Love and Robotics

by Eyre, Rachael

  It was a relief to emerge into the courtroom. It was smaller than it looked in films, with swagged blue curtains and stylax seating banks. Only the dock and the judge’s bench matched his idea of what a courtroom should be. He didn’t bother looking at the heraldic shields lining the walls. He knew they were fakes.

  He scanned the banks. Gwyn was flanked by Nanny and Derkins. She was trying to be strong but her eyes brimmed. Further down was Cora, the biggest blue rose pinned to her chest. That beastly poodle was on her lap, eating truffles from her handbag. She stopped talking to a bevy of fans and blew him a kiss.

  Beneath them were the jury. A motlier group you couldn’t imagine: a well groomed Hadan woman, a seedy man in overalls, a beady eyed old lady with lamb chops poking from her bag. They looked as though they’d been dragged in off the street.

  Everyone stopped murmuring and followed his progress. He gave a sarcastic wave. “Behave!” Feist hissed.

  He took his seat in the dock, Feist to his right. She whispered something but she might have been miles away. The whole world could have been. An armed guard was leading Josh into the room.

  It was two months since they had seen each other. In his darkest moments, Alfred had wondered if their love was an illusion, the fantasy of a diseased mind. Everyone insisted it was.

  Josh looked neither right nor left. He hovered by his guard, his gaze in the middle distance. His eyes found Alfred’s - and he wondered no longer. It was as bright, clear and definite as something freshly minted, as the first morning of spring. Josh took his place in the bullet proof booth, eyes still fixed on Alfred.

  The judge called for order. She was Justice Begum, frontwoman of Lila’s Most Notorious Trials, the nation’s firm but fair auntie. Alfred had caught glimpses of the show at Chimera. He’d always been repulsed by the bravado and dishonesty of the defendants. Was that how he looked?

  The prosecutor rose. The sense of unreality continued: it was Sir Matthias Hopkiss, the People’s Prosecutor. A mountain with a sherry soaked voice, Sir Matthias professed to be a defender of public decency. The reality was rather different.

  “In all my years as a prosecutor, I haven’t encountered such a sordid case,” he began, meaty jowls wobbling. He was a lover of pregnant pauses. The audience fidgeted.

  “I seek to show that the men before you engaged in unnatural sexual relations ...”

  The first up was Captain Lucy. He sauntered over to swear, one hand in his pocket.

  “I am Captain Eustace Lucy, chief of Perversion Prevention. The accused was arrested on my orders on May 21st. I have been monitoring his conduct since.”

  “Cases of this kind are rarely brought to trial,” Sir Matthias said. “What convinced you to make an exception?”

  “I’d have to say the defendant’s arrogance and audacity. He has used his position as Lady Augusta’s brother to groom the artificial Josh Foster and lure him into a relationship. He pretended to everyone - the public, Foster’s handlers - that it was a mere friendship, his actions motivated purely by kindness. It is the opinion of several experts he bears all the hallmarks of psychopathy and should not be allowed to reoffend.”

  Alfred couldn’t suppress a snort. Somebody present was psychotic, but it sure as hell wasn’t him.

  “Can you provide proof?” Sir Matthias asked.

  “Plenty. By his own admission, he and the artificial are in a ‘relationship’” - Lucy made quotation marks with his fingers - “and ‘engaged’. He gave Ian Neal, the prison doctor, a detailed account of their affair. He even got the artificial to collude with him.”

  Josh went to make an angry denial. The guard tapped the booth with his gun.

  “This isn’t the first time Langton’s been in trouble,” Hopkiss said reminiscently. “He’s been charged with numerous accounts of assault, once against his own brother in law. We mustn’t forget the infamous occasion where he drove down the Royal Mile naked. And of course, an incident with particular bearing upon this case -”

  “That’s right,” Lucy simpered. “Thirteen years ago I had to take Langton into custody because of his relations with Professor Kenneth Summerskill, known Deviant -”

  “Objection. My client was cleared of all charges,” Feist cut in.

  “Objection overruled,” Justice Begum said. Not out of malice, it seemed, but curiosity. “Continue, captain.”

