“Anything could happen to your lovely friend, that young and shiny-eyed man. Maybe that would be Pel’s price? Eh?”
Cobalt had his hands pressed against Juneau’s chest now. The palm at his throat completely cut his air. In a moment the room would begin to spin. In his mind he saw Liyan smiling, trusting, greeting Juneau on the street as a friend. He thought about his friend’s career, how faraway he was and yet, could one rich man’s whim possibly stretch that far?
He tried to inhale. Only pain gripped him, and crushing weight. Using all his heightened android strength, he pushed Juneau back.
It was forbidden for an android to raise a hand against any human for any reason. Even self-defense. That was what he’d been taught. An android convicted of such behavior could be put down for good. But he couldn’t help himself. He pushed hard, kicked with his feet, and Juneau went flying with a powerful yell off the bed and landed with a satisfying thump on the hard, parquet, penthouse floor.
Cobalt sat up, gasping, trying to catch his breath. He rubbed at his throat, coughing, leaning over the side of the bed and nearly throwing up. Groans came from the floor on the other side of the mattress.
Cobalt scooted to the foot of the bed, pushing himself onto his feet. He swayed, realizing that Juneau had possibly hurt him more than he thought. Lights flickered at the corners of his eyes. Beyond them encroached a heavy blackness.
He turned toward the table and his clothes. He needed to get out. But as he started forward, hands grabbed his ankles tripping him up. He fell hard, wincing and suddenly Juneau was on him.
“You could die for what you just did!” he hissed. He grabbed Cobalt’s throat with both hands now, naked and straddling him. He pressed his fingers viciously into his neck.
It seemed a thousand thoughts passed through his mind in a single moment. Who would miss him if he died? Liyan? Pel? It would be an end to many things, slavery, longing, a humanity that was denied him. If he were gone, Liyan would not be in any position to be threatened by Juneau. Liyan had Lark and Tiri now. They would take good care of him. And for what he had just done, pushing Juneau, assaulting him, he could be tried and convicted, put down or imprisoned for life. The nightmare would never end. But now? Everything could end. The blessing of that could not be denied.
Juneau leaned down. “You are nothing. Never forget that! Nothing!”
His fingers curled into fists and he felt the cool, twinkling presence of the ring. A symbol for friendship, for freedom. In a strangled voice he could barely mouth any words. But he managed two. He heard them as if they filled the hazy air of the room in a fervent cry. Pleading. Decisive. “Kill me.”
Juneau’s voice seemed to hover on the word ‘nothing’ as his mouth twisted before Cobalt’s fading vision. He felt his head wrenched back as he choked, trying, then failing to gain one more breath.
Everything went dark.
*
To Liyan:
You are one of the only people I can locate who may be a friend to Cobalt. I found your address on his computer.
If he means anything to you, you will want to know that he is in hospital as I write this. His condition is critical.
The story is difficult to put together, but he has been attacked and assaulted by a client of the hotel.
He is in good care on life support. The coma is induced to prevent brain damage. The end result is unknown. He may or may not awake.
I can supply updates at your request whenever you write to the address at the end of this wave.
I am very sorry for this news.
Pel
Grand Aurora Hotel
Asteroid 1191782
Diamond Void XP
*
20. Green as Android Tears
For the first time in his life he had gone far away, on a dark journey beyond the very stars where he dreamed to touch the slender night.
You could not touch a star. Its breath was a trillion condensed infernos. Its agenda: to consume. But somewhere in the back of his mind he saw himself holding a pink and bronze crystal that claimed to be one.
He came to rest in a windy void. In a distance of blue light dotted with black suns he was tossed and spun, neither hot nor cold. The sound of the wind crashed around him pulling his hair back, but he barely felt it. Sometimes the wind came filled with echoing voices too distorted to understand. He heard a pounding as if fists beat on a locked door. After an unspecified amount of time, he had a thought it might be his own heart. The sounds of life, it seemed, had followed him into death.
The void held no scent, only an electric flicker against his face, arms and legs.
At times the feeling of falling overtook him along with stabbing tugs of panic. He wondered if he fell forever would he eventually break up into a million pieces flying in all directions into infinity? He tried to curl his body into a ball, the screams in his mind accompanying his strange plummet.
Occasionally, the depthless blue light soothed his mind but most of the time the nightmare had full control. He swirled on the edge of sanity.
Off and on he would hear Juneau’s voice. “You’re late.” “You’re nothing.”
A piece of folded paper pressed the back pocket of his slacks. He could feel the sharp corners, the thickness of the letter, the density of the words he knew by heart.
The last time we parted at the shuttle port I saw the glimmer there in your gaze, that great and anxious yearning, and there was nothing I could do…
He could actually hear Liyan speaking those written words, see him with that always errant fringe of bangs hanging low in his honey-brown eyes.
He was here in this turquoise space for a reason. To free Liyan. And to protect Liyan. To keep him safe.
From far off he heard whispers and shouts. Sometimes they spoke his name. “Co…co…balt…balt.”
Even if he’d wanted to reply, he had no voice. The only sounds he could make were in his mind.
