Opposite the bed was a television on which a snowstorm seemed to be the only entertainment. Nettle picked up the remote, aimed it at the TV and started pressing buttons. A cocktail cabinet rose out of the floor; a Dustbot scuttled out of the clothes cupboard, picked up an invisible speck of dust, squeaked, ‘Thank you for appreciating a clean environment!’ and hurried back out of sight again; the door opened; the lights went on and off but the TV resolutely refused to show any programme other than the snow-storm.
‘Alt! Hi! I’m glad to see you have found your Personal Electronic Thingie, please keep it with you at all times since it is your communication with the Starship Titanic. Welcome aboard.’ Nettle found herself apparently being addressed by the standard lamp that stood in the corner of the cabin. She instinctively pulled the sheets up to cover her breasts.
‘Wowee! I don’t blame you keeping those babies to yourself!’ exclaimed the standard lamp.
‘Will you turn around while I get dressed!’ said Nettle. The lamp turned around obediently. It was the same on the other side. ‘Will you please go away?’ she said.
‘Hey! That’d be groovy! I’ve had it up to here with standing around in this cabin anyway!’ The standard lamp walked smartly towards the door. ‘Oh by the way,’ it said breezily, ‘I’m your Bellbot. Anything you want – just ask me. I’ll be standing outside. Wow! It’s great to get a change of scenery!’ And it closed the door.
‘I’m sure that robot’s not meant to behave like that,’ said Nettle to herself, as she threw on her clothes and examined the thing she had mistaken for the TV remote control. On it were a variety of buttons. One of them had an icon of the Bellbot on it so she pressed it and the door reopened and the Bellbot peered in.
‘Wowzeee! You look terrific in that Gap T-shirt!’ it exclaimed.
‘Will you please refrain from making personal comments!’ said Nettle rather crossly.
‘Shit! No offence, man!’ The Bellbot seemed genuinely hurt. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Firstly I want to meet up with my colleagues. Secondly I think we probably would like to know how to get off this ship.’
‘Hot dog!’ The Beilbot snapped its fingers with a metallic ping. ‘You mean there are more hot little numbers like you around?’
‘You are behaving most impolitely for an android!’
Nettle knew how to address a robot ‘Would you please keep your personal comments to yourself or otherwise I will have you reported – and you know what that’ll mean.’
The Bellbot froze to the spot. ‘Hey, man! I’m a genuine “personality transfer” bot. It’s my character!’
‘Well I don’t like it. And you’re here to serve me so just stop it at once.’
The robot went all sulky. ‘All right! Don’t go on about it.’
‘Do you know where my friends are?’
‘Adjoining rooms?’ suggested the Bellbot.
Nettle was out of her cabin in a moment. Every door along the narrow corridor, that curved round and out of vision, had writing on it.
‘What’s this say?’ she asked. By way of answer the robot produced a pair of spectacles and offered them to Nettle. Nettle hesitated, then put them on.
‘Translatorspecs,’ explained the Bellbot unhappily.
Nettle could now see that every door had a name:
‘Hyacinth’, ‘Jasmine’, ‘Delphinium’ and so on.
‘How tacky,’ murmured Nettle and she started knocking on ‘Cauliflower’. After a dozen or so vain attempts on various flora, she turned on the Bellbot which was walking quietly behind her with its hands folded behind its back. ‘Look! Do you or do you not know where my friends are?’
‘I do not,’ said the robot.
‘Do you or do you not know how I can go about finding them?’ Nettle was phrasing her questions carefully.
‘I do,’ said the Bellbot after some thought.
‘Then tell me how,’ said Nettle, ‘Guest list,’ announced the robot. ‘And where is that?’
‘Deskbot – Embarkation Lobby – Embarkation Floor,’ replied the bot.
‘Can’t I just ring from my room?’
‘Not from the Super Galactic Traveller Class Suites, no.’
‘Then show me the way to the Embarkation Lobby,’ said Nettle.