Paycheck (2003) by Philip K. Dick

happily, exaltedly. ‘But now you’re all set up, sir. With this model you’re right up there in the front. Your worries are over, Mr …’ He halted expectantly. ‘Your name, sir? To whom shall I make out this purchase order?’
    *

    Bobby and Jean watched with fascination as the delivery men lugged the enormous crate into the living room. Grunting and sweating, they set it down and straightened gratefully up.
    ‘All right,’ Tom said crisply. ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Not at all, mister.’ The delivery men stalked out, noisily closing the door after them.
    ‘Daddy, what is it?’ Jean whispered. The two children came cautiously around the crate, wide-eyed and awed.
    ‘You’ll see in a minute.’
    ‘Tom, it’s past their bedtime,’ Mary protested. ‘Can’t they look at it tomorrow?’
    ‘I want them to look at it
now
.’ Tom disappeared downstairs into the basement and returned with a screwdriver. Kneeling on the floor beside the crate he began rapidly unscrewing the bolts that held it together. ‘They can go to bed a little late, for once.’
    He removed the boards, one by one, working expertly and calmly. At last the final board was gone, propped up against the wall with the others. He unclipped the book of instructions and the 90-day warranty and handed them to Mary. ‘Hold onto these.’
    ‘It’s a Nanny!’ Bobby cried.
    ‘It’s a huge, huge Nanny!’
    In the crate the great black shape lay quietly, like an enormous metal tortoise, encased in a coating of grease. Carefully checked, oiled, and fully guaranteed. Tom nodded. ‘That’s right. It’s a Nanny, a new Nanny. To take the place of the old one.’
    ‘For
us
?’
    ‘Yes.’ Tom sat down in a nearby chair and it a cigarette. ‘Tomorrow morning we’ll turn her on and warm her up. See how she runs.’
    The children’s eyes were like saucers. Neither of them could breathe or speak.
    ‘But this time,’ Mary said, ‘you must stay away from the park. Don’t take her near the park. You hear?’
    ‘No,’ Tom contradicted. ‘They can go in the park.’
    Mary glanced uncertainly at him. ‘But that orange thing might—’
    Tom smiled grimly. ‘It’s fine with me if they go into the park.’ He leaned toward Bobby and Jean. ‘You kids go into the park anytime you want. And don’t be afraid of anything. Of anything or anyone. Remember that.’
    He kicked the end of the massive crate with his toe.
    ‘There isn’t anything in the world you have to be afraid of. Not anymore.’
    Bobby and Jean nodded, still gazing fixedly into the crate.
    ‘All right, Daddy,’ Jean breathed.
    ‘Boy, look at her!’ Bobby whispered. ‘Just look at her! I can hardly wait till tomorrow!’
    Mrs Andrew Casworthy greeted her husband on the front steps of their attractive three-story house, wringing her hands anxiously.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Casworthy grunted, taking off his hat. With his pocket handkerchief he wiped sweat from his florid face. ‘Lord, it was hot today. What’s wrong? What is it?’
    ‘Andrew, I’m afraid—’
    ‘What the hell happened?’
    ‘Phyllis came home from the park today without her Nanny. She was bent and scratched yesterday when Phyllis brought her home, and Phyllis is so upset I can’t make out—’
    ‘Without her Nanny
? ‘
    ‘She came home alone. By herself. All alone.’
    Slow rage suffused the man’s heavy features. ‘What happened?’
    ‘Something in the park, like yesterday. Something attacked her Nanny. Destroyed her! I can’t get the story exactly straight, but something black, something huge and black … It must have been another Nanny.’
    Casworthy’s jaw slowly jutted out. His thickset face turned ugly dark red, a deep unwholesome flush that rose ominously and settled in place. Abruptly, he turned on his heel.
    ‘Where are you going?’ his wife fluttered nervously.
    The paunchy, red-faced man stalked rapidly down the walk toward his sleek surface cruiser, already reaching for the door