The Autumn Engagement

by Stephen Cote

  Part 7: The Autumn Engagement

  Though Anastasia had stripped to her chassis, as close to naked as a synthetic woman could be, he had not taken a close look at the clothes she had selected. As she walked a few paces ahead of him, her simple black gown plumed at the hem and billowed around her calves. Her shoulder-length hair swished over her shoulder blades. Watching her, he became self-conscious of his own attire.

  He wore conservative black slacks and a charcoal jacket. But his attire did not trouble him as much as his physical appearance. Over the last year, he had not stayed in shape and his square jaw had become smooth around his chin, and his eyes appeared gaunt. Seeing perfection in Anastasia and hoping their association may continue after that night, he felt inadequate. Was any part of her attraction to him physical?

  Janus reached forward and took hold of Anastasia’s hand. "Do you have any ideas?"

  "The lighting."

  "Yes, it looks alright, I guess."

  She prodded him with her free hand and stopped, motioning to the ceiling. "The lights simulate natural sunlight and emit ultraviolet light."

  "Ah," he murmured. "Maybe that was why Priscilla was having so much trouble with her face. Her dress covers everything else."

  "That was my idea. I’ve analyzed the frequency that she has had to take corrective action, and she has been consistent with forty-five minute intervals. She is outside fixing her face now." Anastasia smirked. "Now that I know what to look for, they aren’t being very subtle."

  He asked, "Can you increase the amount of UV?" She nodded. "But would she detect the change?"

  Anastasia shook her head. "Not unless she is looking for it." She put both hands on Janus’ shoulders and said, "We may be advanced machines, but we don't walk around actively probing everything."

  "We have to distract her long enough for the lights to work. If we approach from the front of the room we can box her in. Once in a corner, we can use a little subterfuge to keep her there."

  "What kind of subterfuge?"

  Janus grinned. "A kinetic field."

  "We don’t have one," she said.

  "It doesn’t have to be a real one," he said. "It only has to look like one. Your father can see them, and if Priscilla is a synthetic, she may be able to see it too."

  She glanced towards the ballroom. "I’ll ask my father." After a brief pause, her face softened. "He thinks it could be simulated. He wanted me to remind you it is not a force field."

  "Yes," Janus said, "But did you know that before he told you?"

  She shook her head. "I never considered the matter."

  "Then Priscilla may not know either."

  "We’re not the same, Priscilla and I," Anastasia said.

  He took her hand in both of his and held it to his chest. "I know you’re not the same."

  "We’ll try the simulated field," she said, and then her eyes twinkled. "But I will introduce the topic of conversation."

  Janus noticed the look of mischief on her face. Hesitantly, he said, "If you prefer."

  They waited until Priscilla and her date returned, and once they returned to the sitting area, Janus and Anastasia walked towards them. When Priscilla noticed them draw close, she struck an arrogant pose with her date and started to walk away.

  "Priscilla," Anastasia called too loudly, the tone of her voice saccharine. She made sure everyone heard her, and thereby made it harder for Priscilla to snub them outright.

  "Yes?" Priscilla asked, her tone cool.

  "I apologize for his earlier oversight," Anastasia said and tipped her head towards Janus. "He didn’t properly introduce me. I’m Anastasia."

  "Lovely to meet you, Anastasia," Priscilla’s beau said. "My name is Reuben."

  Priscilla fumed. "Yes, salutations. We were on our way too the garden."

  Anastasia became excited and said, "It is a wonderful garden. Before you go, Janus and I would like to share news with you."

  Janus narrowed his eyes, waiting for Anastasia to deliver her stratagem.

  "I’m dispassionate …" Priscilla droned.

  "We wanted you to be the first to hear the news; we’re getting married." She draped her arm around Janus and gave him an exuberant hug.

  Janus looked at Anastasia. Married? He coughed.

  Priscilla’s face turned red and maniacally bugged her eyes. She said in a harsh whisper to Janus, "Not that I care what floozy you marry, but it’s completely inappropriate to bring a human date." Now her movements became exaggerated, and she raised her voice. "An embarrassment to everyone here. You had to try a stunt to get headlines. Well," she jabbed a finger at his chest, "you’ve made a mistake. You’ll be blacklisted." She smiled and said merrily, "I’m glad I am able to witness the second coming of your disgrace."

  Janus, certain he would explode with a torrent of vile curses, reminded himself Anastasia wanted this reaction. And she did a remarkable job of distracting Priscilla. However, rage burned his blood and his jaw gaped.

  Anastasia touched her finger to his mouth and gently pushed it shut. "He’s ecstatic, he’s speechless."

  Now, Janus realized, Act now! All he had to do was to keep Priscilla distracted. But how? No matter what he said, she would win her argument and saunter off. If he said nothing, she would still win. Then, contrary to circumstance, and utterly mundane, an idea manifested to avoid either situation. The problem was logistics. Now that Anastasia dropped a proverbial bomb, he only had to distract Priscilla from leaving. And the simplest way to achieve that: I'll leave first. It wasn't subterfuge, only the expectations of a party. Offer to fetch a drink, and Priscilla's date should be inclined to assist. Separate Priscilla and her date, and she would be delayed until his return.

