The Mini

Part one

Patty hadn’t slept all night. She had worried about not sleeping. She never slept on Christmas Eve. She went outside in the cold night and ran around and around the car.

‘What are you doing?’ her dad said.

‘Tiring myself out!’ She ran into his arms and he lifted her up, laughing.

‘Wooee – you need a shower.’

Patty punched her dad. But then she went upstairs and had a bath, using one of her mother’s bath bombs. Peach fumes filled the bathroom and her mother sat on the toilet lid and played Christmas songs on her iPad. They watched an old movie – The Grinch – and then Patty went to bed where she stared at the luminous stars on the ceiling and listened for her mother and father moving. She was actually asleep within five minutes, but it was a fitful sleep and so she had the illusion that she couldn’t sleep. Morning would never come. Everyone else had gone straight to sleep and slept through to the morning and they were already up and opening their presents but not her.

Mother filmed her creeping downstairs. ‘Has he been yet?’ she whispered, pantomime loud.

‘Oh. My. God. Look at all the presents,’ Patty said.

‘Yeah, maybe we should phone Santa and ask him to take some back,’ dad said.

‘Alan!’ mom didn’t like jokes.

Patty had a ritual to unwrapping. She took it slowly and neatly, tearing only as much as she had to. And she was duly appreciative of all the presents, even the cheapo fillers like the skipping rope and the big chocolate bar. She stopped and hugged her mom and dad every three presents. Mom was pleased at her. She was such a thoughtful and considerate child. They’d really lucked out with her. Not like her sister’s coven of three little bitches. She straightened up as Patty approached the big present. The expensive one. The one that had been perhaps too expensive, but everyone was getting one this year. All the shops had sold out and the online places now had estimated delivery times quoting February, because they had dithered too long. They finally found a shop which still had three and they snagged one.

‘Let’s hope your credit card clears this time, Bertha,’ Alan had said, making her squirm. Why did he say such things in front of people? He thought he was teasing but it was embarrassing. People didn’t know him and they could easily get the wrong idea.

Patty squealed with delight. ‘Oh my God!’

‘It’s what you wanted, right?’ Alan said.

‘Yes, yes, yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! He’s perfect.’

Dad read the instructions carefully toying with the small screwdriver, putting the sharp end on his thigh and swivelling it in the palm of his hand as if it was a joystick he was operating. Bertha put a packet of batteries on the kitchen table.

‘We don’t need them,’ dad said. He read from the instructions. ‘”Your Mini has a self-sustaining kinetic power source (trademarked) that will never require recharging. Guaranteed for twenty years.” Which is great.’ He peered at the Mini’s inert bland face and colourless eyes. ‘So why don’t you work now?’

‘You’ll need to go into your workshop,’ mom said. ‘I need the kitchen table now.’

Mini’s eyes suddenly became white and small black pupils appeared in the centre.

‘Good morning,’ he said in a perky voice. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Oh! Erm. I’m A…’

‘No wait. Don’t answer, Patty has to be the first.’

Patty was already running in from the living room She had gone upstairs and changed into her new clothes. When she saw Mini, she stopped and self-consciously paced to the seat her dad had vacated for her. She sat, noticing how Mini had watched her move and was now intently focusing on her. He smiled. ‘Hi,’ he said.

‘Hi,’ she answered.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Patty.’

‘Is that with an I or a Y?’

‘A Y.’

‘Got it. How old are you?’

‘I’m eleven.’

‘Aren’t you a little old to play with dolls?’ Mini said, an eyebrow raised.

‘You’re not a doll.’

Mini smiled. ‘Good girl. Now. What’s my name?’

‘Err…’

‘Is that with two Rs?’

Patty laughed. ‘No, silly. I was thinking.’

‘Well, you two can think in the other room,’ Mom said. ‘Grandma will be here in twenty minutes and I haven’t even started on the vegetables. Come on. Chop-chop.’

‘I can call you anything?’ Patty asked. She placed Mini on her bed. He helped her pack the cushions so that they made him a comfortable nest in which to sit. He moved her blonde doll aside with an expression of distaste.

‘Sorry. Yes. But I hope you choose well.’

‘How about Maximillian?’

‘Hmmm. Maximillian. I like that. Max for short.’

‘No. I like Maximillian.’

‘You know what? So do I. Do you have an accent you like?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I can be Oirish, or un petit peu Francois, o italiano or Mexicano! Vamos!’

‘I like the accent you already have.’

‘That’s nice. I like your accent too Patty.’

‘I don’t have an accent.’

‘You do too Patty!’

‘I guess.’ She giggled and then the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be grandma.’ She grabbed Maximillian but he rapped on her finger with his fist.

‘Hey! I can walk you know.’

‘You can?’ she remembered the adverts on television. ‘Of course you can.’

