‘Mind you… the real problem, Bubba, was that there were just too many of us.’

‘Too many humans?’

‘Nearly ten billion. Totally unsustainable.’ He looked down at the waddling unit beside him. ‘We were so very stupid, Bubba.’

It nodded, its plastic, pickle-shaped nose wobbling slightly. ‘Duh. Stoopid.’

Ten billion mouths to feed. How did we ever allow ourselves to get that crowded?

It reminded him of something a teacher once told him — Petri Dish Syndrome. Put a bacterium in a dish with something to feed on. Leave it long enough and it’ll fill the dish, then, oh boy, then… it’ll turn on itself, cannibalize its own protein to survive.

‘You reap what you sow,’ said SpongeBubba. He looked up at Rashim with wide, hopeful eyes. ‘Is that the correct saying to use?’

Rashim nodded. ‘It is. Well done, Bubba.’

‘Hey, thanks!’

They turned a corner into a passageway already lit with a steady glow from muted ceiling lights. At the end a pair of soldiers stood guard either side of the door to a lift.

Rashim flicked his hand casually at them as he and his unit approached. ‘Morning, guys.’

‘Morning, sir,’ said the older of the two guards. Almost old enough to be his dad. Rashim felt awkward; he seemed to be the youngest member by far on the technology team. Twenty-seven and he was in charge of the ‘receiver team’, a group of eight technicians all at least ten years older than him.

‘You’re up early again, Dr Anwar.’

Rashim shrugged. ‘We have calibrations to cross-check on the translation markers.’

SpongeBubba raised a gloved cartoon hand in a mock salute at the guards. ‘S’right! Rashim’s the most important man in the whole world!’

Rashim winced at his assistant’s sing-song exuberance.

The older guard cocked an eyebrow. ‘You do know that outside of the facility you should have your AI unit on verbal-mute, sir, don’t you? That’s a security breach.’