“Who’s done this before?” he bawled.
Dean had, and a few of the Studs.
“We split into two teams. I lead one, Josh the other.” He picked Dean and the fitter Studs, leaving Josh with Pip, Ravi and the rest. “It’s war, gentlemen!”
He punched the air, throwing everybody breast plates and a laser gun. They passed through into a huge dark chamber, pierced by the occasional shaft of fluorescent light. “Stick together. Shoot to kill.”
“Is he a squaddie?” Pip asked.
“Two years’ national service,” Simon boasted. “Never saw action, sadly.”
Josh caught Dean’s eye. He had. Funny how real soldiers never mentioned it.
“Okay, guys! To the death!”
Josh’s platoon hurried to the end of the chamber. It seemed to be an advanced version of the Thingummy, the knight and dragon replaced with targets and the other team. Ravi was really getting into it, accidentally taking out two team mates.
“Y’okay?” Pip asked.
“Funny game, grown men pretending to be soldiers.”
“Most do it the first chance they get.”
“Why don’t I?”
“Maybe the doctors wanted y’ to be more sensitive?”
He’d never considered this. “Do I only like or do certain things because they say so?”
Her face flared out of the darkness. It wore an expression he’d never seen: affection and solidarity, but compassion too.
“Shut up, you’ll give us away,” a Stud hissed. Pip squeezed Josh’s hand as they sidled along the back wall.
It was only in situations like this - peril, or the appearance of it - he appreciated his reflexes. He flung himself on the ground, rolled to avoid Dean’s line of fire. Ravi was knocked out, then the other Studs. Within twenty five minutes only he and Pip were left.
“Got your back,” he murmured.
“Got y’rs.”
Playing, they were only playing. For some people this was the most exciting thing that would happen to them. They didn’t have an Alfred to take them on adventures.
Pip’s gun stuttered. “That’s me done. Give ‘em hell, Josh.”
He braced against the wall. There was only Simon and a Stud left on the opposite team. Meaning they had won, unless he made an effort. Why were humans so competitive?
He heard somebody move. He fired without looking. One down. Three seconds later he was facing Simon.
“So. You and me.”
“Hello, Simon.”
“Want a piece of me?”
“Not particularly.”
“Don’t be a pussy.”
Josh laid his gun on the ground. “I’m out.”
“What’s the matter? You chicken?”
“I’m bored.”
Simon was saying appalling things under his breath. He didn’t care.
“C’mon, guys. Let’s try somewhere else.”
They stuffed themselves at the buffet, gambled at the tables, danced. Pip nudged Ravi in the ribs. “What about those sexy moves, buster?”
“I’ll show you what I can do.”
The first two floors were rejected as ‘meh’. Josh and Pip squealed when they saw the third. “This is it.” Panelled with dark wood, gilded paintings, a chequered floor and chandeliers.
“It’s like a stately home!” Kyle the Stud said.
Josh blushed. Pip noticed.
“Nah, too posh,” Ravi said.
“Free bar, though,” Dean pointed out.
Josh and Pip sat on high stools, watching the boys pogo. “Try this.” She pushed over a jug of something frothy and pink. He sipped it and closed his eyes. “Bliss in a glass.”
“Like drinkin’ a cake.”
“I love this room. It’s so operatic.”
“Operatic?” she giggled. “Know what y’ mean, though. Y’ keep expectin’ someone fantastic to walk in.”
“Anyone special?”
“Oh, I’ve got someone. What about y’?”
“Claire, of course.”
“Y’ sure?”
Perhaps it was the decor. Perhaps it was the rum amidst the cocktail’s other ingredients. But as Josh looked at the double doors and imagined them opening, he saw Alfred in the red shirt, one of his suits. He caught Josh’s eye and winked. He approached the stool, held out his hand -
“Are y’ alright?”
“This stuff goes to your head, doesn’t it?”
