Love and Robotics (77 page)

Footage of a young Alfred decorated by the Queen on the Forum steps. He met the fuss with embarrassment. Him and Vita being arrested for their nude ride.

“A diary has been made public, containin’ explicit details of his affair with Josh Foster. In countless erotic passages -”

Gwyn scraped her chair across the flags. “I’m not listening to this.” She stuck her finger in Josh’s face. “This is your fault, bolt boy.”

She stormed out. He went to go after her but Nanny held him back. “She’ll come round. Looks like the PM’s feelin’ cornered.”

The Gay Watch segment had ended. “Makes you sick, don’t it?” Clay was saying. “Is our lovely guest still keepin’ us waitin’?”

Now Josh saw the title at the bottom of the screen:
I Married a Gay
Robot.
“Oh, crap.”

Nanny nodded. “Don’t hold it against her. She must be under lots of pressure -”

Something unscripted was happening. Clay’s head of security, a tough young woman in a dog collar, jogged up the steps to him. They put their heads together. Once they had finished whispering the old ham turned to face the audience.

“I ... uh ... you see -”

The head of security knew her stuff. “God bless, everyone!” she cried. Clay switched on the waterworks.

“
Off
,” Nanny snapped. “Josh, you must understand -”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The doorbell clanged. Since Gwyn had stomped upstairs, Nanny stashed her revolver in her chignon and went to answer it. She returned moments later, at a loss how to proceed.

“Maybe I should leave you kids a mo... ”

Claire pulled her suitcase into the kitchen. “I got myself in trouble. There’s nowhere else I can go.”

Gwyn waited until the coast was clear. Josh was showing Claire to one of the guest rooms, Nanny chasing Puss from the henhouse.

So they were going to act as though nothing had happened? Claire could cry and trot out excuses - “I’m confused,” “I’m in a really weird place right now,” but she, Gwyn, never forgot and seldom forgave. She certainly wouldn’t now.

She picked up the speakertube. “Please may I speak to Captain Lucy? It’s about the Wilding - Foster case ...”

Strange Allies

Josh wanted to speak to Claire about the day’s events. Nanny wasn’t having any of it. “Poor pet’s been through the wringer. Let her be.”

It was difficult knowing she was there, in distress but off limits. He heard her crying in the night and went to go to her. Nanny, expecting something of the sort, materialised on the landing. “Those are good tears. Don’t upset her.”

He returned to his room, bewildered. How could you have “good” and “bad” tears? How could you tell the difference?

The next day dawned wet and blustery. Josh thought he had left it long enough. “After all,” he told Puss, “she wouldn’t be in this fix if she hadn’t married me.”

He showered, dressed and went down the landing. He knocked on the guestroom door. “Claire? Please may I come in?”

No answer. Perhaps she was asleep.  He put an ear to the door. Not a sound. “Claire?” He turned the handle.

Nothing. He couldn’t see her suitcase, the bed had been made. She might never have been in the room at all. He ran downstairs to the kitchen. “Has anyone seen Claire?”

Gwyn was ensconced in her favourite chair, playing a game on her powerbook. Nanny looked up as she stirred the porridge. “She hasn’t been here, chuck.”

“The bed doesn’t look slept in, none of her things are out -”

Gwyn tutted in annoyance. “Bet she’s done a bunk.” At Josh’s confusion, “A runner. Don’t you understand
anything
?”

Nanny whipped her with the tea towel. “Enough lip. Are you sure?”

Gwyn refused to be silenced. “If she’s no qualms about selling her secrets to a tacky show, she won’t feel any for leaving you in the lurch.”

Josh wouldn’t rise to the bait. “I know her. She won’t let me down.”

“Good thing one of you’s loyal, isn’t it?” She ducked a second swish of the towel.

He went out into an icy shower. As he jogged across the grounds, Gwyn’s words played on a loop. He knew they meant nothing, she was only trying to wind him up. But what if Claire had been turned? If she had felt threatened enough, scared enough -

He was passing Gussy’s memorial. Something clicked. Hadn’t she been curious before? What better excuse than sheltering from the rain? He pushed open the door and twisted the light dials. Lamps came on in every cornice. He could see her now, sitting in a front row pew, head bowed.

Most of the far wall was taken up by an image of Ken. He smiled as he never had in life and had infinitely more hair. A sombre tablet restored his accolades: professor, creator, pioneer. Facing him was a portrait of Gussy. Other pictures were staged and aloof; here she looked as though she desperately wanted to laugh. Directly beneath was a small white stone. ‘Arthur Wilding’, no birth or death date.

