Dawson Junior G3 is a dystopian science fiction novella about an armed house capable of obliterating any threats or attacks.
By the 24th Century, men and women no longer meet but stay safe at home and use robots for their sexual needs.
But the population is plummeting. Frank Mayfield finds himself forced to marry someone he does not love, when he accidentally meets a new woman with a very different set of beliefs. Can he escape his forced marriage and make a future with his new love?
A fast-paced story with many comic moments about how technology can destroy our trust in each other.
The Door of number 81 Oak Avenue flashed all its red lights and sounded its hazard guidance repeatedly:
‘WARNING: POTENTIAL THREAT. DO NOT APPROACH DOOR UNTIL LIGHTS STOP FLASHING. DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND GATE. WARNING…’
All owners of Doors were obliged by law to have gates far enough away to ensure the safety of innocent passers-by in the event of an explosion or other mishap during a Door Encounter.
The drone whose proximity had triggered the warning hung, busily whirring, as it initiated the greeting protocol and waited for a response. The Door analysed the drone’s electronic bona fides giving the origin of its journey, the purpose of its visit, and its protestation of peaceful intent (PPI). The PPI was a standard electronic form which stated that the drone bore no weapons or other threats and no illegal products.
Cautiously satisfied that the bona fides were in order, the Door slid down a protective cover, allowing a slot to appear through which a large shelf emerged. The drone came to rest on this, cutting its engines. Clasps extended from the surrounds of the Door to hold the drone captive until the transaction was completed. Simultaneously, on both sides of the Doorframe a battery of sensors, probes and weapons emerged, pointing at the drone, in case the PPI turned out to be false. These analysed the composition of the drone itself and inspected the contents of its package in detail to ensure that it contained no explosives, poisons or other toxic substances such as narcotics, and nothing illegal. A dedicated computer stood ready to activate whatever equipment was needed to neutralise any threat. If necessary, the package and/or the drone itself would be destroyed. The means of doing so included, among a range of other options, controlled explosion, disassembly, the defusing of any bomb, or soaking with water. If a dangerous chemical were detected, or perhaps two or more elements which might be automatically mixed to create a poisonous gas, the substance would be instantaneously neutralised by the addition of whatever chemical the computer deemed necessary, of which a vast store was held ready. Any crime detected could be reported electronically, though this was dependent on permission from the Door owner: the early days of Door development had seen too many trivial incidents reported for the system yet to be trusted on this without guidance.
But on this occasion the transaction was revealed to be as innocent as the drone claimed. The clasps relaxed and retreated into the Door’s surrounds, the drone started its engines and whirred off, leaving its cargo behind, and the multitude of sensors, probes and weapons retracted. Then a large flap in the Door behind the shelf opened inwards, the shelf withdrew bearing its package, the flap closed again and locked, and the slot’s cover hummed up to its former protective position.
And the whole system was put on standby for the next potential threat.
Frank, sitting upstairs in his study working on the latest entry to his on-line column, became aware of the arrival of a package when he heard
‘CAUTION: POTENTIAL THREAT. DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND ALCOVE DOOR UNTIL GREEN LIGHT SHOWS. CAUTION…’
In practice, Doors could eliminate any threat within very close confines, but legislation nevertheless imposed unnecessarily large safety zones both outside and inside the Door. In addition to the needlessly extensive area between the Door and the gate, the Door owner had to have a cavernous and heavily reinforced strongroom (euphemistically named the Alcove) inside the Door, where the danger was negligible. It was the inner door of this Alcove which displayed the red or green lights according to threat levels. As a further safety measure, the inner Alcove door automatically locked when the lights were red. There was an override switch for the system of course, carefully protected and passworded, but who wants to override protection?
Shortly afterwards, Frank heard the further advisory:
‘ALCOVE DOOR UNLOCKED. PACKAGE SAFE TO OPEN. CONTAINS FRAGRANT ALCOHOLIC LIQUID DEEMED HARMLESS UNLESS IMBIBED. APPLY EXTERNALLY AND DO NOT DRINK. REPEAT, DO NOT DRINK.’
Ten years ago, on hearing a package fall onto his Welcome mat, Frank might have run downstairs eager to discover what goodie awaited him, but that was before he had acquired a Door – Dawson Junior ®™ G3 to give it its exact name. Now his lack of enthusiasm was obvious as he went into the Alcove and unwrapped the bottle of after-shave which his Aunt Lucy had sent. It was his 39th birthday, so the arrival of a present was no surprise.
