Pian lay back and listened, mystified. The sounds made no sense. The window pane was tapping. One, two, three, stop. One, two, three. Tapping. Over and again.
He had not asked it to tap. There was no system on the window that should make it tap. And why would he want one? What use was an annoying tapping noise? Who could possibly want that?
If he had any reason to get up at a certain time, and he did not, he had a host of systems with built in alerts; there was a perfectly good alarm clock, his phone, the TV and, of course, the flat’s Artificial Intelligence itself. Pian tutted, the window was clearly malfunctioning like everything else in here since the latest system update.
He leaned over and pressed the report button for the tenth time this week, not that it ever seemed to do any good.
“Pian 4732 detected. What is the nature of your report?” He had set the AI’s voice to a sensual Irish burr but, again, since the system update it now chirped in the default, high pitched, Texan accent. It could be worse, and often was.
Pian instructed the AI. “Malfunctioning window tech: tap setting on. Please remove tapping programme ASAP. Thank you.”
The AI whirred then replied. “Pian 4732: No such tapping programme installed. Have a nice day.”
Pian grunted. The clicks got louder, the sounds coming more quickly, but still irregular.
Why would anyone want this app on their window? It was ridiculous. Pian closed his eyes again and tried his breathing exercises. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
“Bloody window.”
Pian had had enough. Time to sort this out. He pressed the activate AI button.
“Pian 4732 detected. What is the nature of your request?”
“Music: No woman, No cry.” The authentic juke box noise purred and clicked as Pian relaxed waiting for Bob Marley’s classic to come on. The first four bars were the hardest, crashing guitar riffs Pian had ever heard, making him leap, almost jerking him off the bed. It was some terrible punk cover rather than the original.
“Jeez! Stop. Music: stop!”
“Music stopped:” the AI said, “one credit charged. May I recommend similar tracks? The Crying Game. Play? Yes or no?”
Pian rolled his eyes. “No. Stop music app.”
“Don’t cry for me Argentina. Play? Yes or no?”
“I said no! Stop. Music stop.”
“When Doves Cry. Play? Yes or no?”
Pian stood up, frustrated. “Control. Alt. Delete.”
The AI beeped several times then fell silent as it began to reboot. There was another tap at the window, which was weird because the systems should all be on pause when rebooting. Pian turned to look. There was a woman outside, looking straight at him.
“Holy cow!” he jumped back, the backs of his legs pressing against the bed. She smiled, waved and tapped the window again. When Pian just gaped at her she mimed lifting the pane, then smiled again as he stood, silent.
“AI” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “AI” He looked around and realised it was still rebooting. The woman at the window waved again and gave an apologetic shrug.
Cautiously Pian walked up to the window and peered over the woman’s shoulder. No one else was out there.
He looked down. They were one floor up and her feet were awkwardly wedged on the narrow ledge, barely wide enough for her trainers. One hand gripped the frame to help give her balance.
It was raining. In fact, it must have been raining for quite some time as most of the road was swamped by a huge puddle reaching all the way up to the second phone shop. Pian clicked his tongue, why did they allow it to rain so long? What if he wanted to go somewhere? Or do something?
The woman tapped again and Pian nervously smiled back but made no move to open the window. She gave an exaggerated shrug and he had a brain wave. He tapped the window and grinned.
It is fair to say she did not grin back. She was about to respond but went to step back, forgetting for a moment that she was perched on a narrow ledge one floor up.
Pian let out a little yelp as her arms began to windmill, terror in her eyes. Centimetre by centimetre she tipped back. Then she was gone.
“AI online.” The AI said.
Pian touched the cold glass and then gave it a tentative tap, assessing the sound. It was grey, raining and miserable outside.
“Music: We Have All The Time In The World. Play softly.”
Pian caught a glimpse of his reflection and realised he was dressed just in his underpants. At least they were new on. Relatively.
He chuckled. “Peeping Tom. No, hold on. Peeping Tomina? Tam? Peeping Tam – ha! Holy Jeez!” The woman was back. Soaking wet. Mud down her shirt, a small cut on her head and now she was banging rather than simply tapping.
Pian picked up a T-shirt from the floor and put it on, ignoring her insistence. He smiled and held up a finger. One minute.
She stopped banging and sheepishly probed the cut on her forehead. Pian picked up a touchpad and typed something on it.