He hadn’t paid much attention to the band in the pit. Coco and the Digits, they were called. Now there was an eerie wail, an electronic beat. The song playing when they’d kissed in that hotel room. Him sighing, Alfred’s breath growing heavy. Lips in the hollow of his throat. He knew what to do, knew what to say. Why stop at buttons?
He wanted him over him. He wanted him underneath him. To feel that firm hard body pressed against the length of his own, his mouth and his hands everywhere. He wanted to be held and kissed, touched and tasted. That way Alfred had of looking at him, as though nothing else mattered -
I want you.
The realisation made heat fly to his cheeks. He couldn’t look at Pip. He couldn’t look at anyone. The cocktail must have been stronger than he thought. He almost toppled the stool. He found the doors to the roof garden and lurched out.
Dean came over with a tray of shots. “What’s eating him?”
Pip sucked up the last of her drink. “Light dawnin’. Give us a mo.”
“Josh?”
She’d pretend she hadn’t seen him. Funny how even the smartest people thought topiary could camouflage. She trotted up and down, liking the musical notes the tiles made. As she turned her back they played a different tune. Josh had joined her.
“What’s up, silver balls?” She did a fair imitation of Simon’s drawl.
“Platinum, actually. More expensive.”
“Too much info.” Though at least he was making jokes. “C’mon. Spill.”
“Telling it makes it real.”
“Leavin’ it’s worse.”
“You know.”
“Always known, hen.”
She’d seen Mandy the day Langton first visited the Centre, the grief in her eyes. She wouldn’t speak to anybody, ate cream cakes in strange places. After a week of this Pip collared her in the loos.
“Mandy, I’m worried. We all are.”
“ I’ll get over it.”
“Y’ must’ve known it wouldn’t work. He’s a robot, y’re human. And - I dinna think he’s capable.”
Mandy let out a strangled laugh. “Josh hasn’t got feelings? Pip, where’ve you been?”
The night of the launch, she’d watched him with Langton. The sympathy and love were palpable. Josh behaved like a teenager with his first crush. It was so obvious she wondered why it hadn’t occurred to anyone. Well, possibly Fisk. She always looked like she’d swallowed a mouthful of vinegar when she saw them together.
She didn’t say anything. She watched it flourish, saw them come out of their shells. She didn’t know what was more moving: a robot learning how to feel, or someone as damaged as Langton falling in love. When she saw them abroad, there wasn’t room for doubt. They were soul mates.
It was around that time she began to feel a deep disillusionment with CER. Once she’d loved her job, believed they were creating something extraordinary. She’d had a toy bot as a little girl - a lump of metal on a string. She squealed the day she won a place on the graduate scheme. It was three years since Adrian had taken over. He’d ruined everything.
“I don’t know what it is,” Josh was saying. “I look at him and I get this feeling in my chest. When Claire and I have sex, I wish I could be with him instead.” He banged his head against the railings. “How can I make it stop?”
“What if y’ don’t marry her?”
“I’ve got to.”
“Listen.” She squeezed his elbow. “It’s shitty, but sometimes the right way’s hardest. She’ll get over it. She can marry someone else, and y’ -”
“Who says they have to?”
“I’ve drunk too much. Tomorrow I’ll wake up and gnash my teeth.”
“But now we dance.”
He shook his head, she insisted. She whirled him into a tone deaf gavotte.
“I mean it. Follow y’ heart.” When he didn’t respond, “Josh! Didn’t y’ hear what I said?”
“You’re a good friend, Pip. Who was your door person?”
“Gwyn, if y’ must know.”
“Gwyn!”
“I’m serious. Stop laughin’!”
He couldn’t.
Josh woke late the next morning. A feather boa wiggled across the carpet and somebody had pinched a ‘Beware: Mutant Ducks’ sign. He splashed on the oil he kept on his bedside table.
At least he was back in one piece. He wound through the images from the night before: dancing with Pip, that marvellous cocktail, shutting Simon up. At the centre, cloudiness. He had a strange melancholy but couldn’t place it. A half eaten kebab was on the window sill. Somebody had scrawled across the mirror in lipstick: ‘DON’T DO IT!’ He scrubbed it off with a face wipe.
