He felt a prickling sensation, as though he was being jabbed by sharp teeth. The sleeping bag beside him was empty. “Alfred!”
He came back from stoking the fire. “Bad dreams?”
“I’m being bitten.”
“Let’s see.” Josh winced as he helped him out of the sleeping bag. “The night bugs must like the taste of you. They swoop down and suck your blood.”
“I haven’t got any blood.”
“They’re not to know. I’ve lotion.” Alfred went to his case. “This confounded lock -”
“916712.”
“Thanks.” Alfred lobbed the bottle over. “I don’t know if you can get infected, but do you want to find out?”
It had a sweet, healthy scent, like licorice tea. The worst bites were on his torso and arms. Alfred sat at the mouth of the tent.
“Can’t you sleep?” Josh asked.
“I was thinking about the archaeologists. Bet that mummy doesn’t get to Lux in one piece.”
“Won’t they pack her properly?”
“You can make a killing with mummy parts. It’s vandalism, pure and simple.”
“You didn’t mind when your friends did it.”
“I was never peachy with it. How would we like it if Farvans came along and dug up our royals?”
“Would we care?”
“Jerry would sell his granny if he thought it’d get tourists in. I’ll sit in Worthies’ Corner with Puss and my shotgun.”
“I’m with you. History should be preserved.”
Alfred was wearing his wickedest grin. Josh knew what it meant. He also knew he’d be helpless to resist.
Half an hour later they were staking out the site, ears trained for the least sound. Josh had explained how there was a stream running nearby and the archaeologists had rowed a boat down to the quarry.
It was one in the morning. The bugs wouldn’t stop nipping, the wolf was drawing closer and they could hear bored voices. The archaeologists were playing cards, swapping jokes and chewing poppies.
“It was worth a try,” Josh said, getting up.
“Get back here!” Alfred pulled on the scruff of his shirt.
“They’ll catch us - have us arrested -”
“Quite possibly,” Alfred said. “My eleventh time in a cell. The novelty’s wearing off.”
“They might be ages.”
“Have we anything better to do?
Josh wondered, not for the first time, if Alfred was unhinged. As well as the gun he always had to hand, he slept with a coil of rope in case of fire and a sign saying “I’m not as dead as I look.” (Apparently his great granddad had nearly been buried by mistake). While he had no time for “superstitious tomfoolery”, he had a greater fund of myths and horror stories than anyone he knew.
“Have you seen our girl?”
Josh spied the mummy amongst a jumble of kit in the clearing. They couldn’t be more exposed if a spotlight shone upon them. “What do we do?”
“Wait. Your problem is you’ve no patience.”
That was rich, coming from a man who’d punched a self service robot. Josh had given him the silent treatment for a day but understood why. It’s infuriating when a chirpy voice keeps asking if you need a bag.
Alfred grinned. “You think I’m a hypocrite, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Arm wrestle?”
“Okay.”
They rolled up their sleeves. Alfred was cocky, expecting an easy victory. His eyes widened as Josh pulled his arm into the dirt.
“You’re a tough little devil, aren’t you?” he asked after his third defeat. “Guess that’s why CER gave you those big eyes. They disarm people.”
“I’m certainly disarming you.”
“Heh. Rock, Paper, Scissors?”
“I’m good at that, too.”
“Bring it on, Goldilocks.”
On the first attempt they both drew scissors. Next rock. “Are you peeking?”
“I swear I’m not.”
To mix it up Alfred played rock again. Josh anticipated that too. “Maybe we’ve a psychic link.”
“I still think you’re looking.”
A bruise was forming where Josh had twisted Alfred’s arm. He was tempted to put his lips to it. What would he taste like? The whine of a night bug distracted him from this interesting line of thought.
Alfred swatted it with his hat. “Got you!”
“Why don’t they eat you?”
“I’m old and leathery. Nanny says I’m part werewolf.”
“Why -”
“Red hair, forehead like a shelf. And my eyebrows meet.”