When he held it up she closed her eyes and pressed her head against the glass. Pian wondered if he had made the font big enough. He also thought that she should take up breathing exercises, they really helped at times like this. They called it mindfulness, or something like that.
She recomposed herself and, when she lifted her head, she left a small red blotch on the pane. Digging her phone out of her jeans’ pocket she thumbed a message, then pressed send.
Pian checked his twitter.
“@pianthesky I’m your neighbour. Please let me in.” He pursed his lips. She mimed opening the window again. He checked her twitter handle. @pixelfaerie – seemed harmless enough.
He looked at her again. Cut forehead, muddy, torn shirt. He tweeted.
“@pixelfaerie I’ll just check your mentions”
She banged. Once. He did not even look up from his phone.
After half a minute he looked up and deliberately raised his eyebrows while maintaining eye contact. She smiled. Rather unconvincingly.
“AI: please call 999.”
A ring tone sounded for a moment before an automated voice kicked in.
“Which service please?”
Pian waved at the woman. “Police please.”
“I’m sorry,” the voice replied, “I did not understand the response. Which service please?”
“Really? Police.”
“You have requested the… river police. Is that correct?”
“No!”
The ringtone sounded again for a moment then the voice kicked in.
“I’m sorry, all of our operators are busy at the moment. If you require the river police urgently please reply ‘URGENT’. To leave a voice mail message for less urgent needs please…” Pian swore.
“AI: hang up. AI: open the window.”
The window slid upwards easily, letting in a gust of wind. The outside world sounded dark and wild with the blustery weather whipping round, the rain slashing down. It smelt odd. Organic. Rotting.
“Hallelujah!“ The woman cried, wasting no time climbing in. “Thank the bloody Lord!”
She glanced over at Pian. “You got a sink Pianthesky?” He took a step back. “Yes. Sure.”
As he stood motionless he gazed at the woman. He’d never seen anyone clench their teeth so hard. He worried she might break them. Then she smiled sweetly. “Could I use it please?”
He nodded and she spread her hands making an exaggerated head sweep, pretending to look round the bare room.
“AI: sink please.” He twitched contritely and pointed at the sink as it slid out of the far wall. She took off her top and wrung it out into the bowl, the water splash reminding Pian he had not been to the loo for some time.
He watched the woman rinse her top in the sink, admiring her back, her underwear – even if it was quite grubby. In fact there was a strange appeal to the dirt after all the clean cut CGI porn he’d been watching recently.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She froze mid-rinse and turned her head to look at him, “For real?”
“Yeah. A real one. I don’t mind simulations, obviously.”
“I’m wet. You could at least offer me a cup of tea before you try to throw your leg over me.”
“Sure,” Pian said cheerfully, “AI: two green panda teas please – with lemon.”
Satisfied she’d done what she could with her shirt she slipped it back on and turned back to Pian.
He smiled, “So. It’s nice of you to pop by.”
She let out a sharp, barking laugh. Pian relaxed, this seemed to be going rather well considering he had not spoken to another real human being for at least a month. He carefully lifted the cups from the wall-hole dispenser congratulating himself.
“The perfect host.” He whispered rather loudly as he handed over one of the cups to the woman wondering whether he should put some trousers on.
She cupped the mug in her hands, warming herself on the tea. Pian decided that he probably was a little under dressed and started to dig through his laundry basket for something he hadn’t worn too often.
“Is it raining?” He asked as he pulled on a pair of chinos. She laughed again.
“You could say that pianthesky.” She then gawped. “You’re serious! Yes. It’s raining. It’s been raining for three weeks straight! Where have you been? Sitting here in your pants?”
Pian looked confused and slowly nodded. “It’s the heavy glazing. It keeps out most disturbances.” She looked at the floor momentarily realising she was one disturbance that had not been kept out. “Three weeks? I guess that’s a lot isn’t it? Oh well. Good for the roses my Mum used to say.”
“Not really,” she replied, “The roses have all been washed away by now.”
Pian put on his concerned face, a little uncertain now which flower a rose was. “Oh dear. I guess they’ll have to make some more.”
“Grow some more pianthesky. Grow some more.”
He shrugged. Grammar had never been his strong point. Sipping his tea held in one hand he slid the window shut with his other. The window beeped then the lock clicked. The outside world was switched off, shut out.
“Would you like to borrow an umbrella pixelfaerie? That might help.”
