Love and Robotics (71 page)

“Did you and Ken ever -?”

“Nearly.” She couldn’t leave the story there. “It was when we were dating. I’d cooked him a nice meal, we started kissing, and things progressed. I wanted to so much, but he said”- the impression was pitch perfect - ‘Terribly sorry, but I’m bored rigid. This isn’t working for me at all.’”

It was cruel but he had to laugh. “He was never one to let you down gently.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, but why did you do it? There were thousands of men you could’ve had. Why did you take the one
I
wanted?”

For which there was no answer.

She died a fortnight later. He wondered if it was deliberate - if anybody had the bloody mindedness to choose when they died, she did. They were walking in the Experimental Garden. He had to hold her upright.

“He asked me to marry him,” she said, apropos of nothing.

For Gussy there was only one ‘he’. “When?”

She beheaded a giant daisy. “Remember when you had that blazing row? A month after.”

If he carried on standing he’d have one of his spells. He didn’t hate Ken now, but
still
- “What did you say?”

“No. I wanted a husband. He couldn’t be one.”

“At least he asked you.”

“Alfie, Alfie. When are you going to let go of your anger?”

He watched the floral clock open, close, open. “Fifteen thirty. Let’s -”

Whatever he was going to say shattered. Gussy was grey, wheezing, tears beading her eyes. He tried all the resuscitation methods he knew.

She whispered as she died. He didn’t want to hear it. He knew what it would be.

How do you describe absence? Alfred had never been good at naming emotions so didn’t try. Stars faded, life went on. He couldn’t remember most of it. Pickups, skirmishes with the law. He was banned from driving after cruising stark naked down the Royal Mile. He’d been off his face at the time.

One scuffle he didn’t regret. He’d agreed to work with CER on two conditions: that they gave Gussy her due and built her a proper memorial. This particular day, he’d stopped by to pay his respects. A door banged. He crushed himself against the wall. The pitter of high heels, a nervous gasp.

“You must be so proud.”

“A light went out of my life that day.”

The figure was seedier, the hair greying, but Alfred wasn’t mistaken. Lucas, pulling women on his wife’s memorial. After everything he’d put her through in life, he was demeaning her in death.

Most people have an angel and a devil on their shoulder. Alfred had two devils. Now they roared with one voice: “Kill the fucker.” He ignored the shocked tourists, the girl screaming. He hit and hit until Lucas couldn’t get up.

‘The accused shows no remorse,’ the police file said. He refused to explain why.

The years passed. Gwyn grew up. Lucas hanged himself. Nanny’s summary: “Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Alfred’s was more succinct: “Twat.”

With the rising infertility rates, the law had been modified. It was no longer a sin to sleep with a machine but the psych tests ensured that only a select minority could do so. Alfred found himself in a world he no longer recognised, a caveman with outdated beliefs. It could only be faced through a mist of alcohol.

Nobody cared about explorers now, least of all unstable ones with a drink problem. He was officially discharged.

“I don’t want to do this,” Jerry Etruscus said. “It’s just -” doggy sigh - “not the same country anymore.”

“Move with the times or move on?”

“Good man. Well put.”

So he retired. He didn’t wear it gracefully. Boredom pressure cooked his nerves, anger exploded out of him. The stroke was a relief. It explained some of his behaviour, though not all. His universe shrank. Gwyn. Nanny. His duties. His inventions. He didn’t want or need anybody else.

Until Josh came.

                                        
   Recovery, Part 2

Josh was very quiet while Alfred told his story. He frowned as he reached the end.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ve spent years trying to forget. They made it easy enough. Ken was wiped from the record, his inventions attributed to Gussy. All official pictures of him were destroyed. The one in the Lux Museum is the only one in existence, but it’s the only sanctioned portrait of Gussy so it had to stay. It was illegal to mention him. Olive Omatayo thought that if she  offered him a posthumous pardon, I’d stop seeing you. Somehow it didn’t matter anymore.”

“No wonder you hate robots.”

“Only that one. Never you.”

Josh stroked his hair, thoughtful. “Do you think Guy loved Ken?”

“As far as I’m aware you’re unique.”

“It’s cruel, squelching a robot for the human’s crime.”

“It’s the last indignity, forcing their lover to watch. I couldn’t bear to.”

“I’d pulverise them,” Josh said. “What
did
you see in him? He doesn’t seem to have a single redeeming feature.”

“Then I’m not telling it right. Yes, he could be a bastard, but we had our moments.”

Josh made a sceptical noise. “If it turned out he’d faked his death, would you go to him?”

“No.” Alfred didn’t hesitate. “I have you.”

Josh nuzzled him. “If you want me to return the favour -”

He pretended not to catch his drift. “Are you sure you don’t want to go abroad? We could set up in the robot colony -”

“ No thanks. I’d rather take my chances here.”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Running off says we’ve done something wrong. I refuse.”

