You could have cut the air with a knife.  Nick had perched himself on the edge of the large desk that was normally used for the packaging of orders, and looked across at his two faithful employees, Phil and Lydia.

He had been dreading this meeting.  While the thought of the change excited him, he knew it could only be achieved at the expense of those without whom he would never have prospered at all.  He took a deep breath and steeled himself to speak.

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this.  I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you both go.”

“What?” said Phil.

“Why?” asked Lydia.

“The fact is,” he stumbled, “I’ve run into a few financial problems, and now, well, I’m – I just can’t afford to keep you on.”

The late afternoon sunlight flooded the office through the high windows, cold and comfortless to the despondent workers, who sat in disgusted silence, watching the dust falling through it. 

“Of course, you can both have a few weeks to find something else.  I know this is unfair, so I propose to make it as painless for you as possible.  But I’ll have to ask you to try and find something else by the end of next month.”

“Well I shall want something in writing,” said Lydia, coldly.

“Yes, so will I,” added Phil, a little weakly.

“Okay,” said Nick, “of course.  I’ll sort that out tonight.  You can knock off early if you like.  And listen – if I hear of anything going I’ll let you both know.”

“Oh, thanks!” said Lydia, sarcastically. 

After they had gone he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one.  He sat for a long time, smoking one after another, until it began to get dark. 

“Well, this explains a lot, doesn’t it?”

Lydia stood fuming in the doorway of his private office, waving a single sheet of A4 paper.  Recognising the logo, Nick didn’t need to read it.  Unable to think of a suitable reply, he sat looking at her stupidly.

“I mean, alright, you’ve made up your mind to get rid of us.   But you haven’t even got the decency to tell us what’s really going on.  Don’t you think we deserve the truth?”

The silence deepened behind the desk.  Nick’s mouth began to move, having given up on receiving the instructions from his brain about what to say.  Unsurprisingly, nothing much came out.

“Well, I’ve had enough of being treated like this.  You rotten bastard, you even had me feeling sorry for you!  Money troubles my arse!  You’re fucking rolling in it!  Well, as it happens, I’ve got another job to go to.  I was going to stick around for a week, but not now.  I’m off.  And you want to think yourself lucky you’re not being sued for unfair dismissal!”

He remained seated, looking down at the desk, as she vanished from the doorway.  He heard some banging and crashing in the office, then finally the loud slam of the front door.  He stood up and rushed to the waste bin by the opposite wall, and was violently sick in it.

When he had recovered himself, he lit a cigarette, and after taking a deep drag, rested it on the corner of an ashtray.  Then he picked up the invoice from the floor and dialed the number on it.  The phone was answered by a pleasant female voice.

“Cyberforce, can I help you?”

“Yes, can I speak to Simon Caldwell please?”

“Oh, he’s in another office.  I’ll just try and put you through.”

After a few moments of Mantovani, Simon’s voice came through.

“Hello?”

“Listen, mate,” began Nick, “I seem to remember us agreeing that no paperwork would come through to this office until my staff had gone.”

“Absolutely,” smiled Simon, “that’s what we agreed.”

“Well then do you mind telling me who sent this fucking invoice?  I’ve just lost my last member of staff.  And I’ve got no-one to replace her with until the order arrives.  What are you going to do about it?”

“Nick, calm down.” Simon employed his most conciliatory voice. “I’m sorry about that.  It’s probably an automatic thing.  You know these computers.”  He tried a light-hearted chuckle.

“Well, someone should have modified it. Considering all you’ve said about the infallibility of your products, I don’t think this sort of thing is very good for publicity, do you?”

“No, that’s fair comment,” replied Simon.  “Tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll speed up the order.  If I can guarantee delivery tomorrow, will that do you?”

“Can you do that?” 

“You’re a valued customer, Nick.  Of course we can do it.  There’ll be a van round in the morning with the two units.  Oh,  and I’m going to throw in a complete set of spares just to show goodwill.”

Nick’s anger subsided at this news.  “Well, that’s more like it.  Excellent, in fact.  What time can I expect them?”

