by L. C. Mawson
“And if I don’t?” Ruth asked, folding her arms.
“If you don’t, I will make your ruse public. Lying to a representative of the Crown in such a way could be enough for prosecution, not to mention the hit your reputation would take. Not only have you made a persona so that you could pursue activities unbefitting a woman of your station, but you have built yourself a metal husband. What scandalous tastes you must have to find him a suitable bedmate.”
Ruth turned bright red as she stood up. “That is enough! I built Michel so that I would not have to marry a brute like you.”
“But that’s not what people will say,” James said, smirking, and she had to admit that he was right.
“The contract is for me to build weapons, correct?”
“Indeed.”
Ruth sighed. She didn’t want to sign it, but she truly had no choice.
“Ruth, you don’t have to,” Thomas said.
She shook her head. “I will not ruin the family over this. My tendencies towards Icarus-like behaviour got me into this situation. It’s only fair that I am the one to pay for it.”
She leaned down to sign the contract that James placed in front of her. The pen felt heavy in her hand and her signature was shakier than usual. She signed as The Owl, since she doubted James would be the only one to see the document. She trusted him to keep her secret, otherwise he would lose his leverage over her, but she didn’t trust anyone else.
“There you go. You have your damn contract. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
“I have done my duty to the country,” James said simply. “I just wish you understood that.”
“I understand just fine. I just don’t like seeing my designs perverted.”
“If you never thought that was a possibility then it is time for you to grow up.” James took the contract at that and headed to the door.
As soon as it shut behind him, Ruth slumped back down into her chair, feeling utterly defeated.
“What now?” Ivy asked her, finally stepping forward from the corner where she had been lurking.
“Now I do as he says,” Ruth said with a sigh. “He’s right. If he outs me, it will shame the whole family. That’s not something we can risk.”
Ivy sighed. “So you’re really going to do it? Build weapons?”
“I’m going to keep building what I’ve always built. If someone finds a way to use them as weapons... I suppose it’s out of my hands.”
“They’re still your inventions,” Ivy protested, though her voice was weak. It was obvious that she understood that fighting was futile.
“I know,” Ruth said. “But there’s nothing I can do, and I would very much like to try to sleep at night.”
15
“Ivy, I need more tea,” Ruth said as she finished the final touches on her latest upgrade for Michel.
“Ivy isn’t here,” Michel told her, prompting her to spin around.
He was standing in the doorway — she hadn’t even noticed he had left the room — holding a tray with a pot of tea and some sandwiches.
“It is the middle of the night,” he reminded her as he placed the tray down. “She went home hours ago.”
“You’re right, of course,” Ruth muttered as she returned to her work.
“I thought, given your recent tendency to work through the night, I would pick up her duties after she left. Of course, if you also slept through the day, I would suggest switching her hours to match yours, but your sleep hours are sporadic and short-lived.”
Ruth nodded in agreement, not lifting her focus from the work in front of her. Ever since she had signed the damn contract, she had struggled to sleep through the constant anxious nausea. Her brain refused to stop working, so she only slept when she passed out, slumped over her desk. Even then, it was only ever for a few hours at a time.
“Thomas worries that you will make yourself ill,” Michel told her as he passed her a cup of tea.
She drank straight from the cup in gulps, forgetting about the temperature. Thankfully, Michel had anticipated that and had made sure to pass her a cup that had cooled enough not to burn her.
“If he has any advice for shutting my brain off, I would be happy to hear it. Besides a pistol, I mean.”
Michel passed her a sandwich next. “You need to eat,” he told her as she eyed it warily. Her stomach wasn’t really up to food, but she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.
She reluctantly took the sandwich and nibbled at it.
Her stomach, in fact, seemed to settle at the reintroduction to food, so she made her way over to the tray to grab another one.
“Thomas has been busy with arranging the wedding now that everyone seems to be aware,” Michel informed her.
“Oh,” she said as she finished another sandwich. She hadn’t really thought about the fact that pretending they were engaged would mean a wedding. “Why is he arranging it now? Surely it can wait.”
“Technically, we live in the same house. It is seen as inappropriate and, apparently, James is doing all he can to fan those rumours. Thomas says that James thinks you won’t go through with the wedding.”
“He thinks I’ll call it off and then what? Does he honestly believe I will let him court me after all he has done?”
“I asked Thomas about that. He says that James is just looking to make life miserable for you. Apparently choosing a mechanical man over him has been quite the bruise to his ego.”
“I don’t give a damn about his ego.”
“That is perhaps the problem.”
“Or maybe his fragility is the problem.”
“That is a good point. I admit, I am still acclimatising to human interaction.”
“As am I, and I have been at it a lot longer.”
“Does it ever make any sense?”
“Not that I’ve found. You can occasionally find patterns, but as soon as you think you understand something, someone breaks from the norm and surprises you.”
