Everything in her face, the clearly marked dimples in her cheeks and chin, the line of her lips, the smile which, as it were, fluttered about her face, the brilliance of her eyes, the grace and rapidity of her movements, the fullness of the notes of her voice, even the manner in which, with a sort of angry friendliness, she answered Veslovsky when he asked permission to climb into her Exterior, just to see how it feels—it was all peculiarly fascinating, and it seemed as if she were herself aware of it, and rejoicing in it. The snide and ironical title given her by the mécanicien now felt exactly right to Dolly: Anna, dignified and powerful in this pastoral redoubt, seemed like nothing so much as a warrior queen. The Queen of the Junkers.
“Ah, and here she is,” Anna grinned as they approached the porch of the dilapidated farmhouse. With fervor she embraced her own Class III, Android Karenina.
CHAPTER 8
ANNA LOOKED AT Dolly’s thin, careworn face, with its wrinkles filled with dust from the road, and she was on the point of saying what she was thinking, that is, that Dolly had gotten thinner. But, conscious that she herself had grown handsomer, and that Dolly’s eyes were telling her so, she sighed and began to speak about herself.
“You are looking at me,” Anna continued, “and wondering how I can be happy in my position? Not only separated from my husband, lacking even the benefit of a formal divorce, but now on the opposite side as he in a divide over the very future of our country! Well—it’s shameful to confess, but I . . . I’m inexcusably happy. Something magical has happened to me, like a dream, when you’re frightened, panic-stricken, and all of a sudden you wake up and all the horrors are no more. I have awoken. I have lived through the misery, the dread, and now for a long while past, especially since we’ve been here, I’ve been so happy!” she said, with a timid smile of inquiry looking at Dolly. “For once I know what I want: to be with this man,” she indicated Vronsky with a shy gesture, “and to stand alongside him for a principle in which I believe: that the ownership of beloved-companion robots is an ancient right, inviolable, a sacred privilege of the Russian people.”
“How glad I am!” said Dolly smiling, involuntarily speaking more coldly than she wanted to. “I’m very glad for you.”
But Anna did not answer. “How do you look at my position, what do you think of it?” she asked.
“I consider . . . ,” Darya Alexandrovna began, and she would have gone on to say what she knew that Stiva would insist she say, were he here: that there were legal channels through which to express one’s grievances with governmental programs; that Class III robots were to be mourned, certainly, but it was folly to stake one’s own life on the fate of machines; and that “we must put our trust in our leaders.”
“I consider . . .” Darya Alexandrovna began again, but at that instant Vassenka Veslovsky blundered past them, riding in Anna’s majestic Exterior, bumbling heavily along and sending a spray of electrical fire over their heads into the lintels of the farmhouse.
“This thing is out of control, Anna Arkadyevna!” he shouted, laughing. Anna did not even glance at him.
“I don’t think anything,” Dolly said, and, lacking the courage to bring up those points that she knew her husband would have made, continued vaguely, “but I always loved you, and if one loves anyone, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be. . . .”
Anna, taking her eyes off her friend’s face and dropping her eyelids—this was a new habit Dolly had not seen in her before—pondered, trying to penetrate the full significance of the words.
And obviously interpreting them as she would have wished, she glanced at Dolly. “If you had any sins,” she said, “they would all be forgiven you for your coming to see me and for these words.” And Dolly saw that tears stood in her eyes. She pressed Anna’s hand in silence. Android Karenina sat cross-legged on the porch at Anna’s feet, her faceplate calm and still, emitting a calming hum from her Third Bay. It struck Dolly that to say her piece—to urge Anna to abandon this world and this cause—would mean urging her to abandon her Android Karenina . . . and thus to suffer exactly as she had suffered in the loss of her Dolichka.
“Well, tell me more, won’t you?” said Dolly, getting to her feet and looking avidly about the grounds of Vozdvizhenskoe. After a moment’s silence she repeated her question. “Tell me more! These marvelous fire pits, are they only intended for fixing what things you have found, or do you intend to smelt groznium and build new robots as well? How many there are of them!”