“You’re nicer looking than that.”
Was he blushing? “Gussy nicked the looks and brains, damn her.”
“Anything’s better than dimples. Everyone thinks I’m stupid, looking the way I do.”
Alfred laughed. “You’re adorable.”
Josh’s face grew hot. “What are our grave robbing friends up to?”
The game had been abandoned. Will tickled the lute, Mono aimed horse shoes at a tent peg. Sir Bart was scanning race results in the paper. “Another fortune down the bog,” he complained.
“You could get married again,” Mono said.
“There’s nothing you can get from a woman you can’t from a horse.”
“What, even that?” Will asked.
“Ha ha.”
“Bet Barty can’t get a hard on,” Mono jeered.
“Poppycock. I’ll show you what I can do.”
“Oh gods,” Alfred muttered as Sir Bart unbuttoned his trousers. “It’s lights out at Frome all over again.”
Josh wasn’t an expert, but the appendage Sir Bart whipped out seemed quite small. A few swipes and it stiffened. Will turned pink. Josh remembered how he’d tugged at his mentor’s sleeve, his voice breathy: “Sir Bart ...” Once you know what to look for, gay men were everywhere.
“Watch and learn.” Mono yanked down his trousers, revealing the biggest, hairiest arse Josh had seen. He covered his eyes.
“If I’d ever considered being gay,” he said, “I’m cured.”
Alfred pulled him to his feet, scowling. “Let’s get her out while they’re occupied.”
They sidled along the edge of the camp. Will had stopped strumming one instrument and picked up another. His small pert bottom twitched. Alfred stared.
That’s his type, is it? It made Josh strangely sad. Will was nice, but nothing special. Alfred could do better.
“Is this normal?” Josh asked, as one archaeologist after another threw back his head. They all did it differently: Sir Bart grunted, Mono gibbered, Will closed his eyes, his voice a bat squeak.
“Most men do it in private.”
“Do you?”
“I’ll be downstream.” Alfred loped off, ears aglow. Josh supposed it had been rather a personal question.
“Well? What do you say?” Sir Bart demanded.
Mono shrugged. “I make that -” he consulted his stop watch. “Still the fastest gun on the continent.”
Sir Bart swung a fist at his colleague’s jaw. Three teeth broke away. The injured man took two unsteady steps before slamming a blow into Sir Bart’s gut.
“Stop it!” Will wailed.
“Fuck off!”
Will ran off in tears, stepping on his lute and breaking it. Josh was hypnotised: two archaeologists rolling in the dirt, their penises slapping together. It wouldn’t look out of place on an urn -
The mummy! He dived amongst the equipment. She was even uglier at close quarters: scaly skin, claws crossed over her chest, empty sockets over a ghastly grin. She had a dry, grainy smell like old books. He put her over his shoulder and raced down to the river bank.
“What kept you?” Alfred asked, helping him into a boat.
He set their damsel in distress in the centre. “Dishy, isn’t she?”
“Bit skinny for my liking.”
“Bit female for your liking.”
“It sta
rts. I knew was in for a world of ribbing.”
The thrash of the planks, the splash of the water, hoots of unseen owls.
“Row, row, row the boat
Gently down the stream
If you see a crocodile
Don’t forget to scream,” Alfred murmured.
“I hope that’s not tempting fate. What will they do when they realise she’s gone?”
“Going by what Sir Bart said, it wasn’t legal.”
“They can come after us.”
“Unlikely. We’ve liberated their boat.”
“You’re a piece of work, Alfred.”
“Pragmatic, I call it. Who won the wankathon?”
“Mono.” Before he could stop himself, “Did you like Will?”
Alfred was more than usually poker faced. “No. Why?”
“I saw you looking.”
“Do you fancy every woman you look at?”
“No, but -” He tried to point out they didn’t usually have their pants around their ankles, bringing themselves off.
“I’m not a chickenhawk. The one time I dated somebody younger, it didn’t work.”
