Letters to an Android

by Wendy Rathbone

  Liyan sat on the edge of the bed.

  “He threatened you,” Cobalt finally managed to say.

  “Me? He sounds like the kind of person who manipulates others with loads of lies. And you believe them.”

  “You’re not in my position. I have no recourse. I can’t go to the law and say I do not want to be owned, let alone choose who owns me. He could hold promises over me you couldn’t conceive of. If Juneau were to buy me, I would never see you again. And I’m sure all waves would be forbidden.”

  “Is that what he said? Is that why you’re here? Why he nearly killed you?”

  Cobalt’s teeth dug into his lower lip.

  Liyan’s face fell in shadow, a blur. “I’m so sorry. Cobalt…I didn’t know.”

  “Pel won’t sell.” There was a fluttering in his chest. He so did not want to burden Liyan with all this. Not now. Not ever. “But how can I know the future? What if Pel changes his mind for some reason? What if Pel dies?”

  “I’m sure he has a will. He’s not going to leave something valuable to a stranger.”

  “But what if the person who inherits me wants to sell? To a stranger?”

  Liyan nodded. “I’ve been so stupid. Here I am, gallivanting off through the galaxy where everything’s in flux, no two foldspace experiences alike, a universe of untapped mysteries a breath away where nothing ever stays the same… even our tourist routes are always in flux, and I am a moron, thinking you’ll always be there for me, unchanging, thinking that this station and its facilities…its people…will always be there. I never forget your predicament, but I took it for granted that your predicament wouldn’t change.”

  “I don’t talk about these things with anyone.”

  “And I’ve taken you for granted.”

  “But I’m grateful. I’ve never had a friendship, not like this, not of any sort.”

  Liyan touched the top of his hand. “How did Juneau threaten me?”

  “I never speak of you to him. He met you that one time on the street.”

  Liyan nodded. “I remember him.”

  “He remembered you being with me because I never go out. It was an odd scene for him to see me that way. He was instantly jealous. He couldn’t know two months ago in the penthouse when he tried to kill me that his jests to harm you threatened my own heart. He simply guessed.”

  “What did he say he’d do?”

  “He only said his power reached very far and that he could take steps to ruin your life. I would never, ever want to risk that!”

  “But if he really wants you so badly, if he really wants to buy you, he could do the same to Pel…ruin his life.”

  “He did threaten Pel, in a way, and said that if money wasn’t his price then there were always other things, things that humans valued beyond money, and he has ways of finding those things. He could force Pel to sell.”

  “I think he’s full of hot air, that’s what I think. He’s nothing but a bully. He nearly killed you!”

  Cobalt shook his head. “No, he’s worse than that. I’ve tried to look into the extent of his wealth on the computer. It’s boundless. He can back his words.”

  “If it’s so easy for him, he would’ve bought you by now. Whatever’s stopping him, we have to make sure it stays in place. I could talk to Pel.”

  “Maybe…”

  “You can be there, too, when I speak with him. If you want.”

  Something about the light in the room changed in that moment with Liyan etched in bronze and the atmosphere somber, honest, shuddery with unseen currents and depths of open connection. Through the window came layers of copper, sage, iron-infused shades of green intermingling with the two figures on the bed. Liyan leaned toward him until his forehead touched Cobalt’s forehead. Cobalt inhaled warm, star-spiced breath. Liyan whispered, “I’m so sorry, Cobalt. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He put his arms around his shoulders.

  Letting go his reluctance, Cobalt allowed the light, the room, the arms to enfold him.

  *

  Cobalt had never seen Liyan look so strong, or so furious. That kid at the bar years ago had certainly grown up. He leaned over Pel’s big desk, clearly blindsided but not letting it get the best of him. Cobalt had never told him all the truth about certain details of his life. Now he was discovering just what his friend was doing for years in that penthouse suite with men other than Juneau as well.

  “You sold him by the night?” Liyan’s voice rose.