At last Anna was drawn out of her melancholy humor and into conversation. She explained to her friend about the layout of the camp; about the decoms who had arrived and from where they had come; about her hopes that this place could be a safe haven for junkers who would otherwise meet their fiery doom in the furnaces below the Moscow Tower.
As they spoke, crouched unseen just past the porch was Vassenka Veslovsky, standing totally—that is, robotically—still, his aural sensors on alert.
Next, Anna and Dolly rose and spent a fascinated hour watching Vronsky drill a small group of decoms in a cleared-out wheat field behind the barn. In tromping lockstep, the dozen or so dented robots formed into rows, the rows shifted into columns, columns merged into little phalanxes, phalanxes split and regrouped and melted in and out of one another in a series of precise military maneuvers. Interlocking, delicate, balletic, their metal torsos glinting marvelously in the noonday sun, the robots practiced these maneuvers, while Vronsky and Lupo prowled amongst them, barking orders and making small adjustments. As Dolly and the obviously proud Anna watched, Vronsky seemed to rage at the slowness of his mechanical charges, chewed on the ends of his mustache with feigned frustration, all the while quite evidently swollen with self-satisfaction at the ever-growing skill of his ragged troops.
And Vassenka Veslovsky turned up to make a nuisance of himself, mainly by parading next to Vronsky as if he, too, were a commander of some sort, peppering him with all sorts of questions: “How many precisely do you have? What capabilities do they have? How well do they take such orders?”
CHAPTER 9
WHEN THE “TROOPS” were dismissed, Anna and Dolly continued their little inspection tour, crossing the vast lawn of Vozdvizhenskoe to one of the small outbuildings, where a pleasant little nursery had been created for Anna’s child and her II/Governess/D145. The rosy baby with her black eyebrows and hair, her sturdy, red little body with tight, goose-flesh skin, delighted Darya Alexandrovna in spite of the cross expression with which she stared at the stranger. She positively envied the baby’s healthy appearance. She was delighted, too, at the baby’s crawling. Not one of her own children had crawled like that. When the baby was put on the carpet and its little dress tucked up behind, it was wonderfully charming. Looking round like some little wild animal at the big grown-up people with her bright, black eyes, she smiled, unmistakably pleased at their admiring her, and holding her legs sideways, she pressed vigorously on her arms, and rapidly drew her whole back up after, and then made another step forward with her little arms.
VRONSKY CHEWED ON THE ENDS OF HIS MOUSTACHE AS HE BARKED ORDERS AT HIS MECHANICAL CHARGES
Dolly clapped in appreciation, but Anna only screwed up her eyes, as though looking at something far away, and said suddenly, “By the way, do you know I saw Seryozha? But we’ll talk about that later. You wouldn’t believe it, I’m like a hungry beggar woman when a full dinner is set before her, and she does not know what to begin on first. The dinner is you, and the talks I have before me with you, which I could never have with anyone else; and I don’t know which subject to begin upon first. Mais je ne vous ferai grâce de rien. I must have everything out with you.”
Dolly opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word a terrible shrieking noise was heard from outside, and Anna immediately bolted past her, with Android Karenina at her heels. “What—”
“Aliens!” shouted Anna over her shoulder. “We are under attack!”
* * *
&n
bsp; By the time Anna and her beloved-companion got to the central field, the tall blue junker named Antipodal had been caught in the terrible talons of the Honored Guest; it was holding the poor, stiff decom over his head, shaking him forward and back. “It will dash him upon the ground!” Anna shouted to Android Karenina, who flickered and beeped, looking for a way to help.
Lupo hurtled out from behind the silo, teeth bared, running directly toward the alien, Vronsky stomping along after him inside Frou-Frou Deux, raising his heavy-fire to send a blast at the alien. “No!” Anna cried out. “You will destroy the robot!” Lupo jumped back, hissing and growling, as the large, jagged clawfeet of the alien kicked at him. The Honored Guest shrieked again, the harsh sound competing with Antipodal’s wild klaxon beep of alarm. Darya Alexandrovna, heaving breaths after rushing to catch up, stood warily between Vronsky and Anna, as all contemplated what would happen next; other decoms trundled over from the far corners of the encampment, eyebanks flickering with distress for their captured comrade.
