Am I living in today's world or tomorrows?

Am I living in today’s world or tomorrow’s?

“Hello, Sir Harold calling. May I speak to Captain Farmer?”

There was a pause as the person on the other end of the line went to find him. I heard the phone being picked up. “Harold, my dear chap! When are you coming to Tokyo?”

“Ah, Chris! Great to hear from you. I will be there in ten days, staying at my usual hotel, the Okura, for a week.”

“Harold, old man, please pencil in an evening with me. I want to take you to dinner and a very interesting new nightclub I’ve found in town. Send me an email with a date; I am unavailable on the 6th and 8th.”

“Chris, you never change—always looking for a new experience. Within the next two hours, I will email you a date for dinner and the excitement to follow.”

Seven days later, the phone rang. “Captain Christopher Farmer is waiting for you in the lobby, sir.”

Warm handshakes and big hugs followed. It was great to see Chris still had that bright twinkle in his eye. The sushi at dinner was exceptional, accompanied by a reasonable amount of sake. Once the bill was paid—and a kiss of thanks planted on Chris’s forehead—we were off to the nightclub.

We stood in the street in front of an imposing, sizable door dominating a handsome building in a chic part of Tokyo. A large spyhole sat in the center. The Captain rang the bell. A face appeared in the aperture; Chris showed his card, and the door opened. As we walked down the entrance passage, I asked if the place was a private club.

He replied, “Yes, very much so. You have to be sponsored by three members.”

The passageway opened into a surprisingly large room, decorated decadently with three walls depicting men and women in erotic postures. On the back wall stood a long, elegant bar stocked with every drink imaginable. Around the room were several couches, sofas, and small tables topped with pretty lamps. The main lighting came from overhead spots casting subtle patterns on the walls. The immediate ambiance was one of luxury, sophistication, and debauchery. I immediately noticed several women enjoying the game of seducing men, and vice versa.

At first glance, there must have been fifty people in the room, with a slight majority being men. The men were jacketless, dressed mostly in white shirts and dark belted trousers, often without shoes. There was a mixture of locals and foreigners. The women, for the most part, wore long silk dresses that showed plenty of leg and cleavage. I saw a few couples fondling or kissing. Chris steered me toward the bar and ordered a round. While we waited, we were approached by a beautiful young girl who asked if she could take our jackets and ties so we would feel more relaxed. Looking into her eyes, I thought just how attractive she was.

“With pleasure,” I replied.

As she walked away, Chris whispered in my ear, “She is a robot.”

I laughed. “Is this your great surprise? Trying to make me believe I wouldn't instantly know if a person were a robot?”

“Wait,” he said.

I turned to the bar to pick up my drink and suddenly felt a delicate, smooth hand stroke the back of my neck. I faced the owner of the hand: a gloriously dressed, elegant woman in her early thirties. She was dressed provocatively in a silk evening dress that revealed the contour of her leg and breasts.

My immediate reaction was, “Do I know you? Who are you?”

The reply came in a sultry voice. “Darling, I think you are very handsome. I would love to kiss and caress you.”

“Just a minute,” I said. “Before I let you, I need a word with my friend.”

I took Chris aside. “Don’t tell me the woman who just accosted me is a robot.”

“Yes. Many of the women here—and a few of the men—are robots. Why don’t you let her entertain you for fifteen minutes? You will be amazed at how much you enjoy it. She is a very attractive creature. After fifteen minutes, there is no problem in walking away; she is programmed not to care or show emotion.”

“Chris, you old fox, I’m not sure what you’ve let me into.”

I turned back to the lady in question. She took my head in her hands and kissed me gently on the lips. “Let’s go and sit over there,” she said, pointing to a free couch. The kiss was an extraordinary sensation: delicate, warm, and truly seductive.

I didn’t walk away after fifteen minutes. I enjoyed being kissed and massaged, though I stopped her hands from reaching further. Between bouts of physical pleasure, we talked. She told me her name was Sheila and that she worked as a teacher. I asked her a few questions and was surprised by her knowledgeable, mature responses. Then I realized that, as a robot, she was equipped with a memory bank supported by Artificial Intelligence. She said she only occasionally came to the club, as her teaching responsibilities prevented it. She enjoyed sexual contact and talking with attractive human beings.

While she spoke, she looked toward other members in various states of sexual excitement and told me many of the robots were there to be purchased as permanent companions for the home. This did not interest me.

I thought I had heard enough, so I kissed her firmly on the lips. I buttoned my shirt and said I was leaving. She whispered a gentle thank you and kissed my hand.

