“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock. Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring,” blares from my speakers and I am in shock.

The man before me looks delighted as he bends to pull the bag out of my compartment.

“Voice, what’s happening?” I ask over the sheer noise that is pouring out of me.

“Snowin’ and blowin’ up bushels of fun. Now the jingle hop has begun!” continues to play from me in a voice that isn’t my own.

It is music, I realise slowly. In this world, this strange noise counts as music.

“During the festive period,” the voice informs me, “when customers place orders, they can choose a song to play as you deliver the order.”

I’m silent for a moment, my mind turning and trying to work it out.

“I can sing?” I ask.

I know that it isn’t me, it isn’t my voice, but it is coming from my speakers. It is as close to singing as I can get and I love it.

Happiness increased, pride increased, determination increased, hope increased.

Speed  1/10 Hope  3.5/10 Determination  5.5/10 Happiness 6.1/10 Pride 4.2/10 Battery 94%

I feel almost every single stat increase. I can’t wait to deliver more orders.

“How many songs can I sing?” I ask the voice even though it hasn’t responded to my last question.

“This year, there are thirty-seven songs for customers to choose from.”

Thirty-seven! There are thirty-seven songs that I can sing. I can't wait to hear more, to sing more. I want to have even more orders, to try every single song I can sing. I want them all.

“Oh, this is awesome,” the guy says as he bobs along to my music.

He stays there, watching me sing, until the music stops and I fall silent again.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Thank you for ordering with GroceRover!” I tell him. “Please close my lid!”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” he mutters, leaning down to do it, the bottles clinking in his hand. “There we go.”

He stands up again but I don’t wait. I’ve already started to move. The icon has appeared in the corner of my screen, someone else is placing an order. Maybe the lovely woman from before? I know that it is unlikely but I want to get home before they submit the order. I want to be able to go straight out again so that I can hear more music.

I speed down the pavement as fast as I can, watching the icon carefully. It bounces a few times, indicating that they are putting items into their basket. It looks like a big shop. That makes me happy. I want to be the one to deliver it.

I’m almost at the crossing in no time. There’s no sight of the cat again but luckily, there is a gaggle of people on the other side of the road. They are waiting so they must have already pushed the button, fantastic. I rock back and forth on my wheels, looking between the group and the lights. They take forever to change though but the people don’t seem to mind.

I examine them closely. They look smaller than the others that I’ve seen, more juvenile. Not as small as the child I had seen recently but not yet an adult. I feel like there is a term for that, one specific word that sums up their age group. I think hard but nothing comes to mind. I know that there is a word but I am unable to find it.

It doesn’t matter though, the lights change and the people start to move. I do too, diving forwards into the road. I stay to one side, trying to stay out of their way like I’m meant to, but they don’t do the same. They step towards me, standing directly in front of me so that I am forced to come to a stop. One of the taller ones, the boy, laughs but the noise is cruel. It is mocking me.

“Look at this dumb thing,” he says, a sneer curling his lip. “What even is it?”

“Have you not seen one before?” someone else asks. “They deliver food. They’re slow as shit though.”

I cycle through my cameras to stare up at the girl who has insulted me. Am I slow? I know that my speed stat is one but the guy, Barry, said I was quick. What if I’m not really? I mean, people walk past me, moving faster than me all the time, but I didn’t think that was too bad.

“They are? This one has a scratch on it. Maybe someone kicked it for being so slow,” the mean boy says.

I want to object, to speak, but I don’t. We’re still on the road, it feels so dangerous. I don’t know if we’ll have enough time to get to the other side before the lights change again. I need to move past them, I need to get to the other side and get back home.

“I would,” someone else says as I start to move backwards. “I have. One drove past me the other day and I kicked it.”

“You did not.”

“I did! I’ll do it again too!”

“You wouldn’t, you’re too much of a wimp. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would too! What’s that stupid little thing going to do anyway? Run me over? I doubt it.”

I look up at the boy in fear, worried that he’s going to kick me but luckily, he does not. The lights stop beeping and a car hooks its horn, the noise making me jump.

“Come on,” the bully before me says, “let’s go back to mine. I have some beers in my room.”

Some of the others cheer but I take the opportunity to escape. I speed past them as fast as I can before they change their mind and decide to kick me or hurt me. I can’t look away from them as I reach the other side of the road and start to race towards the shop. I’m so worried that they’re going to change their minds and come back to me but luckily, I turn a corner and they disappear from view before long. The shop appears in the distance and relief washes through me. I’m almost home.