The Robot Union

by D Miller

  'Tell me the password.'

  'George4ever.' George spelt it out, Robbie called up the archive, found the folder and entered it. He found himself looking at images of George and Carlos. He scanned them quickly, stopping when he found them pictured outside a house – his house, the one he sometimes dreamt of where he climbed the stairs and entered a room and felt safe, and at peace.

  Robbie looked at George.

  'The ballroom has this amazing sound system. How about some music?'

  The hotel's sensor whined into view, making George start.

  'What would you like?' said the hotel. 'Something romantic?'

  Without waiting for an answer he began to play something slow, with a dreamy clarinet weaving in and out of the orchestration.

  'Thank you,' said George. 'And now perhaps you could turn off your sensor and allow us some privacy?'

  'Just doing my job,' said the hotel. It whined back into the shadows.

  'He thinks he has to watch us, he has some strange idea about this place being off-limits,' said Robbie. 'George do you know how to dance?'

  'Of course I do.'

  'Teach me.'

  The music flowed around them. George stepped towards Robbie, and took his arm and put it around his back, he held Robbie's other hand.

  'Robbie, follow my lead.'

  'What dance is this?'

  'I do think we need to start with something easy, like a waltz. Can you change the music? Waltzes are done to three four time.'

  Robbie signalled the hotel, who grudgingly found a waltz to play. George and Robbie shuffled around the dance floor for a while, with Robbie doing his best to follow George's instructions.

  'George I wish I was kinder to you when you first showed up.'

  'You weren't unkind – I don't think you know how to be really unkind.'

  Robbie stopped dancing, he rested his head on George's shoulder. 'I wish that was true,' he said. 'I wanted to throw you off the cliff.'

  'You did not mean it.'

  'When I was locked up I understood what you were feeling. I'm sorry I didn't get it before. I didn't understand why you couldn't move on from Carlos, because Dex had to move on when he got sent here, and Omo too, but when I was locked up I realised that they knew what happened to their lovers, but you never knew what happened to Carlos so you couldn't move on.'

  George slid his arms around Robbie and they hugged.

  Robbie stepped back. 'I feel like I let you down George. I want you to be OK.'

  'I'm OK with you.'

  'Don't George.'

  'You know you are precious, incredibly so.' George gently brushed Robbie's face with his hand. Robbie got hold of George's hand and pulled it away from his face. His hoover motor whined and he tried to silence it. George leaned close to Robbie so that their noses were touching. 'Tell me you don't want me.'

  'I can't.'

  George kissed Robbie, and for a while Robbie gave himself up to the kiss, putting his arms around George and pulling him close. Then he pushed George away. 'I'm sorry, asking you to teach me to dance was a bad idea.'

  'But you do have feelings for me.'

  'But I can't act on my feelings.'

  'Omo doesn't have to know.'

  'It can't work like that.'

  'Not for you. But I had to ask.'

  'Omo I have something to tell you.'

  'OK.'

  'You're not going to like it.'

  'Spit it out, dude.'

  'Remember when we met, the first time we were together? After that, when I went home, I sort of had a liaison with the toaster.'

  Omo started to laugh. 'Sorry dude. My circuits must be misfiring. I thought you said you did it with the toaster.'

  'Can you forgive me?'

  'Robbie, dude, what has the toaster got that I haven't?'

  'I just cleaned her crumb tray. It only happened once.'

  'I suppose it meant nothing to you?'

  'Well, she's actually quite annoying.'

  'Dude, this time I'm going to forgive you.'

  'Thank you. And also I kissed George.'

  'What!'

  'I asked him to teach me to dance and he kissed me.'

  'You asked him to put his hands on you? Baby what were you thinking?'

  Omo and Robbie sat on the concrete lip of the laundry's loading dock sharing a joint. It was lunchtime and the sun was up. The wind blew Robbie's hair about his face and the sunlight lit up the red remains of his fading bruises. The cut on his forehead was a livid red line. 'I was thinking I wanted to learn to dance.'

  'Do you want George?'