Sometimes he felt flutters, as if fingers touched his arms. Once he reached out into space and the gesture knocked against something invisible and hard.
No night. No day. He never remembered if he slept.
After a million years and some, a yellow crescent moon appeared growing slowly closer. Closer. When it bumped him, it wrapped itself around him cradling, rocking. It had a warmth he didn’t know he’d missed.
He finally slept, woke, slept again. Woke to a voice saying over and over, “Take my hand.”
He felt fingers interwoven with his own. A cool smoothness of metal twisted against his middle finger. The broken circle. The silver ‘O’ that connected him to longing, kindness, love.
He opened his eyes to a sting of light. He saw a familiar profile, strong chin, white-clad shoulder, hair the color of autumn leaves. His fingers curled against a warm hand.
No, he thought. It isn’t safe.
But it was too late. He was still alive.
Liyan’s head turned to face him, lips parting in a full smile but the dark eyes remained sad. “We almost lost you.” His free hand came up to cup the side of his head. Cobalt felt the heat on his skin, the palm pushing back his limp hair.
He opened his mouth to speak but only air whooshed from his lungs.
“Don’t try to talk yet. Your new voice box needs to settle in first.”
His first question was ‘how long?’ Liyan seemed to read his mind.
“It’s been a while, Cobalt. A long while. Pel waved me when you were hurt. It took me weeks to get here. I couldn’t get away at first. Then I had to find a ship heading to this sector. There were none. My captain couldn’t afford a detour. So Sekina came, her agenda being more flexible. You would’ve liked to see her hair. It was orange and pink stripes. She brought me in her ship as far as the space station. From there I shuttled in. You’ve been in a coma for seven weeks.”
Cobalt let that information sink in. Seven weeks. A new voice box. What else had Juneau damaged? If only Juneau had
been a bit more determined. But of course he would not complete Cobalt’s final wish. Cobalt had asked to die. Juneau obeyed no one but himself. Probably the fact that he’d asked to die had ensured he lived.
He glanced around, seeing the shining equipment, the clean, white walls, the green-edged sky beyond the half-open curtains.
“You’re getting the best of care,” Liyan assured him gently.
Of course he was. Juneau was paying for it as a part of his fine to Pel. He would have everything he needed to continue his life of servitude. And if it was Juneau’s goal to buy him, one day he would succeed.
Cobalt turned to stare at the window where a pane of glass stood between him and the outside which was still a cage encased by a double force-field. He decided humans wore too many skins.
Liyan said softly, “Hey. You’ll be okay.”
But Cobalt didn’t move. His vision misted. He closed his eyes. His hand in Liyan’s grip started to shake.
He would never be free. Never.
*
The blue light void came back, but he woke from it more often now before slipping away.
Liyan stayed. How many days had Liyan been at his side? He was afraid to ask.
He began to eat again. The first words he finally managed to speak were: “You have to go back. To space.”
Liyan stared at him for a moment, then said, “Good to hear your voice. Now shut up.”
“But…how long have you been here?”
Liyan shook his head. “I’ve accumulated a lot of leave time so don’t worry about it.”
“Will there be a trial?” he asked.
“A trial? For Juneau?”
“No. For what I did to Juneau.”
“What did you do to him? He’s the one who nearly killed you! He should be locked up. Instead, he’s merely paying restitution. And I’ve heard with his wealth that’s not a hardship for him to bear.”
Cobalt swallowed heavily. It seemed perhaps Juneau had not told the full story. So he would not be imprisoned. He would not be tried and convicted for raising his hand to a pure human.
Juneau’s threats or Juneau’s pride. One never knew which might win out on any particular day.
“I raised my hand against him,” Cobalt said.
“From what I know, he never said that. Not to anyone.” Liyan adjusted the cool sheet against Cobalt’s waist, his eyes so alive in the silver hospital light. “Besides, if you did, he deserved it.”
Cobalt watched him, the sure confidence of his solid, bronze hands, the way he breathed, calm and whole. Liyan filled out his uniform quite well. He was no longer the shy, skinny twenty year old who had embarked on a vast voyage nearly unprepared aside from some exceptional math skills.
Unlike the tourists who passed through the Aurora, Liyan did not smell of antiseptic shuttle air or the hangover sweat of the human rush through ports of entry, alien streets, chaotic hotel lobbies. He’d always had his own uniqueness. His skin shimmered with the sweet dusting of distant suns as it had before he’d ever reached them. If there was ever such a scent, Liyan smelled of freedom.
Voice almost a whisper, Liyan said, “Are you ready to tell me the whole story?”
Cobalt shook his head and glanced away.
“I missed you,” Liyan said.
“You were made for bigger missions than this,” Cobalt replied.
“Damn. I don’t know what to say to that, Cobalt.”
“You shouldn’t have come.” He refused to look in those shiny eyes now.
“Well.” The pause came heavy in the air. “That’s not your decision.”
They sat for some seconds.
Liyan said, “Something terrible happened to you. I wanted to be here. For you. Is that impossible for you to understand?”
“Maybe.”
“If our positions were reversed, would you have tried to come to me?”
