‘It’s simple – just place the books in here and follow the onscreen instructions. If you need further assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.’ The brisk young librarian's heels clicked as she returned to her desk.

Jean inspected the metal box with the hollow square at its centre. It had appeared since her last visit to the local library.

It looked harmless enough, but Jean remembered a time when library tickets were little brown pockets, not plastic swipe cards. Still, this was no time for nostalgia, and it was best just to get on with it; she took the books from her bag, placed them in the space and crossed her fingers. The titles flashed up on the screen:

Banish Indecision
How to Make Your Mind Up
Grasping the Nettle

No wonder it had taken her so long to get through them; the advice they gave seemed to be so reckless. While she was reading, Jean could hear mother’s voice in her head: ‘Oh, do stop dithering Jean.’ None of the books had been any help, though. Jean had better just accept the fact that she was chronically indecisive.

She still hadn’t decided what to wear at her daughter Natasha’s wedding: the coral pink suit with the beige hat that looked well on her, or something brighter. The groom’s mother had chosen an outfit in sunshine yellow, her daughter had told her, hinting in a not-so-subtle way that it wouldn’t hurt for Jean to be bolder.

Jean sighed as she looked at the button choices on the screen. She pressed Return and then Yes when the screen asked if she wanted a receipt. Having pressed the correct button, she took the receipt, and felt relieved that her ordeal was over.

But what was this! A nasty green arrow began to dance about on the screen. It was pointing downwards. In a panic, Jean glanced at her shoes, than round at the shelves. What on earth was the machine trying to tell her?

‘Excuse me, but I wonder if ....’

When a man at the nearby sports section turned round, she pointed at the screen and raised her eye-brows. He seemed to understand immediately and replied, ‘It’s telling you to put your books on the trolley. I had the same problem understanding when I used it the first time. Here, let me help.’ His grey hair and melodic voice were strangely soothing.

Before lifting out the books, her rescuer placed the two books he was carrying under his arm. Jean saw a picture of mountains on the outer one and a title: ‘Conquering the Peaks’

‘Thank you so much,’ Jean said. ‘I’m afraid these machines get the better of me. It wouldn’t happen to you, I’m sure.’ She smiled and pointed at the books he held. ‘You’d soon conquer them.’

‘What? Oh, take no notice of these! ’ He laughed and held up the books. ‘They’re for my nephew. He’s always trying new hobbies. I’m no mountaineer; even have to think twice about steep hills nowadays.’

‘Well, thanks again,’ said Jean, and headed off to the self-help section.

The books she’d read had made her aware of an inconvenient character trait, a wish to try to please everyone, but otherwise they hadn’t been of much use.

Her gallant helper was still standing near the sports section when she returned. He was browsing through a book on skydiving.

‘I wonder if you could help me again’, said Joan

‘Of course!’ For a moment, Jean had the impression he’d been waiting for her to return.

‘Is it the same procedure for borrowing a book? I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t want to trouble the librarian. You were so kind before’

‘Oh, yes, just the same – put them in –ah, just the one this time, I see – and then follow the instructions that appear on the screen.’ He turned his attention back to the books he’d been looking at, but seemed to hover, as if hoping she’d need further help.

Jean put her book in the box and the title flashed up:

Take Charge of Your life and Move On

This time she clicked on Borrow and a message on the screen asked her to put her library card in a slot indicated by an arrow.

Her helper had walked over to the fiction shelves. She slid her card in the slot then jabbed nervously at the button labelled ‘Borrow’.When she'd completed the process she turned towards the entrance.

'Hm...I'm afraid technology is going too far,' said the voice she now recognised. 'We men are even robbed of the chance to open doors now they're automatic.' She noticed the warmth of his brown eyes as he added, 'But where are my manners? I'm Derek Johnson. I, er... wondered if you had time to come for coffee next door.'

To her surprise, Jean heard herself say, ‘Thank you. That would be lovely’.

Some weeks later, Jean stood in front of the library machine once more. Natasha and James were still on honeymoon and Jean reflected that was glad she’d chosen the pink and beige for the wedding, after all. So much more flattering, her escort had said, than the garish colours some other women had chosen.

Now, if things continued as she hoped, she had a whole new dilemma to consider. After placing the book on the trolley, she hurried off to a section that was new to her.

She soon returned, book in hand, then smiled at the title as it flashed up on the screen:

September Songs: Romance in Later Years.

As she looked around, Derek returned from the sports section, clutching a book on water-skiing. Really, that nephew of his was so indecisive. Maybe she should recommend a book or two about making his mind up.

‘That was quick. Need some help with the machine?’ asked Derek.

Jean smiled and linked her arm through his. ‘Oh, I don’t think so’. She straightened her shoulders. ‘After all, it’s just a matter of following instructions.’