  Pel shrugged, trying to make light of it all. “Only to a few special clients. Only a couple times a month.”

  “A few clients? I had no idea this hotel was also a bordello. Does local law enforcement know?”

  “It was strictly a private matter…only a few times…” Pel tried to defend himself.

  Cobalt stood by, silent. Strangely, he was not feeling emotional at all. Maybe he should have been fuming, maybe he should be arguing, stating his own case. But that was not how he was programmed, not how he’d been taught to behave.

  “I don’t care. It’s not about the amount of times, or anything like that. This is about giving Cobalt a choice.”

  “He’s an android. He doesn’t get a choice.”

  “Well maybe you could allow it. For once. Did he agree to work for you in this capacity?”

  Pel nervously rubbed his palm against the edge of his desk. His limp, black hair hung in thin lines against his brow. “He didn’t agree to be a bartender or a concierge. I told him I wanted him to do those jobs. He did them.”

  Liyan said, “Those jobs didn’t almost get him killed. The other job is outright abuse. The point is despite his label you know full and well he’s not a robot. He’s a slave. You choose how to treat him. Maybe he has no rights, but you hold all the cards. You can choose to play them right.”

  Pel leaned back in his chair and seemed intent now on examining his hands. “I didn’t know the extent of the abuse,” he finally said.

  “You knew enough to warn Juneau about fines and expenses if he damaged the merchandise.”

  “That’s just good business. I didn’t expect him to almost kill him. It never happened before. That’s not my fault!”

  Liyan raised his hands as if in surrender. Quietly, he spoke. “Tell us one thing, then. The truth, please. Did Juneau ever try to buy Cobalt?”

  Pel nodded. “Twice. But he’s not for sale.”

  “Why? You’d be a wealthy man for life.”

  “The truth you said?”

  Liyan nodded.

  Pel’s lips curved in a half-smile. “I hate Juneau. That’s all there is to it. One night a month…the money’s good…I thought it wouldn’t hurt anything. Cobalt never showed any reluctance. That’s as far as I would go in giving Juneau what he wanted. It pissed him off, but he accepted the deal.”

  That was it. Pel hated Juneau. So simple. So elegant a reason, in a way. Cobalt stiffened.

  Pel turned to him. “Cobalt, this was never meant to hurt you. I tried to make sure that the abuse would never happen again. You know this.”

  “This happened before?” Liyan asked.

  “I told him Juneau hurt me,” Cobalt replied.

  “I’m sorry,” Pel said. “I never condoned anyone hurting you. It’s not how I run my business.”

  Silence, in its awkwardness, filled the room.

  Liyan crossed his arms, inhaling deep. “So you’re saying under no circumstances you would ever sell Cobalt to Juneau?”

  “No. He’s tried to force me. I have nothing he can bargain with, no family, nothing. And I hate the man. But his money was always good. I’ve said I’m sorry. I don’t condone abuse or attempted murder, whatever you may think of me. There’s a restraining order against him from ever setting foot in this establishment. And I’ve already decided I’m not going to send Cobalt to the penthouse any more. I didn’t want this trouble in my hotel. And I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

  “Cobalt deserves ri
ghts just like any other human,” Liyan said with conviction. “The fact that he can’t have them means his well-being falls to his owner. You. If you care at all, this means you are responsible for him, and in making sure he is treated right.”

  “When I inherited him from my sister, he came with papers that said those very words. Just like with any pet, there are bad owners and good owners. I tried to be a good owner but I didn’t know what to do with him. So I gave him what he needed. Because I had no other use of him, I put him to work. He earns his board.” He met Cobalt’s eyes. “He never complains.”

  “He’s trained not to do that,” Liyan replied.

  “He’s a good worker.”

  “He’s a good man,” Liyan countered.

  Pel started to speak, stopped. His eyebrows drew together. “Maybe I give him too many long days.”

  “Maybe you’ll adjust those hours for him then.” It was a command. Liyan didn’t even hesitate to give it.

