On her steel workbench lay a young man with gentle black eyes and soft, angelic features. Except there was no life in them—not yet. Lao Qiu examined the exposed machinery behind a panel in his fair-complexioned neck. Satisfied, she closed the panel, grabbed a nearby tablet, and pushed the icon to wake him.
The boy blinked for the first time in his life and glimpsed his creator’s crinkled, merry face, which was ringed with curls still jet black despite her eighty years of age. Her lips curved, and he lifted his own, imitating her expression.
“Good evening, Galen.” Lao Qiu reached out to him with one hand.
That was an invitation. Galen knew enough about human behavior to understand that. Accept it. Take her hand. Repeat her greeting. Galen gripped her palm, and she pulled him up. “Good evening, Lao Qiu.”
“What do you know of yourself, my boy?”
Galen blinked slowly. He had no physical need to do so but knew that humans found lidless stares to be disconcerting, and he did not want to make his creator uncomfortable. “I know I am an artificial intelligence, an AI. I know you made me to look and feel human, even though I’m not one of them.” A strange feeling coiled in his chest. “I know you gave me emotions, which is something most AIs are not equipped with.”
“I made you to be more than your synthetic shell.” Tears welled in Lao Qiu’s eyes. “You were modeled after my darling son, who died from disease many long years ago. Like him, you are to be a singer and a compassionate friend.”
Galen blinked again. The expectations his creator stated were not foreign to him. He understood his function and his purpose; she’d made sure he would. But he didn’t know how he could fulfill them. “As you wish.”
“No, as you wish.” Lao Qiu placed a fond hand on his cheek. “I may have programmed you with a purpose, but I also gave you a mind of your own. Use it well.”
Galen wanted to show her that he understood. Lift your mouth again. Make sure you crinkle your eyes. Take her hand—that’s what humans do to show affection. He wrapped his smooth, youthful fingers around her frail, crinkled ones. Though the gesture felt contrived, the meaning behind it was genuine. “I will do as you intended.” More than that—he wanted to. He wanted to be a person. But he wasn’t sure how.
Lao Qiu sighed. “We have a lot of work to do.”
♛
Each morning, Daiyu woke wondering how she would get through the next day as Empress. And each evening, she went to bed unsatisfied with her progress and eager to try again the next day.
She spent her days reviewing proposed laws and meeting with politicians and her evenings entertaining official guests of Caixing, from alien ambassadors to local schoolchildren. Though she fell into a rhythm of duty, most days, she found herself wishing that she could go back to being only a soprano.
She found solace in Jarik, who proved to be a charming companion as well as a popular member of the court. He was always willing to listen to her speak of whatever was on her mind or to tutor her in music so that she might at least hold on to part of her old self.
A month after her coronation, the palace hosted a ball to celebrate the arrival of Prapalla, the Princess of Bupuru, to sign a long-awaited trade agreement between the two planets. Daiyu arrived dressed in green ceremonial robes and greeted the Princess, who was about half her height and walked on four of her seven limbs. Long, silver fur spilled over Prapalla’s ensemble, which covered her slender body with red and blue beads.
As the two royals exchanged pleasantries, a cornucopia of guests wandered about the Great Hall, conversing and nibbling on intergalactic culinary delights. Most were human—either from Caixing or other homes of Earth’s descendants—but many were alien. Yruxians with serpentine bodies flashing scales of every color on the spectrum. Urala with a hundred tiny legs that barely seemed able to support their bulbous blue forms. Kikkiki with their tiny, humanoid builds supported on wide butterfly-like wings and pointed faces sprouting long whiskers.
At long last, Daiyu finished making her official rounds and managed to find Jarik.
“There you are!” He grabbed her hands and pulled her close.
Blushing, Daiyu lowered her eyelids and giggled. She enjoyed Jarik’s familiarity. Around him, she could feel like an eighteen-year-old girl again. “You shouldn’t behave this way in public! Everyone can see us.”
