The Saffron Malformation

by Walker, Bryan

  A moment passed in silence while he watched her slender hand slowly trace the mask and strap with an even flow of steady movement. Shifting his gaze he watched her eyes watch her work, noted her shallow even breathing and the stillness that existed in every part of her that wasn’t necessary for painting. She didn’t shift her weight, she didn’t scratch at an itch, but he did note that she was blinking, though not very often. Quey began to wonder again.

  Ryla took notice of him watching her, just a shift of her eyes and nothing more. He tried to tell if she was swallowing from time to time but couldn’t. She glanced at him again and he asked, “When do you think we can get on with things?”

  “Morning,” she replied without a pause in her painting. “Gypsy’s finishing work on your infinity drive now. After that you’ll need new fuel cells.”

  Quey nodded and wondered. If she was a machine… well there weren’t even rumors of anything this advanced.

  “Wait,” he finally heard what she’d said, “Its already afternoon. You mean tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes,” she answered and put the finishing touches on Shy Bot. She stood smiling at it, her head cocked slightly.

  “But-” he stopped. No machine could smile like that.

  Her expression left her face like a light being snapped off just as she turned to face him. She looked at him and he wasn’t sure what to make of her. “Its going to take most of the day to fix the truck, but if you’d rather leave after nightfall that can be arranged.”

  Quey shook his head. “Morning’s fine.”

  She turned her attention to the robot again and asked, “Would you like to wake up?” The robot clicked and then hummed. Its lenses shifted focus and looked at her. “Hello,” she said to it, smiling.

  The robot did not reply, it simply looked down and waved slightly from its wrist, almost nervously, and Ryla laughed. Quey hadn’t expected that and the sound almost made him jump. It was amazing, he’d looked like a single egg shaped piece but somehow his head could move in all directions.

  Ryla looked over at him grinning. “You get it right?” she asked.

  Quey looked at her.

  “He’s a Shy Bot,” and she laughed again when she reached out to touch it and it backed away a bit, looking nervous.

  Quey’s eyes widened. She’d done it. She’d perfectly programmed the robot to mimic shyness and everything fell into place. It was just like how she’d programmed politeness into Botler and Barbot. Just like she’d programmed caring into the companion bot.

  He swallowed hard, his heart racing. He looked at Ryla, who shrugged at the fact that he didn’t seem to get the joke and turned her attention back to Shy Bot. If it was possible to get them to mimic a single emotion then why not more? Why couldn’t they smile or get annoyed or even dance, he wondered as he noticed the subtle sway of her hips, still in time with the music.

  Ryla didn’t notice his hand move toward her. He just wanted to touch her skin, to feel if it was the real thing or something else. She didn’t notice but Quey heard a whirr across the room and saw that Mecha-Ganon did. It turned toward him and a red light on its head flashed and it waited. He nodded and let his hand fall to his side. Mecha-Ganon kept watch on him because that’s what he was, he and Bowserbot. They were protective, they kept anyone from touching her and now he was beginning to wonder why. Was it to keep her safe, or to keep people from felling what her skin was like.

  “I have to test his systems,” she said and Quey snapped out of his thoughts. “You could come,” she offered plainly. “Or you could play some Nintendo on your own, its through those doors,” she added pointing to the first set of doubles.

  “Haven’t since I was a kid,” he told her. “Even then I could never get the controls right.”

  Ryla set Shy Bot down on the floor. “Well if he checks out were going to play, and we’ll be using hand controllers for today, just to be sure everything works okay. You can join us if you like,” she offered then said, “Come on,” to Shy Bot and walked toward the computer hub in the center of the room.

  “It plays Nintendo?” Quey asked as he watched the bot follow her.

  “Yeah, that’s what he’s for, so I have a forth.”

  “A forth?”

  “There are two others around here that play too,” she said, searching the room for bots she didn’t spot.

  “Doesn’t the computer play you on its own?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said as she connected two wires to Shy Bot then added softly, “But it’s more fun with friends.”