“Hey.” Claire touched his arm. “Is this a church?”

“Would it help?”

“I don’t know. I used to believe.”

He sat beside her. “You never told me.”

“I couldn’t believe She’d make my dad suffer. I’d pray he’d die sooner, he was in so much pain, but She didn’t listen. I stopped talkin’ to Her.”

He took her hand. He didn’t worry about triggering feelings he couldn’t handle. He couldn’t have said how but he knew all that was over.

“You want to know why I did the show? Why I pulled out?” she asked.

“I did wonder.”

“It was Bridget. I hate girls like that - nice as pie to your face, then stab you in the back. She guessed I let you go. So Sienna and that creepy ferret guy round on me, say they need to do damage control. They talked ages - they sacked Jay Cee, poor thing - and after all that decide Crispin Clay’s the best bet.

So Sienna checks us into a hotel. She tries to make out it’s a bit of fun, all girls together, but I’m a prisoner. She wouldn’t let me see the news, but I heard the room service gossipin’. After a week they took me to meet Crispin. If he’s religious, I’m a wombat. He stared down my top the whole time.”

“I hope he behaved himself.”

“Sienna would of set a Dave on him! Anyways, he gives me this massive script - there’s pages and pages of it. They get a cab to take me back to the hotel, ‘cause they’re wanted at the Forum or somethin’. I’m readin’ this stuff, wonderin’ how long it’ll take to sink in, when we go past this big - what d’you call it? A picture painted on the side of a buildin’?”

“A mural?”

“That’s it, a muriel. It’s this tin robot holdin’ a heart, lookin’ sad. Someone’s wrote by it. ‘Love Saves.’”

He stared at her blankly. She persevered.

“It’s like - I did love you, Josh, but part of me thinks I just wanted to be in love. Anyone would of done. I built up this idea of you, thinkin’ that ‘cause you weren’t human, it couldn’t go wrong. When it did, I -”

“Fell out of love?”

She nodded, relieved he’d understood. “It wasn’t fair. You didn’t want it. I get that now. I heard Ferret Face say to Sienna, ‘This was your genius idea, to get him away from that shit sticker. If I were you, I’d get down welfare.’”

Josh knuckled his eyes. He’d guessed long ago, but it was nothing to the blow of hearing it confirmed. To think they’d ruined three lives to protect the company’s reputation! He was disposable, Alfred could cope, but to do this to Claire -

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I’m glad I did. I would of gone on hopin’, when the sensible thing’s to give up.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go back to how I was before. We’re from different worlds, Josh. You talk posh and think big. I could never do that.”

He helped her pack and walked her to the station. No one was about. They had their last embrace in a dank shelter that reeked of raincoats.

“Find someone nice,” he said. “He’ll have me to answer to if he isn’t.”

She hugged him so tightly it was lucky he was human. “Take care, won’t you?”

He watched her face, mascara streaked but shining, as the craft whistled away.

Josh took his time returning to Chimera. Kevin’s hat masking his face, he tried to walk like a human. It seemed time consuming and awkward; his hand kept flapping and knocking leaves from the hedges. It must have been convincing as nobody stared.

They wouldn’t leave it much longer. Crispin’s show was an attempt to flush him out. Now it had failed and Claire disappeared, they weren’t going to play nicely.

Another onslaught of rain. He held out his arms and felt it sluice down his face, inhaled the scents of the countryside. Firs, soil, rock, bark - he loved them all. He wouldn’t smell them after this.

Puss raced over. He bent to stroke her but she wriggled out of reach. “What is it, girl?”

She seemed anxious to get him home, bounding ahead and glaring when he didn’t keep up. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was afraid. What could have that effect on a lion? He followed her up the drive, clutching his hat to his head.

He nudged the door and was shocked to find it unlocked. What was Gwyn playing at? Anybody could walk in -

“Josh!”

He was caught up in a pink and blonde dervish. Something fluffy yapped at his ankles.

“Cora?”

“Best in the world, sonny! And this - ” she picked up the hyperactive poodle and tossed it into his arms - “is Tutu. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Josh winced as urine trickled down his leg. “He’s
something
.”

“He does that when he’s excited. See it as a compliment.”

A discreet cough. “Um, Cora - ” A swarthy, well built artificial stepped forward.

“Oops, nearly forgot. Josh, this is Esteban. Met him in Clockwork City.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Josh went to shake Esteban’s hand, nearly dropped Tutu and put him on the stairs. Puss glowered at the intruder. Rather than flee, Tutu scratched his ear with unassailable smugness.