  He asked, "Would you ladies care for a drink?"

  Priscilla shot him an odd look. However, before she made a negative reply, Reuben said, "Priscilla, we should give them a toast."

  "Reuben?" Janus started walking towards the bar, "Would you help me carry the drinks?"

  "Of course," he said.

  Janus and Reuben walked across the hall. When they reached the bar, Reuben said, "Some Party." He knocked on the hardwood top. "I’ve never been to one of these before. How about you?"

  Janus shook his head. "Neither have I."

  The bartender asked, "How may I help you gentlemen?"

  Janus opened his mouth, but Reuben asked hurriedly, "Do you have anything on draft?"

  "I have a nice Martian lager," the bartender said.

  "Two of those," he said and beamed. "Priscilla seems like a woman who can appreciate a good beer."

  Janus gripped the bar to stop himself from falling away in a fit of laughter. Priscilla hated beer. He decided to remain silent.

  "Scotch, single malt, nothing distilled in space, neat," Janus said. "And, what’re the ladies having tonight?"

  "Lazy Jane’s," the bartender said.

  Janus considered and shook his head. "A Sun-Dried Galaxy."

  The bartender nodded. He drew two beers, poured the scotch, and began to mix the most complicated drink Janus could remember. While Reuben sampled the beer, Janus looked across the hall at Anastasia and Priscilla. Both appeared to be glaring intently at the other.

  "That’s a good beer," Reuben said and emptied the glass. "Better fix me up another."

  The bartender nodded, still working on Janus’ order.

  Janus glanced at Reuben. "So, what do you do, Reuben?"

  "I work on an off-shore plant." He looked around the room. "You know the kind." Janus considered his allusion to a synthetic plant to be blatant.

  "Good work, then?"

  "Sure. You don't need a doctorate and the pay is good."

  "As long as you’re happy, that’s what counts." Janus continued to watch Reuben and started to consider his assumption that Reuben was a synthetic. His posture and mannerisms better fit the description of hired muscle. If he was a synthetic, his manufacturer went to extraordinary lengths to add blue-collar mannerisms. J
anus imagined that a common cognitive ability would be harder to program because basic concepts may be black and white, but more advanced issues could not simply be calculated. That would be the mark of a genius. Reuben’s working-class demeanor struck him as more believable than Priscilla’s personality of an educated socialite.

  The bartender set the mixed drink on the bar, and drew another lager for Reuben.

  As they started walking back, Janus asked, "Reuben, I don’t want to put on airs, but I wonder if Priscilla might like something else to drink?" A second Sun-Dried Galaxy would burn up another five minutes.

  Reuben shrugged and kept walking. "She needs to loosen up."

  "Hah!" Janus laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "That’s good."

  When they returned, both Priscilla and Anastasia staring at each other with deadpan expressions. Whatever else transpired, Priscilla had been distracted from her deteriorating skin condition; the affect of the lights took its toll.

  "Dear," Janus said, offering the mixed drink to Anastasia.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Priscilla …" Reuben said. He squinted, took a closer look at her face.

  "Yes?" she seethed.

  "Your drink," Janus interjected and took one of Reuben’s beers and started to hand it to her. He glanced at Anastasia.

  Priscilla’s face darkened, but she reached for it. "It seems you haven’t forgotten my tastes."

  When the glass neared her fingertips, Janus dropped his arm, pretending as though a force pushed it down. He let the glass fall to the floor. Janus set the scotch on an end table and clapped his hands to his chest. Stepping away from the spill and broken glass, he said, "I'm sorry. It slipped from my hand."

  Whatever Anastasia and Priscilla had discussed in his absence left Priscilla worked up to a frenzy. Now she became openly hostile. "You’re genetically engineered. Your motor skills are more precise than a machine." She fumed. "Obviously something interfered with your …" but she stopped and pressed her lips together. She looked around the room and saw other couples watch and listen.

  Janus remained silent. It's not enough. Priscilla's skin had deteriorated to the point of looking bad, but she still appeared human.

  Priscilla shook with rage, but she didn’t move. She behaved as though she was unable to move beyond a certain point. "I don’t know what little scheme the two of you have concocted…"

  "Oh, God," Reuben said loudly, and made a disgusted expression. He pointed to her face. "Your face is falling off."

  Priscilla put her hands to her cheeks and started to feel the skin. The skin separated from a plastic cheek strut. Several people in the hall started whispering, and the word ‘synthetic’ could be heard. Anastasia and Janus looked at each other, at the people in the hall, then at Priscilla.

  "Is that it?" Janus asked.

  Anastasia nodded.

  "Let’s get out of here," he said.

  She took his hand and they walked out of the hall, out of the house, and into the calm, clear evening.

 

  Part 8: Epilogue

  On the night of their first kiss, Janus put his arm around Anastasia’s waist and looked at her with a clear conscience. He said, "I finally watched that cheesy reenactment they made about us. They made me out to hate synthetics, but I wind up marrying one - again." Then he placed his lips to hers and their mouths melted into an earnest kiss.