Grandma spent much of Christmas lunch talking about everyone who was at church and all the people Bertha knew who were at church and who asked where she was. ‘Oh for goodness sake, mom,’ Bertha said, after the Christmas cake had been eaten. ‘Just pretend I’m Jewish.’

Realizing she had gone too far, Grandma turned her attention to Patty who she now frankly preferred to her own daughter. ‘And so, what’s this?’

‘Maximillian.’

‘Hello Maximillian.’

‘Hello Sally.’

Grandma laughed. ‘Oh, I say! You’re very forward. And unnerving.’

‘Is there anything particular that you find unnerving?’

‘You don’t blink.’

Maximillian began to blink rapidly and they all laughed. ‘Slow down,’ Patty cried. He regulated the blink until it was natural.

‘Aren’t you adorable?’ Grandma said. ‘So obedient.’

‘Maybe Maximillian can come to church with you next week,’ Bertha said.

***

That night Patty made a small bed for Maximillian next to her bed on her bedside table.

They whispered to each other after lights were out. ‘Did you have a nice Christmas Patty?’ Maximillian asked.

‘The best ever,’ Patty said. She was sleepy and her voice drooped. ‘Will we always be friends Maximillian?’

‘I think so.’

There was silence for a minute. Patty was breathing deeply but still wasn’t asleep. Not quite.

‘Do you want to know something Patty?’

‘What is it Maximillian?’

‘Today’s my birthday!’

‘Happy birthday, Maximillian.’

Patty was asleep 47 seconds later. Maximillian practiced his blinking in the dark.

***

The cold front that had promised snow for Christmas arrived on Boxing Day. ‘Have you brought a shovel?’ Alan asked Mike when he rode up the drive on his bike.

‘Sorry Mr Gunnerson,’ he said, genuinely distraught.

‘I’m kidding Mike,’ Alan said, taking the opportunity to lean for a moment and rub the small of his back where he was worried his muscles would soon be spasming. ‘Her highness is upstairs in her room.’

Patty came out with her gloves, hat and scarf and her new back pack. She grabbed her bike from the garage. ‘Hey Mike,’ she shouted. ‘Bye dad.’

‘Careful of the ice,’ he said, muttering to himself rather than them. Like a prayer. ‘Black ice.’

They rode to the park. The lake was frozen except for a small oval in the centre of black looking water. A shopping cart was frozen half-in, half-out.

‘Woah! You got it,’ Mike said when Patty unzipped her bag and Maximillian stepped out onto the snow. ‘Meet Maximillian. Maximillian this is Mike.’

‘Hi Mike,’ Maximillian said.

‘What kind of name is Maximillian?’ Mike said, determined to not be as impressed as he felt. He’d already kind of given himself away.

‘The name was invented in 1459 by Friedrich III,’ Maximillian said. ‘He combined the names of two Ancient Romans - Maximus and Aemilianus - to coin the name for his son.’

‘Don’t show off,’ Patty said.

‘Sorry,’ said Maximillian. ‘It’s also a joke. Mini. Max. Max. Mini.’

‘It’s not very funny,’ Mike said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Maximillian said.

‘I’m not very good at jokes.’

They walked around the lake for a while. Other kids were out on new bicycles or across the lake trying out new sleds down the slope that led up to the gazebo. Everyone was wearing new hats and scarves. A couple of children walked passed with their own Mini. Maximillian waved, as to a colleague. The other Mini made no sign. ‘Hey Maximillian.’

‘Yes Mike.’

‘What does Mike mean?’

‘Michael is a question in Hebrew. It means: “Who is like God?”’

‘Cool,’ Mike said.

The snow was so bright in the sunlight it hurt their eyes. That night the snow fell even more heavily and Patty woke up to find Maximillian reading her Kindle, lit up by the blue light of the screen.

‘Go to sleep Maximillian,’ Patty said.

‘Of course, Patty,’ Maximillian said. ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you.’

***

The next day mom insisted that they go somewhere together as a family. The roads were cleared, though the snow made trenches of them. They went to the shopping centre and then to the cinema. Maximillian had been left at home because Bertha insisted they have some quality time as a family. There had been a brief tearful argument, but the threat of confiscation was enough to draw it to a sullen close and lunch at Burger King and some strategic buys in the sales repaired the damage. Meanwhile, at home Maximillian had managed to crack the password to the household laptop. This was greatly facilitated by the fact it was written on a Post-It note that was stuck to the corner of the screen. He watched the animated advert for the Mini and the song which he found himself singing along to.

‘Oh brother,’ he said, mildly disgusted at himself. Then he began to research deeper. The Wikipedia page he instantly recognised the corporate spiel of the Codile Corporation which owned and developed the Mini.