“They’ll be with you by lunchtime, no sweat.”

“Yes, I’m afraid there has been a slight delay.  Unfortunately I’ve got one or two people off sick at the moment.”  This time it was Nick who was exercising professional calm.  Lunchtime had come and gone, and there was, as yet, no sign of the van.

“No, I promise you, we’ll get it to you by the end of the week.  I’ve got some temporary cover coming in.  That’s no problem.  Goodbye.”

He replaced the phone and hurriedly took it off the hook.  The calls were multiplying now, with the gradual slowing down of the operation, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the orders began to follow suit.  He bit his nails feverishly.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was half past two.  He was about to replace the receiver in order to call Simon when he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the car park.  He rushed out to meet it.

By the time he got outside, the delivery man was removing boxes from the back of the Cyberforce van. 

“And about bloody time!” he said, with a sigh of relief.

It was mid-evening before he found the nerve to switch them on.  The delivery man had not been the easiest person to talk to, and had hastily brushed off any question of his staying to help with the installation.

“I can’t hang about here, I’ve got two more deliveries tonight.  Anyway, they’re all ready.  Just switch ‘em on.  And if anything goes wrong, they’re programmed to repair each other.  Alright?  I’m off.”

He had been trying to think what to call them.  His first idea was to call them Phil and Lydia, but remembering Lydia’s dramatic exit, he thought better of it. Eventually, having run through most of the famous couples in history, he settled on Pyramus and Thisbe.

It seemed ridiculous to genderise them, but somehow it made him feel more secure.  He took a deep breath, and switched on Pyramus.  The handsome head rolled into life, and the eyes opened. Once animated, the unit was almost indistinguishable from a human being, physically speaking.  Its movements were natural, its shape was flawless and symmetrical, and it had a smile that could win over the most difficult customer.

“Good evening, sir.”

The voice was indeed male.  It had a pleasant depth, was well-spoken and suggested a good education. 

“Hi, I’m Nick,” he replied.  “I’ve decided to call you Pyramus.”

“Oh!” said Pyramus, rather taken aback.  “My given name is Model PX437-a, but I will answer to anything you like.”

“Great,” said Nick.  “Ready to go to work?”

Feeling slightly more relaxed, he began to run through the mechanics of the business with his new employee; how the orders were picked up from the computer, the links to all his suppliers, invoicing, accounts and filing systems, and the packaging and sending of orders.  Pyramus nodded thoughtfully.

“Can I ask you something, Nick?”

“Fire away.”

“Should I just follow your orders, or would you like me to appraise your working practices and see if I can speed things up?”

This time it was Nick who was taken aback.

“Well,” he said after a pause, “why don’t we try the first option for a while and see how it goes.  When you’ve both settled in, perhaps we can look at improvements.”

“Fair enough,” said Pyramus, evenly.  “Will you turn Thisbe on or shall I?”

“Well, I thought I would.  To be honest the only reason I haven’t is that I wasn’t sure if I could cope with both of you at once.  But since we’re getting on so well, I think I’m ready to give her the same basic induction.”

“If you insist,” said Pyramus, “but I can do it if you like?”

Nick’s curiosity was aroused.

“Okay,” he said.  “Go for it.”

“No, they’re amazing.  I’d recommend them to anyone.”

He was sat in the bar of the King George Arms early on a Thursday evening.  He held his mobile to his ear and his finger in the other one, the better to hear the other half of the conversation.

“Like lightning.  And the great thing is, they’ll never break down – or if one of them does, the other’ll fix it?  Eh? Yes, programmed to.  Of course the whole thing cost me a bit in goodwill and lost orders to begin with, but they picked things up so quick I hardly had time to notice the lull.  What? No, business is better than ever now.  Hang on, it’s too noisy in here.  I’ll just go outside.

He left his drink on the table and went out into the corridor that led to the ladies and gents.

“That’s better.  Yes, I’ll have a word if you like.  Get him to give you a call.  He’s ……. Sorry, John, can I call you back?”

