Love and Robotics (15 page)

“It’s an offence to have flammable materials in the Forum.”

“And give birth. Good way to keep the breeders out.”

“Some of us
want
to breed.” She patted the squashy couch beside her.

“What
is
that thing?” he asked, nodding at the acrobatic reptile.

“Colin? He’s a beauty, isn’t he?”

She was an odd one, Olive Omatayo. Unabashedly black and gay, she’d spent her career cocking a snook at the old girl’s club. Her policies were liberal in all areas bar one. She didn’t like robots and made no secret of it.

“I expect you’re wondering why I asked for you.” She peered at him through her square frames. “Any ideas?”

“If it’s the family connection -”

“You’ve always held aloft from that. Until recently.”

Alfred made his expression as wooden as possible. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?”

“You’re not one to beat around the bush, Prime Minister.”

“Neither are you. How would you describe your relationship with the S20?”

“His name is Josh.”

“Point proven.”

“Because I call him by his name?”

“You feel affection for him. We can’t trust your judgement.”

“I can’t vote in this session because I’m friends with Josh? I’m only one man!”

“A man whose sister created the things. A man with inordinate influence -”

“You can’t do this.”

“Oh, I can.”

“What’s your problem?”

“People voted this party into power, Langton.
People.
” Olive gestured towards the window. “What do you see?”

“A city staring into hell?”

“There’s three million unemployed in this country -”

“Spare me the soapbox. ”

“Have you ever lived on the poverty line, Langton? This will give the people the chance to feel needed again.”

“It’ll take twice as long -”

“What happened to the man who wrote so eloquently about the crisis? Who said it’d be to everyone’s benefit if we switched them off?”

He turned his back on her. “It’s different now. My conscience won’t let me.”

“
He
won’t let you,” she said. “We’ve got to keep CER open, but your bot’s the most useless of the lot. What is he
for
?”

“You’ve made your point.”

She handed the pipe and matches over. “He’s lucky to have such a loyal friend.”

“I’m lucky to have him.”

He slammed the door as he went. She hadn’t heard Josh’s description of the hall beneath CER. Functionals crammed like battery animals -

“Going so soon?” Jerry was stockpiling food; his plate teetered with sausages.

“Duty calls.”

“You’re missing the opening? I love the ballyhoo, don’t you, Ms -”

“Doctor,” an icy voice corrected. “Dr Fisk.”

Greying hair like a helmet, watery eyes surrounded by freckles, nose a set square. She raised her glass. “Pity you can’t stay, Langton.”

“I’ll give Josh your regards.” 

She could fill the PM’s head with bilge if she wanted. It didn’t make it true. One day he’d prove it.

One of Alfred’s favourite things about Gwyn was her lack of nosiness; she let him sleep all the way home. He jolted awake at the bend in the road.

What the hell am I going to
say
?

Josh had a touching belief he was superhuman. And contrary to popular opinion, Alfred wanted to be a good man. Not the one in Josh’s mind, that was impossible, but a better one. One who didn’t fuck up all the time.

The artificial was sitting on the window seat. The instant he heard Alfred’s foot on the stair, he went to meet him. “They didn’t let you, did they?”

“How do you know?”

“Your face.”

“I’m only one man. There’s other pro robot members -”

Josh sagged against the banister. “That’s it.”

Alfred sat beside him. “I might not be able to vote, but I’ll do everything else possible.”

“Nobody gives a damn about robots!”

“Aren’t you listening? We’ll manage. Talks, articles - I’ll see who I can get on side.”

Josh squeezed his arm. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t be soppy.” Alfred was pleased nonetheless.

                                        The Larch Toaster

It was two months after the riots. Ashes swirled across the city, the politicians were in session, tough new security measures were in place. All robots had been fitted with attack alarms.

In this world of uncertainty Josh was truly happy. He was living at Chimera while his flat was being rebuilt. One morning he and Alfred were having breakfast together.

“Look at this!” Josh exclaimed.

“Hmm?”

“The Robotics Charter.” They’d made advances with his digestion; now he could manage porridge and toast. “‘
Humans and robots strive for co-existence and co-operation -’”

“Doesn’t sound bad.”

“That’s only the first.” He ticked off each item. “‘
Humans, as the
superior species
,
should lead -
’ You think no small beans of yourselves.”

“We have free will -”

“If somebody pushed a human into a furnace, could she put herself together again? Isn’t your offswitch permanent?”

“Don’t say that too loudly. It’s heresy.”

“‘
Robots should perform their allocated roles to
the best of their
ability
.’ Whether they’re a celeb robot or functional, I suppose. ‘
They may not question, compete with or seek
to dominate humans’
- equality would be nice. ‘
They may not participate in fields
they don’t understand’
- who are they to say what we can’t understand? Lastly - this doesn’t make sense -”

“What is it?”

“‘
No human judged unfit may go beyond
the owner - property relationship
.’ What else is there?”