She eyed him wearily as she tucked her shirt in. “No. You’re good. Thanks. My name is Barbara by the way.” She held out her hand.
Pian looked at it for a moment. It had been a while since he had actually touched another person. “Pian.” He reached his hand out and let her grasp and shake it.
“Sorry. I’m a bit damp.”
“That’s ok Barbara.” Pian went to the sink and thoroughly washed his hands. “Not a problem.”
She cleared her throat. “Listen Pian. We’re in trouble.”
“Would you like a sandwich?” He asked. “AI: two packs of salad sandwiches please.”
She stepped towards him as the system whirred but he stepped away, trying to make it look that he was getting out the plates.
“Pian 4732: item out of stock. Two credits charged.”
Barbara went to speak but Pian held up his hand, “AI: list top menu items available please.”
It whirred “Pian 4732: items in stock. Hoola Hoops BBQ. Hoola Hoops cheese and onion. Hoola Hoops original. Hoola Hoops chutney.”
Pian whooped, “Ohhh, chutney, my favourite. AI: two packets of Hoola Hoops Chutney please.”
The AI whirred and two rustling plops landed in the wall-hole dispenser. “Pian 4732: two credits charged.”
Barbara touched his arm. “I’ve got to talk to you. We’re in trouble Pian.”
He picked up a packet of snacks and frowned, taking a closer look. “These are great.” He said slowly. “Hold on. They’re wet.” He opened it up and the contents were ruined. “Oh no.” He whispered.
“Pian, are you listening? 4732? Pian?” Barbara tried to shake his arm gently. He threw the packet across the room in disgust.
“Chutney are my favourite. This is outrageous! Outrageous!” Barbara frowned at Pian rubbing his arm, hoping to calm him. “I’m sorry Pian. I’m trying to tell you. Everything is breaking down.”
Pian stared into her eyes. “It’s not just the Hoola Hoops? Why doesn’t someone fix it? They should turn the rain off for a start.”
Barbara sat down on the bed and rubbed her head. She had no words.
“Pian, it’s not so easy. If anyone is going to fix it it’s going to have to be us. Listen…”
“Hold on Barbara. You’re one of those extremists. I saw your twitter feed. It’s all about how nothing works.” She laughed at him, replying “Nothing is working! It’s all breaking down! Why do you think I had to come in via the window?”
He stepped away two, three times until he was in the corner. “There you go again. You’re anti-government.”
“What government?” she replied, “There’s just an algorithm that sends out press releases based on opinion polls. No one is fixing anything, everyone has forgotten how!”
Pian peered at Barbara. “It’s because of the immigrants isn’t it? I knew it.” She smiled her first genuine smile since she arrived. “Yes. I suppose it is in a way.”
“Well they shouldn’t be allowed should they? Mucking up my Hoola Hoops.”
“What?” Barbara replied.
“The immigrants. Ruining my snacks.”
Barbara gaped at Pian. “I thought you meant… no… Pian, the immigrants aren’t making it rain, they’ve all been deported. There’s hardly anyone left who can fix the pipes, or service the machines or rebuild the drains. We’re in trouble Pian. We’re on a runaway train and have thrown the driver out of the carriage.”
Barbara stood up and reached towards Pian, “We have to act and I think you can help. I’ve been trying to get everyone on the street together, so we keep the flooding out, protect the vulnerable. We have to get ready.”
Pian turned away from Barbara, “AI: call 999.”
“That won’t help Pian. They’re swamped.” She huffed to herself. “Literally.”
“Which service please?” The automated voice kicked in.
“Police.”
“You have selected POLICE. Please hold.”
Barbara shook her head, realising he’d have to find out for himself.
“Police here. What is the nature of your call?”
Barbara stared out into the rain, would it ever stop? What would be left when it did?
“I have an intruder and require immediate assistance!”
Barbara twisted round, hissing. “No you fool, I’m here to…”
Pian screamed. “Help! Help me! She’s trying to overthrow the government!”
Barbara lifted the window in its frame. It beeped wildly in protest. With one swift motion she was out into the rain and gone.
“Pian 4732: current waiting time for police response is…” the automated voice hummed, “five days. Please find a place of safety while the emergency services come to your assistance.”
Pian closed the window carefully, taking one last look at the red blotch on the glass before going back to bed, the only place of safety he could think of.