“Lacey, if you do not leave the house within 1.5 minutes, you will be late for your first appointment.”
VERONIKA’s synthetic voice was all smooth honey and helpfulness draped over a barely perceptible hint of patronising, and if Lacey had to hear it one more time, she might just punch the damn android.
It was our weekly routine. A ceremony practised every Friday at 4.30pm. We’d stand at the bus stop, me in my Armani suit, shoulders hunched against the rain, him in his tweed trousers and flat cap, ambivalent about the weather. He’d nod his head at me, and give me a gap-toothed smile from that ancient, craggy face. “Friday again,” he’d say. “Thank God,” I would grin. “Out for a night on the… Read More