Cobalt turned to stare at the gray ceiling above Liyan’s head. He had his answer instantly, but he did not say it. The universe, without Liyan in it, would die an unjust and savage death. Or it would go on but on such a different frequency it would be like starting over. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted, instead, the comfort of his suite, the letters coming in from afar, the sanctuary of knowing the human he treasured most was wandering the realms of highest hope and greatest promise.
Now that human stood before him in the plainness of a hospital stall, the ivory of the fleet uniform a purity against the stark walls. It was all wrong, all out of place. He did not know what to do.
He should have died. It would have made things easier for all.
Liyan reached out and brushed the side of his face with his knuckles. “You need to come back to me. Who else will write me haiku from home?”
This rotting cess-pot of home, he thought, already composing. The place from which Liyan managed to escape.
this rotting cess-pot of home
where the air is
green as android tears
He turned away.
*
21. Shades of Green Light Layering the Windows
When he was very young, perhaps only a few months fresh from the vats, he read the tragedies of Euripides, Sophocles, Shakespeare, Anduloxmidan. The lesson? To learn the risks of love which is a luxury afforded only by the free, and even then mistakes and griefs and messes were made that could never be undone. And for those for whom love was not an option, or who were ordered to love a master with no freedom or chance of escape, but who gambled it anyway, the story always ended in despair or death.
Cobalt’s arrangement with Liyan… the long-distance wave communication was a perfect solution for his predicament, the best relationship he could ever hope to have. One that did not involve anything but very rare face to face interaction. The complications were few. The risks diminished.
He wanted to keep it that way.
From his hospital bed he learned that Liyan had been home for two weeks. He had rarely left Cobalt’s side, but when he did need more than naps, and a long hot shower, Liyan had a suite at the Aurora provided by Pel.
Now that Cobalt was nearly ready to leave the hospital, Liyan wanted to remain another week.
It warmed Cobalt to think of another week with his friend, but it also meant more complications.
“You shouldn’t be gone so long. Don’t you miss Lark and Tiri?”
It was afternoon. Liyan stood by the window framed by beige curtains and an iron glow. For a moment he looked indistinct, phasing away on the sick light of trailing vapors from shuttleport starboats. A mirage perhaps in Cobalt’s mysterious android mind.
Liyan’s head bowed. “Intensely.”
“Then why…?”
“They both wanted to come,” Liyan interrupted, turning to look at him. Coming back into focus.
Cobalt was sitting up, dressed warmly in a thick, black robe. He’d just walked the floor, ten laps. He’d proven, to himself and his doctors, that his muscles were regaining their strength. He could continue his physical therapy on his own now.
“But,” Liyan continued, “we couldn’t all get away at once. I was so distraught they practically pushed me out an airlock just to get me to you sooner.”
“I’m grateful, but…”
“Don’t you see? You’re one of us. Just because you can’t physically be with us doesn’t mean…” He breathed out heavily. “He’d never admit it, but Lark’s still a little jealous. It’s because he knows. He knows, Cobalt…how much you mean to me.” He came to the bedside and reached out, touching the silver ring that still hugged Cobalt’s middle finger. “This ring joins all of us, you know. But it is because of the bond you and I have. Understand that you can argue yourself out of the loop all you want, try to send me away, but it won’t change the fact that you are my anchor, my conduit through space to a steadfast, unchanging constant, someone always there for me, waiting at shore for my return with unconditional appreciation.” H
e hesitated. “And affection.”
Cobalt himself would have used the tragic word ‘love’ but he felt suddenly too shy to say so.
All that aside, sometimes he did not want to be a ‘steadfast, unchanging constant.’ He wanted to be impulsive, daring, crazily jumping into foldspace and the crystalline atmospheres of planets unnamed.
But it was Liyan who was the type to pour out long withheld confessions. Not him. He remained mute.
“I’ll always return to you no matter how long away. I thought you knew that. Cobalt, you’re my home. That’s everything to me.”
Cobalt swallowed back a roughness in his throat. “Okay.”
“That’s all you have to say? Okay?”
Cobalt closed his eyes. He gave a small grunt. “It’s so much easier for me to write.”
“No it’s not. Your letters so often feel held back. I understand, though. Self-preservation and all that. When we’ve gotten together in the past, we’ve talked half the night away. You were comfortable enough then to reveal yourself. We connected.”
Cobalt took a breath. “I will admit it. Of course we connected.” I do love you. “And you say Lark’s a little jealous. Perhaps I am, too.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Cobalt frowned, a slice of panic rising. “But Liyan, you should know now that it’s possible Juneau will make things difficult.”
“Juneau? He’s been forbidden anywhere near you. Pel took out a restraining order. He’s not even allowed inside the Aurora.”
“Juneau is a powerful and rich man. And he’s in love with me…well…,” he tried not to sputter, “as much as he can be…in his twisted way.”
Liyan frowned. “D…do you love him?”
He reached out, grabbing Liyan’s arm and looking straight into his eyes. “I despise him.”
“Then why…?”
“It’s complicated.”
“And you don’t want to tell me the story. I know.”
Cobalt shook his head. “It’s ugly. And, yes, I don’t want to tell it.”
Letters to an Android Page 15