  “It’s true we were unable to produce solid evidence against Langton, but I and others close to the case had doubts. He broke my nose during questioning and subjected me to the vilest language - hardly the actions of an innocent man. Summerskill was his lover; he and Langton engaged in a reckless, adventurous sex life with multiple partners. Why wouldn’t he participate?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it made my skin crawl?”Alfred snapped.

  “Langton!” Justice Begum scolded. “Any more from you and you’ll be thrown out!”

  He clamped his mouth shut. Josh shot him a warning look. Feist hissed, “Calm down!”

  “So this latest misdemeanour came as no surprise?” Sir Matthias was saying.

  “None whatsoever. You only have to see pictures of them to know Langton was dying to get into his pants -”

  Feist sat up again. This time Justice Begum nodded. “Captain Lucy, keep your language respectable while you’re in my courtroom.”

  He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “The relationship was obviously a strange, unhealthy one. I was contacted twice by CER personnel - once by Julia Fisk, the artificial’s handler, the other by Adrian Pinder, the CEO.”

  “What did they say on these occasions?”

  “Fisk came to see me after Foster had deserted his wife. She confirmed that Langton and Foster were in a relationship and CER had attempted to cover it up. She was very emotional, blaming herself. She wanted us to apprehend Langton but he left the country before we had the chance.”

  “And Pinder?”

  “He called after the artificial fled that ludicrous show. He told me to watch, said it spoke for itself. He asked me to arrest them both as soon as possible. The Prime Minister, who took a personal interest in the case, asked me to delay for ten days.”

  “What was the reason for this delay?”

  “I had the impression, rightly or wrongly, that the relationship was romantic rather than physical at this stage. I didn’t want to proceed until it had been consummated.”

  The viewers gasped. Alfred’s cheeks scalded. Lucy gloated at the sensation he had caused.

  “Do you have any doubts now?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  It was difficult to decide who looked more pleased with himself: Sir Matthias huge and swollen, stifling a yawn, or Lucy, cracking his knuckles and leering.

  “No further questions, Your Honour.”

  Feist got to her feet, smaller and slighter than ever beside Hopkiss’s bulk. “Captain Lucy. How long have you known my client?”

  He spoke as though to an imbecile. “As has been established, thirteen years. You don’t forget having your nose broken.”

  Appreciative chuckles. Feist ignored them. “You thought he’d been involved with the artificial Guy Love - why, exactly?”

  It was his turn to stifle a yawn. “I believe I’ve already made that clear.” He raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Is that the best you’ve got?

  “Do you honestly think Lord Langton would jeopardise his sister’s career by a dalliance with the artificial she had created?”

  “I don’t know, Ms ...” Lucy pretended to search his memory for her name, then give up.

  “So you clung to this idea despite there being, as you’ve admitted, no evidence? No charges brought against him? Would it be fair to say you have a grudge against my client?”

  “I would never allow personal feelings to get in the way of my work.”

  “No personal feelings,” Feist mused. “While we’re on the subject, why did you appear in person to collect Foster? Wouldn’t that normally be left to your subordinates?”

/>   The question startled him but a lie had already bobbed to his lips. The man had spent so much of his life dissembling, he no longer knew when he was acting.

  “We’ve been too lenient with robot offences,” Lucy said, hooking his fingers into his waistband. “The Prime Minister said we should make an example of him.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned the Prime Minister. Can she validate your claim?”

  His pause lasted a fraction too long. There were jeers up in the gallery. Somebody - it sounded like Gwyn - shouted, “Liar!”

  “I’ve heard interesting stories about your conduct while my client’s been in prison,” she went on. “Shall we discuss them?”

  “I -” Lucy blinked twice, swallowed. “Your Honour, I’m feeling unwell. I ask leave to continue my evidence when I’m feeling better.”

  Justice Begum clearly scented bullshit but shrugged and let him go. “Call the next witness.”

  The next witness, Alfred saw with no surprise, was Sugar. To his credit he seemed thoroughly uncomfortable. The doctor’s gaze kept flitting to him, to Josh and back again.

