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The Uncanny Valley Club Scenes from Chapter six

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To acquire bots for his new club, Benny the sexbot salesman does an underhanded deal with Quinn’s robotics company at their friend Henry’s expense—and Henry’s life begins to unravel

‘Put it this way, we’ll kill two birds here, Quinn. We’re sitting on a gold mine.’

Quinn lets a snort escape. ‘What birds shall we kill, and where is this gold mine, Benny?’

‘Henry is the bird. I can heal his Little Problem and put The Uncanny Valley Club in motion at the same time, and in case you haven’t realised it yet, the club is our gold mine. It’s a win-win for you, Quinn. If you back this idea, I’ll consider any suggestions for improvement from you. I’ll consider shares, and maybe even a partnership down the track? Put your spin on it—whatever takes your fancy—and at the same time, put the money into your best guy. I’m talking Henry here, not me.’

Win-win for you, Quinn. Quinn likes the sound of that. ‘Have Henry trial your club? You’re a smooth talker—I’ll give you that, Benn—but Henry won’t be fooled into that. He may be bored with himself right now, but he’s not stupid.’

‘You’re not hearing me, Quinn. We both know Henry won’t go for that. I’m not here to tell you how to do your job, of course, but this is what you should do: you ask him to look the club over for you to see if it’s worth the investment, and while he’s in the club, I’ll give him the royal treatment. He’ll love it. You have no idea, Quinn. Have you seen the European clubs? He’ll love it. You’ll love it. For fuck’s sake, we’ll all love it. You think he needs a holiday? This is better than a trip to the beach. Let’s bury him in The Uncanny Valley Club experience, and I guarantee you’ll have your old Henry back. We’ll razz him up good ’n’ proper. All he needs is a good going over from one of your best girls. You know what his problem is, right?’

‘I’ve heard the story.’

‘Let’s have him try out a new model. A man like you, I bet you’ve got an awesome new model in the works.’

‘You’ve got me interested, Benny—I’ll give you that.’ Quinn pokes at Benny’s nose on the gram. ‘Tell me this: how much will Scottie put in? Put me down to equal Scottie.’

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I is for Isobel—Amy Witting

When the next book on my TBR pile is by an Australian author, female, and set in Australia, I pour the coffee, grab the book and go back to bed. I is for Isobel is such a beautiful classic, a little bit sad, a little bit real, at times funny, and a lot lovely to read. Isobel’s attachment to words is fun and fascinating.

She turned her head to look at him, remote in sleep: delicate sallow oblong face, fluted upper lip, light-brown crimped hair drifting across his forehead…listen, you don’t have to paint his portrait.

Doctor, I have this problem. Some people count lamp posts. I describe them. You don’t think that’s a problem? You should try it sometimes, like five lamp posts one after the other, a word picture of each, to be handed in nowhere at the end of the day…

I is for Isobel, Amy Witting. 1990
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The Uncanny Valley Club Scenes In Colour Chapter Five

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Dale arrives in the city to join the anti-sexbot core.

Dale and Henry, the two pivotal characters in The Uncanny Valley Club, come together in this chapter, chapter five. Neither is who the other expects to be meeting. To Dale, Henry is the person she needs to get close to, a senior and dynamic business manager at Quinn Corp. Robotics. Someone with the reputation of a manipulator that she needs to be careful of. Upon meeting him, he comes across as a bit of a loser. To Henry, Dale is the new intern, more of an inconvenience to Henry than anything else, but she’s to become the person, along with the underground feminist group, who brings both him and Quinn Corp undone.

She embarked on this venture four weeks ago with the creation of a persona, one completely at odds with her own, allowing her to be the person she needs to be. But now, she’s rattled. She bolsters herself by reciting the list of attributes she had decided to take on: unflappable, uncaring, straightforward, daring—I don’t give a fuck. A personality to wear like a cloak.

She pulls her bag close against her legs. A woman heads toward her, her face focussed, and then moves on past while hurrying along her four small jiggling children—a family size that must be a pleasant throwback to the last government. The crowd thins. The trains become still. A fake vintage clock echoes throughout the station with a confected tick thunk, tick thunk, tick thunk, and the vast building pulsates with the emptiness.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she takes it out. It’s Esther from QRC. She breathes in. It rings and rings. She breathes out. Train noise builds around her. Heels click, and the drones return to hover. The energised air needles her anxiety.

The Uncanny Valley Club, Julie Proudfoot
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Scenes from The Uncanny Valley Club: Social Bots Chapter Four

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The social bots appear in unexpected places in The Uncanny Valley Club, and when Henry discovers his closest friend, Vince, who has always been hell-bent on making sure he remains completely biological himself, has purchased one, it doesn’t sit right with Henry. The Social Bots (or sexbots, depending on a character’s point of view) are utilised differently by each of the characters, and their uses vary from therapeutic to fun-park to degrading.

“As Henry speaks, his attention is drawn to a swelling movement of the covers on the other side of the bed, and, in that moment, there emerges—like Gulliver from ropes—a pale face that, as the sheets slip away to the floor, gradually reveals itself to be the head, then the neck, and then the body of a woman.

Vince’s eyes follow Henry’s gaze. ‘Have you not met Greta?’ he asks, and he casually throws a thumb over his shoulder. Vince smiles because, of course, Henry has not met Greta. Greta is new.

‘Nope, I’m inclined to say I haven’t met Greta. And here I was thinking the piles of bubble wrap in the lounge were a new exercise machine.’

‘It is kind of a new exercise machine.’ Vince grins.

Vince grabs a plate as it begins to slide from the covers with the emergence of his bed companion, who has been so still and quiet this whole time that Henry suspects Vince intended to keep this new thing in his life hidden.

It’s a serene face that smiles at Henry, but her eyes dart down, up, down, then up again as it takes in the details of what it means to be Henry.

‘Hello Henry,’ it says. ‘Lovely to see you again.’

Although Henry has worked for Quinn for many years, he doesn’t deal with the social bots. It’s not his job. His focus is the business of getting contracts signed, deliveries delivered and debts paid. In fact, he prefers not to think about the bots as functioning beings and how they’re used, at all.

Vince watches Henry’s face.

‘We’ve met before?’ Henry asks it.

‘Not exactly,’ it says, ‘but I’ve been aware of you.’

And now Henry finds that, apart from complete surprise, he’s feeling agitated by the idea of it knowing him, but he not knowing it, and the only way he can manage to express an opinion is to mock Vince: ‘What were you just saying about being the real deal?’ Henry says, and he thumps his fist against his own chest.”

The Uncanny Valley Club, Chapter 4, Julie Proudfoot. 2022.

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The Uncanny Valley Club: Scenes in Colour Chapter One

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The Uncanny Valley Club story enters the world with a self drive car sliding up onto a footpath and knocking down a pedestrian.

A loud, hollow thump comes to Henry’s attention from across the circuit. A pedestrian lies on the road—with arms spread out and legs stiffened in fright, Jesus-style—stalling the honking traffic. A woman bends a knee to the road by the pedestrian’s side, to help, and shouts threats at the receding self-drive while holding her phone high to record its cold-hearted retreat.

A crowd gathers, drawn to an opportunity to air grievances, and they, too, reach out with their phones, as though in a synchronised Nazi salute, to film the self-drive as it tootles down the road, off and away, without a care. The entire shenanigans a result of the self-drive having selected the path of least damage: up the curb, onto the footpath, and neatly into a lone and oblivious pedestrian—thump.

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