  Pel nodded. “I’m not a bad man. It’s hard to know what to do with a person who will never go their own way. A person you own who can amount to no more than an asset. I didn’t ask for this.”

  “But now you know better. You know right from wrong.”

  Cobalt could not believe that Liyan was actually lecturing Pel, who looked both put out and perhaps slightly embarrassed.

  “I’ve apologized. More than once. I’ll cut his hours. What more would you have me do?”

  “Oh, I can think of a few things,” Liyan muttered under his breath. But he was clearly done for the day. He turned and headed for the door.

  Cobalt stole a look at Pel who made no more arguments or defenses. He didn’t look mad, but he didn’t look chagrined, either.

  Still, Cobalt counted this as a win. For Liyan. For him.

  *

  Layers of light. He kept seeing them everywhere, heavier than normal. They settled in gold on the parquet floor of the lobby, pinking against the plush sofas and chairs, spangling green-tinged in the lighted spaces and rising to burnt orange in the rafters leading to the second floor landing, the meeting rooms, the ballroom, the atrium.

  It was a rainbow affect he’d never noticed before. Could the light of this toxic asteroid actually be beautiful if seen from the proper angles? Or was it just the drugs he was coming off of from being so long in the hospital?

  Liyan’s presence filled all the spaces of the lobby and halls with a kind of electricity he didn’t even seem conscious of having. White-clad, confident as a king, he strode. “What do you say to dinner ordered in at your suite and a movie?”

  He didn’t order Cobalt; he asked. It seemed that as the years passed and Liyan grow stronger, wiser, Cobalt himself was diminishing.

  Feeling tired after confronting so many troubles in one day, and still just out of the hospital, Cobalt worked to make his tone sound light. “That sounds wonderful.”

  The layers of colors swirled as they walked through the lobby, copper, russet, electric green weaving a path toward a better future.

  *

  During the week they spent together they went to the college again and looked at the stars. They walked a lot to give Cobalt the exercise necessary to regain his normal strength, visiting tourist shops, theatres and every café and restaurant the town offered.

  Liyan walked the sidewalks as if they were air, as if he didn’t even notice the gravity of them, or their crumbling squares. When he wore his uniform, he attracted stares. The stares would then land on Cobalt and questions would form on their brows. The locals knew him after all this time as Pel’s property. What, they wondered, was an android doing with an officer of the stars?

  At night they ate luxurious dinners. They watched ancient movies. They talked until the false moon went down. Afterward, Cobalt would send Liyan away to his own rooms. If they ever touched, it was by accident. If Liyan reached to squeeze his hand or shoulder, Cobalt would pretend not to notice.

  But Liyan would smile at him from that beautiful and clear-eyed face with such a keen focus; the intelligence there was mesmerizing. And he would think: Lark and Tiri have him. Lark and Tiri will take care of him. He is the spirit of the stars. And I will stay here and never change, be the steadfast companion at home.

  When they parted for good, though Cobalt hesitated, Liyan pulled him into a tight embrace, breathing deep into his hair. He could feel that starman heart strumming, rushing faster than light. The essence of Liyan transferred an electricity to his skin, the trembles of it running up and down his body, this man, this elixir dusted from other worlds holding him up, holding him, not wanting to say good bye.

  Liyan kissed him warmly on the temple, his lips lingering. Then he whispered something so beautiful and amazing, like a secret hidden all his life only now revealed. “Cobalt, I promise, I will come back for you.”

  He was so overcome he never saw him walk away, never remembered how he got back to the hotel or in his room where he lay, all night, wondering about those tragedies he’d read, and if maybe he’d missed some. If there might be other stories where someone or everyone survived.

  *

  22. Return to the Stars

  Lark’s arms enclosed Liyan’s shoulders. Tiri’s circled his waist. Their warmth, their scents, their two golden heads…all so familiar to him. Their love sent surges through his brain and body that let him know he was desired, valuable, thoroughly missed.

  “Welcome home!”

