That is not to say it was logical; this was all purely emotional. There was no logic in it, no real, true reason to say that Jake should date me and not someone else. I sought one desperately, though.
True, he was iffy about finding robots attractive, but I was not just any robot. I did not have sexual experience and was not certain to what lengths I was willing to go to get modifications done. But I was more than willing to find ways to bring him pleasure—to bring both of us pleasure—and I would be kind to him. I would never hurt him on purpose.
That didn't mean I wouldn't hurt him involuntarily. Everything I'd watched or read or downloaded about relationships indicated they could be tricky, no matter what good intentions existed on both sides.
My intentions were excellent. I would explore Jake and protect him and never let anyone but me touch him again. Yes, I was wonderfully selfless in this: he was to be mine alone, and I would never abandon him. Not at all selfish of me, or self-interested. Of course I was a better judge of what he needed in a partner than he was himself; of course I could be whatever that was, as long as I could keep on kissing him. That is sarcastic, but it was still how I felt.
Whatever spark of rationality I maintained on the subject of Jake was clearly "hanging by a thread." And I was holding a pair of scissors with a gleam in my eye.
When we drew apart, he was panting and grinning, and his eyes seemed brighter than usual. He cleared his throat. "Well. That was pleasant. For you?"
"I found it enlightening."
"Oh?" His smile wavered.
Perhaps I hadn't been clear. "It's time to deactivate your dating profiles," I said. "Let's see where this goes."
His grin was back, but after a moment, it wobbled. "I sure hope this isn't a mistake. I'd hate to lose my best friend if this all goes south."
"I will always be your friend, Jake. I promise you that."
"Yeah, but if it... If it goes bad, you can always get programmed to forget all about it. Or maybe when you're adjusted next. And I can't."
I stroked the side of his face with my fingertips, very lightly, as I'd been wanting to try for some time. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, enjoying it, despite his anxieties.
"I'm not going to forget. And I will not do anything that you would wish to forget. You know I'll be kind to you, Jake. I promise."
"If this is all fake—if it's just for my benefit, and you don't get anything out of it—then please don't. I don't want to use you, okay? I don't want to use anybody."
"Jake."
"Yes?"
"You're not using me. You asked how I felt. Do me the courtesy of believing my answer. My interest and curiosity and affection for you are real."
"Okay."
"May I kiss you again?"
"Yeah. You don't have to ask each time. I'm a fan of kissing." He made a soft humming sound that seemed satisfied when I touched my mouth again to his. We didn't talk for a little while after that.
And I wondered, what should I ask permission for? I wanted to try every single thing I could with him, as long as it did not cause him distress. Jake was a very giving person, and he tried to meet others' expectations and please them. But he would need to be perfectly honest with me about anything he didn't like. Knowing him, I realized he might struggle with that. I'd need to stay especially in tune with his reactions to be sure I didn't overstep a boundary.
He felt so warm and soft in my arms. Holding him was a better and more visceral experience than I'd expected. It had been a guilty daydream, and now it was true.
I should probably not ask to go "too far" tonight. Yes, I should probably be patient and allow things to go slowly.
I probably should even tell him to keep his dating profiles active, to keep things casual.
Well. That part wasn't going to happen.
Jake
I'd be lying if I said I didn't have doubts about dating Greenie. Big doubts. But they were the sort that did me no credit, like worrying about our careers. We worked in a precinct where it wasn't exactly illegal, but was highly frowned upon, to date coworkers. Careers were known to founder when this taboo was broken. I didn't want one or both of us to be transferred or end up with the shittiest possible assignments if we got found out. The fact that he was a robot probably wouldn't make it any more acceptable.
I still didn't know what he could possibly get out of dating me except perhaps to satisfy his curiosity, and part of me doubted he should or could be interested. True, our personalities worked well together, but he didn't have any real sexual desires, and wouldn't unless he added some programs for that. So that meant...what? Anything we did would be for my benefit? I didn't want that.
But he'd certainly seemed to get something out of kissing me. That was flattering, and nice, and terribly enjoyable. But still, I had a lot of doubts.
In a way, weren't those doubts a way of saying Green didn't know his own mind, or that he wasn't real enough and smart enough and mature enough to consent? I didn't really believe that, did I?
It did my head in sometimes, worrying about all that stuff.
He proved shockingly good at pleasing me, physically as well as emotionally, in a way that made me wonder if he really could read my mind, or if I was daydreaming this whole thing. I'd known his hands were sensitive and capable, but I'd never guessed the extent of his skill. He could bring me off embarrassingly quickly, or wonderfully slowly. I was putty in his strong, slim hands.
I felt inadequate to do enough to please him, though. If he added specific modifications and programs, there would be a better chance for me to return the favor, but even then, I didn't think I was that great of a lay. I'd certainly never gotten amazing reviews in the sex department.
At least Green didn't seem to think I was "too nice." But as for the rest, I was still wrestling every day with whether this was a good idea, or fair to him. And then I doubted my own reasons for worrying about it.
