Cat Brushing by Jane Campbell

Author:Jane Campbell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2022-07-19T16:02:43+00:00

SCHOPENHAUER AND I

IN JANUARY 2017 THE BBC ran the following news story.

‘Robots could help solve social care crisis, say academics. In the UK alone, 15,000 people are over a hundred years of age and this figure will only increase. The robots will offer support with everyday tasks, like taking tablets, as well as offering companionship.’

It was a couple of months after they had killed Hobbes that they offered me the robot. To be honest, I almost declined, but since curiosity is the philosopher’s raison d’etre, I agreed. When the day came for the delivery I watched the young man as he unwrapped it; yards of bubble wrap, oceans of smooth white plastic sheeting, like undressing a bride, I thought.

‘What is it called?’ I asked, meekly.

‘Kim. Gender neutral, easy to remember.’

The thing itself reminded me of a child’s drawing of the human shape, a larger white blob for a body and a smaller white blob for the head. The head part was blank apart from two big baby seal eyes until a circle appeared below the eyes and flashed at me while a mechanical voice said: ‘Hello Martha?’

I smiled at Mark, ingratiatingly. ‘What else does it do?’

‘I’m busy fixing its skills right now. Reminds you to take your pills, phones your friends, calls taxis, encourages you to exercise, plays snap.’

‘Plays snap? How does it do that?’

‘There is a little screen here.’

‘Does it play poker?’

‘Could do.’

By now we were drinking coffee and I offered him a cigarette.

‘Can we?’ He looked up at the smoke alarm.

‘If you disabled that we could.’ The truth is I am not that fond of the smell of cigarette smoke indoors although I love the occasional nicotine-fuelled evening out on my balcony; but I knew now that I could get him to break the rules and that we had become, in however small a way, co-conspirators.

While we puffed I asked, ‘Could it have another name?’

‘Not really.’

‘Not really it is outside your skillset or not really it means breaking the law?’

He smiled. I liked his face. It was young, of course, but soft with a handsome mouth and a crooked smile. If I had been sixty years younger I would have made a beeline for him.

‘What do you want to call it? Something short and snappy is what they recommend.’

Kant came immediately to mind but I knew there could be so much calamitous confusion in terms of pronunciation and spelling that I abandoned that idea.

‘Schopenhauer,’ I said. As he started laughing, I added, ‘Not exactly short and snappy but certainly unforgettable.’

‘OK. OK. How do you spell it?’

‘More coffee?’

In the end we settled on Arthur. I watched him as he tapped away on his keyboard and as I was wondering what on earth I was doing since this clearly was not going to bring Schopenhauer into my life, he said, ‘Of course, you know, these machines aren’t really for you at all.’

‘How come?’

‘They are just monitors. Screens to watch you on twenty-four/seven. All the time. And listen to you as well.

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