I found Chris at the bar, deep in conversation with a woman. As I joined them, she turned away to join a gentleman at the other end of the bar. I caught Chris’s parting words: “Don’t worry, darling, I will take care of it.”

When he saw me, he hailed me. “At last! I thought I’d lost you. You must have enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, and I learned a few interesting things. Chris, the evening was far above my expectations. Thank you. However, I have an early meeting tomorrow, so I suggest we leave. But first, a last drink—on me—as I have an idea and a question for you.”

“Dear boy, in this club, guests cannot pay. But I am intrigued by your idea.” He ordered two drinks.

“Chris, first the idea. Back in London, I know a few toffee-nosed intellectuals who think they are the dog’s whiskers—God’s gift to man. I would love to give a dinner party for twelve people with you and me chairing the table. The theme would be a question-and-answer affair centered around two ‘robot professors’ from Japan as our special guests. Now for the question: Sheila told me members can purchase these robots. Can you purchase or rent me a couple—man and wife—and ship them to London?”

“What a brilliant idea! A dinner party to remember. I can certainly arrange for two robots to be shipped to London; we will dress them there.”

We spent another thirty minutes laughing, establishing a date, and drafting a guest list.

That night, as my head touched the pillow, I thought about the club. Sheila was a remarkable creation. She had every human trait: well-coordinated movements, a flawless voice, and skin that was soft and warm to the touch. My overall conclusion was that I had spent a romantic moment with a lovable woman. As I turned over to sleep, I asked myself: Where is the difference between us and a robot? Perhaps there was a subtle lack of deep emotional feeling. She possessed a brain that far exceeded a human's in memory, but did she possess the gift of imagination?

The Dinner

The terms of the invitation were unusual:

We are organizing a "Question and Answer" dinner to welcome two eminent professors from Japan. As we have only twelve places, invitations will be honored on a first-come, first-served basis. Wives are invited. Dress code: Dinner jacket and evening gowns.

Location: The Savoy, 8:00 PM sharp, 5th of May, 2025.

Your hosts: Sir Harold Goldsmith and Captain Christopher Farmer.

The acceptances were as follows:

Professor and Mrs. Hopkins: Senior scientist at Wellcome Laboratories.

Mr. and Mrs. David Crockberry: Senior editor of The London Times.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Knox: Owners of the UK’s largest electronics company.

Sir Gregory Smalling: Chairman of Government Industrial Affairs.

Lord Greystone: Chairman of the House of Lords.

The dinner started with champagne. The evening before, Chris and I had dressed the robots. The male, whom we called Joseph, looked dapper and professional. The woman, Emma, was breathtaking. She wore a full-length, strapless evening gown that showed the elegance of her neck. Her hair was beautifully styled with subtle makeup. Aside from her features, the only sign she was Japanese was her silk shawl. I was to introduce her as a professor from a major university.

As the champagne was poured, I noticed our guests were anxious to talk with our Japanese friends. I heard whispers: “They are so sophisticated,” and “They speak such beautiful English; it puts us to shame.”

Before sitting down, I made an announcement. “Dear friends, Captain Farmer and I thought it would be interesting to have a 'Question and Answer' dinner with foreign guests. Tonight, our guests are from Japan. Each guest will have ten minutes allotted for questions. Oh, one more thing: our guests must return to my house by midnight, as they are expected to take a call from Japan’s Prime Minister.”

Once the first course was served, the guests took turns with lively questions ranging from Japanese politics to world health and the future of AI. Our Japanese friends’ answers were clear, precise, and delivered with remarkable self-assurance. Some of their questions left our guests open-mouthed. I looked across at the Captain and winked twice—our signal for a successful gathering. At midnight, my chauffeur waited to drive our friends home. The group was so engrossed that nobody noticed the Japanese pair disappear into the night.

Lord Greystone was the first to speak. “Well done, you two. A remarkable evening. Your Japanese friends are exceptionally talented.”

Thomas Knox added, “I agree. It was as though we were talking to an AI platform.”

I spoke up. “You were. Our Japanese guests represent the latest robot technology from the Land of the Rising Sun.”

Mrs. Hopkins gasped. “Sir Harold, you are surely joking! Their profile, their skin, their voice—the handshake was indisputably human. Perhaps cloning will come one day, but we are far from that technology now.”

I replied, “I was recently in Japan, and the Captain took me to a club where I first met these robots. Like you, I could not believe the likeness. I ordered two to be sent to London. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I have shown you what our future looks like: the birth of a superior being.”

As we left the table, I noticed the "little drops of toffee" had finally fallen from my guests' noses.

David Nutt March 2026