This was, legally, morally, socially his choice—his to make. I hadn't forced the issue (as if I could) or tried to manipulate him into this. Feeling that I wasn't good enough for him, or that he didn't really know what he was doing—those things were more about me than him. It didn't make it any easier knowing that, though.
Still, I couldn't remember ever being with a better guy. My amazing robot boyfriend. He accepted me the way I was and didn't think I was an idiot for having my little quirks and vulnerabilities, being unable to hold my liquor, or too quick to try to get along, or anything else about me. He'd long since accepted me as a friend, and he seemed able to make this transition more smoothly than I was.
To be honest, even when I thought I should give him up for his own good, I couldn't stand the thought. I was far too attached already.
We didn't move in together; our relationship would have been pretty obvious to the precinct if we'd done that. Also, I didn't have a charging niche at my place, and they're pretty expensive to install. We were happier and safer living apart, but he spent a lot of time at my place, almost enough sometimes that it seemed like we lived together, between home and work and occasionally going out to do something.
I wondered sometimes if he'd been courting me all along, taking me out to all those places—and then I thought I was an idiot for wondering about that. He hadn't been interested at first.
And what if he isn't now, either, just curious? Just wanting the experience?
But whatever my darker worries told me, whatever I thought and worried about when I was alone on sleepless nights, I knew Green was kind. He would never hurt or use me on purpose, and as long as I could keep from hurting him in return, and neither of us hurt the other accidentally, this could never be wrong.
Dating someone so gentle and generous wasn't a common experience for me. It took some getting used to, knowing I didn't have to be on guard or earn his affection, that he didn't want me only for my body or for any specific thing I could do or make him feel.
It was an odd experience for me, but a good one, to be wante
d, for whatever reason he did want me. There was no pretending here; I didn't have to try to be someone I wasn't.
That felt special and new. And the way I felt about him—it felt almost like love.
Green
It was not merely the sensual aspects of our new relationship that I enjoyed, though I did enjoy those more than I had ever suspected I would; it was that I had a right now to care for him as much as I did, to look after him in non-co-worker-related ways, and not have to watch some crude, selfish person walk all over my Jake's gentle nature.
If I sometimes disliked the uncertainty that wavered in him, the feeling that he would put a foot wrong and ruin everything, or that I wasn't what I seemed, that this was a mistake somehow, I also understood that this was what his experiences had proved. He could not program those feelings away, and I wouldn't want him to. I didn't mind proving that things could be different, that I could be right for him. That I loved him.
I was beginning to think that, as much as I could experience love, I had it already, and it was for him.
I knew I needed to be sensible about it and not assume that my feelings were as intense as they could be, the exact sort of feelings someone else would have in my situation, if they were in love with Jake Elliot. All I had was my own experience, and the feeling I had was that I loved this man.
I didn't want to change him; I simply wanted to share my life with him and protect him where I could. I wanted to make him happy, if I could, and I wanted to be near him all the time.
And if this made me a fool, a human-lover, a discredit to robot-kind, then I would gladly own it, because Jake meant more to me than anything else.
I wondered, fleetingly, if I would have to run away from my next adjustment to keep my feelings for him, but I did not believe it in my circuits. It was too fundamental a part of me, what I felt for Jake. Adjustment could not remove it; only being reduced to atoms and ones and zeroes would do the trick.
Jake
I listened with half an ear as Maxwell grumbled. If he thought he'd find a sympathetic ear in Green, he was surely mistaken. Neither of us liked the guy. He was too stuck in his ways, too resentful.
I supposed I should look on it as a sign of progress that he was actually speaking to Green now, instead of talking behind his back, but I wasn't feeling that charitable at the moment. He was interrupting our work.
"How do you two have the highest clear-up rate in the precinct?" His tone of voice indicated clear disgust.
But Green answered calmly. "Officer Elliot is extremely conscientious and hardworking," he said in that smooth, relaxed voice of his, the one that really did help so much in our job—as long as people weren't freaking out because he was a bot. "And I—well, modesty forbids."
I hid a smirk at that. He could be sarcastic when he chose.
Maxwell snorted. "You, modest? Practically tonguing each other on the job." He strode off, still grumbling.
The words made me freeze, but briefly. It was true that I'd probably been a bit more openly smitten lately, but between one thing and another—mostly his upcoming adjustment—what we had felt so fragile and precious that I was hard-pressed not to be affectionate, even on the job.
So far, I'd thought I was doing at least moderately well at it, though.
"Jake," Green said, leaning towards me. "What's wrong? Your heart rate's elevated."
I threw off the worries with an effort. "Sorry. Just stressed." Maxwell didn't really know anything. He'd be harassing us with a lot more than that if he did, or else reporting us.
Green swiveled back to his own station. "Take a break if you need one. I will cover for you."
So studious. I bit back the teasing words. I had to be careful, even if I wasn't going to have him for much longer.
Oh, sure, there was no proof—no clue, even—that an adjustment would change his feelings for me. But I remembered how distant he'd been the first time, and it was really too much to hope for, wasn't it? Forever, I mean.