  Quey nodded and replied, “I’m sure it is.”

  He watched her test the Shy Bots systems. It would raise its arms, wiggle its fingers, turn itself this way and that. It followed objects and then was given a group of objects and told to select one based on a set of criteria.

  “Shy bot,” Ryla said and it looked at her briefly then glanced away. “Could you help me find something that I might use to press a button through a hole to small for my finger.” She showed it her finger and then the bot looked over what was in front of it, half a dozen random objects. Finally it selected a thin screwdriver and she smiled. “Very good Shy.”

  On the terminal screen she brought up a set of girls. One held a puppy, one a kitten and the third had a ball. Below were a series of images and Ryla told the bot to, “Make all the girls the same.” The bot used the controls to take the ball from the third girl and give her a bunny.

  There were more tests like that and Quey was amazed. Her bots were capable of the most complicated tasks he’d ever seen one perform and they did it fast. When the tests were over he followed them into the other room, a small space where a slew of machines rested along the wall opposite the door. There was a sofa in front of them and a bar to his left with a small stove and fridge.

  “Like a drink?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  “Mind if I?” he asked, pointing.

  “Go ahead,” she replied.

  Quey went behind the bar and found the whiskey while she fired up the holographic imager and turned on the game system.

  “You sure, there’s some wine back here? We could toast little Shy Bot there,” he tempted.

  She stopped, stood strait and pondered, “Toast?” It took her a moment and then she giggled, “Oh, you mean as in to drink to.”

  Quey smiled and nodded, “Yeah.”

  “I thought,” she started then laughed. “Toast means something else to circuit boards,” she chuckled then shook her head and sat on the sofa. Quey had filled a glass with ice, whiskey and a splash of water and was halfway around the bar when he saw Ryla pull Shy Bot onto the sofa beside her. His face shrunk and he parked himself on a stool by the bar.

  “I’ll just watch from over here,” he said then added, “It’s closer to the bottle anyhow,” with a touch of irony that Ryla ignored or didn’t notice.

  Quey sat drinking and watching them play for hours. At some point he went behind the bar and made a snack, grilled ham and cheese. He offered one to Ryla but she declined.

  “Have you eaten today?” Quey asked.

  “Yes,” she replied absently.

  After his sandwich and another drink he asked, “When do you want to go over what I should do with this Geobot thing?”

  “Geo,” she corrected. “Not Geobot, and not Geobot thing.”

  “Right,” Quey said, “But when-”

  “The morning will be fine. It’s simple. Push a button, that’s all.”

  Quey chewed his lip for a bit then went for another drink. While he was pouring the whiskey he caught movement and looked up. The door was opening and the companion bot came in. It was even stranger this close, a mere three steps away, and in brighter light.

  “You coming to bed?” it asked. Quey’s stomach turned when he saw it had lips that moved, not perfectly but close. He looked at Ryla and wondered if they kissed. It laid a hand on her shoulder.

  Ryla looked up at it and answered, “In a bit.”

  Th
e robot looked at him, its eyes were spheres in sockets painted white and given a blue iris but he was relieved to see they were still obviously lenses. “I’m sorry, you have company,” it said. It did not blink.

  “Yeah,” Ryla continued, distracted. “He’s called Quey.”

  “Hello, Quey,” it said. “I am,” and then it paused before finishing, “Boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” Quey asked then smirked as he added, “Sure you don’t mean Botfriend.”

  “He’s between names,” Ryla sniped with a bit of harshness. Her hologram character died and she set her controller down and put her head in her hands.

  “Sorry,” Shy Bot whispered and Ryla turned instantly to him.

  “You did really well,” she told it. “You play as long as you like,” she added and then stood and started for the door. “Come on,” she said, taking Boyfriends hand as she went.

  “It was a joke,” he tried to explain remorsefully, shocked that he’d hurt her feelings, and then embarrassed by the idea that he thought she didn’t have them. Or maybe it was he thought they wouldn’t matter.

