Love and Robotics (7 page)

“Come at the right time?” the artificial whispered.

“You have no idea.”

“The bell’s about to go. Good luck.”

The China Room was one of the Palace’s marvels: a delicate blend of mother of pearl and fine lines. Now the beauty of the mouldings was ruined by a chunky stage and twenty foot screen. A digital Gussy loomed, patting her hair. Alfred mounted the steps and approached the soundtube.

Faces beyond the footlights, expecting him to cock up. He heard Prince Wulfric’s loud whisper: “Is he going to catch flies all night?” 

“My sister and I had a ritual -” Had he gone deaf? He adjusted the soundtube. “My sister and I had a ritual every year on our birthday. Once the presents were opened, the cake cut, we’d make a toast. Nothing alcoholic - we weren’t
that
precocious.” Laughter. “We vowed we’d be famous; she as a scientist, I as ... whatever I wanted to be. A pirate, I think. Gussy’s no longer here, but her work is immortal.”

He expanded on what he and Josh had discussed. Gussy as big sister and best friend, Lady Augusta the powerhouse. He was enjoying himself, an unfamiliar feeling.

“Gussy loved her work. She wanted to make robots an integral part of our society. I used to be sceptical; now I’m sure it’ll happen. On this, our fiftieth birthday, would you join me in toasting Josh? He is the future.”

Five hundred of the City’s worthies - politicians, press, anyone who liked a gawk and free grub - followed suit. “To Josh!”

Josh bowed in his seat. “Thank you, Lord Langton. Thank you, everyone.”

Alfred took the steps down into the audience. All the breath was knocked from him; Josh had thrown his arms around his neck.

“You were wonderful!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t I say you had nothing to worry about?”

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“You’re wonky.” Josh patted the orchid. “There. You’ll be fighting them off.”

“They’re too busy drooling over you.”

“You think so?”

“Have you
seen
you?”

Alfred knew he shouldn’t mind, but it stuck in his craw. Society mares introducing themselves, rubbing up against Josh like bitches on heat. The older ones were the worst, thinking that because he was a robot it didn’t count. Just because the lad was good looking –

No, that was inadequate. Anybody could be good looking.
He’d
been, once upon a time. It was something in the eyes, something pure. Josh was beautiful.

“What now?” Alfred hissed.

“You should’ve come to rehearsals! A slideshow.”

He prepared to be bored. The Palace chairs were wretchedly uncomfortable and designed for midgets. He worried he’d get stuck and wander around looking like a hermit crab.

Pseudo classical music started to play, ‘
The Life of Lady Augusta Wilding’
scrolled across the screen. He leaned forward, forgetting the seat’s limitations, and caught his thigh.

The early years. The pair of them in identical outfits, hair the same length. Their mum recognising her daughter’s genius. The university years. Would they - could they? It didn’t make sense otherwise -

They
had
. Vamoosed, vaporised. He should have expected it, CER had lived in denial the past decade, but that they’d have the brass bollocked
nerve
-

He squirmed out of the chair, dropped it onto somebody’s foot. “He’s away!” Wulfric hissed gleefully.

Sugar stared like a betrayed child; Fisk shook her head. Unable to explain, he retreated into the night.

“Alfred?”

He thought Josh’s quick, light footsteps had gone past, but they reversed and found him.

“Go away!”

“I won’t abandon a friend in need. You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What do you call this?” Josh pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

“I’ve fucked everything up.” Alfred rubbed his nose. “Bet you wish I hadn’t come.”

“Why would I do that? Your speech was terrific -”

“And then I disconknockerated the seating plan.”

“Is that a word?”

“One of Gwyn’s.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

A long fruity blow, wrecking Josh’s hanky. “They’ve rewritten history and don’t care. There should be a point where they say, ‘Enough. We forgive’ - well, maybe not
forgive
-”

“Do you want to come back inside?”

“Not really. But you’ve no way of getting home -”

Josh stood his ground. “I’m not going in unless you’re there.”

“Looks like we’ve reached a stalemate. Let’s check on Gwynnie.”

They followed the sign posts to the drive. Gwyn was sitting on the vix, talking to someone. Josh’s friend Pip, her pink hair akimbo, wearing a knotty gold dress. Earnestly nodding, looking Gwyn up and down.

              Alfred thought about leaving them to it, but Josh sensed no such undercurrent. “Fancy seeing you!” he exclaimed. “How do you know each other?”

Pip brazened it out. “There’s a grapevine. Y’ guys okay?”

“Alfred had a migraine. He’s starting to feel better.” The lie tripped glibly from Josh’s tongue. “Are you coming with us?”

“You don’t have to,” Alfred said, seeing her eyes stray to Gwyn.
Young love
. He envied them.

“Let me finish my cig.” She ground it beneath her heel.

Smiling, murmuring encouragement, they went back over the Palace’s threshold.

Second time round, it wasn’t so bad. Everyone accepted the fiction of Alfred’s migraine. Josh worked the room like a diplomat. Alfred nodded at his elbow, tailored his responses.

“You were shy earlier,” Alfred said. “What changed?”

“I’m with you.”

“What, I’m such a mountebank you look good in comparison?”

“Don’t be daft. Promise not to throw any more chairs.”

Alfred held up his hand. “I solemnly swear -”

Fisk sprang out from behind a tapestry. “Home time, Josh.”

“Alfred’s taking me back.”

“We don’t want to put
Langton
out of his way -”

Alfred cut her short. “It’s not putting me out at all.”

“Don’t be up too late.
Some
of us have work in the morning.” Eyes dead, face devoid of expression, she disappeared.