“How tiring that must be for someone who runs out of energy so quickly.”
Ruth laughed a little, though it lacked real humour. “That’s one way to put it.” She reached for another sandwich. “So, this wedding: when is Thomas planning it for?”
“Well, there hasn’t even been an event to officially announce our engagement. He’s planning one for next week.”
Ruth sighed. She really wasn’t in a fit state for a social event, but at least Michel would be there to keep her company.
“Here,” she said moving back to her workbench and taking the new upgrade from it.
She moved back to Michel before showing him the new covering, designed to fit around his metal skull. It didn’t look human, being made up of interlocking white, ceramic parts, but it was still nicer to look at than his exposed metal joints.
“Keep still,” she told him as she locked them into place over his face.
“How do I look?” he asked as she finally pulled away.
She smiled as she looked him over. “Less like something from a nightmare.”
He moved his face plates oddly, and she realised after a moment that he was attempting to smile.
“Here,” she said, passing him a mirror. “Have a look for yourself.”
He shifted his face plates around, practising crude facial expressions. Ruth couldn’t help but grin at his experimentation and curiosity.
She hadn’t programmed him for curiosity, just to recognise the patterns around him in hopes that he would learn social skills. And yet, here he was, going out of his way to make sure she didn’t starve in her stress.
“Thank you, Michel. For the tea and food. You’re a good friend.”
He looked up from the mirror and smiled once more, this time getting it right.
16
The day of the party came far too quickly for Ruth. Even spending her days in the void between sleep and wakefulness, as her mind refused to either rest or focus to its fullest extent, didn’t slow down the inevitable.<
br />
She sighed as she fussed over her appearance once more in the mirror in front of her. She could hear the guests arriving downstairs and knew that she should be down there as well, celebrating her engagement, but the very thought exhausted her.
There was a knock at her door and she reluctantly turned away from the mirror, knowing that beyond the door was most likely someone who was there to drag her downstairs.
“Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Michel stepped through, his clothing, mask and wig once more hiding the fact that he wasn’t human.
“Thomas is wondering where you are,” he told her.
She sighed, nodding. “I know. I just wish I didn’t have to do this.”
“Come on,” Michel said, offering her his arm. “We can go downstairs and say hello to a few people as we make our way to the kitchen, where we’ll hide for a while.”
Ruth grinned at his plan, taking his arm. At least if she had Michel with her, it wouldn’t be so bad.
Thomas greeted them as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m glad you could finally make it down,” he told her. “I was running out of excuses.”
“I’m not feeling well,” Ruth replied, her tone sharp. She had no idea how to soften it anymore.
He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. It was either disapproval or sympathy.
“She’s down now,” Michel said, and Ruth was thankful for not having to concentrate on her words. “We’ll stay as long as she wants but, if she has to leave, I trust you can entertain the guests.”
Thomas turned to Ruth with a bit of glare. “So now you’re letting him speak for you?”
She shrugged. “Until he gets it wrong, yes.” In the end, it didn’t bother her because she had been the one to build and program him. He wasn’t dictating her behaviour; he was saying the things she wished she could.
“Come on,” Ruth said, steering him through towards the kitchen.
Anne quickly spotted them and headed over.
“Congratulations, Ruth,” she said with a grin. “I’m glad that you’ve found someone, even if it’s not someone of your station.”
Michel responded before Ruth had a chance to. “Who needs titles when you have skills like mine?”
Anne’s smile quirked a bit. “Well, I suppose that’s true enough. Who knew that shy little Ruth would get along with someone so... confident.”
“Opposites attract, as they say.”
“I suppose they must if you two are getting along.”
“If you’ll excuse us, we have other guests to attend to,” Michel said, moving away from Anne just in time for Ruth to fail at holding back her laugh.
“When did you get so confident?” she asked.
“I spent a lot of time trying to decide what kind of man The Owl should be. I talked it over with Thomas and Ivy, and we decided that a confident man, who was just a bit of a scoundrel, would make for a fine persona. Entertaining enough to distract from, well...” He trailed off, clearly aware of how many ears might be listening.
“Well, if you keep saying all of the things I am too polite to say, I am more than happy with it.”
“Come on, let’s try to slip away.”
RUTH MANAGED NO MORE than an hour downstairs, even hiding as far from the crowds of well-wishers as she could. As soon as she saw the opportunity, she slipped away, back upstairs, though even there didn’t feel safe. Anyone could wander up looking for her, after all. So, she climbed out of her window in the hope that no one would find her on the roof.
She sat down quickly in an attempt not to fall, her knees clutched to her chest, looking up at the airships travelling across the London night sky. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so hollow. Her wedding was just a few days away, thanks to James’ rumour mongering, and even inventing no longer gave her the escape she craved.
After a little while she heard a scraping noise behind her, and she spun around to see Michel climbing up to meet her on the roof.