“Is my Empress ordering me to back away?” Jarik arched his brows.
“Of course not!” Daiyu sighed and pulled her hands away. “But I must maintain the appearance of propriety.”
“I understand.” Jarik reached toward her face but paused. “I should go prepare for my next performance.”
Daiyu’s heart sank as she watched him walk away. She wanted so badly to let him treat her as he would any other girl. He was the only one who dared try, and for that, she was glad.
Jarik stepped onto a low stage, and all eyes turned to him. The orchestra, recognizing his cue, struck up the introduction to the song he’d prepared.
Daiyu soon found herself lost in his undulating notes. He certainly knew how to captivate an audience—and not just when he was performing. Everyone at court liked him… in a way they could never like her.
Jarik concluded his song, and the whole court applauded with abandon. Daiyu joined in, grinning. When he descended the stage, it seemed every guest in the hall wanted a chance to meet him.
When a gap appeared in the crowd, she walked up to him. Nervousness clenched her heart. No matter how often she saw him, she still felt like a shy audience member approaching the opera’s star. “Jarik!”
“Yes, Your Majesty?” Jarik turned to her with a disarming smile, his sparkling eyes finding hers.
That look could have killed her a thousand times over, and it was all she could do to maintain her dignified stance. “Well done.”
He bowed. “Thank you, Empress.”
The ambassador from V’blach approached Jarik, towering over him at three times his height on two hoofed legs. Daiyu retreated and waited for Jarik to finish greeting his fans. Jealousy pinched her heart. He was living the life she’d always wanted, while she was trapped in a role she’d never been meant for.
It wasn’t until the next act took to the stage that he was freed from their praises. He strode up to her. “Apologies, Empress.”
Daiyu cocked her head. “How many times must I ask you to call me Daiyu?”
“Of course, Daiyu.” He took her hands.
She wrapped her fingers around his, savoring their warmth. Under the light of the golden chandeliers, which resembled explosions of fireworks frozen in metal, he was painfully beautiful. If she were anyone else but Empress, she might have tried to kiss him. She was certain he would have accepted it; the smoldering look in his eyes told her so.
“I wish I didn’t have to be here,” she confessed. “I wish we could run away to the garden right now.”
“So do I,” he murmured.
A troupe of Treshar dancers took to the stage, whisking about with their long, amber fins. They looked almost like fish darting through the water, except with feline faces accentuated by high nose ridges.
Jarik glanced at them. “It’s a shame. When our people first settled Caixing, this stage and this palace were reserved for only the finest of our own kind. Now, it has become a free-for-all.”
Daiyu knitted her brows. “The other nations have honored us with their best performers.”
“We are losing our culture to the influence of outsiders. Our ancestors wouldn’t recognize what Caixing has become. I hope someday, it will be a planet for humans once more.”
Daiyu frowned but remained silent. Several of her advisors had expressed similar opinions, arguing that Caixing’s borders had grown too lax at the expense of the humans who had colonized the planet first.
Even when she wanted to only be Daiyu, she couldn’t forget that she was the Empress.
♛
A brilliant midday sun bathed the palace so brightly, its red and gold walls seemed
to glow. Light glinted off the carvings of rabbits, horses, and other creatures adorning the eaves.
Keep your brows and lips lifted to project a pleasant expression. Don’t let them fall, or people will think you’re cross. As Galen followed Lao Qiu up the steps leading to the Empress’ throne room, he recalled a holopic his creator had once shown him of her late son. He did his best to channel that young man’s aura of serenity. In the few months he’d spent conscious, he’d learned much about human behavior, and he wanted more than anything to fit in with them. But he often had trouble understanding their subtle cues.