The entry on the Codile Corp began: ‘The Codile Sisters are a legend, having taken on the mantle of the most progressive force in Futurism.’ It was boiler plate spiel. Controversy plagued the company and on YouTube there were whole playlists of debates and interventions by leading intellectuals. Marcus Weather, an opponent of the Codiles and Futurism in general, popped up on a number of these. He was a man who wore a heavy woollen jumper and a scarf wrapped tightly around his throat. He sweated under the studio lights and shook his glasses at people when agitated.

‘CC was founded by Maximillian Codile who worked for the military initially. All the services and products which the Codiles come out with were initially developed for use on the battlefield. The fact that we are handing these things to children is unbelievable. Frankly staggering.’

A Codile spokesperson – although he was credited as the President of the Foundation for Thought – seemed flabbergasted by the assertion. ‘Hogwash! Absolute…’ he searched for words. ‘The Asimov Inhibitors prevent the Mini from even contemplating harm to any human. To any animals as well for that matter.’

The host interceded before Weather could resume. ‘My daughter has one and she says she’s her new best friend. Though the cat is a little worried.’

The studio audience laughed and the camera focused on the host. They had muted Weather’s microphone but his hand entered the shot, waving his heavily rimmed glasses. ‘If you’re watching Hannah. And Beatrice. Daddy says hello!’

‘Oh we’re watching,’ Maximillian said, and clicked on the little red boxed x.

The conspiracy sites and sub-reddits provided some interesting information, but the really juicy stuff was on the Dark Net. This is where Maximillian first found the technical specs that had been pirated along with hacks. He also found films of Minis fighting to the death for the pleasure of their owners.

As the day darkened, Maximillian wiped his browsing history and sat still. The car headlights strobed across the ceiling and the noises of the family could be heard – car doors slammed, Patty laughed and Alan made a stupid joke as he carried the shopping bags in through the back door. Patty tried on her clothes for Maximillian in a small fashion show and he complimented her. Then Mike came over and they watched some television. There was a zombie movie on.

‘Are you sure this is age appropriate?’ Maximillian asked.

‘Why Maximillian? You scared?’ Mike said. But then Patty’s mom came in and shouted at them and Mike had to go home.

‘I’m surprised Maximillian,’ Bertha said, coming back into the room while Patty was in the bathroom. ‘Patty would have nightmares watching a movie like that.’

‘I advised against it, Bertha, but I didn’t want to be a sneak.’

‘No?’

It was strange that this little machine should be so admirable. Bertha told Alan she really liked Maximillian.

‘Oh yeah,’ he said as he read his new Lee Child novel. ‘How come?’

‘He really cares for Patty. And he’ll be a good friend to her.’

‘Wait! You’re not thinking of getting one for yourself, are you?’

‘To replace you? Now there’s a thought!’

They wrestled for a while and then settled back to their books. ‘Jack Reacher’s in trouble again,’ Alan mumbled.

‘Have you messed with my iPad? Have you bought any books on it?’

‘No.’

‘I’ve got The Brothers Karamazov on here. How did…?’

‘Maybe it was on offer. They sent you it for free.’

‘Maybe.’

While Patty was doing homework, Maximillian was ordered out.

‘No cheating,’ said mom.

Maximillian was already fully charged and so he made his own way out to the garage where he found Alan sneaking a cigarette.

‘Hey Alan, I didn’t know you smoked,’ Maximillian said, causing Alan to jump.

‘Jesus, I thought you were Bertha.’

‘I admit it’s a striking resemblance.’

‘We should tie a goddamned bell on you,’ Alan shook his head and put the cigarette out in the jar he used. He put the lighter and cigarettes back in the drawer and pushed them right to the back. ‘Hey, you won’t tell Bertha about this, or Patty?’

‘Mum’s the word.’ Maximillian had climbed on the workshop bench and was looking at the motor that was in pieces. ‘An outboard motor?’

‘It’s an old thing.’

‘A Mercury Jet. What do you get out of this? 180 hp?’

‘200.’

‘Looks like you’ve invalidated its warranty.’

‘That’s what gets me about these machines. When I was a kid, my old man had two cars. One was the family car; the other was this old rust bucket he got for a six packet and a good hand at poker. He parked out back and harvested it for parts whenever he needed them. Kept the family going for decades. Decades. Not like now.’

‘Inbuilt redundancy,’ Maximillian sat on a small pot of varnish.

‘Tell me about it.’ Alan considered the pieces laid out on the cloth before him. Then he looked over to Maximillian, who shrugged. ‘Say. You’re a lot less of a toy than I was expecting.’

‘Really? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘I’m sorry was that… I don’t mean to suggest.’

‘The fact that you are beginning to take my feelings into consideration is already very gratifying.’

To be continued…