  “I am Dr Noah Sugar, Josh Foster’s creator,” he said. Sweat bloomed across his shirt; he kept wiping behind his collar. He made his vow to Thea in a croaky, querulous voice.

  There was no unctuous friendliness in Sir Matthias’s manner now. “Dr Sugar. When did the ‘friendship’ between Langton and the artificial begin?”

  It came automatically, painfully. “They’ve known each other since August 2162.”

  “How and why did it begin?”

  “Langton had made inflammatory comments about artificials, which we couldn’t let stand. Josh convinced us to let him go Chimera and talk to Langton himself.”

  “He ‘convinced’ you? Surely it’s part of the Robotics Code to -” half the room mumbled it with him - “defer to their owner in all things?”

  Sugar examined his hands. “That’s never worked with Josh. We thought it was a good idea at the time. It paid off - he and Langton became inseparable.”

  “Hmm.” Sir Matthias smacked his lips. “Inseparable, eh?”

  “It wasn’t like that! At least, not in those days. It brought Josh out of his shell, made Langton less - well -”

  Alfred acknowledged the point with a dip of his head.

  “- so when he made suggestions, like Josh having a place of his own, or them going away, we saw no reason to -”

  “Ha!” A raw sausage finger stabbed the air. “He kept making moves to isolate the artificial and you didn’t wonder why?”

  “In retrospect, yes, we regret our decision,” Sugar said. “It wasn’t until they returned from their trip we realised how mistaken we had been. Dr Fisk said she had cause to believe their relationship had become ...” He crimsoned, a fresh crest of sweat breaking across his back. “Intimate.”

  A naked, vulnerable word, foisted in front of these ghouls. Alfred closed his eyes. He wished he could shut his ears.

  “Dr Fisk seems to confide in an awful lot of people,” Sir Matthias observed. “Will she be testifying?”

  A nameless court flunky said, “Dr Fisk is unable to appear due to health reasons.”

  “A pity! What was CER’s next move, now the cat was out of the bag?”

  “We couldn’t force Josh to make a clean break with Langton. Everyone would wonder why. We decided he should have a high profile relationship with someone appropriate.”

  “Ms Howey, am I right?”

  Alfred picked Claire out in the crowd. She had taken great care with her appearance: an elegant grey coat, a purple pinwork dress, sensational hair. She saw he was looking at her and shrank.

  Poor girl. Any enmity he might have felt was dead. If CER hadn’t chosen her as its sacrifice it would have been somebody else. Her eyes were red rimmed, her mouth gnawed. She’d obviously been bullied into attending. A young man with a buzz cut sat beside her, holding her hand.

  Sugar’s next words disturbed his daydream. “One night - it must’ve been mid January - Josh came to my house for help. Langton was with him. His face had nearly been ripped off - it was hanging by a thread.”

  Exclamations of horror. Claire covered her face with her hands.

  “He said Ms Howey had done it. You’ve seen her, a teensy scrap of a thing. Langton didn’t stay long - perhaps he knew I suspected -”

  “That’s not what happened,” Alfred protested.

  Begum slapped her hand down. “Langton, I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

  Sugar gave details of a bruise he’d seen on Josh’s neck, as well as other ‘marks’. The artificial was shaking his head, distressed, but his creator ploughed on. It wasn’t slander - he believed everything he was saying. Alfred finally understood the man’s drastic change in attitude, his desperate efforts to shield Josh. Sugar had thought he was abusing him.

  It’s painful to be confronted with how others perceive you. Alfred had always seen himself as a flawed but decent man - not nice, perhaps, but trying to be good. On paper he was a wastrel, a reprobate. A man who had pissed away his privilege, used his influence to prey on robots.

  He didn’t listen to the rest of Sir Matthias’s questions. He could only sit rigid with shock. He heard Josh’s voice inside his head: He can’t hurt us. Keep strong. The artificial was watching him with love and pride, his hand against the booth.

  Now it was Feist’s turn. She was gentler with Sugar, impressed by his sincerity. “Dr Sugar, you obviously care about Josh.”