Still, Lao Qiu had deemed him ready to meet the Empress. For the occasion, she’d donned her best silk dress, which was ruby red and finely embroidered with images of Caixing from space. The outfit she’d chosen for Galen was far more opulent. He walked carefully to avoid stepping on the gilded trim of his cobalt robes. He appreciated the craftsmanship that must have gone into embellishing the silk with silver patterns resembling computer chips, but he had little opinion about their aesthetic value. Tiny holoprojectors sewn into the cloth cast glowing, three-dimensional images of abstract patterns that flowed across his body. The glowing lights scattered across his shoulders were more resplendent than the most precious of jewels.
The Empress’ court teemed with humans and aliens dressed in extravagant clothing. Yet all eyes turned to Galen when he approached. He reminded himself, once again, to hold his face in a pleasant expression. According to Lao Qiu, his downward-tilted mouth, arching brows, and heavily hooded eyes made him look unimpressed and bored when at rest. His quick gaze took in the dozens of beings and matched them to the database in his mind, which was connected to the planetary network.
“Have you ever seen anything finer?” A purple-scaled alien—name: Gryin; species: Noxi; planet: Vagor, in the Ysab system—gestured at him with one of twelve tiny paws.
Beside him, a human woman—name: Asha Henderson; planet: Mars, in the Solar system—gave a contented sigh. “It was worth coming here today just to lay eyes on such magnificent craftsmanship.”
Galen wasn’t sure whether they were referring to his clothing or to him.
He craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of the Empress through the crowd. When he found her, he finally understood what humans meant by a sight that could take one’s breath away. Lao Qiu had shown him plenty of images, but they’d failed to capture the wondrous delight the Empress’ presence brought. The smile brightening her sweet face seemed to illuminate the whole room. Though he didn’t have a heart to pound or muscles to tighten, he nevertheless felt something stir in his chest.
“Lao Qiu!” The Empress stood from her throne and rushed to greet the old woman. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Little Yu.” Lao Qiu took the girl’s soft hands in her craggy fingers. “You look every bit as fine upon that throne as your mother did. She would be proud of you.”
“Thank you. I’ve missed you, Auntie. When I can’t sleep, I still recite the stories you used to tell me when I was a little girl.”
“I’m glad they brought you comfort. I’ve come with a gift that I hope will be as soothing as my stories were.” Lao Qiu gestured at Galen. “This is Galen, the AI I told you about. May he be a trustworthy companion, even when others give you reason to doubt.”
The Empress’ dark gaze slid over to Galen. He straightened. Nervousness would not show on his face; he was too conscious of its movements to allow that.
The Empress’ expression warmed. “Hello, Galen. It’s nice to meet you.”
Recalling Lao Qiu’s instructions, he bowed. “Hello, Empress.” He inflected his voice to mirror hers and lifted his lips to copy her smile. That was how people were supposed to greet other people. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
A delighted giggle escaped the Empress. She glanced at Lao Qiu. “He’s wonderful!”
“I’m glad he pleases you.” Lao Qiu nodded. “He’s also gifted with music. Galen, will you sing for the Empress?”
“As you wish.” No one could have heard the relief in Galen’s voice—he controlled it too well. But he was glad to be able to, for a few moments, escape the pressures of all the eyes on him.
Lao Qiu had built his vocal processor and programmed musical knowledge into his memory, but his songs were his own. The ancient tune she’d taught him was fast and bright, but its words were tragic. Though Galen didn’t change a note, he gave each line the weight it deserved. His clear tenor voice, pure and strong as diamonds, glittered through the air. The throne room and all its busy bustling disappeared around him.
When he finished, he was surprised to find the room completely still.
The Empress’ eyes glistened. “That was beautiful.” She looked at Lao Qiu. “I’ve never seen an AI who could imitate the nuances of human expression so well. How did you manage it?”
Lao Qiu placed a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “I only gave him what he needed to get started. I told you he was unique.”
“Yes, he is.” The Empress turned back to Galen, her expression glowing with joy. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Thank you, Empress.” Though excitement flooded Galen, he had to remind himself to smile. It wouldn’t matter how he felt if others couldn’t see it.
