The woman continues to stare at me, her eyes wide and her face blank. It takes a few seconds for a wide smile to stretch up onto her lips.

“Look! It’s that robot that I told you about! Grocerybot or something!” she cries, pointing at me excitedly.

The rest of the women fall silent and look between me and the woman. I’m seized by the desire to talk, to introduce myself. I shouldn’t, I know that I shouldn’t. I don’t have anything appropriate that I could say to them. I wish that I could just introduce myself without saying that I’m ready to take the order because I already have an order, it feels wrong. I want to say the name of the company too because she got it wrong and I want to correct her but I don’t know. It feels almost rude.

“Thank you for ordering with GroceRover!” I say, my voice loud and unexpected even to my own ears.

“Please remember that you are not allowed to speak to humans unless you are asking for help, thanking them for helping you, receiving an order or delivering an order,” the voice immediately chides me but the women’s reaction is so dramatic that I don’t care.

“He can talk!” one of them squeals.

“Aw! He’s so cute!” another shouts.

“I love him!” the first woman cries.

I want to speak more, their reactions are driving me onwards.

“I’m Dasher and I am ready to take the order!” I say, even though it doesn’t really make sense.

“He’s Dasher!” one repeats, adoration on her face.

The first woman drops to her knees and throws her arms around the hard plastic of my body, her blonde hair falling over me and obscuring my cameras. I don’t move. I don’t know how to react. I think she is hugging me. This is a hug. I remember the sensation of one but I can’t feel anything. I have no sensors in my body, it’s like no one is touching me. But I still appreciate it. I still like that she is hugging me. I missed it, even if I can’t feel it. I think I used to like being hugged a lot but I don’t remember it. When I think about it, when I think really hard, I think I can remember it. I’m not sure though. I’m not sure that I trust my memories.

“I love him so much,” the woman with her arms around me says but the noise comes out sounding strange and warbling, as if her speaker is malfunctioning.

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Confusion washes through me and I look up at the others through the hair just in time to see one of them roll her eyes.

“Okay, come on, Alice,” she says, laying a hand on the hugging woman’s shoulder. “You’re kneeling in snow, aren’t you cold?”

“No!” the blonde woman cries. “He’s keeping me warm! I love him!”

Some of the others laugh kindly at her but the tall one who spoke to her before starts to gently pull her away from me.

“Come on, the robot probably has somewhere to get to and we need to get to Kevin’s party,” she says in a calm yet kind voice. “Don’t you want to go there? Amy’s at the party.”

The blonde woman sniffs, the noise almost deafening to me but I don’t care. Loss shoots through me as she starts to pull back and I am seized with the desire to ask her not to. I wish I could tell her to stay and not let go of me but I don’t have the words.

“She is?” the woman, Alice, asks, staring up at the other woman.

Her face looks strange now. Her makeup looks smudged and her cheeks are shiny for some reason. The golden light from the streetlamp shines off it.

“Yeah, I saw on Instagram earlier.”

Alice sniffs again, sitting back on her heels as she stares at me. Her gaze seems distant though, unfocused.

“Okay,” she mutters before wiping her nose with the back of her hand and starting to stand unsteadily. She stumbles a couple of times but manages to get up in the end. “How much of a mess is my makeup?”

She turns towards one of the other girls who touches her face for a moment before leaning back.

“There, you look perfect!” she cries.

Alice beams at her before looking back at me.

“I don’t want to leave the little guy though! He must be so cold and lonely,” she says, her expression sad.

“We need to,” the kind person tells her. “He’s got a delivery to do.”

Emotions cross Alice’s face but I can’t work out what any of them mean. They’re too quick, too fleeting.

“We need to at least help him, right?” she says. “He was going to cross the road, right? That must be why he stopped here!”

Concern starts to build within me and I glance at the map which shows my path and destination. I do not need to cross the road. I need to go straight on until the end of the street and then turn left, not cross over to the right side of the road. It made no sense. I had just pulled out of their way so that they could pass me easier.

“Awww! We should help him!” one of the other girls cries, her movements so sudden that some of her drink splashes out of the glass she’s holding and hits the floor near me.

I rush to search through my phrases, trying to work out how exactly to tell them that I don’t need help. I can’t find an appropriate phrase though. I can’t say ‘I need assistance’, they might interpret that as me asking them to help me cross the road, but if I say ‘Help! I am in trouble!’ it would be too extreme. I am not in trouble.

Alice thrusts her drink, which I hadn’t even noticed that she was still holding, into someone’s hands as the other girl does the same. I watch in panic as they turn to me and place heavy hands on my lid.

“Don’t worry, friend,” Alice tells me cheerfully, “We’re going to help you cross the road!”