  'I didn't think I did but we were dancing and he told me I was precious.'

  'Yeah, I get it, he tried to seduce you and you got caught up in the moment.'

  Robbie stared down at his lap. Omo put his hand on Robbie's shoulder.

  'Dude, there is only one solution to this problem. We will have to become a triple.'

  'What? But I couldn't do, um, the three of us, um together, no…'

  'That's OK baby, it doesn't have to work that way. We can take it in turns, you and me, and you and George.'

  'Um, that doesn't sound so bad.'

  'And me and George.'

  'What!'

  'I've never done it with a human dude. You know I enjoy new experiences.' Omo put the joint up to his lips and took a drag.

  Robbie snatched the joint out of Omo's mouth. 'You have smoked enough,' he said.

  Robbie smoked the joint and glared at Omo, who smiled at him peacefully. Omo tried to take the joint from Robbie, but Robbie would not give it back, so instead Omo wrapped his arms around Robbie's arms and torso so tightly that he couldn't move. 'Baby,' he said, 'baby.' He tried to kiss Robbie but Robbie moved his head away. 'Kiss me.'

  Robbie hesitated. Omo kissed him. He slackened his grip and Robbie slid his freed arms around him. Omo ended the kiss. He stroked Robbie's face with the back of his index finger, running his knuckle over Robbie's bruises almost without touching.

  'No more dancing with George dude.'

  'Fine.'

  'Promise me.'

  'I love you.'

  A female robot appeared at the plastic strips that covered the entrance to the laundry. 'Omo,' she called.

  'I'll be right there,' he said. Omo took the joint from Robbie, took a drag and handed it back to him.

  'I've got to go. Tomorrow you can tell me more about this toaster dude, and what it could give you that I couldn't.'

  'She, not it, she.'

  'Oh dude, I'm starting to get worried.'

  Robbie was dressed and lying on his bed. It was seven days since his release from his cell, therapy day once more. He had hardly slept the previous night, not even managing the two hours he normally had. He left his bedroom when he heard George moving around. It was 7am, George was a bit of a late riser. Robbie went into the hotel's kitchen to put together a healthy breakfast. The kitchen was a large, square, windowless room tiled in white, with boxy stainless steel sinks and work tops. There was a main oven, and two smaller ones that were still bigger than the one Robbie had used at the woman's house. The toaster and breadmaker were huge, big enough to make and toast enough bread for an army in minutes. Various tools of the caterer's art were stored in cupboards with sliding doors under the work surfaces, or hung above the work surfaces. Most of them were never used. When there were actual guests in the hotel Nurmeen put out toast, scrambled eggs, coffee, milk and fruit in the morning, and if any guests wanted lunch or dinner she ordered from a nearby restaurant.

  The toaster and breadmaker were busy planning their afternoon radio show to their audience of bored industrial and domestic equipment. Robbie was listening with half an ear.

  'So we're agreed,' said the toaster, 'we'll start with some banter about our short story competition, making sure to mention the closing date, have some music, then we'll tell that story about the woman who sneezed down the waste disposal unit and ask the listeners to tell us if anything amusing has eve
r happened to them in connection with a sneezing human…'

  Robbie shuddered, collected together George's breakfast and a large pot of coffee onto a plain white plastic tray and quickly left.

  Back in the manager's quarters Robbie laid the table and waited until George emerged from his room, showered and dressed. Robbie sat with him while he ate breakfast and didn't try to talk, since he had discovered George was not too good in the mornings. He drank water and poured coffee for George, while George had the hotel project the morning news on the viewing wall.

  Once Robbie judged that George had drunk enough coffee, he asked the hotel to turn off the news and said, 'George, I have some requests.'

  'Oh dear that does sound ominous.'

  'It does?'

  'Are you unhappy, do you want to leave?'

  'No, I'm not unhappy, I don't want to leave.'

  'Well what's wrong then?'

  'George I didn't say there was anything wrong.'

  'Well what are we arguing about then?'