“You’re a stubborn blighter.”

Alfred was lying on top of Josh, knee in the crook of his groin. As he felt him stir, he moved with it. He unbuttoned his shirt so their chests fitted together. Josh brought himself out, held their cocks together.  “Yours is bigger than mine,” he said.

“You can’t pick a lock with a jumbo sausage.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“No idea. Yours is exquisite.”

He bent and kissed it. Josh moaned. Alfred might have been back at Frome, staring at his idol without the faintest idea what to do with his big raw body. He knew what he wanted but couldn’t form the words.

“Can I -”

Josh waited patiently.

“May I go down on you?”

“Isn’t it degrading?”

Alfred had never seen it in that light before. “I shan’t if you don’t want me to.”

Perhaps it
was
demeaning, slurping on your knees, but when did sex have anything to do with dignity? Discovery, yes. Wanting somebody so badly you thought you’d die, certainly. But dignity? A big fat no.

“If it’s you it’s alright.”

He licked Josh’s thighs, his stomach, his groin. Hands went to his hair. He took him into his mouth, moist and straining. He did it gently at first, listening to Josh’s sighs, reading his body. He darted his tongue over his balls, the fine golden hairs. As he teased harder, Josh’s voice became deep and shuddery.

“Let me -” He scrambled down the bed.

He’d always known Josh was thorough. “Bloody hell,” he breathed, as he applied that talented tongue to his cock. “Bloody
hell!
” as he took him all the way in.

He was apprehensive at first - what if he didn’t like the taste? As Josh sucked greedily, he laughed with relief. It had always been his favourite sex act, both to do and have done. More intimate. In the past he’d been lost in a frenzy of arousal - now, though it was as heady as before, he was acutely conscious of Josh: not just the heat and wetness, the sounds, the up and down motion of his head, the softness of his lips, but his presence,
him
.

Soon he couldn’t deny it any longer. “I can’t hold back -”

“Don’t. I want it all.”

Alfred’s head filled with light and noise. He fell slack, lying heavily against Josh’s hip. He put an arm around him. All he could smell was oil and cum.

There was nothing like looking at your partner after love, blushing and biting his lip. Josh looked so naughty. Whoever said robot eyes weren’t expressive was talking bollocks.

“I’ve made my choice,” Josh said. “You’re stuck with me whether you want me or not.”

“Lucky I want you, then.”

Had Ken and Guy made these vows? They might have done it in this room, for all he knew.

“Whatever happened, they’re at peace now,” Josh said. It was uncanny, the way he dipped in and out of his mind.

Alfred rolled on top of him. The ghosts of years took flight.

So that’s
it
, Josh thought. If only humans could be honest rather than torment themselves. It would save a great deal of pain. Perhaps he was looking at it the wrong way. If Alfred had too much past, his was pristine. Well, other than
that
. He wouldn’t burden him with the knowledge.

He hated Ken Summerskill more than he’d hated anyone. As soon as he was alone, he tore the print of him and Gussy in half, consigning his side to the fire. He had to stab it with the poker before it burned. He kept glimpsing smirk or horsy nostrils. Thanks to him there’d been all that wasted time. Thanks to him, Alfred thought he was unworthy of love.

I’ll make it up to you. I swear.

Perhaps it was the two days’ rest - or the restorative powers of sex - but he felt better. He kept to his room for the form of the thing. Even his arm didn’t bother him. Part way through the afternoon it began to itch.

Nanny brought up his meal and took the tray away. He watched the sun set over the fields, the night school of bats. He waited, wondering what pose he should be discovered in. Reading a book? Lying on the bed? Looking out of the window?

It took him until midnight to realise Alfred was staying away. Had he offended him? How could he after this morning? He wanted him so badly - yes, to sink his teeth into, to make him come, but also the quiet afterwards. It was his favourite part of the day when they were abroad, talking till the sun came up.

He wanted him
now
.

He swallowed any nerves he had about Chimera at night and followed the halls, the banisters to Alfred’s wing. He hadn’t been up here since Gwyn caught them. What did she think of the situation? She’d lost her temper while scrubbing out the graffiti, though that was probably due to the scale of the task.

He pushed Alfred’s door. It opened, revealing empty space, the mirror with its shooting star of broken glass. Puss lay on the rug, chewing the one eyed doll she dragged everywhere. She growled when he touched the four poster’s curtains.

Where was he now? A late night errand? A relapse? He’d seen his stupors. Gwyn had told him about the flipside: prowling the halls naked, challenging the paintings to fights. How did humans have all these contradictions and not explode?

As a last resort he went to the library. He shivered when he saw the sash of light beneath the door. He moved noiselessly across the carpet, followed the flutter of newspaper. It was coming from the green wing chair he usually sat in.

“Hello, trouble.”

Josh kissed Alfred’s neck. “How did you know it was me?”