“I don’t want to break up the party,” Esteban said, “but there’s something you should know.” As Cora protested, “It’s his house.”

Josh couldn’t cope. All he wanted was a quiet afternoon, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. “Why are you here?” he asked, exasperated.

“Huh!” Cora exclaimed. Esteban didn’t seem offended. “Perhaps it’s better to show you -”

He opened the nearest door. Twenty artificials milled around the state rooms. Sitting, standing, examining model ships. When they looked up and saw Josh they broke into applause.

“Um, hello.” In a distracted whisper to Cora, “What’s going on?”

An artificial he had never seen before shuffled over. Most robots were built for youth and beauty; this one had neither. He had a clever, sheep like face, haloed by wiry hair. He looked like the kind of academic duffer you’d find in any university or lab.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr Foster,” he said. “Waiting for who knows how long.”

Josh’s first impulse was to escape through the garden doors. This had to be a trap. How could twenty artificials travel unnoticed? Where did their handlers think they were?

The academic artificial, who seemed to have nominated himself as spokesperson, tried to reassure him. “This isn’t a put up job, Mr Foster. We’re all friends here.”

Josh held his hand out to Cora. “Please tell me you haven’t been tampered with.”

“If it stops you acting out.” She let him place his hands on her forehead. When he encountered her most recent memories he flushed. “I’ve seen enough, thanks.”

She winked. “Fancy a trade?”

He pulled his hat over his ears. “Definitely not.”

The artificials watched him expectantly. Now he noticed one was human: a small bespectacled Linese woman, unnerved by the company she was keeping.

“Hello, everybody. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Josh Foster, and -”

Nineteen pairs of eyes in varying shades of glass, all watching him. Could he truly be said to be one of them?

“ I don’t know why you’re here. Sorry, Cora, I don’t. I can’t think of anywhere more dangerous for you to be. The owner of this house, Alfred, is in jail because of me. We love each other but it isn’t allowed in this country. The only reason they didn’t get me is he told me to hide; they’ll be back any day. Please, for all your sakes, get out -”

Somebody was crying. It was the human. The academic put his hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t you see, you ass,” Cora said, “we know? We’ll stick by you anyway.”

It all came out. How Josh’s messages, rather than being drowned by static, were picked up by artificials around the globe. Cora had recognised his signature and demanded to go to Lila. Esteban had no choice but to follow.

The artificial who had come furthest was Kazuo. He’d been created as a robotic boyfriend for a violin prodigy, Reina. When Reina graduated to human men he’d gone to work for the leading gaming company in Huiji. He’d been appointed CEO within ten years.

“Do they know you’re an artie?” Josh asked.

“They’re too polite to ask. It doesn’t matter back home.” Yet he sighed and stared at his picture of Reina when he thought no one was looking.

One of the girls, Saffy, was sweet and unassuming. She’d led an idyllic existence with Howard, her boyfriend, until he grew bored with her. She woke one night to find herself on the skip. Even now she thought it was a misunderstanding.

“Something must’ve happened,” she insisted. “He said we’d last forever.”

The women shook their heads sadly. Cora urged her to open her eyes. “Forget him! You’re lovely. You could get anyone.”

“I want Howard.”

As he collected their stories Josh saw why they had come to him. They had all loved a human. Most of the relationships foundered through no fault of theirs. Whether their human had been a creator, lover or charge, they spoke of them with longing. There were cases like Anke, who had continued caring for her elderly patient after death, or Jesse, who had been unable to save his handler’s little girl from drowning.

The story that moved Josh most was that of Hector, the academic. He and the human woman, Dee, had met at a conference and fallen in love. They applied to marry but were refused. Dee had suffered from depression after a miscarriage fifteen years previously and didn’t pass the psych tests.

“That’s rubbish!” Josh exclaimed. “That was before you knew each other!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dee said. “I’ve been unsound once and might be again. I pose too much of a security risk.”

“They won’t arrest Dee, she’s too valuable.” Hector passed her a handkerchief. “We want to make people aware of our story, help them see these laws are outmoded. We’re behind you and Lord Langton one hundred percent.”

Josh smiled gratefully. “I’m glad somebody is.”

***

It goes without saying Gwyn resented the house guests. “It’s raining widgets,” she grumbled. “I thought Josh moping around was bad enough, but another twenty!”

“They’re not so bad,” Nanny said. “You should see some of the slobs we’ve had in the past. The posher folk are, the grubbier.”

“I don’t like it. It’s not natural.”

“You’re more like your father by the day.”