Love and Robotics

by Eyre, Rachael

  He watched Josh sleep. He wondered, not for the first time, what he was dreaming about. Sometimes the artificial would wake in the middle of the night and tell him, or paint pictures in his sketchpad. They were unlike any dreams he had heard of: extremes of weather, devoid of people, landscapes from the distant future. The animals were synthetic but the vegetation had run wild. Lush vines snaked over structures, dragged them down.

  Josh woke as though reluctant to give up the vision. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Alfred hoped he looked normal. His voice sounded off key. “Is there anything special you want to do today? Anything you haven’t done before?”

  He thought there was suspicion in the green eyes, but he must have imagined it. “I’d like to see the rest of Chimera. And talk.”

  They visited rooms long shut up, brought the furniture into the light. They opened Alfred’s parents’ rooms for the first time in years. He remembered how Lord Arthur would spring out of the wardrobe, playing Bartleby in a huge shaggy costume. He’d scream but enjoy the spice of danger. Gussy was scathing: “Thea’s sake, Alfie, it’s only Dad.” Or how he’d hidden here when he ran away from boarding school. Lady Constance winkled him out, but rather than march him back, they had a pillow fight. “I ate so much jelly and ice cream I was nearly sick. She agreed I could stay till she found a decent school.”

  Their room he could face - he had only happy memories, and it had a healthy coating of dust. When they went through to Gussy’s room, its cool fixtures and creamy linens kept spotless by Nanny, he choked.

  Whenever they’d thrown a party they would talk it over in here. They’d laugh, commiserate and do impressions. He knew she far outstripped him brain wise, but when she gossiped about who fancied who or offered to fix him up, she was just an ordinary girl.

  “I treated her abominably, and all for nothing.” He’d never said this before. Was that why he was so protective of Gwyn, to compensate for the harm he had done her mother?

  Josh took his hand. “It’s okay. Cry if you need to.”

  “Sorry.”

  They passed out into the hallway, followed the clock’s falsetto downstairs. He hadn’t been able to get rid of it, even though it maimed you when you touched it.

  “I - slept with someone. When you were on your honeymoon.”

  It blurted out. What was the matter with him today? He expected Gwyn to come into view, but the stairs were deserted. Josh made a noise he couldn’t interpret.

  “Do you mind?” he persisted.

  The artificial considered. “Was it somebody I know?”

  The tragicomedy spilled out, there on the window seat. “I felt rotten even then. Gods, I sound like a textbook love rat!”

  Josh shrugged. Sex as recreation would always be a mystery to him. “I can hardly object, seeing as I was getting married at the time.” Wonderingly, “People pretend to be artificials? If that turns you on, why not get a real one?”

  Alfred laughed. “Of all the things you could’ve taken from that story, you picked that!”

  Josh’s umbrella shielding them, they walked the grounds. They toured the graveyard and marvelled at the names. First prize had to go to Walburga Grimm. “She was probably buried with her battle axe,” Alfred said.

  It was too unsettled to go on the lake. They lay beneath the yews, sharing a flask of coffee and Nanny’s pastries. Everything glistened and teemed with life.

  Josh struggled to see past the rain. “Do you think they’re still outside the gates?”

  “Scavengers hate rain. They’ll be back when it eases off.”

  Alfred kissed the drops from Josh’s throat, not caring who saw. As he went lower the artificial shook his head.

  “I don’t mind, but what about you? You’ll get pneumonia!”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Since it was a day for disclosures, and they were running out of time, Alfred risked it. “You know I - died?”

  “Of course I do. I found you.”

  “I haven’t been right since. Maybe -” a gleam in his eye, swaying his arms, “I’m a member of the undead!”

  Josh bit him. “You taste real enough. That only happens in stories.”

  “What happened to my wide eyed idealist?”

  “Life.” It wasn’t a punch line but sad and quiet.

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  In the same toneless voice, “What do you want me to do when they come?”