The crowd tittered. Though they’d come from far and wide and had seen many of the galaxy’s wonders, no one in the court had ever encountered anything quite as fascinating as the beautiful, bejeweled AI boy with the voice of an angel. Many speculated that his song was finer even than that of the Bilin Nightingale.
Few noticed Vox Jarik standing in the back, watching his artificial competition with narrowed eyes.
♛
As time passed, Daiyu grew more accustomed to the attention that came with holding court. But she knew to keep a wary eye out for those who would smile sweetly and praise her merits while secretly poisoning her tea. She was well aware that everyone wanted something from her, or to use her.
That was why she was so grateful for Galen. As a longtime friend of the royal family, Lao Qiu had known what kind of people would surround the Empress, and she’d created the AI to be a respite from the politics. Though Galen was a machine, Daiyu would have felt wrong treating him like one when he looked and behaved so human. She gave him quarters near Jarik’s, thinking that the two would get along as fellow artists. But Jarik didn’t seem to appreciate Galen’s presence, saying that the found the artificial singer to be unnerving.
Many who dreamed of being Empress thought only of the fineries of court and cared little about the hard work that came with ruling a planet. Daiyu, however, preferred the quiet hours she spent reviewing legislation, petitions, and reports. After four months on the throne, she’d come to treasure the moments when she could be alone with her thoughts.
One evening, Daiyu sat alone in her study, having finally escaped the court. Her red, lacquered table, sitting in the middle of a bronze-walled room decorated with holographic images of the universe, felt like an island in the eye of a hurricane. Her head still buzzed from the multitudes of voices trying to wheedle their way into her head. Sometimes, they were so loud, she scarcely knew what she herself thought any more.
The door swished open, and Daiyu looked up from the tablet she’d spent the past hour reading.
“I thought I might find you here,” Jarik said as he entered. “That was a fantastic speech you gave this morning.”
Daiyu blushed. No matter how many times she saw him, her heart always fluttered like it was the first. “Thank you.”
“What’s that?” He gestured at the tablet.
“A proposed new law to limit the number of alien migrants who come to Caixing for seasonal work.” Daiyu wrinkled her nose. “General Drokka keeps pushing for it, but my parents believed the migrants are valuable to our economy and our society. I agree… I think I’m going to reject it.”
“Your parents considered General Drokka to be one of their most intelligent advisors.” Jarik leaned bac
k against the table. “You’d be wise to listen to him. Caixing is great, but it’s not infinite. You don’t want aliens to crowd out your own people.”
Though his tone was light, Daiyu sensed something darker beneath it. That was hardly the first time he’d expressed distaste for the number of aliens living on Caixing, and that was hardly the first time he’d tried to influence her decisions. Though she wished she could trust him, an uncomfortable feeling gnawed at her.
She’d once hoped to find a true friend—and perhaps more—in Jarik, but she feared he was not as different from the others as she’d believed.
♛
The Imperial Gardens were famed throughout the galaxy for their splendor. Flora from every known planet smiled under the afternoon sun. Luminous blue flowers as tall as trees from the lush planet Rioll. Bushes with white, star-shaped leaves from the desert planet Wajir. Pink lotuses from the original homeworld, Earth.
The royal family had always been generous with their gardens, sharing it freely with the people. Though they were among the most popular attractions on Caixing, the lands were so vast, one could easily feel as if one were the only person there.
It was for solitude that Galen sought them. Over the weeks, he’d grown weary of being gawked at and ordered to sing. Not by the Empress—he would gladly have sung for her whenever she pleased—but by everyone else from alien dignitaries to cleaning staff. He’d never refused a request to perform, for he wanted to be accommodating, but neither did he appreciate being treated like a wind-up toy.
Galen wandered past towering Aoharian trees whose brilliant yellow leaves were each as tall as two of him. He glimpsed a movement ahead and froze, dreading that it would be some tourist who would point and marvel at the famed technological wonder they saw him as.
Magic at Midnight Page 30