A noise buzzed in his ear. It took a few seconds to identify it: the tube. It wouldn’t let up.
“What?”
A throaty chuckle. “Someone woke up in the bitch drawer.” Alfred.
“I didn’t know it was you. I had my bachelor party last night.”
“What was it like?”
“Simon dragged me around a gaming hall. If it wasn’t for Pip I couldn’t have borne it.”
“What did the girls do?”
“A spa day. I’d rather have done that.”
“Doubt it. You can’t keep still.”
“Maybe you’re right. Still, it was my night. I should’ve had a say.”
“It’s meant to be your last night of freedom.”
“I wish you could’ve been there.”
“Not my scene.”
“Wait a moment.” Josh rubbed his head. “Why don’t we have one at Chimera?”
He could hear Alfred’s grin. “Nanny can make an event spread. She loves doing them.”
“When’s best for you?”
“Three days before the wedding, maybe? Do you need to be anywhere?”
“Not that I know of. Any ideas?”
“Hundreds.”
“See you then.”
“See you.”
Bachelor Night 2
The Chimera bachelor night was on a glorious autumn evening. Josh came down on the z-bike. Alfred waited on the driveway.
“Okay,” Josh said as he raised his visor. “Could you grant me a favour?”
“You only get married once. Fire away.”
“Will you come for a spin around the park?”
“On that? You’ve got to be joking.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were scared.”
Josh had him there. He wouldn’t have been able to resist anyhow. He looked so wicked he could eat him alive. A leather jacket and twills were mediocre on anybody else; put Josh inside them and adjectives became meaningless.
“Do I have to do anything?” Alfred asked as he climbed up behind him.
“Hold on tight.”
Alfred had time to reflect he had his arms around Josh’s waist, his face against his back, before the engine leapt into life. He wished he didn’t have to wear that helmet but never mind, he could still breathe in his cologne and - oil? Anything to counterbalance the scenery shooting past. The rank and file of trees, the greenhouses, the lake. A peacock screamed.
“Are you alright?” Josh shouted.
“Um, yes. I think.”
“You’re priceless. You charge into brawls without a second thought, but stick you on a z-bike -”
“What if it falls apart? What if we fall apart?”
“Your wheelchair was flimsier. You had no problems rocketing around on that.”
“I designed it! I knew how it worked.”
“You’re perfectly safe -”
“Look where you’re driving, not at me!”
Good thing he’d yelled - they braked against the wall of the stables. Shaken, they dismounted.
“What kind of maniac does that for fun?”
“I do,” Josh said obstinately. “Could do with a brandy, though.”
After half an hour’s recuperation they lay on the lawn. Alfred sensed Josh looking at him but couldn’t catch him.
“What are we doing tonight?” Josh asked.
“I thought you could help me with a pest problem.”
“More booby traps? That artist knew how to hold a grudge.”
“No, we’ve laid Vito to rest. It’s of a more supernatural nature.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”
“The Lady and her posse, no. Superstitions, no. But it’s stupidity not to believe in things you know exist. There’s two.”
“The two in the gatehouse?”
“I didn’t know there were any.”
“A man and a woman playing chess. She was wearing a big frothy dress, he was very tall and thin -”
Alfred swore. At Josh’s curious look, “No, not those two. The ones I’m talking about need to be fumigated.”
“But - how -”
“You’ll find out.”
It was a testament to Chimera’s women they didn’t pale or break out in a sweat when they heard the night’s itinerary. Gwyn shrugged and said, “I’ll be down the shooting range,” while Nanny’s only comment was, “Don’t forget the garlic.”
They trundled down the corridors, Puss in tow. Maybe she’d help, she had an admirable ability to sniff out ghosts. The only drawback was a putrid pheasant she’d insisted on dragging along.
“What is this stuff?”