  Alfred tried to sound as though this was a hypothetical scenario. “There are thousands of places you can hide. I’ve briefed Nanny. She won’t give you up without a fight.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  Alfred rubbed Josh’s nose with his. “You’re too valuable to lose. I’d never forgive myself.”

  It was a golden day in spite of the weather. They improvised on the organ, Josh composing a decent tune; they beat their record on the Thingummy. The artificial confided that he’d always wanted to have dinner on the roof.

  “While it’s hoofing it down? You’re crazy!”

  Alfred made the insane request to Nanny, who looked thoughtful. “I’ll see what I can do.” An hour later she bawled up the stairs, “Dress for dinner. And keep that rumpus down!”

  “Mfgph.” Alfred was busy at the time.

  It had only been ten days but already it seemed part of the natural order. Astonishing how happy it made him. And how many kinds of sex there were: the lustful, ravenous kind, where you clawed and bit; the silly, giggly kind, where you tried outré positions; the affirming kind, where you reached for each other and sought oblivion. It never ceased to move him, watching Josh’s eagerness and anticipation as he lowered himself on top of him, or how beautiful his lover looked as he rode him, nipples stiff, voice an inarticulate cry.

  They fell apart, breathing hard. Josh nestled in the crook of Alfred’s arm, held his feet with his.

  “What do you call me?”

  “Is this a trick question? Josh, of course.”

  “If it comes up in conversation, I mean. Do you say my partner, boyfriend - ?”

  “Partner sounds sexless and you’re definitely not. Can’t say I care for boyfriend either - sounds juvenile.”

  “Soul mate?”

  “Nice sentiment, but it makes people gag. I’ve personally always wanted to be like a middle aged vamp and say ‘My lover’.”

  “My lover.” Josh tried it. “Dr Sugar would have a fit.”

  “That’s half the fun! Alright, if you must say something, say beau. Our relationship isn’t like other people’s so why should we use their words?”

  Alfred couldn’t understand it. Josh was usually so perceptive and sensitive to atmospheres, but he didn’t ask why he clapped his hand to his forehead and groaned, why he started each time the clock chimed. Perhaps he was waiting to be told.

  They dressed to the sound of the gong, Josh choosing what went with what. It made a difference. Left to his own devices, Alfred chucked his clothes on; he dressed for utility. Few gentlemen’s outfitters troubled to make lion proof clothing.

  “Gorgeous,” Josh said, with one of his blink-winks. Alfred ached.

  Arm in arm they went onto the landing. Nanny stood at the top of the stairs, a lamp in her hand. “Up you go. Hope you’ve a head for heights.”

  Alfred vaguely remembered the way. He and Gussy had once come up here to escape her sister in law. Nanny raised the trapdoor and Josh climbed through.

  “Oh, my stars!” he cried.

  The only other time the artificial had been on the roof, he had been on the gutter outside Alfred’s bedroom. This offered an unparalleled view of Chimera: turrets, curlicues, friezes and eaves. The slates shone, rain studded the statues. The trapdoor banged shut, sending a flock of pigeons into the air.

  “They’ll be migrating soon,” Josh said, watching their formation.

  Nanny had set up a canopy; beneath it was a spread fit for princes. As they ran towards it,
music started to play. Alfred identified it: Epiphany.

  “Nothing like a subtle hint,” he groaned.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “I remember dancing with Gwyn, you warning me off -”

  “It wasn’t Gwyn I was worried about.” It was time he came clean. “That’s when my thoughts started going the wrong way. I freaked out.”

  “You should have said. Your punishment is to dance with me now.”

  Josh couldn’t have danced since his honeymoon and it showed. The body that was so nimble in sports and love was stiff and clumsy. “The girl leads, doesn’t she?” he asked.

  They laced fingers, standing chest to chest and hip to hip. “I’ll lead,” Alfred said, “though I’m even rustier than you -”

  “Like Thingummy when you put her away for the winter?” Josh asked.

  The joke loosened them both up. Alfred felt lighter than before, less inhibited; now Josh echoed his steps and twisted when directed. He lifted Josh in the air and spun him around. When the artificial pleaded for mercy, he gently brought him down. As the song ended they rocked with Josh’s head against his shoulder.