  “Yes. You could say he’s like the son I never had.”

  “Objection! What’s this got to do with anything?” Sir Matthias bellowed.

  “Overruled,” Begum said.

  “Have you spoken to him about his relationship with my client?”

  “A few times. The last was that morning - you know, after I’d mended his face. I told him artificials couldn’t feel genuine love. He took great offence.”

  Josh looked as fierce as Alfred had seen him, but had the sense to keep quiet.

  “You say he knew his own mind in other instances. Why should this be different?”

  He took a minute to answer. “I was worried he’d been got at somehow. Not tampered with - only Dr Fisk and myself can make lasting changes. But Langton has such an overpowering personality -”

  “Could it be that Josh’s feelings here are as genuine as they’ve been elsewhere?”

  Sugar bunched his tie in his fist. “That would have - implications - I don’t think anyone here fully understands.”

  “Would you say you believe this to be the case, or you wish it to be the case?”

  Sugar writhed, beads forming on his forehead. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  “No further questions, Your Honour.”

  To everyone’s relief they paused for half an hour’s break. Begum and her minions wafted out; the jury went their separate ways. One was griping about ladders in her tights, another bursting for a slash. The last to leave was Josh, the guard’s gun in his back.

  Feist fetched them both a coffee. She never had much colour but the morning’s exertions had left her drained. She sipped the boiling water. “How do you think it went?” she asked anxiously.

  “Better than expected.” He knew she wouldn’t be offended. “I felt sorry for Sugar, though.”

  “Gods, Alfred! He’s trying to ruin you.”

  “It’s what he believes.” It was an important distinction. “Who’s next?”

  “Claire Howey.”

  “That’ll be a barrel of laughs.”

  It might have been a costume change at the theatre. It seemed no time at all that the players came back. Justice Begum was trying to shake off a stubborn, round faced little boy who was her spitting image.

  “Yes, it’s a very nice drawing, but this isn’t the time or place.” He refused to budge. “Stop it, Jasvinder! Mummy’s working!”

  Jasvinder ran on short plump legs across the room, making hooting noises. Josh waved his gu
ard aside and crouched so he was on the boy’s level. “Come on, Jasvinder,” he said quietly. “Your mum has to get back to work.”

  The judge watched him fearfully. He nodded, let her know it was under control. Jasvinder didn’t seem frightened in the least.

  “Shan’t! She didn’t even look.”

  Josh was handed the picture. He examined it with unfeigned admiration. “That’s a lovely pussy cat.”

  “You can see what it is?”

  “Of course I can. Does she have a name?”

  “Colin.”

  Jasvinder followed the artificial back to the bench, meekly taking his seat. Justice Begum was lost for words. “Um - thank you, Foster.”

  “You’re welcome, Your Honour.” He let the guard return him to his booth.

  A sigh went around the courtroom when Claire rose to give her evidence. Claire and Josh fans must have been out in force. She was plainly terrified, swimming in unfamiliar seas, but her obstinacy wouldn’t let her drown.

  Sir Matthias didn’t know what to do with her. The narrative he needed called for a different girl - a girl who had been chewed up and spat out. Yes, she had suffered and been publicly humiliated, but she didn’t bear a grudge. This wasn’t what he wanted. He tried to provoke a reaction.

  “You were, I quote, ‘crazy in love with Josh’, yet seem totally unmoved by the fact he was cheating! With a man old enough to be your father!”

  “I was upset. But it’s different now.”

  “What about the night Dr Sugar mentioned? Who damaged the artificial’s face? You or Langton?”

  She hesitated but honesty won out. “It was me. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”

  “Ha! You admit you attacked him?”

  “He said he never loved me. I overreacted. But we’re friends now. We made up.”

  Sir Matthias was practically spitting. “You’re a wronged wife! Don’t you care?”

  “I did at the time, but I don’t now. That’s all there is to it.”

  Sir Matthias stepped down fuming, saying it wasn’t his job to cross examine simpletons. Claire was simple, but not the way he meant. She believed in right and wrong, good and evil, and she was bewildered when other people didn’t.