He wondered if the Door had something to do with his recent low moods.
He went upstairs to his study and sat down at his computer. The busy sound of drones filled the air, and they created fleeting shadows as they blocked the sun briefly.
The message popped up on his screen ‘They are amongst us.’ He clicked his tongue and dismissed it, muttering ‘fundamentalist nutters.’ Then he entered the following thoughts into the computer:
We spend so much time and money buying equipment like the Door that will ensure our security. It’s as if we equate safety with happiness. True, we can’t be happy if we’re dead. But doesn’t it make us miserable constantly dwelling on the risks we’re trying to avert? To me, life seemed more joyful when we were less safe. We felt much more alive then!
Frank published the comment, then with a smile he leaned back and waited for his readers’ reactions. The first one was not long in coming.
Oh, so YOU felt more alive before the Door? And WE must all risk our own lives to stop YOU from feeling board!!! Selfish liberals like u make me sick. It’s lucky we live in a democrasy so puffed up would be dictators like u can’t make dangerous decisions for the rest of us. It’s a dangerous world, mister Love and Peace! I’d like to go on living thanks very much, if that’s ok with u!!!
Many more comments in the same vein followed in quick succession. Frank felt a quiet glow of satisfaction: such remarks were gold to him. The salary the state paid him as an on-line columnist and ‘opinion-former’ was greatly increased if he got comments or even reaction-emojis on his material, so it paid to be controversial. Not that he had any economic need to work. Like everyone else, he received a salary from the state which covered his needs adequately. Computers controlled the economy, and robots were responsible for all the industrial output, so there were few jobs for humans outside the advertising and marketing sector (by far the largest employer), the ethics panels which were obligatory for every company, and politics. In addition, Frank had inherited money from his parents, who had died nine years ago. But he liked working on his column, and the state liked people to be purposefully occupied, which was why the government was happy to pay him for his work.
There was a loud clang, and the room went dark. The window shield had shot into its closed position. Doubtless one of the drones had got closer than the Door system deemed safe. The Door computer would be interrogating the drone, and the weapons around the window would have emerged from the window frame ready to strike, and would be tracking it until it was a safe distance away. The system would not allow any unauthorised person or object to come too close to an entry point. After a moment the shield moved back to its open position. This normally happened several times a day, yet Frank had never heard of a genuine attack.
He resumed his work:
And the amount of weaponry our houses display seems out of all proportion to the threat. Even at the time the Door was introduced, crime against people able to afford it was at historically low levels. Now it is almost non-existent. Yet we continue to behave as if we are in a state of war. Is this really necessary?
Once more, reactions arrived quickly. This was the first:
Oh yeah? But I bet YOU’VE got a Door, haven’t you? If it’s so unnecessary, why have you got one? Forewarned is forearmed. It’s only sensible to protect yourself and your property! That’s what keeps crime low. If you’ve got a Door you’re a hypocrite! And if you haven’t you’re an idiot! Hypocrite or idiot, which is it?
It was a fair question, though he had no intention of answering it. To do so truthfully would involve giving away information he regarded as unduly personal. He glanced at the framed photo of his parents, on his desk. When they heard of a revolutionary new system of home protection from HomeFortressCo, which armed every door and window in the house and could pulverise any intruder, they had made him promise to get one. They were very anxious people, and he was an only child: it would have been cruel to refuse. Then, once you had a Door, you got sucked into the whole industry of upgrading it regularly; not to do so seemed a waste of the initial investment, which was a considerable outlay.
The first version was called Dawe, a rather heavy pun, aimed at personifying the entrance to a house. The upgrade to that, son of Dawe as it were, was called Dawson. This was marketed as being like your own personal butler, footman and minder, all in one. It was a popular, reassuring concept with the public. Then there was Dawson Junior. After that the company ran out of naming ideas, so the next upgrades were Dawson Junior G 2 and then 3, which was Frank’s version. The G stood for Generation, not that anyone paid much notice to the naming logic by this time: people just referred to ‘the Door’, and the initial letter was always capitalised.