At last - what he needed to know. “Are you seeing anyone?” Though if there was a boyfriend, why hadn’t he met them?
Alfred had never taken so long to answer. “Stow it, Josh,” he said at last. “Wish I hadn’t told you.”
Thankfully the dig loomed up. From this angle it looked impenetrable: electric fences, signs in three languages, robots’ eyes. They pushed the boat beneath a length of fabric. Josh was left carrying the mummy while Alfred checked the security arrangements. Armed with a penknife and lighter, he followed the wires and fiddled with a box in the wall. The humming around the area died. The robots’ eyes sparked and went out.
A dog on a chain yapped. Josh held up the mummy and it backed down. They groped through the darkness. The only sounds were Alfred’s breath, a door banging. Now they were descending into the pit. Dust got into Josh’s works - he must expel it or shut down.
Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t even think about it.”
Josh shook his head, clearing his passages.
“Better?”
“Better.” To show he was still his own person, he bit Alfred’s knuckle. He clamped his lips together but didn’t say anything.
Josh had filled Alfred in on the work they’d made him do: checking the air, then tapping away until the mummy appeared and digging her out. Only Will had helped; Sir Bart had done acrostics while Mono recorded his findings on a speakerstick (he was a journalist).
Though it was a hot, filthy, demanding job, he enjoyed himself. “It made an interesting change.”
“You’d say that about the lurgy. Do you recognise any of this?”
“I remember these markings.”
Red dust got into your eyes, your clothes. You had to be careful where you put your feet in case you blotted out a thousand years of history. They stepped over shards of vases, a tarnished belt, a chipped statue which might be an owl. Alfred said the statues had been painted once, bleaching to fine ivory with the passage of time. How garish they must have looked, like ageing beauty queens. Josh nodded at an alcove. “That’s where we found her.”
They wedged the mummy inside, scrabbled in the dirt. First to vanish were the crabbed toes, next the wasted legs, gnarled trunk and face like a gherkin. Josh had an odd feeling of loss as he watched her disappear. Alfred took his hat off. “Sorry for disturbing you, lass.”
“Who do you think she was?” This was the side of history Josh cared about: people and feelings. Had she been pretty? Had she a man who loved her, children? Could she make her own choices, had she been bound by the caste system?
“Some sort of criminal. It can’t have been murder, she would’ve been fed to the vultures. Since she’s in one piece, she’s unlikely to be a thief. Prostitution? Adultery?”
“Were those capital offences? Seems harsh.”
“Life is harsh. Every ancient culture had practices that sicken right minded people.”
“Some still do,” Josh said bitterly.
“It won’t always be like this.”
“What if it is? What if it never changes?”
Alfred put an arm around him. Josh was conscious of the muscular body, the strength of those arms, his smell of tobacco and sweat, as never before.
“Better?”
“Much.”
They guided each other through the tunnel. Knowing his friend was there, Josh forgot to be afraid. He hated confined spaces and darkness, but with Alfred it barely mattered. It had such a taste of old fashioned naughtiness they couldn’t help giggling.
“Like scrumping the minister’s apples,” Alfred said.
“I used to walk around CER naked.” Josh had never admitted this before and didn’t know why he did now. At Alfred’s shocked laughter, “Only when everyone had gone home. I’d go exploring rooms, climb on the roof. Night air’s heavenly on bare skin.”
“Don’t tell me you slid down the banisters!”
“Do you think I should?”
“Good grief, Josh! You look all innocent, then you come out with filth!”
Reaching the ladder - “Do this clothed -” he boosted him up. Josh was chuckling, imagining Chimera’s banisters between his naked thighs, when he stared into the face of an appalled local. He yelled, the man yelled, and he nearly plunged backwards.
“What’s wrong?”
“There’s a man there -”
“Knock him out!”
“He’s looking at me -”
“Do it!”
Whispering, “I’m sorry,” he tapped the man on the head. It carried no more punch than cracking an egg with a spoon, but he keeled over. Josh stared at his hand. “Did I do that?”