And then Witch Hazel, exhibiting absolutely none of the scattered, nervous energy Darya had observed in her before, suddenly came tearing at the Honored Guest from behind, catching it with a hard, running shove to the midsection. The alien monster stumbled forward, Antipodal flying from his clutches, and landed belly-down on the outer husk of Tortoiseshell, who like Witch Hazel seemed to have appeared from nowhere in the aid of their fellow decom. Android Karenina motored to Antipodal and began searching out the damaged portions of his plating to begin repairs; meanwhile, Tortoiseshell’s back lit up like the star on a Christmas tree, and the dozens of eyes of the alien blinked madly, while its long beak cracked open to let out a hideous caterwaul of agony—for the turtle-shaped regimental Class III had heated himself in an instant to thousands of degrees, and was baking the body of the alien.
Darya Alexandrovna stood stupefied, and Anna and Vronsky exchanged glances, astonished at the efficient and effective manner in which the robots had taken on the foe. While Vronsky admired the tactical acuity on display, Anna Karenina reflected that, freed by their masterlessness from the immediate dictates of the Iron Laws, these robots were not reverting to a dumb machine state, they were evolving—becoming more independent, more intelligent, and more empathetic toward one another. More human.
As the alien rolled off Tortoiseshell and clutched in evident agony at its burned undercarriage, a new sound welled up, as if from underground: a kind of humming . . . or, rather, a ticking . . . the alien shrieked again, blotting out the new sound for a moment, but in the next moment it returned, louder than before. . . .
tikka tikka tikka
tikka tikka tikka
tikkatikkatikkatikkatikkatikka
And as they watched, a gigantic, long worm shot out from beneath the earth, like a slow-motion bullet fired from a Huntgun, and then loomed above them, a flat eyeless head topping a long, grey, segmented mechanical body following behind, the dread mechanical tikkatikkatikka still radiating from somewhere within.
The robots and the humans cowered together, staring wonderingly as this terrible machine.
But the Honored Guest did not stare—instead, it ran toward the prodigious worm, driven as if by instinct, bounding along in three great pumps of its lizard-like hind legs, and jumped on the back of the beast.
Their sounds then combined into one horrifying symphony: tikka tikka tikka SHRIEK—tikka tikka tikka SHRIEK—tikka tikka tikka SHRIEK—
The alien, now astride the robot-worm like a cavalry officer, let out one last yowling war cry and spurred its mount with a knobby, reptilian knee. A terrible thought struck Vronsky, as the worm contracted along the length of its articulated body and then shot up into the air: They shall come for us in three ways, he recalled. This, then, was the second way: these worm-bots, too, were alien, sent to serve and protect the terrible lizard-men.
The sinuous machine, with its rider, arced smoothly over the heads of the astonished denizens of Vozdvizhenskoe, then disappeared into a new hole in the soil.
“Merciful Saint Peter,” said Dolly, and fainted to the ground.
* * *
When she awoke she was indoors, and Count Vronsky was standing over her and smiling. He told her that Antipodal in Android Karenina’s care was slowly being restored and revivified; that Lupo with his powerful olfactory sensors was prowling the grounds of the encampment, looking for more of the wormholes. Darya Alexandrovna was interested by everything. She liked everything about Vozdvizhenskoe more than she might have expected, but most of all she liked Vronsky himself with his natural, simple-hearted eagerness. Yes, he’s a very nice, good man, she thought several times, not hearing what he said, but looking at him and penetrating into his expression, while she mentally put herself in Anna’s place. She liked him so much just now with his eager interest that she saw how Anna could be in love with him.
CHAPTER 10
SHE IS AWAKE,” Vronsky called to Anna, who responded happily and ran in to give Dolly a kiss. “I shall escort the princess to her cabin, and we’ll have a little talk,” he said, “if you would like that?” he added, turning to her.