Well might Josh ask. The hostess trolley had never been used for its original purpose; it was pocked with acid stains and gnaws. Now it was piled with knickknacks: a jar containing glow worms, a long black mirror, the Thingummy knight’s helmet, a coral necklace, a camera attached to a goldfish bowl and grappling hook and Josh’s fiddle.
“I thought my playing was so bad you didn’t want any more of it.”
“You never know when it might come in handy.”
“What’s the garlic for?”
“Keeps you safe.”
“What’s any of it for? Are we playing the memory game?”
“No point, you’d win. All this is ghost hunting equipment.”
Alfred heaved the curtains shut and dimmed the lamps. The only light came from the jam jar and Puss’s eyes, gleaming at thigh height. “Can you see?”
“Light and dark doesn’t make any difference to me.”
“Right: the middle landing. That’s where our first customer likes to hang out.”
As they came out through an archway the scent of garlic hit Alfred’s nostrils. He brought the trolley to a halt. Josh was clutching something in his fist.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t like dolls.”
Alfred didn’t blame him. Parts of Chimera reminded him of a mad relative; this was worse than most. For the next twenty feet - packed onto shelves, displayed on stands or arranged like an audience before the play begins - were dolls. China dolls, wooden dolls, tin dolls and rag. Dolls you could keep in match boxes, dolls as tall as Nanny. Jack in the boxes and puppets, fashion dolls and collector’s items. Ninety pairs of eyes, bead and painted and glass, stared at them. He’d tried donating them to the village fair, only to come home and find them in the same place as before.
“I always think they’re going to move,” Josh said. “Maybe because I’m a living doll.”
“None of that. C’mon, exhibit one will be along soon.”
“You haven’t told me anything about him.”
“It’s more of an it. We might be here for some time, so let’s put up these chairs.”
“Oh, I like this. Makes me feel like a film d
irector.”
“Makes me feel like a gnome.” Alfred lit up - anything to keep his hands occupied. “Alright. Perry.”
“You’ve given it a name?”
“Why not? Perry’s a pook, a lash out of psychic energy. He loves being annoying. Putting clocks at the wrong time, rattling plates, flooding the bathroom, that kind of thing.”
“Is this what Dr Ozols calls the phantom fairy?”
“Phantom fairy?”
“Whenever the copy functional clogs up or there’s a power cut, she blames the phantom fairy. She says it drinks her coffee.”
“Maybe it began like that. Chimera’s built on old ground - a Golfa battlefield - and it’s very suggestible. No, Perry’s more likely to’ve sprung from this joke Gussy and I used to have. We were always close - well, we had to be, out in the middle of nowhere - but she made it clear she was boss. ‘Don’t bug the staff.’ ‘Don’t make faces, you’ll stick like that.’ ‘Fancy putting this on and seeing if you can conduct lightning?’ She’d learn a new word and use it on me: ‘You’re looking very discombobulated, Alfie.’ ‘Don’t be so antagonistic.’ Nanny hadn’t time for it: ‘Clever little madams have spiders lay eggs in their tummies.’”
“You were her favourite.”
“Nanny doesn’t have favourites. - One day Gussy went too far. I can’t remember what she said, just I’d had enough. She tried to chase me but every door I went through slammed and locked itself. When she tried to be cutting after that, something happened. She’d fall over or hit her head or, one occasion, land in the lake. I said I had a guardian angel called Perry. Well, perhaps not an angel. A guardian vigilante?”
“What caused it?”
“No idea. He went quiet for years; I thought I’d seen the back of him. But the last few months he’s been making himself felt. The staff are frightened. Idgie Baker gave her notice. We need to boot the blighter out.”
He finished his smoke and went to the hostess trolley. “We need to set up the mirror, like so.” It was wedged between a pair of candlesticks, meaning it took in the length of the room. “Now this jumble.” They erected the camera, goldfish bowl and hook, putting it beside his camping stool. “Finally, the fiddle. Play something.”
“I’m terrible.”
“It doesn’t matter. Spooks are nosy buggers. Hear any noise and they glide out of the woodwork.”
Love and Robotics Page 47
