The Autumn Engagement

by Stephen Cote

  Part 6: A Façade Of Love On The Ballroom Floor

  They walked hand in hand, met with intrigued glances. The Anastasia the crowd knew was replaced with a completely different person. Men are visual, she had said. The same person, a different body. The pretentious mind can't see beyond the surface. Janus felt more confident, more comfortable with this Anastasia at his side. And the couples they passed didn't seem to remember Anastasia’s earlier outburst on the ballroom floor. They may have forgotten, he had not.

  Anastasia held his hand as they walked into the ballroom. The ballroom was quiet and only Mr. Welch and his date danced over the wood paneled floor. Anastasia adjusted his hand in hers. "I need to sift through the security recordings. If your conjecture is correct, we must take precaution to play our role tonight. They mustn't assume we’re here for an ulterior reason. Otherwise, they may simply leave and we’ll miss the opportunity."

  Janus placed a light kiss or her jawbone.

  Her eyes darted over his face and her lips fluttered into a slight, cynical smile. "Don't over do it. Dancing is more about touching and holding your partner as you execute each step."

  "Maybe I wanted to kiss you for the sake of doing it," he said.

  "Why would you want to?"

  "I’m okay now," he said.

  "Earlier, you were quite adamant in your position on synthetics. Now you’ve changed your mind?"

  "I’ve learned more about you, and I feel more comfortable with you." He smiled.

  With their hands gently pressed together, they danced to a brass symphony echoing from the walls, bass pulsing from the cherry wood planks below their feet, and strings and woodwinds wafting from the ceiling. Although Janus had little dancing experience, his life as a professional athlete helped, and Anastasia taught him the appropriate steps. She made sure to keep slow the speed and to help him avoid obvious mistakes. When she turned her head, her sandy hair drifted across the pale skin covering her high cheekbones, and her rose-colored lipstick glistened on her pursed lips.

  Janus’ chest tightened and he found himself feeling the uneasiness he always felt when he liked a woman. Describing his disdain for synthetics had been easy. Complimenting her became difficult. The dance Anastasia helped him through required their hands to be clasped, then his hand on her hip and hers on his chest. His hand slid from her hip to her shoulder and down the length of her arm to once more reunite their hands.

  Yet dancing with a synthetic was not as hard as he had thought it would be, and he touched her as a woman. Is she a synthetic? Anastasia appeared relaxed as her chosen self, and he enjoyed her company.

  "If you two keep this up, you’ll make us look bad," Mr. Welch said as he and his partner danced nearby.

  Janus blinked. Had he been gazing starry-eyed? Thinking back to his earlier spat with Anastasia, he said, "I have to try harder."

  Mr. Welch smiled and seemed more cordial than he had been when Janus last met him. "How have the two of you been this evening?"

  Janus, not quite sure how to respond, said, "Well."

  "Puzzled," Anastasia said. Her dancing with Janus degraded to a stationary sway and round-robin steps.

  "Yes?" Mr. Welch asked.

  "Priscilla," she paused and glanced at Janus. "She's on pattern: Library, study, outside to change partner configuration. They have an ongoing conversation when alone, and have confined themselves to those areas of the house."

  "She is a bore," Mr. Welch said and offered Janus a sympathetic shrug.

  "What are they talking about?" Janus asked.

  "An upcoming game between France and Japan, and a possible stake involving an underwater research platform. Outside, she takes precaution to face away from the cameras. Her motions suggest she is applying makeup. This pattern reoccurs throughout the evening, and her synthetic companion alternates between adjusting his genitals and pectoral slats. He too is obscured from direct line-of-sight."

  Janus smirked. "He couldn't leave behind his Patterson Pro-Performa, right?" He couldn’t help but snicker.

  "I don’t want to know why you knew he wasn’t wearing one," Anastasia said, giving Janus a strange look.

  "It does seem strange someone with her complexion would need makeup," Mr. Welch’s date said.

  Janus raised an eyebrow and looked between Anastasia and Mr. Welch’s date. "Didn’t you say she looked …"

  "Ancient!" Anastasia said.

  "I thought she appeared quit fetching," Mr. Welch’s date said.

  "Interesting," Mr. Welch said.

  "Wait," Janus said. "Anastasia, you implied Priscilla's date wasn’t wearing a Patterson. Did he add or remove it?"

  "He added it," Anastasia said. To Mr. Welch she explained, "When we arrived and the chauffeur prompted Janus to, eh," she gestured down the length of her body, to which Mr. Welch nodded, and said, "The chauffeur noted the trend for the evening included the Pattersons losing preference for male companions."

  Janus asked, "Maybe the ladies decided they were back in style? Can you check to see if another synthetic male put a Patterson back on?"

  "Doubtful," Mr. Welch said. "Abandoned spare parts are non-retrievable."

  "A moment," she said. "No, you’re right. That is the only instance where someone added a Patterson."

  Janus said, "She intentionally dressed her date out of fashion." He looked at Mr. Welch, "Isn’t that against the grain of the party?"

  "But," Anastasia said, "Remember both of them did not seem prepared when we met them earlier. She was openly hostile and then quick to duck a confrontation."

  Mr. Welch nodded. "Yes, her actions on both accounts were not conducive to the atmosphere of the party. If she intended to engage in subterfuge, she may not have prepared herself for the party, and she may have instructed her date to change something without paying attention to what her date actually changed."

  "Then why is she here?" Janus asked.

  Mr. Welch asked Anastasia, "What puzzled you about the recordings?"