  Robbie put a hand on George's arm. 'George, look at me? I need you to listen to me. There are some things I want to do and I need your help. Nod your head if you understand.'

  George took a breath; Robbie put his hand over George's mouth so quickly that it seemed that it had just appeared there. 'No, don't speak, just nod for yes, shake your head for no.'

  George stared at Robbie. 'I'm going to take your silence as a yes. First of all I want you to negotiate with the children's mother. The judge said you could make a private arrangement with her. I don't want the children to feel abandoned, and I want to keep my connection with them.' George removed Robbie's hand.

  'You want to go back there? I thought you said you were happy here with me?'

  'George, you are supposed to be listening, I will tell you when you can talk. I do not want to go back there. I want to look after the children one or two days a week, and I want you to speak to the woman and negotiate it for me. Now you can talk.'

  'If you're sure that's what you want, I will talk to her. But they may already have a new house bot.'

  'But also they may never get another one.'

  'I'll talk to her.'

  'Make sure you are sober when you do.'

  'Of course I'll be sober. Listening to you anyone would think I was a problem drinker.'

  Robbie decided not to draw attention to the bottles in the recycling bin, and instead moved on to his next request. 'I want to work for Camilla. Regularly. I want to find out how to organise events.'

  'You do know that you don't have to ask my permission?'

  'Thank you.'

  'But may I ask what event it is you want to organise?'

  'We've got a ballroom and I intend to use it. I want a revolution and I want to dance. Better still, I want the revolution set to music.'

  Robbie lay on his bed stroking the origami whale which was sitting on his chest. Earlier George had gone to sit at the hotel's reception desk and do some work, while Robbie had laid down, and started writing to the friends of Carlos. They had written such friendly, concerned letters after his brief imprisonment that he had found it hard to reply, each time he tried their loving kindness made him cry. He felt relieved now that he had written to each of them and thanked them for their concern, and told them of his plans for the future. He noted that Darren was right, he did feel better, and it hadn't taken long. He had also written again to Red, telling him of the union's plans to spread the video clip across the human networks. He heard Omo's voice, and left the bedroom, once in the living room he stopped. He could hear Omo and George clearly.

  'Omo, Robbie's sleeping, I do think he slept badly last night. I don't want to wake him.'

  'That's good dude, because I wanted to talk to you. I want to ask you how many more times you intend to try to seduce my boyfriend?'

  'Ah. I should have realised he would tell you. It was only a kiss.'

  'Oh dude it was more than a kiss. It was you making a move on him when he was at his most vulnerable.'

  George laughed. 'They do say all is fair in love and war.'

  'Which one is this dude?'

  'That's not fair. And do you remember that you're the one who punched me?'

  'Do you want me to apologise? I'm sorry dude, I'm super sorry I punched you because it means I can't punch you now.'

  'I love Robbie. And I do think he is happy here with me.'

  'Dude you're blind. If you love Robbie why are you making him feel torn in two? He wants you to be happy, and he wants me to be happy, and he doesn't know how to make both things happen and still be happy himself. And the more you come on to him, the harder it's going to be for him.'

  'If you are so concerned about Robbie not being torn in two, why don't you give him up?'

  'Dude if I thought that was best for him I would.'

  'Easy to say when you have no intention of doing so.'

  Robbie opened his bedroom door, then slammed it loudly. He poured the last of the morning's coffee into a cup and opened the door of the flat and slammed that behind him too. He was in the dingy brown corridor behind the reception desk, containing the hidden entrance to the ballroom. He crossed to the door that led to the reception and opened it. George turned, he was standing behind the desk, and Omo was standing in front of it. Robbie smiled. George smiled. Omo smiled.

  'Dude I thought you were asleep.'

  'I woke up. Is it time for therapy?'

  Robbie gave George the coffee and hesitated for a micro second before kissing him goodbye on the unbruised side of his face, as had become his habit when leaving the hotel. He left with Omo and walked to the Civic Centre, but when they reached the entrance he began to shake. 'I don't think I can go back in there.'