Ironically, not long after he had acceded to their request his parents had died in a boating accident. They had always loved the sea, its wildness and unpredictability, and had left the harbour defying the weather warnings. The waves had spat their mangled bodies up on the rocks two days later, along with their wrecked vessel. Those most aware of danger, particularly to loved ones, were often most addicted to risk themselves. Frank knew that the agony of identifying their remains would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Early development of the Door was not without controversy. Intrigued by this innovation, and wondering what would happen, a group of children threw stones at one of the first examples, and were immediately killed by the barrage of fire that followed. Predictably, there was an uproar in the liberal media. The manufacturers issued their deepest condolences to parents and relatives, but pronounced that the deaths were ‘a regrettable necessity.’ However, HomeFortressCo prided itself on its conscience and sense of responsibility to society, and when a narrow majority of its Ethics Committee argued that the response of the system in this case had been disproportionate, the company showed their good will by supplementing the system’s weapons with a taser and tear gas to be used in cases like this in future to prevent needless loss of life. But in any case, publicity of the incident ensured that such an attack was never repeated. Although HomeFortressCo might have suffered damage to their reputation in some quarters, sales of the Door rocketed after this, to such an extent that it was difficult to meet demand.
It was also at this stage that the ruling Trad Party Government took a stake in the company, with the right to oversee regulations. They made a great show of their involvement, repeating their slogan, ‘The Right To Sleep Safe In Your Bed’, and were rewarded with an 8% jump in their already high approval ratings. The opposition Mod Party, whose manifesto promised to increase the involvement of AI in the economy and decrease human employment and intervention, offered little resistance to the measure except to urge scrapping the overseeing of regulations and unfettering the machines’ decision-making.
‘They are amongst us!’ There was that annoying message on screen again. Frank wasn’t the only recipient; all his acquaintances – three, no, five other people – got them as well. He had read about ‘computer viruses’ in history books. They had long been eliminated. Yet some similar phenomenon seemed to have invaded the computer system of his own time. No-one that Frank knew had any idea of the purposes of these messages. Were they warnings? Advertisements of some kind? Strangely, the Government information channels made no mention of this. Was it possible that this was beyond the power of the Government to control? Once more he dismissed the message.
Enough work for the morning, Frank thought. He called, ‘Bella, Donna!’
‘Coming, Frank!’ chorused two young female voices, one with the trace of an Italian accent, the other a Japanese one. They entered the room a moment later, Bella slightly in the lead. Her skin was tanned and she had honey-blonde hair. She was dressed with classical simplicity. A short flap, suspended from a cord, hung loose over her breasts, while two even shorter flaps, hanging from a string round her waist, just covered her loins fore and aft. Quick-release knots on the right-hand side of both garments ensured that they could be removed with a minimum of effort. Donna was a little shorter than Bella, and was oriental in appearance. She was dressed the same as Bella, although the colour of the garments was different. Bella wore yellow flaps which went beautifully with her tan, and Donna wore red. Both of them had exceptionally beautiful figures and features. Neither wore underwear – they had no need for it, after all. Frank smiled: this would help to cheer him up.
Frank was well-off, and though not extravagant generally, he believed in enhancing his life with the luxuries that would make a real difference. So when it came to a choice of Companion, he had bought the finest money could buy – and not just one but two. It required sophisticated bio-mechatronic and genetic engineering to manufacture Companions, and it was an expensive process. It was rare for anyone to own more than one Companion, and many made do with hiring the unconvincing and obviously plastic versions available from the rental shops from time to time. Bella and Donna, in contrast, could not be distinguished from the real thing by any of the five senses. Only the tiny hollow at the base of their throats revealed that they were in fact machines. This was the socket into which their solar cloaks were plugged when they went ‘sunbathing’ on the patio outside to recharge.
‘You are ready for lunch, Frank?’ asked Bella. Her accent imposed a tiny extra syllable on his name – ‘Franker’. She could speak flawless English, of course, as could Donna, but Frank found Italian and Japanese accents sexy, and had paid extra for them, so both Companions occasionally inserted inaccuracies in pronunciation typical of their supposed origins into their speech to keep him happy.
‘We could make you an omerette – omelette’ – Donna corrected herself, ‘or you could have sushi, or chicken risotto with peas and bloccoli. All of them are fine for your health needs right now.’
‘Omelette would be great,’ said Frank, ‘but how about a spot of stress relief first, ladies?’
‘Are you feeling tense, caro?’ asked Bella, unbuttoning his shirt and stroking his chest softly. She kissed him on the lips.
‘You work too hard. You know we always tell you that!’ said Donna. She was paying attention to the lower half of Frank’s body, with slow sensual caresses, bestowing a trail of moist kisses lower and lower on his stomach, while getting her hands gently inside his trousers.
Frank felt his cares melt away.
‘Which one of us do you want?’ whispered Donna.
‘Or maybe you would like a threesome?’ murmured Bella.
‘Threesome,’ Frank managed to say, almost overpowered by bliss.