  "The underwater platform is a research facility for silicon polymer, potentially a competing product to cellulose gel. I never considered it a viable replacement because it is too unstable and requires constant maintenance."

  "That would explain why she was in the bathroom for so long," Janus joked.

  "It would explain it," Mr. Welch’s date said. "And it would explain her activities outside. She may have been changing her face."

  "If she is a synthetic," Anastasia said and looked at Janus. "Your assertion may be correct."

  Mr. Welch’s eyes glimmered, and Janus took note of the reaction. Janus asked, "If she is a synthetic product of a competitor, and she married the pitcher who threw an errant pitch resulting in the sale of your mining company, wouldn’t that be cause for further investigation? If she represents the buyer, she may be here to take possession."

  "Yes," Mr. Welch said and his temper visibly simmered. "However, the security footage and speculation is not enough. If she is a synthetic, she has to be identified as such in public. Your scenario is plausible given her actions. A moment while I confer with my legal team."

  With a subtle gesture, Mr. Welch cued a new song, and an airy melody began playing in the dusky light. Some couples stopped at the entrance, watching; a perfect opportunity for them to play ‘spot the synthetic’. Janus and Anastasia, and Mr. Welch and his date, danced to the music, their conversation paused while Mr. Welch consulted with his lawyers and the onlookers paid notice to their countenance.

  Janus interlaced the fingers of his leading hand with Anastasia’s, and they swayed close to each other. He enjoyed the feeling of being united with someone without care or concern for what transpired around him. It was not his current predicament, or the possible troubles Anastasia and Mr. Welch may experience if they could not prove their case. Pretense vanished; at that moment, he did not care what others thought of him or his synthetic dance partner. By his definition, synthetics were cheap parodies of life. But this synthetic, this woma
n, exceeded his definition. If Priscilla was a synthetic, how did she manage to pass herself off as human? That she may have done so revolted him. But, with Anastasia's hand in his, Priscilla's possible duplicity let him put aside his reservations. If a relationship with Priscilla worked, albeit briefly, then what about Anastasia?

  His ex-wife deceived him. She used him. Though he did not let her leave with a sheepish grin and a cowardly goodbye, but a torrent of insults and angry accusations, that had been the sum of his anger and outrage. He wasted the last eight months trying to forget because, perhaps, he could forgive himself for the penultimate mistake of not leaving her earlier. He never should have married Priscilla, human or synthetic.

  Janus did not know how synthetic behavior worked. Anastasia showed child-like infatuation, and she forgave him for his shortsightedness. While she may have acted as though she liked him, and played coy games to the contrary, she had interpreted his unspoken feelings; something no synthetic had done before. Anastasia was a synthetic, and while they danced, he felt his chest clench. His thoughts condensed into clarity: He liked her.

  Janus kissed the back of her hand, and he said quietly, "You are an amazing dancer."

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "I’m surprised more couples aren't dancing."

  "Synthetics make terrible dancers," she said. "Although precise, their movements are artificial."

  "And yet there are three synthetics dancing, and I imagine some suspect you're human."

  "Three?" she asked. "My father may or may not be synthetic, I don’t believe I gave you an explicit answer. His date is most assuredly human. Ms. Adley is a behavioral scientist. She is an amazing woman." Anastasia glanced over at Mr. Welch and Ms. Adley. "I think my father is sweet on her. She wrote my soft logic."

  "She programmed you?" Janus asked. "I thought synthetics were imprinted from a common mold."

  Anastasia shook her head and snorted, but then gave him a nudge. "The synthetics you’re used to. Mass-produced synthetics are not true sapient individuals. Ms. Adley designed a brain based on imprinted behaviors and growth patterns. It mimics how a human child is raised, and so far is the only brain that can host a unique individual personality. Writing soft logic is equivalent to creating a detailed lesson plan for how a child is raised."

  "You weren’t turned on with a full program then?"

  Again, she shook her head. "No. I was self-aware when activated, and I could download any information I wanted, but I had to learn to interpret that information. Everything I learn and experience affects my soft logic."

  They danced close to each other, their arms twisting and intertwining in time with the music and to the rhythmic motion of their steps. On a whim, Janus spun Anastasia around and leaned her back into a stationary pose, his face hovering near hers. From this position, the leading gentleman would kiss his partner. Yet Janus paused.

  From her reclined pose, Anastasia whispered. "I don’t mind if you kiss me. I think everyone expects a kiss with this move."

  But Janus just smiled, held her in his arms, and then drew her to her feet. He stepped behind her and whispered into her ear, "I do want to kiss you, but not for tradition or because it is expected."

  "That's old fashioned," she said, and lightly kissed his cheek.

  Mr. Welch and Ms. Adley danced closer, and Mr. Welch whispered, "Identifying Priscilla as a synthetic would challenge the legality of the transaction. First, Janus’ marriage would be invalid as she falsified her status as a non-human. That may have made Janus ineligible to play. Second, if we prove she had foreknowledge about Janus’ errant pitch, then the transaction would be postponed indefinitely." To Janus, he said, "If you only demonstrate the former, she will take flight, or be deactivated, before any incriminating evidence can be extracted from her memory."

  Ms. Adley looked at Janus with a gaze that reminded him of Mr. Welch. The similarity was uncanny. "If you risk exposing her, it has to be public with as many witnesses as possible."

  Janus nodded his understanding, and the couples returned to dancing. For a time he danced in silence, keeping Anastasia close in his arms. Then came a pause in the music, and he stopped and led her to the edge of the floor. He took her hand and asked, "What will happen after tonight?"

  She studied his face and the way he continued to hold her. Her expression brightened. "I’m not dating anyone."