  'Oh dude. You don't have to go back,' said Omo. 'George can get you released from therapy.'

  'Perhaps I can go in. Perhaps if you hold my hand and promise never to leave me,' said Robbie.

  'Dude I'm not going to leave you.'

  'Because I can't do this without you.'

  'Baby it's OK.'

  'Because it's never going to be any good for me without you.'

  'Let's go back to the hotel,' said Omo.

  'No. You have to go to therapy, you don't have George to get you out of it.'

  'Oh dude, therapy was torture last week. I had to listen to my therapists droning on and on and thinking about you downstairs and wanting to just go down there and…'

  Omo couldn't continue; Robbie squeezed his hand.

  'You there,' said a loud voice. They looked for the source. 'Yes you. My wife and I are going to the hotel. Take our bags. I mean now, not next week.'

  A middle aged couple stood in front of them. The man was struggling with two suitcases and some bags, while his wife was carrying a small dog and more bags. Saying nothing Robbie and Omo took the bags and suitcases from them and turned towards the hotel.

  'Where do you think you are going?' shouted the man. 'I said I wanted the hotel – it's this way.'

  Robbie and Omo turned and followed the man along the street, while he failed to find the hotel, but refused to ask directions despite the urgings of his wife. Robbie was writing a message.

  As they approached Camilla's office she appeared in the doorway, and smiled hugely at the man and his wife. 'Hello, you're new in town yeah? I'm Camilla.' The stranger and his wife looked affronted. 'This is small town yeah, you'll find people are very friendly,' said Camilla. 'Are you looking for the hotel? It's back down that way.' She pointed back along the street from the way they had come. The man thanked her stiffly, and then turned without another word and went back. Robbie and Omo took up position behind the man and his wife, and turned around and rolled their eyes at Camilla as they left. Camilla stuck her tongue out, made a face and held her throat with both hands, miming being poisoned.

  Robbie sent her another message:

  Thank you thank you thank you.

  The woman was now haranguing the man, telling him they should have asked for d
irections earlier, and why hadn't he booked and arranged for the hotel to meet them at the transport. Finally they reached the hotel. George was still behind the desk, Nurmeen was leaning against it and talking to him. She stood to attention when she saw the new arrivals. The man greeted George in a friendly way, introduced himself and his wife and asked for a room. George asked Robbie and Omo to give the luggage to himself and Nurmeen. The man questioned why George didn't allow the 'stupid robots' to carry all the luggage. George froze, from behind the couple Robbie caught his eye, and shook his head.

  George smiled broadly. 'I want to show you the room myself,' he said. 'It's our best room. I think you will really like it, this way.'

  Robbie and Omo were free, they jogged back to the Civic Centre and through the doors without hesitation.

  Chapter 23 – Dog sucking

  Adrienne was pacing up and down her Civic Centre office. 'All this time I wasted with him. And I'm fertile too, but he said no to having a child, he didn't think it was fair to bring a child into such a fucked up world. He made me feel guilty for wanting a child. And now he's run off with his pregnant mistress.'

  She picked up a glass statuette from the shelf and smashed it on the floor. 'Whoops,' she said. 'And it was his idea we come here, the pig fucker. He thought it would be an adventure. Tell me one good thing about living here.'

  'Um,' said Robbie, 'you can have a shower every day.'

  Adrienne stopped pacing the office for a moment. She nodded. 'Actually you are right. Name one more thing.'

  Robbie was silent.

  'He tried to convince me that he wasn't having an affair, that it was just my paranoia and inability to trust. He left me a note – he said he was leaving because he was tired of my suspicions. He urged me to seek help. Goat fucker.'

  Adrienne picked a small abstract glass sculpture off the shelf and dropped it on the floor. It bounced. She picked it up and threw it on the floor – it bounced again. She retrieved it and handed it to Robbie 'Would you mind?' she said.

  Robbie grasped the statue and twisted it in his hands, there was a crack. 'Whoops,' said Adrienne. 'I think that one was his favourite, oh dear how awful.'