  The greeting was immediate as he’d disembarked. The shuttle hadn’t even cooled.

  The spray of tears on his lashes was expected, and familiar to his lovers, but still embarrassed him.

  Sekina had delivered him from Diamond Void, past Procyon, beyond The Fleet of Suns, to a repair station at the fifth moon of Rainfell. From there he caught a shuttle to where the starliner orbited Rainfell, still in the process of unloading passengers and cargo.

  It had not been a long voyage. Maybe five days at most, though the foldspace part of it made it seem less.

  He spent the day settling back in to ship duties, and answering the hundred or so pressing questions from Lark and Tiri about Cobalt, the hospital, the whole terrible ordeal until he couldn’t keep his eyes open. His biggest worry now? Cobalt’s obvious depression. They discussed the seemingly unsolvable problem long into the night.

  “The only answer,” Tiri whispered into the late hours, “is to steal him away and stow him away forever with us.”

  Liyan gave a pained laugh. “He still won’t be free.”

  “And we’d all be criminals,” Lark added.

  Finally, he slept in Lark’s arms with Tiri curled against his side, as always dreaming of blue hair and sad lavender eyes.

  *

  Part Five

  23. Temples of the Falling Stars

  Dear Cobalt:

  So many light-years between us. The immensity. Of the mouth of space.

  Am I a fool to keep going?

  You urge me on. Lark studies with me so I can pass the captain’s test. Even if it means I might get my own ship. Even if it means leaving them behind.

  How many people in my life must I leave? Everyone I love?

  I wouldn’t, of course. As captain, if I had my own ship I would have recourse to pick my own crew. Or, at least, most of them. Lark and Tiri would always have jobs with me, if they wanted them.

  I spend hours a night on the reading material, the practice tests. Doing homework. Writing star equations and space essays. Learning the organization of the big ships, both technical and social. I must know all the inner workings. I must know how to keep my crew happy and productive. I’m required to learn engineering and psychology. To date, I have a degree in both, completed in two years. I know the value and grade of every star-fuel. I know their scents…the best grade smells of oranges. I know the capacity of 60 different kinds of engines. It helps that I worked on engine repair as a teen. I know how to invent a working mechanism in the vast machinery of a star-d
rive, and how to solder it in place. I could etch the equation of its power fluctuations with its own vapor-ash on the white bulkheads of engineering.

  I have clear eyes toward the stars. I can see their entropic paths.

  It seems, Cobalt, I can do everything but bring you to my side.

  I can’t take the final tests until the end of the year.

  I feel I am ready but I never stop studying.

  Our next stop is a place I’ve never heard of. Transitore. A cratered world of lush valleys created when a meteor storm hit it five thousand years ago. The planet was pummeled from space, nearly destroyed, the human inhabitants dwelling underground for millennia. They have a whole religion surrounding the event. And the most glorious structures, some made entirely of nickel and iron ore meteor rock, celebrating the disaster are called Temples of the Falling Stars.

  I have a day pass.

  Tomorrow I will walk inside a fallen star. And I will tell you all about it.

  I hope you are feeling well.

  How I wish you were here.

  Love,

  Liyan

  *

  Dear Liyan:

  I can’t wait to read your report on the Temples of the Falling Stars.

  Transitore. I looked it up. The pictures from orbit show an ovoid planet with layers of white and purple atmosphere that drape thicker at the more pitted and misshapen equator, and swirl out to space in wispy petals. The way the colors of the air engulf the world give its overall form a butterfly shape. It is amazing a planet could survive such repeated disastrous collisions with such a shower of space objects, some large enough to displace an ocean.

  Enjoy your day.

  I am well here, better with each passing month. Your waves always give me strength. I am back to working longer hours, but still not like I was. Pel has me on a reasonable shift, working approximately eight hours a day now. For months, as you know, I was still feeling exhausted from simple tasks, so Pel had me on four hour shifts. I get two days off for every five days I work. My off time is my own. I can do as I please, and I have permission to leave the hotel if I wish.