“Michel, what are you doing up here? You might fall off.”
“I could say the same to you,” he countered as he came to sit down next to her.
She sighed into her skirt as she moved back to hugging her knees to her chest. “Maybe that would be best. If I just fell off this roof now, no one would be able to extort me. No weapons for anyone.”
“And none of the good you do, either. No more replacement limbs. No more me.”
“But at what cost, Michel? Every time I build something new, all I see are the ways in which it can be used by the military.”
“Someone would have used them for such purposes eventually.”
“I know. It’s only... Maybe I was naive, but I didn’t think about that. Not even for a second. I was so focused on the good I was doing, I couldn’t see the harm.”
“You are only giving them tools. How they use those tools is up to them.”
“Then I should be careful about who I give my tools to.” She sighed. “I have been over the arguments again and again, trying to find some peace, Michel. I simply can’t.”
“Then don’t go through with the contract.”
“I must. I can’t ruin my family over this.”
Michel fell silent at that, seemingly running out of arguments.
“What would you do?” Ruth eventually asked. “If you were me, what choice would you make?”
“I... I am only programmed for basic social interaction. This is quite beyond those parameters.”
Ruth gave a sad smile. She had almost forgotten that, at the end of the day, Michel wasn’t real. She had taught him how to walk and talk like a person, but she hadn’t taught him how to be one.
“That’s okay,” she eventually told him. “I think it’s beyond my parameters too.”
She stood up, careful not to clip on the tiles, before offering her hand to help up Michel.
“I will do what I have to,” she told him as he stood up. “I made this bed, so I guess I have to lie in it. No matter how many nameless people will pay for my mistake.”
Michel didn’t respond as she silently helped him back down from the roof.
17
Ivy sighed as she finished helping Ruth into her extravagant white dress.
Her wedding dress.
Every time she let herself think about the fact that she was about to be married, she felt her chest constrict with panic. She probably wouldn’t have minded marrying Michel in order to secure her peace from others, but not like this. Not while she was being threatened with the truth and forced to pervert her creations.
Marrying Michel felt like committing to making weapons, as much as signing the contract had, if not more. At least signing the contract had only lasted a moment. The wedding was a day for her to wallow in her choice.
“You don’t seem happy,” Ivy said as Ruth spun in front of the mirror to get a better look at her dress.
At least she looked good.
“No, I suppose I don’t,” Ruth agreed as she examined her tired face in the mirror.
“You’re supposed to be happy on your wedding day,” Ivy told her. “My mother always said, if nothing else, when it comes to choosing a man, make sure that you’re happy on your wedding day. If you’re not, then it’s not worth it.”
“I guess that sounds like good advice.”
“I guess it does, but Michel’s not the problem, is he?”
Ruth snorted. “How could he be? I built him to be everything I need out of a husband; a friend and a mask for me to hide behind. I would always have independence while married to Michel, but not while James holds a noose around my neck.”
Ivy gave her a sympathetic smile, but didn’t have anything more to say. There was no answer. The situation simply was what it was.
“They’re waiting for you,” Ivy said after a while, reminding Ruth that everyone was waiting in the main part of the church.
Ruth nodded before following Ivy out of the room, to where
Thomas was waiting for her. Her parents hadn’t been able to organise coming down to London to see her married, which didn’t really surprise her. They knew that Ruth had been The Owl all along, so they must have known that her marrying him was just a ruse. She doubted her mother approved, no matter what she thought the situation was. She definitely wouldn’t if she knew the truth.
With her parents absent, Thomas was the one who had the job of walking her down the aisle.
“How are you feeling?” Thomas asked her.
“Like someone who has been forced into making a terrible mistake,” she said, completely devoid of the inflection that should have indicated that her words were intended as a joke.
Thomas didn’t try to lie, telling her that she had other options, and she was grateful for that as he offered his arm out to her.
She took it and focused on keeping her breathing steady as she walked forward.
The doors in front of her opened to show a sea of faces she didn’t recognise. She didn’t know any of these people, and she assumed that they were all acquaintances of Thomas.
In the centre of it all stood Michel in impeccable dress, waiting for her.
She focused on him and blocked out everything else.
He was her greatest creation and, even if no one else knew it, he was the thing she was proudest of.
And now James had the plans for him. More would be built and Michel’s siblings would become machines of war. Expendable soldiers that could easily overwhelm an enemy with no loss of human life for the Empire.
How efficiently brutal they would be.
She almost didn’t realise that they had reached the end of the line.
Thomas detached his arm from hers and left her facing Michel.
Her prototype friend-turned-soldier-turned-husband.
“Can we have just a moment?” he said to the priest, surprising her. What was he up to?
The priest looked surprised, but Michel ignored that as he stepped closer to Ruth.
“What is it?” she asked, very aware of everyone watching them with curiosity.
