Supertoys Trilogy by Brian Aldiss

Author:Brian Aldiss
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2014-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

Supertoys in Other Seasons

Throwaway Town sprawled near the heart of the city. David made his way there, led by a large Fixer-Mixer. The Fixer-Mixer had many hands and arms of various dimensions. He kept them snugged down on his rusty carapace. Walking on extensible spider legs, he towered above David.

As they went along, David asked, ‘Why are you so big?’

‘The world’s big, David. So I am big.’

After a silence, the five-year-old said, ‘The world has been big since my Mummy died.’

‘Machines don’t have mummies.’

‘I wish you to know I am not a machine.’

Throwaway was entered down a steep slope, and partly hidden from the going human world by a high wall of breeze-blocks. The road into this junk town was wide and easy. Everything inside was irregular. Strange shapes were the order of the day. Many shapes moved, or could move, or might move. Their colours were many, some sporting huge letters or numerals. Rusty brown was a favourite. They specialised in scratches, huge dents, shattered glass, broken panels. They stood in puddles and leaked rust.

This was the land of the obsolete. To Throwaway came or were dumped all the old models of automatics, robots, androids and other machines that had ceased to be useful to busy mankind. Here was everything that had once worked in some way, from toasters and electric carving knives to derricks and computers that could count only up to infinity-minus-one. The poor Fixer-Mixer had lost one of its grabbers and would never again haul a tonne of cement.

It was a town of a kind. Every junked object helped every other junked object. Every old-model pocket calculator could calculate something useful, if it was only how wide a lane should be left between two blocks of scrapped automobilities to allow passage for wheelies and motormowers.

A tired old supermarket servitor took David into his care. They shared the burnt-out shell of a refrigeration unit.

‘You’ll be okay with me till your transistors blow,’ the servitor said.

‘You’re very kind. I just wish I had Teddy with me,’ said David.

‘What was so special about Teddy?’

‘We used to play together, Teddy and I.’

‘Was he human?’

‘He was like me.’

‘Just a machine, eh? Better forget him, then.’

David thought to himself, Forget Teddy? I really loved Teddy. But it was quite cosy in the refrigeration unit.

One day the servitor asked, ‘Who kept you?’

‘I had a daddy called Henry Swinton. But he was generally away on business.’

*

Henry Swinton was away on business Together with three associates, he was ensconced in a hotel on an island in the South Seas. The suite in which they were gathered looked out over golden sands to the ocean. Tamarisks grew below the window, their fronds waving slightly in a breeze that took the sting from the tropical heat.

The murmur of waves breaking on the beach did not penetrate the triple glazing.

Henry and his associates sat with bottles of mineral water and notefiles in front of them. Henry’s back was to the pleasant view.

Henry had fought his way up to Chief Executive of Worldsynth-Claws.

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