“I shall be delighted,” answered Darya Alexandrovna, rather astonished. She saw by Vronsky’s face that he wanted something from her. She was not mistaken. As soon as they had passed through the little gate back into the garden, he looked in the direction Anna had taken, and having made sure that she could neither hear nor see them, he began:
“You guess that I have something I want to say to you,” he said, looking at her with laughing eyes. “I am not wrong in believing you to be a friend of Anna’s.” He took off his hat, and taking out his handkerchief, wiped his head, which was growing bald. Dolly made no answer, and merely stared at him with dismay. When she was left alone with him, she suddenly felt afraid; his laughing eyes and stern expression scared her. The wolf-robot, Lupo, trotted beside them, and she saw with distaste that he was working at a hunk of the alien’s hide with his back teeth. The most diverse suppositions as to what Vronsky was about to speak of to her flashed into her brain. He is going to beg me to come to stay in this rebel cantonment with them with the children, and I shall have to refuse; or isn’t it Vassenka Veslovsky and his relations with Anna? Or perhaps about Kitty, that he feels he was to blame? All her conjectures were unpleasant, but she did not guess what he really wanted to talk about to her.
“You have so much influence with Anna, she is so fond of you,” he said. “Do help me.”
Darya Alexandrovna looked with timid inquiry into his energetic face, which under the lime trees was continually being lighted up in patches by the sunshine, and then passing into complete shadow again. She waited for him to say more, but he walked in silence beside her, scratching with his cane in the gravel.
“You have come to see us, you, the only woman of Anna’s former friends—I know that you have done this not because you regard our position as the right one but because, understanding all the difficulty of the position, you still love her and want to be a help to her. Have I understood you rightly?” he asked, looking round at her.
“Oh, yes,” answered Dolly, retracting her I/Sunshade/6, “but . . .”
“No,” he broke in, and unconsciously, oblivious of the awkward position into which he was putting his companion, he stopped abruptly, so that she had to stop short too. “No one feels more deeply and intensely than I do all the difficulty of Anna’s position; and that you may well understand, if you do me the honor of supposing I have any heart. I am to blame for that position, and that is why I feel it.”
“Yes, but here, so far—and it may be so always—you are happy and at peace. Not literally at peace, far from it given the severity of the threats that face you, but at peace in your hearts, which is after all the more valuable. I see in Anna that she is happy, perfectly happy, she has had time to tell me so much already,” said Darya Alexandrovna, smiling; and involuntarily, as she said this, at the same moment a doubt entered her mind whether Anna really was happy.
But Vronsky, it appeared, had no doubts on that score. “Yes, yes,” he said, “I know that she has revived after all her sufferings; she is happy. She is happy in the present. But I? . . . I am afraid of what is before us. . . . I beg your pardon, you would like to walk on?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Well, then, let us sit here.”
Darya Alexandrovna sat down on a garden seat in a corner of the avenue. He stood up facing her.
“I see that she is happy,” he repeated, and the doubt whether she was happy sank more deeply into Darya Alexandrovna’s mind. “But can it last?”
A junker named Vespidae, employing a very limited propeller-driven hovering capacity as he patrolled the perimeter of the camp, swung low overheard and flashed an all-clear light on its undercarriage to Vronsky, who gave a desultory wave in return and continued.
“Whether Anna and I have acted rightly or wrongly is another question, but the die is cast,” he said, “and we are bound together for life. We are united by all the ties of love that we hold most sacred. We have a child. We have these machine-men and -women who have sought what they perceive as safety in our shadow. But the conditions of our position are such that thousands of complications arise that she does not see and does not want to see. And that one can well understand. But I can’t help seeing them.” Vronsky absently ran his fingers along Lupo’s spine, and the dog thrummed with pleasure. Dolly wondered what Vronsky was getting at.
“My child,” he said suddenly. “Can we raise her here, in such a situation? And what of the future? My daughter will be hunted for all her life, bearing the mark of the rebel, whether she would choose to or not, for she will never be given the choice. We have made it for her, by our actions. Can I will her such an existence!” he said, with a vigorous gesture of refusal, and he looked with gloomy inquiry toward Darya Alexandrovna.
Leo Tolstoy & Ben Winters Page 42