Alfred remembered a wet autumn night, the wind soughing in the chimneys. A slurred voice chilling him to the marrow. “I’ve been a very bad daddy -”

Despite the best intentions, his thoughts kept going awry. Coming upon Josh basking in the sun, dozing in the arbour. Eating berries.
Drinking
, for Thea’s sake. Watching the progress of liquid down that smooth, straight throat –  

He wasn’t one of those. A Transgressor, a freak. What was wrong with taking an interest in a friend? A friend who looked like a sun god, filled a pair of twills divinely - 

The same went for his dreams, so crass they embarrassed him. Snakes in the grass. Uncorking Josh and downing him in a thirsty gulp. Tunnels and oozing swamps. There was more flesh in his feelings than he had known.

Think of him as something safe. A table, a chair. At least he wasn’t one of those sad sacks who was in love with his vix.

Alfred ran his finger along the print, looking for a story. Boring - over Josh’s head - over his –

“The Larch Toaster!” he said.

“I’m sorry?”

“E A Larch. Only famous person to come out of Langton. Wrote terrible poetry, a decent novel, tons of short stories.”

“Why haven’t I heard of him?” Josh asked.

“His stuff’s pretty schlocky. All blood, guts and heaving bosoms. Sugar wouldn’t approve.”

“What’s toast got to do with it?”

“Not toast as in this.” Alfred took a bite from the marmalade slathered triangle. “Toast as in somebody who toasts. Every year on the anniversary of Larch’s death, an unknown person goes to his grave. She - or he - takes a bottle of whisky and bouquet of roses. It’s in three days. Fancy cracking it?”

“Anything to take my mind off this.” Josh tossed the article onto the fire.

“They might’ve died.”

“Doesn’t stop us trying, does it?”

It was the busiest day of the week. Alfred had to go around the estate and resolve any issues. Will Sherrin and Elijah Duff were disputing that scrap of land again. Sally Phipps had been caught in bed with her stepfather; the scandal had rocked the cottages. Somebody had vandalised Uriel Craven’s statue.

Next came the post. Since he’d known Josh it had quadrupled - people were convinced Alfred owned him. Finally, a session with his man of business. Bless Derkins, he was a jewel, but he was in love with the idea of opening Chimera to the public.

It was tea time when he went in search of Josh. He found him in Nanny’s parlour, listening to her relive the past. The room was crammed with paraphernalia: portraits, the first comtec Gussy had built, cigarette cards, exhibition posters, a mantrap of a pram.

“It’s been very interesting,” Josh said, looking between a picture of Alfred in his Lila Force uniform and a painting of him wrestling an alligator. “You didn’t wear much in those days.” 

“There was a tax on clothes,” Nanny said.

There must be a family conspiracy of embarrassment. Gussy had loved to air anecdotes when boyfriends came to visit; now Nanny seemed intent on displaying every unflattering picture Lady Constance had ever taken.

“Don’t you look like your dad?”

The picture showed him and Lord Arthur on the river bank, bored out of their tiny minds. They detested fishing but his dad believed in the importance of bonding. Five minutes after it was taken he’d dared him to eat a worm. Lord Arthur screwed up his face but swallowed it. “Chewy,” was his only comment.

At thirteen he was only a few inches shy of Lord Arthur’s six foot six. He’d put his head on his shoulder and pretended he was peering over a wall. They had the same untidy hair, long faces, riotous eyebrows and bent noses.

“All Wilding men are moulded from the same cheese,” Nanny said. “Overgrown, outdoors mad, bad tempered. Must be that hair.”

“Bosh.” The air was unhealthily close, she must be hexing someone. “Fancy a walk?”

There were three hours of daylight left, enough to stroll to the village and back.

“Once Lulu knows she’s a captive audience, she’ll talk the hind leg off a donkey,” Alfred said once they were outside.

“Maybe that’s why she spends so much time in the stables,” Josh joked.

“That’s more straightforward.” Namely her on-off relationship with Bill the groom. Nanny the sexy septuagenarian. Ugh.

The farthest reaches of the park coincided with the river. After a fumble with the gate they followed it downstream.

Josh had a mania for the country. Alfred had been puzzled when the artificial begged a basin from Nanny on their way out; now, watching him gather plants, wondered no longer. Odd how someone who lived amongst the smoke and glass of the city could be so responsive to nature. He picked out ivy, three types of bark, a pebble and a snail.

“I wish they’d build a research lab here,” Josh said.

“They were going to. Gussy bought the land and drew up the designs.”

“What happened? Did the locals act up?”

“Something like that. Then she died and the project got shelved.”

“She must have been very young.”

“Thirty six. She was my big sister but she’ll never get any older.”

Josh frowned. He wasn’t good at these conversations. Ozols had bought him a pair of white mice to teach him about death. While one met a sticky end at Monty’s paws, the other streaked into the ventilation system.

“Larch,” Alfred said, to help him out. “Did you learn anything?”

“He seems to have been an unusual man -”

“Langton breeds ‘em.”

“He kept diaries but because he didn’t date them, it’s mostly guesswork. He doesn’t seem to have married, had children, done anything -”

“Except be committed to the asylum,” Alfred agreed.