  “Come on,” Josh said at last. “We can’t let Nanny’s banquet go cold.”

  What do you talk about when the world is coming to an end? Josh was telling a story - a funny one too, going by the gestures - but Alfred was lost in the view, or staring at the artificial. He took Josh’s hand and kissed it.

  “You’re not listening, are you?” It carried only the slightest reproach.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s been a long life,” which made Alfred laugh. “Let’s not turn in just yet.”

  They drifted down to the library, Josh talking about a delicacy in one of his books.

  “It’s a bird, very small and perfectly formed, with a sublime flavour. Epicures pay huge sums for it. The strange thing is, they can’t look at it while they’re eating. They blindfold themselves so Lady Thea doesn’t see.”

  “People pay for the weirdest things. Jerry used to pay hookers to go to his office and throw buns at him.”

  Josh tutted. “You always lower the tone.”

  “And you love it.”

  They lit the library lamps and settled at the desk. They spent the next hour looking through albums and keepsakes from their adventures, reminiscing.

  “Do you never throw anything away?” Josh teased.

  “I’ve a hoarder’s instinct.”

  “You ought to use them for something. What about your memoirs?”

  “If I ever get round to starting them. What’s the working title, Broken Compass?”

  Just as Josh was laughing, his expression changed. “What is it?” Alfred asked.

  “Somebody’s coming. They’re an hour away.”

  They looked at the memorabilia, reduced to so much junk. Alfred pulled Josh onto his lap.

  “You’ve got to hide. Nanny and Gwyn will protect you.”

  “Their loyalty’s to you, not me.”

  “Don’t talk daft. You’re family now.”

  Josh shook his head, adamant. “Don’t underestimate Fisk. She’ll take this house apart, brick by brick -”

  Alfred shrugged. “It’s just a house.”

  “You love Chimera.”

  “I love you more.” Alfred caressed his lips, the curve of his cheek. “I want to remember you exactly as you are, down to this funny bit of hair.” He tucked it behind Josh’s ear, only for it to spring out again.

  Josh reached for his face. “I like the line by your mouth and the circles under your eyes.”

  “Hmm, handsome! I’m not going to win any beauty contests.”

  “You foxy old thing. Tell me a story.”

  “Well -” Alfred was getting a dead leg, so he shifted. “Once upon a time there lived this recluse. He had a loving family, a beautiful home, everything he could ask for, but he was hung up on the past. He was selfish, distant - not a nice guy, truth be told. He needed a kick in the pants.”

  “You’re too harsh.”

  “Any similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental. - One day an artificial came to visit, only the hermit didn’t believe him. He thought he was an impudent young whippersnapper -”

  “I thought you were a terrible boor -”

  “‘The most horrible person I’ve ever met’, the artie said. The scales dropped from the recluse’s eyes. He started to fall for his guest and never stopped.”

  “Even then?”

  “There was always something there.”

  Their lips touched. Alfred hitched Josh up his lap so he could kiss him properly. Josh nudged him where he was most sensitive. Their eyes met. “Naughty boy,” Alfred murmured.

  Josh slipped his hands beneath his shirt and ran them down his spine. Alfred turned and, breathing hard, cleared the desk with his arm. He lifted Josh up and pushed him onto it.

  “It’ll break!” Josh protested.

  “Do I look like I give a damn?”

  Soon they were naked. They kissed as though famished. Every movement, every groan said ‘I love you.’ When Alfred came he howled as though his soul was leaving his body.

  A light flooded the drive. “They’re here,” Josh said.

  Half in a dream, they helped each other with their clothes. Josh didn’t want to let go - he clung to his lover’s hand, his arm. Alfred whispered urgently: “Hide.”

  The artificial was so pale, you could see the workings beneath his skin. “I don’t want to.”

  “I don’t want you to see. Always remember -” Alfred kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips - “you’re the best adventure I’ve had. I don’t regret a moment.”

  Josh wiped away the streaks of silver running down his face. He nodded. He kissed Alfred one last time and disappeared into the shadows of the house.