“I didn’t,” Alfred said gruffly. “Bet someone’s sounded the alarm.”
They vaulted over the lip of the pit. Sure enough, the man’s cronies had come to his aid. While Alfred ran two headfirst into a wall, Josh picked up another and flung him onto the fence, which decided to switch on.
“Sorry,” he whispered. He accidentally trod on the first man’s head, crushing his skull like a watermelon. Stepping back from this latest catastrophe, he knocked another fifty feet into the pit. From what he could make out he had a broken neck.
The other pair broke free. As Josh came towards them they ran away. Alfred eyed the man impaled on the fence, the cocktail of brains. “You don’t do things by halves.”
“I didn’t mean -”
“Let’s go.”
Once they were sure no one was following, they moored beside the Wall. Josh lay in the boat, shaking. Alfred slipped him fruit and nut chocolate and, after a second’s hesitation, rum. “Captain Brady’s finest. Don’t get too pissed.”
“I’m a murderer.”
“It was an accident.”
“So? They’re dead. What if they had families?”
“You’re not a killer. Yes, it’s sad, but life goes on.”
“Not for them, it doesn’t.”
“Guess I walked into that.” Alfred patted Josh’s hand. “Gods, you’re cold.”
“My teeth can’t stop chattering.”
“Like little castanets. We should start a band.”
He wanted to be held but Alfred seemed reluctant. This stupid reserve humans prized! His friend was sitting cross legged in the remaining space, clicking his lighter on and off.
“Will you stop that?”
“Sorry, I’m -”
“Cranked up?”
“Yeah.”
There were times where he saw his own thoughts reflected on Alfred’s face. It could simply be he was incapable of disguising his emotions - he always said he was a lousy poker player. Josh looked at the bite on his knuckle guiltily. “Did it hurt?”
“I’ve had worse.”
He felt the human’s defences go up. Damn it, I don’t want them to! There was only one thing he wanted to talk about. “Alfred?”<
br />
“What’s up?”
“What’s it like going with someone?”
“Like nothing else.” His voice was soft; Josh leaned in to listen. “You feel as though nothing can touch you. When you’re with the right person, everything comes together. I’m not explaining this very well, am I?”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Sometimes you meet someone and your number’s up. You fall in love. First your mind, next your emotions. Then, and only then, you’re ready to fall in love with your body.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
“It is.”
“Do you think it’ll happen to me?”
Alfred put his lighter back in his pocket. The blue eyes were old and sad.
“You ask the most impossible questions. I want to say yes, I don’t think someone can call himself a man unless he’s loved, but CER wouldn’t make you that way. It’d cause nothing but heartache. It’d only be programming, not real love.”
“Oh.” Josh’s voice was very small. “I see.”
He wanted to argue, I don’t think that’s right, but Alfred seemed so sure. He wondered if certain things were destined to be beyond his reach. Pain, for instance - he knew humans felt it acutely, and did whatever they could to avoid it. Although he felt discomfort, it was fleeting, and didn’t make an impression. Not the way memories did.
He wanted to escape for a while. Acting entirely on impulse, he raised his arms and dived. He heard Alfred shout and rush to the edge of the boat. Passing back beneath, he heard his friend pace. Josh launched himself from the water, catching him around the waist.
Crowned with weeds, Alfred stared. “I didn’t know you could swim. I thought you were a goner.”
“You don’t know everything about me. Besides, metal floats.”
He couldn’t resist showing off. Plunging back in, he swam along the river bed. Alfred had grown wise. He was waiting when he broke the surface, grabbing him then splashing. They had a breathless few minutes chasing each other, colliding and giggling.
When Josh thought about this later - in the tent that night, the months to come - he picked it out as the time. The time where words, usually his tools, failed him. The time where, hair like a drowned witch’s, metal heart clamouring, he looked at his friend and saw -
Love and Robotics Page 23