I took him up on his offer and grabbed my water bottle and headed out onto the back balcony to get some fresh air and stare into the distance and try not to look as tragic as I felt about all of this.
I'd had him for a long time. Months, now. Nothing had torn us apart, we hadn't hurt each other, and we'd had a lot of fun. And if the adjustment changed him, I'd be gracious about it.
I swallowed a sigh. I'd better enjoy these last few days while I had them. Of course, that feeling of impending doom, of time ticking down, created a heart-squeezing pain that was far from enjoyable, and I spent each moment wondering if this was the last time he'd look at me that way, share this joke or that embrace. I could lose him—the him I knew, anyway. In his place might be a near-stranger, and I'd have to find my way with him all over again, keeping things strictly platonic, eating my heartache and loneliness for him as we became coworkers and maybe friends again.
If only I didn't love him, it would be a lot easier to accept.
Green
"Nothing is going to change," I promised Jake as I prepared for my adjustment appointment. I had already put it off twice. It is fair to say we both had some concerns, and that with those words, I was promising myself as much as I was promising him. "Sometimes I feel strange for a few days, but the fundamental part of me can't change, and that part loves you, Jake."
He watched me cautiously, with a look in his eyes like he was trying to get used to me not being there anymore. We were at his home, and it had been a relaxing but sad day together. It felt like a kind of goodbye, and I needed that not to be true.
There was only so much that talking about it could fix.
"I believe you. And thank you. But what if you don't love me the same way after this? What if it's back to being work buddies?"
I shook my head slowly. "That can't be." I didn't know how to make him certain of it. It probably would have helped if I'd been a little more certain myself. "You'll see."
"Yeah, you're probably right. You usually are, Greenie."
He forced a smile, then gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye. I wouldn't have him go with me and drive me home. That would be unnecessary and cruel, since I was usually distracted and vague and not very verbal after an adjustment, and he'd be looking for signs that I'd forgotten him.
I will never forget you. There were only so many times I could say it. I would have to prove it.
The journey to the adjustment center had a feeling of ringing finality about it, as if I was saying goodbye to the whole world, and Jake with it. I knew that wasn't so, but feelings are funny things. I could have programmed a lot of them away, but what would be the point? I had feelings, and I owed it to myself to feel them, at least when they weren't actively destructive. I wanted to live, truly live, and that meant feeling things. Like how I felt about Jake. It hadn't always been happy, safe, or comfortable to care so much about my partner. But it had been real.
And it still will be.
I walked into the center "girding my loins" to face that annoying doctor bot from last year. Sure enough, he greeted me with the same faintly condescending over-cheerfulness. "And how have you been, Officer Green? Any odd unbalances I should know about, ha-ha?"
I've fallen in love with a human. Would you think that an aberration? Plenty would. Perhaps Jake and I would have to keep our relationship a secret forever. Or perhaps someday we'd be as comfortably open as those humans and bots we'd seen dancing in a club. I could live with it either way, as long as neither of us got fired. I couldn't be the cause of Jake losing his job, and, to be honest, I'd grown rather fond of being a cop.
I liked to think I did a good job, and not just because of our closure rates. Those only told half the story, not how people—victims or suspects—were treated in the process. And Jake and I made a good team for dealing with people. We didn't do good cop, bad cop like in the movies. We were just two good, competent officers of the law who worked well together.
"I am feeling perfectly adequate, thank you," I answered with as much
chilly dignity as I could muster.
It would have been more satisfying if he had noticed.
"Wonderful, wonderful. We'll soon set you to rights, ha-ha. Right this way, officer!" He gestured me through to the adjustment area.
A bit of an ancient poem ran through my circuits as I lay down and was fastened to the equipment that would run through and adjust my processes. It was a very odd thing to think in one of my last conscious moments.
If I forget thee, oh Jerusalem...
I had never been to Jerusalem in my life. Maybe I really did need to be adjusted if random quotes were flitting through my circuits at this moment.
My very last thoughts—the wordless ones, the final things that went through my mind before the lights went out—were of Jake. His smile, his soft eyes, his worried brow.
If I forgot him now, that would be...
Darkness accepted me, and there were no more thoughts, wordless or not.
When I got out of the adjustment, Jake was waiting for me in the room where friends and family could sit. I could not recall the specific term for it at the moment.
He rose at the sight of me. "I know you said I didn't need to come here, but you shouldn't be alone. I'll walk you home. You don't have to say anything."
Grateful, but still disoriented, I nodded. I wasn't sure I could say anything coherent yet. That scrambled-circuit feeling was not my favorite. Still, a simple self-diagnostic showed my processing speed had been bumped up a notch, so there must have been areas that needed adjustment.
It was a long walk back to my niche, but I preferred that to faster transportation. I was glad Jake remembered the way, because everything looked unfamiliar somehow. I hated this feeling, even knowing it wouldn't last forever. It shouldn't be necessary at all. Other bots got adjusted without side effects, so why not me? I did not always like being a statistical anomaly.
That Sort of Partners Page 6