“Who shat in her handbag?” Alfred asked, bewildered.

“Everyone, I should think.” Pip wasn’t a fan, he was glad to see. She’d be a good influence on Gwyn.

“Can we talk about something else?” Josh asked.

The journey back was fitful but quiet. Gwyn drove like an automaton; Josh gazed out of the window. Alfred’s thoughts darted away whenever he tried to lay hands on them. He thought of Jerry’s remarks and his stomach clenched. Better to be queer than a bloody fool. He was who he was and apologised to no one.

“We’re here,” Gwyn said.

The Centre lay ahead in ugly magnificence. Alfred got out and held the door open. “Have you got a minute?” Josh asked.

A wind was starting to rise. “Of course,” Alfred said. He followed him over the link bridge. Raising his face to the night sky, the artificial said, “Hail.”

Alfred let Josh pull him into the doorway as it scattergunned. There must have been a crack in the awning. Stray hailstones were getting through, landing on Josh’s shoulders. Gems glistened in his hair, melted down his neck and into his collar.

“I’ve - oh, what a stupid place to say this, you can’t hear a thing -”

“What is it?”

“I’ve really liked spending time with you. They expect us to wrap it up, but - I don’t want to. I want to go on seeing you.”

“I’d like that,” Alfred said softly.

“Isn’t it funny? A month ago I didn’t know you existed.”

“I knew
of
you.” Alfred felt a twist of guilt - but what Josh didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. “Lucky we had a sink handy, eh?”

The artificial’s laugh was a rare, precious thing. “Lucky you didn’t buckle under the weight.”

“I’ve lifted heavier.”

“What I’m trying to say is: I want to be your friend. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course.” Alfred was reminded of blood bonds at school, where you cut each other’s hands and mixed your blood. He shook Josh’s hand instead. “Friends for life.”

“The rain’s easing off. You can’t keep Gwyn waiting.”

Again, half a minute before any change. “You should do the weather.”

“I’ll mention it in my next meeting. Don’t forget this.” Josh pressed something into Alfred’s hand. “My key card. Visit as often as you like.”

Alfred crossed the bridge to where Gwyn was tethered, drumming her fingers on the panel. “You took your time,” she said.

“Ssh grumping. How do you know Pip?”

Her blush spread to her ears. “Through the grapevine.” She knew about his flings, he’d hinted similar revelations would meet with sympathy, but she refused to budge.

He looked back at the twenty sixth floor. Every other light in the building was off, but the one in Josh’s suite was burning bright.

***

Fisk let herself into an empty house. Nothing could quench her elation.

When she had chosen her career, back when robotics was an eccentric hobby, she’d thought she could hide in a backroom. Now she had to pull on unflattering gowns, hope one would transform her into a social butterfly. Invent pithy quotes. ‘Julia Fisk, his handler ...’ She remained herself - overgrown, gaunt and repellent.

Noah Sugar had vanished early on. She hoped he wasn’t drinking. Somebody had to be the joke of the evening, with the Earl reformed. Now
there
was a talking point. Josh thought it meant something, but she knew better. Langton was using him to give his craggy mug one last airing before he expired in a whore’s armpit.

Still looking for Sugar, she wandered into the grounds. The beauty of the night was lost on her.

“Hello, Dr Fisk. Are you having a good time?” Josh was by the fountain, dabbling his fingers in the water.

She smoothed out her dress as she sat beside him. “I don’t like parties.”

“Maybe we did something terrible in a past life.”

“Everybody?”

“Your collective guilt must be pretty big.”

“You have no idea.”

This was the sort of daydream she’d once indulged in too often: a stranger at a party, drinks, the promise of more –

What was she
doing?
This wasn’t a random hook up, this was
Josh
.

The part of her that wasn’t addled by wine confronted it. The pastel shades. The smiles. The haircut. Confiding in him, holding his hand. The addition that, should anyone discover it, would blacklist her from robotics forever –

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“A bit cold.”

She headed towards lights, music, the Mayor’s cretinous bray. When she was sure he wasn’t following, she took a detour into the walled garden.

“I love you!” she whispered, pressing her hand to her heart.

The next few days were hideously dull for Josh. After congratulations for the launch, his team bickered about his future. A meeting here, a meeting there, nothing settled. After a screen test they agreed he couldn’t act. He explained he had no wish to star in a film called
Escape From Planet Dinosaur
, but that wasn’t considered a good enough excuse. Auditions for singing, dancing and presenting were similarly disappointing. Ask him to dance and his movements became disjointed and clumsy. Three seconds were enough to confirm he would never have a career in the music industry.

“Face it, Shuggy,” Malik said. “Golden Boy’s got no talent whatsoever.”

“Ssh!” Sugar said. “Shut up!” Fisk snapped.

Josh wondered why they didn’t ask what
he
wanted. A few days earlier he’d suggested working in the Pond.

“You can’t work in a call centre!” Going by Sugar’s tone, you’d have thought he’d said ‘dung hill’.

“If it’s good enough for the workers -”

“If you want to wipe your bum on the abilities Julia gave you! You’ll die of boredom.”

“I thought boredom was a human invention?”

“Josh, I’m busy. If you’ve something sensible to say, I’m all ears. If not, zip.”

Now he was in his suite, following the skyline with his finger. The river Ira was molten silver.

I have a friend. 
He saved the thought for quiet moments, took it out to admire like a medal. Hail stones on the roof, a hand shaking his. When Alfred smiled, Josh bent towards it, a flower opening to the sun.

Three days before an article had come out. Josh knew it by heart.