“Nanny conks out as soon as she’s heard the World Service. Gwyn won’t go around the house in the dark. And if either did what you just did, I’d be concerned.”

“Can I join you?”

“No reason why not.” Alfred shifted the newspaper so Josh could sit on his lap. “It’s some new thing, numbers in a grid. I can’t get this box.”

Josh looked at it. “I don’t think that’s a two. Maybe a seven?”

Alfred examined it from another angle. “You’re right. How did you do it? I’ve been staring at it for half an hour.”

“You’re better at crosswords. I don’t like those cryptic ones.”

“It’s happened. I’m up at silly o’clock, doing puzzles. I’ve turned into my parents.”

“I think that one’s nine.”

“Now you’re showing off.”

Josh ran his finger along the page. In a ghostly voice, “Nine ... nine ... nine ...  all taken.” He borrowed the pencil and tickled Alfred with it.

“Josh?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not wearing anything under that dressing gown, are you?”

“You’re not uncomfortable?”

“When I had thoughts of you - us - I thought you’d be shy. I never dreamt -”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Of course not.” Alfred trailed his fingers along Josh’s thigh.“We should make the most of the time we have.”

“How long do you think it’ll be?”

“Maybe a week?”

Josh gave him a chain of kisses, starting by his ear and ending at his collarbone. “How can this be wrong?” He reached inside Alfred’s shirt and caressed his back. “Or this?” He undid the buttons and sucked his nipples.

“I’m sure the ... Forum ... would find your arguments... persuasive.”

“We should show them.”

Josh wound his legs around Alfred, undressing him. Naked he was magnificent: a hard muscular chest, powerful shoulders and thighs. He was hairier than he’d expected, but it felt wonderful against bare skin. Josh explored with his fingers and lips. He drank in the hot wild scent of him, followed the scars with his tongue.

“Does my body disgust you?” Alfred asked.

“Would I be doing this if it did?”

“It’s just - you’re so lovely. I can’t think why you’d want to sleep with a wreck like me.”

“It’s your body. I want it. Besides, your scars are old friends. It’s like a map.” As Alfred snorted, “I’m serious. Here -” tracing his chest, his rib cage - “are mountain ranges. Here -” his stomach to his abdomen - “are oceans.” Zig zagging down his navel, fingers tight in the gold curls - “Rain forests.”

“What about here?” Alfred asked, guiding his hand lower. “Here be monsters?”

Josh giggled. It was still a source of amazement to him that the lightest touch made it stand up. He longed to take it inside him but Alfred said they mustn’t rush. “The Pole,” he teased. He was rewarded with a nip on the corresponding part of his anatomy.

They kissed and slid against each other. Josh nudged himself between Alfred’s thighs and began to thrust.

“I never used to like this chair,” Alfred said. “Now I see the appeal.”

“Why were you sitting in it, then?”

“Because -
keep doing that
- it made me feel close to you when you were away. I know it’s soppy.”

“No, it’s not. I used to sleep with -
bite there
- a cushion and pretend it was you.”

“Must’ve been a big cushion.”

“Not nearly big enough.”

As Josh dipped his head into his lap, Alfred asked, “How did you get to be so good at this?”

“I borrowed a book from the library. They made such a fuss, demanding, ‘Why do you want a book about gay sex?’ I lost patience and said, ‘I want to have it.’” Rubbish, of course. He wondered if Alfred bought it.

“Married robot takes out dodgy books. Hmm.”

As Josh raised his head he unwittingly looked at the desk. Alfred followed his gaze and sagged. “I can’t imagine what you think of me.”

“It gave me tips. Dean and Ravi have similar stuff - girls, of course -”

“After Ken died I lost confidence. I doubt I spent a third of ’51 sober. Nanny got me that catalogue in the end, it was safer. Gwyn’s brother ran into a lad coming out of my room once. I’ve disgusted you, haven’t I?”

“You don’t do it now. That’s what matters.”

Josh dropped to his knees, moving lips and teeth against his lover. He concentrated on sucking hard, tasting him. A hand caressed his hair, a voice murmured, “Don’t stop.” When he paused to get his breath back, Alfred touched his face with the sweetest smile he’d seen. Hands on his shoulders, coaxing him back into place. He was twitching - it wouldn’t be long.             

              Josh watched as he came. The moment of realisation, how he arched involuntarily. A cry between a shout and a sob, tears shining in the blue eyes.

              He pulled down a throw and covered them. “What’s on tomorrow’s agenda?”

Alfred wrinkled his forehead. “I’ve a carnivorous plant to sort out -”

“That’s not very romantic!”

“- but otherwise, no plans.”

“Are you worried?”

“It’d be daft not to be. I promised I’d look after you.”

“Listen.” Josh took his head in his hands. “We might have four days, might have fourteen. I don’t care. You’re worth hell.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, not stirring until morning.