  She stopped at the door but didn’t look at him. She just held Boyfriends hand and said, “I know. This whole building was a joke to you people.” As she hurried away she added, “That’s why you don’t have it anymore.”

  Quey finished off two more drinks and pondered the possible meaning behind what she’d said before she left. Specifically the ‘you people’ part. In the end he decided there was only one possibility; she’d meant humans, as in not robots. Then he began to wonder what she’d done to take this place away from them. Bowserbot and Mecha-ganon were, of course, at least part of the answer.

  Quey poured a strong third drink to take along upstairs. Robot or not Ryla had feelings, or so it seemed, and he’d hurt them and he was regretful about that. He was on the third floor and starting down the hall that led to her room when he realized he meant to find her and apologize. He took a sip from his glass to help muster a bit of courage, and then stopped.

  At first he didn’t know what he was hearing but as he listened it struck him.

  There was a male voice but he couldn’t make out the words over the soft wet slapping.

  “Yeah,” Ryla yelped passionately. “No, switch to zero nine,” she added breathlessly. When he heard the low mechanical hum and her soft ecstatic declaration of, “Yeah, like that,” he turned and went back to his room.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed he realized he was still holding his drink, so he finished it in a number of long swallows and lay back on the sheets. After a bit of thoughtless time he said to the darkness, “I can’t believe she fucks it.”

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t believe a person would do such a thing or that a woman would have such a need, it was that it turned everything he’d spent the day convincing himself of on itself. If she was a robot, no matter how advanced, she wouldn’t be programmed to enjoy sex or to crave it, would she?

  Mimic, maybe, but really enjoy it, and enough to build a robot to seek it out? Perhaps that’s what made her different. Desire and the longing to do things other than follow programs.

  He pondered without conclusion until sleep took him without his knowing it.

  He woke to Botler waiting just inside his door. “Good morning sir!” it exclaimed. “I washed your clothes and left them for you.” The bot indicated the top of the dresser and Quey nodded. “Would you like some water,” it offered, holding a bottle out to him.

  “Sure,” Quey answered softly. He felt sapped. Sitting up and taking the bottle from Botler, he drank half of it feverishly before asking, “Where is Ryla?”

  “Getting ready.”

  Quey stood and walked through the door and down the hall to the main room.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” the bot asked.

  “Just coffee,” he groaned.

  “And toast and eggs,” Ryla added as she entered from the hallway he’d started down the night before. Quey looked over at her, dressed in a purple, pink, red and blue marbled ruffled skirt and matching top. She wore leggings that were like a violet and magenta sunset and long black lace gloves that ended in a dark blue ribbon tied around each bicep.

  He felt slightly embarrassed because of last night and noticed when he looked at her, after hearing what he had, he saw her differently. “You need carbohydrates and protein,” she told him as she sat down.

  He was staring at her and had traced the subtle curves of her hips and bust with his eyes as she sunk onto her seat and then the length of her neck. He couldn’t meet her eyes but he knew he needed to say something. “Ryla,” he began and she looked at him blankly while eggs sizzled in a pan on the stove.

  “Yes?” she asked when he didn’t say anything.

  He chickened out and said, “That’s nice.”

  She studied him for a moment.

  “The outfit I mean.”

  She sighed. “It’s one of my favorites, I wear it when,” she stopped and he waited. “I start to think I’m small.”

  It was a puzzling way of putting things but he thought he understood and nodded slowly while Botler plated his eggs. “I’m sorry,” he said and finally looked her in the eyes. “I didn’t mean the whole Botfriend thing.”

  Botler placed the plate in front of him, eggs and toast, then set coffee to the side and told him to, “Enjoy!” before rolling away.

  “What about strange one?” she asked as he took his first bite.

  He stopped and sat back in his seat nodding, “Okay. Take it that’s something I said.”

  “How about ‘so you are a person?’”