As the door of the bar had closed behind him, the door to the ladies had opened, and he found himself face to face with Lydia.

“So, how’s business?”

Again he found his mouth muscles going to work before his brain could get to first base.

“Very well, thanks,” he managed at last.  “I’m sorry about the way things turned out.”

“Me too,” she replied, coldly.

“You look nice,” he tried.  “Going on somewhere later?”

“Girl’s night out. I can afford it now.”

“Good, I’m glad.”  He nodded just a little too vigorously.

“More than some can though.  I saw Phil the other day.  That job fell through.  Looks like he’ll be spending Christmas on the dole.  Not that you’d care, of course.”

“You’re wrong, Lydia.  I do care.  But you have to try and see it from my side.  I’m trying to compete.  I mean, things were going well, sure, but these things are the future.  They’ll be all over town in a year or two.  I’m just trying to stay on top.”

“You’re breaking my heart,” she snarled, and swept past him with a shake of her head.

It had not been the first time that month he had seen her.  At least this time she had spoken to him, he thought.  Perhaps she would thaw out.  And as for Phil, he was a bright enough lad.  Once Christmas was out of the way he’d be back in work no trouble.  But no, he was kidding himself.  They would never think any better of him. 

He decided to leave his pint and head back to the office.  As he drove back to the business park his mind turned to the future again, and he began looking forward to putting his expansion plans into effect.  With his current operation practically working itself, he could afford new premises, and was already checking out options.

But it was no good.  The ghosts of Phil and Lydia lay deep in his psyche and were not to be denied.  As he drove out of the city centre, he began to feel unwell.

He did his best to ignore the feeling, and continued driving.  He tried to distract himself by remembering a recent visit to the bank.  When his business had started he was lucky if he could get an appointment in the same week.  Now, a call to the branch would trigger the hasty arrangement of tea and biscuits, served on the best china, and as he arrived at the door he would be inevitably greeted by a charming secretary who would lead him cheerfully straight to the door of the manager’s office.

He drifted back to the present in time to see his small industrial unit looming up on the left, and so turned off the road and parked the car.  The sense of malaise was unavoidable now.  He was sweating and his legs felt like lead.  Perhaps the stress was getting too much for him, he thought.  When he had sorted out the new premises, he would take a holiday.  He could afford a few more robots now, and it wouldn’t take five minutes to get things ticking over.

He walked uneasily towards the entrance, just remembering as he did so to lock the car.  He dropped the key into his pocket and walked in, to be greeted by his tireless staff.

“Hello, Nick,” smiled Pyramus. 

“Hi Nick,” said Thisbe, turning her head from the computer where she was busily printing off orders and updating records as she went. Her short, blond hair shone in the artificial light.  “How are you.”

“Hello, both,” said Nick.  “Okay, I think.  I, erm….. Oh!”

The room began to spin around him, and the sweating increased until it was leaking from every pore.  He began to shiver, and felt faint.  His chest felt a little tight, and his breathing became laboured.  The room began to darken, until finally he felt himself falling, consciousness slipping away from him in a merciful release.

His vision was blurred at first.  Then, as focus returned, he recognized the office ceiling, its sickly yellow lights making his stomach swirl. His next realisation was that he could not feel his legs.  He managed to raise his head a little, and could just see the lower half of his body.  It took his brain a few moments to catch up.  The meaning of the metallic sheen of his lower limbs began to sink in, and he began once again to perspire.

“It’s okay,” soothed Thisbe from behind his head.  “Just relax.”

“That’s right,” said Pyramus reassuringly, walking back into view.  He was holding something red and wet, which he dropped into a waste bin.   Nick tried again to raise his head, and for a second caught a glimpse of the glittering mechanism throbbing inside the cavity of his chest.  Tiny lights flashed as signals were sent back and forth, and a gentle electronic hum spoke of a unit in perfect working order. But his cranium began to hurt, and he sank back on to the table.

“It won’t be long now,” said Thisbe.  “Just the brain left.  Then we can all get back to work.”

Nick passed out.