’ll happily replace you with another. Free of charge, of course.”

“But I don’t want another robodog. Aside from the fact I paid a lot of money, nothing can make up for losing Fred. He was designed to be like Bruno.”

“We still have your original dog’s DNA samples. We also have multi-dimensional images and brain scans, I believe. It shouldn’t take long to produce a similar type. That is, if you’re willing to wait.”

“I don’t know,” Margi said. “It’s been so upsetting.”

“We just want to make amends for your loss. Can you think of any other way we can help? Maybe you could try a robocat? There’s been no recorded instances of trouble with them.”

“I’m not really a cat person,” Margi said, not wanting to be pressured. “I’m going to need to speak to my daughter.”

**

Later that evening, Margi video-called her daughter and they talked for at length.

“What do you think I should do, Jenny?” Margi asked.

“Isn’t it obvious, Mum?”

“Not to me.”

“Think about it. What are the alternatives?”

It took a while for it to dawn on Margi, and then when it did, she couldn’t think why she hadn’t seen earlier. The cloud that had been dogging her since Fred had been taken away started to lift a little.

It was all ridiculously simple. SHE WAS GOING TO GET ANOTHER DOG!! A real one this time. One that was messy and unpredictable; one that barked loudly at the slightest thing; one that might just snap at a postal worker’s heels.

If she was unlucky.