“Might they have been mistaken?”

“Shouldn’t think so. There used to be blackguards marrying heirs and putting them away, but a schoolteacher? Who’d benefit?”

“He said the devil gave him an ointment that turned him into a wolf.”

“Weirdo. Well, he did say the most poetic subject in the language was the death of a beautiful woman.”

“Another thing. Laura.”

“Ah, yes.” Alfred closed his eyes, recited:

‘You walk the halls, the castle of my fancy

A thousand candles in your eyes.’
” As Josh gaped, “Learned it at school.”

“You don’t think it’s odd he fell in love with a woman he never spoke to?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

“But -” Josh crushed berries between his fingers. “Mooning over someone who doesn’t like you back? What’s the point?”

Alfred winced. “You can’t apply logic to love.”

“Bet it didn’t happen.”

“How much?”

“Your slide rule?”

“Why d’you want that?”

“It’s useful.”

“Suit yourself. You’re meant to eat those, you know.”

After wiping livid hands on the dock leaves, Josh popped the berries into his mouth. “Oh, these are fantastic. Let’s go out with a punnet tomorrow.”

“We’re visiting the school, remember.”

Josh pulled a face. “Children.”

“They’re not so bad.”

“For every nice one you get lots of bastards.”

“Josh!” Swearing sounded
filthy
coming from him.

“Once I was doing a talk and this boy kept kicking my shins. They ask really rude questions, like was Fisk a witch.”

“Jury’s out. Don’t you get broody sometimes?”

“What, feel like a chicken?” Josh was perplexed.

“No, want a family.”

“No. I can’t anyway. Can’t sing, can’t dance, can’t make little robots.”

“Little robots would be cute. Get Sugar to cook them up in the lab.”

“They’re not allowed. He says they thought about it, for couples who can’t, but it’s a grey area.”

One of the country’s unexpected winds blew up, shaking berries from the bushes. Josh ran a good three minutes before rain like knitting needles started to fall.

“Tomorrow?” Alfred gasped, catching up.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

That night Nanny served goomba, her speciality. It had every ingredient imaginable: four types of meat, pineapples, wine, parsnips, tomatoes, onions, drizzled cheese, exotic herbs.

“I’d marry you for your cooking,” Josh said after his saucerful.

She patted her bun. “You’re not the first to say so.”

He waited for her to bustle away. “Has she been married lots of times?”

Alfred counted on his fingers. “Three husbands, flings and Tolmash.”

“Your old butler?”

“Uh - huh.” He poured them a glass of wine each. “Old school romance, like Queen Bathsheba and General Caiaphas. Only nobody got bitten by a snake.”

“I should hope not.”

“Tolmash was a cat burglar. I’m serious. Soon after I was sworn in, I held this beastly party. I’d been chased half the evening by Marika Valenska, a horsy blonde with a big cleavage, and I was dying to escape. I jumped out of the window, landed in the flowerbed and saw a man halfway up the wall. His pockets brimmed with jewellery. I offered him a cigarette. He said ‘Thanks,’ then did a double take.

‘You don’t - you won’t -’ he said.

‘I shan’t, on one condition. Fancy a job?’”

“Didn’t you worry he’d pinch the silver?”

“I’d make him polish it. Gwyn aside, I’ve never had a better butler.”

“How did they meet?”

“Nanny changes the story whenever you ask. I’d kept him hidden while he was training; nobody knew he was in the house. She went to the market for some mackerel. On the way back there was a terrific gale. Her umbrella was blown out of her hands. Sometimes it hits him in the face, others they roll downhill. Either way, she said, ‘Alfie, I’ve met the most
divine
man.’ She loved him like nobody before or since.”

“Gosh. Nanny having a secret romance.”

“Nothing secret about it, believe me.”

“Humans are always changing, aren’t they? When you think you know them -”

“We’re a bugger to predict, alright.”

They sat in the conservatory, the warmth of the wine and beauty of the flowers a contrast to the howling wind outside. Josh was nose deep in a book about Larch. Alfred began a game of Patience but hadn’t the heart for it. What Josh had said about robot children stirred unwelcome memories.

Shortly after his forced retirement he’d tried to interest himself in Gussy’s legacy. The science was beyond him but there was nothing wrong with an appearance here, a cash injection there. Every few years there was a Science Fair. He’d skipped the previous two - now he had no excuse. He’d maundered into the Crystal Hall in Eglantine Park, little guessing that here would be a parting of the ways.

He put off seeing the robots for as long as he could. Holograms. Ultrasonic weaponry. Innovations in the Storm. Dubious tests on monkeys - he bought the gibbon they were using. Finally he sauntered over to the Robotics section. CER put up a muted showing, still reeling from the events of 2150. It displayed the prototype of the Home Butler, a precursor to the beebo, and that was it. Other nations had been busy: robot pets and toys on one end of the scale, military grade machines on the other. He wandered through, thanking Thea he and Gussy didn’t look alike. To most people he was just a gorilla in an expensive suit.