  Fists pounded on the front door. “Open up!” a voice shouted.

  Nanny had been waiting in the hall. She came forward and laid her hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “I love you. Be brave.”

  “Love you too, Lulu. Look after them for me.”

  He pulled back the latches and stepped out. Two scaly, brutish men in off white reared up. Gentlemen of the Night.

  “Are you Alfred Wilding, Lord Langton?”

  “I am.”

  “We’re taking you into custody for crimes contrary to the natural law. This order may not be revoked -”

  “Grizzly? What are you doing?”

  It was terrible. Gwyn had been walking back from the stables, looking for him. Now she hurled herself upon one of the Gentlemen. He drew out his weapon and fired. She twitched on the grass.

  “You fucker!” Alfred snatched the stun gun and clouted the Gentleman round the head.

  “Now, now, Langton.”

  For the first time he noticed the glossy vix behind them, the figure leaning from the window. “Prime Minister.”

  She shook her head in mock pity. “I warned you, but did you listen?”

  He knelt beside Gwyn and checked her pulse. “Will she be alright?”

  “She’ll live. Quit the heroics and go with them. There’s a good boy.”

  He had no choice. Nodding to Nanny and Puss, he followed his captors into the prison craft.

  PART FOUR

  BOUND

  A Brand New World

  The craft swayed, close with the stench of shit and vomit. Alfred sat in the corner, his mouth dry. When he banged on the partition for water they laughed and slid it shut. First it was too hot, then too cold.

  He didn’t pass the buck. If he hadn’t given in to passion - but he could no more have done that than not bled, or breathed. Josh had suffered those bleak, lonely months at CER. Now it was his turn.

  Daybreak. The natter of birds, temple bells. The craft juddered to a stop. “Lord Langton?”

  He stood, slowly and painfully. The door was winched open, letting in glaring sunlight. “Are you ready?”

  R
ubbing the tag they’d soldered onto his wrist, Alfred followed the wardens into a cold bright morning, a filthy yard.

  “Welcome to your new home. First class facilities, full catering, wild life -”

  “Get fucked.”

  “That’s no way to make friends.” The guard held the gate open.

  Ducking his head, screening out anything he didn’t want to see, Alfred tailed them inside.

  Alfred knew the drill. His belongings were confiscated, he underwent a cavity search (“Pretend I’m your bum bot,” “Bet you like this.”). Pleasantries dispensed with, he was pushed into what looked like a doctor’s surgery. “The guv’ll be with you in ten,” they said.

  He did a circuit of the room. A model ship on the fire place. A plaster Lady Thea. Fake leather armchairs, a walnut desk. A speakerstick. He sat in the chair in front of the desk, scratched his neck. He hoped he hadn’t caught fleas.

  “Well, well. What have we here?”

  He knew that voice. Pigeon toes pattered across the carpet, followed by the lumbering footfalls of a guard.

  “We meet again,” the nasal whine continued.

  “Is that seriously how you enter a room? Can’t you think of something more original?”

  “Wilding always liked his little joke.”

  Alfred stared at the one member of Enforcement he’d hoped never to see again: Eustace Lucy, Chief of Perversion Prevention. Ken’s Transgression was Lucy’s first major case; it had made his career. He’d barely aged. Still vain and dandyish, wearing a pilled suit and tie. He still resembled a weasel with syphilis.

  Alfred tried not to notice that the blind was down, or that the speakerstick had disappeared. “Captain Lucy. What a coincidence.”

  “Not at all.” Lucy shed snakeskin gloves. “It’s my heart’s desire to see you crawl.”

  “Is this legal?”

  “Not in the least.”

  “What if I had you exposed for corruption?”

  “Who will people believe? A respected Enforcement officer or a bolt licking old bum stabber? You’re not stupid, unnatural proclivities aside.”

  “I don’t have proclivities.”

  “Oh?” Lucy licked a finger and opened a file. “‘The accused has committed sundry acts of intercourse with an artificial. This amounts to abuse of public property, coercion and seduction -’”