  That one he remembered but still, she couldn’t have heard him say it.

  “I may not be good with sarcasm but I know there’s been a lot of it and it just seems…” she trailed off then started anew. “I mean what does that even mean?” Quey started to try to find a way to talk but Ryla didn’t give him a chance. “I was talking to boyfriend last night and I realized,” she trailed off. Quey looked up at her and saw her eyes shimmering. “Do you think I’m a girl or a robot?”

  Quey took a sip of coffee while he struggled with an answer. The question was strategic in the way it didn’t hint to the answer. If she’d asked, ‘do you think I’m a robot,’ he’d have known to say no. Feeling her eyes watching him he shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

  She sat back in her chair, her eyes staring at nothing while she pondered.

  “So… I mean… which, um,” Quey began and Ryla interrupted with a subtle snap in her tiny voice.

  “Does it matter?”

  Quey watched her, trying to imagine the answer. If she was a robot he felt a wall between him and it, she would be a thing that existed in a way he could never understand, and thereby he and all humans would be something it could never understand. Her compassion was for parts on a table, not him trapped outside waiting for the Once Men to ravage him.

  She’d been kind enough since but only as it benefited her. He’d needed something, true enough, but she wanted something from him. Though… she had opened the doors, when it really mattered. Maybe what he’d sensed about her was true and she was just scared, or maybe she was a robot. Either way, when he looked at her the connection he knew he was supposed to feel, the empathy humans share when they recognize another of their kind, was in limbo. He couldn’t be sure if they shared it or simply had symbiotic goals.

  Quey realized he’d been nodding thoughtfully for a few ticks.

  Ryla closed her eyes and said with an expended voice, “Don’t bother. Just take your truck and go.” The hurt in her voice reflected a wound that ran deep.

  “Wait,” Quey said, raising his hands then placing them on the glass tabletop. Maybe he did feel a connection, because he knew he didn’t want to leave things at this. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t the sort to leave anyone with a sour taste, robot or not. “I owe you for the fix. Besides, what you’re doing is important.”

  She looked at him and stammered
through what came next. “Yeah? Well what if Geo is my… you know… death bot thing? And maybe he’s just trying to… you know, find a way to kill you humans.”

  Quey smirked, “You’re not a very good liar.”

  Ryla looked away from him and he said, “Okay. Look, I don’t get this whole thing,” he began, gesturing with his hands indicating the building as a whole. “Or what you’re feeling but you’re upset and-”

  “You don’t get it?” she asked solemn, and looked up at him. “Either I’m a super advanced robot who’s completely self aware and will never be looked at as anything but parts, or I’m a human so bad at being a person I might as well be parts.” A tear dripped from the corner of her eye.

  “Look, there’s a whole world out there might be afraid of you, might call you crazy.” She looked at him and dabbed her eyes. He continued, “But you opened your door when you didn’t have to. Patched me up, fed me, said welcome to my home and all you asked in return was small potatoes against that. My book says that makes you a person. Maybe a little strange,” he added with a smile. “Maybe even made of different stuff, but a person whole and true.”

  Ryla sat looking down through the table for a long time and Quey let her. He could tell she was in the midst of a thought that needed finishing.

  “When the place was built,” she began, looking around at the room. “The first and third floors weren’t like they are now. The whole place was a shop. The men who worked here lived in some houses a mile or so south, most of them fell apart years ago. Anyway, they were working on things here. Robotics. But they didn’t respect what they were doing. A man once said that a society can be judged by the way it treats its animals. There was a man here that said the same could be said for the way they treat their robots.” She looked over at Botler, resting still near a wall. “They are alive you know. In some rudimentary way.”

  Quey watched her speak. Her expression wasn’t blank any longer, there was compassion in it.

  “I don’t know exactly what happened. All I know is men came, ones who intended to exploit this place, ones who didn’t understand. But this place was programmed to defend itself. It killed everyone. I remember gunfire. And screams,” she trailed off for a moment.