The Mysterious Case of Betty Blue (17 page)

"I was not drooling."

"Were so."

She laughed, her head going back and
forth as she whopped him in the face with her hair.

Oh, God, how I wish I could see her
now.

“
No. I really mean it,
Betty.” He sighed. “Please?”

She was insatiable. While it went
without saying that robots could and would be built to accommodate
the sexual needs of a rich and varied cross-section of humanity, it
had never really occurred to him that they might like it for their
own sake. Or for its own sake, however one preferred to say
it.

“
Aw. What’s the matter,
Lover?” She pecked him on the lips, sitting up and pinning his
biceps against the stiff and apparently squeaky clean
linen.

His forearms came up and he held her
near the elbows.

“
Betty. We have to talk.
I’m scared shitless. I can’t think straight—and, ah, some of this
wasn’t exactly in the plan.” He clung to her. “I’m like a bag of
nerves. Sooner or later, I’ll go and do something
stupid.”

“
Aren’t we doing something
stupid right now?” She stayed there, thinking. "Don't think I'm not
scared either. Because I am."

If they were caught, she wouldn't have
any rights at all, and neither would Scott. Him they would probably
ignore or slap on the wrist. They would make excuses for him, and
try to be humane in their punishments. Within limits. He was blind
and it would look good on the evening news if they rescued him from
her.

They would dismantle her, and she knew
that very well.

They would keep her brain and never
let her die.

What in the hell could she or Scott do
about that?

Keep running.

Originally, they were going to
Detroit, and if possible, cross the border into Canada. It was all
they could think of. Canada had vast, wide-open spaces and wasn’t
wired nearly as tightly as the States. In popular parlance, Detroit
was now called Dystroit—for the dystopic end times had surely come
for that city. It was the price of being a bit too
liberal.

It was even worse than in the movies,
Scott had heard, in his occasional oblique manner, eaves-dropping
on any conversation that held hope of seeming to be half-ass
interesting.

It was a good place to escape from,
was the way he heard it. Stories of occasional, ‘over-winter’
cannibalism, and attempted socialism, and some sort of economic
cleansing up there were hopefully just exaggerations of the
underground, or liberal press. Years ago, a delegation
from that city to the Federal government had been politely advised
to see to their own affairs.

“
Yeah. I hear you.” The
note of worry that crept into her voice was hardly reassuring to
Scott.

It wasn’t that she’d lied, exactly, it
was more like she was only telling him so much.

“
Betty. If you have a
better plan, now might be a good time to let me in on
it.”

Sighing, which was the first time he
had ever heard her do it, she let go of his arms and
dismounted.

She lowered herself down again and he
could sense her studying him. He rolled onto his left side. For
what it was worth, they were eye-to-eye.

“
Come on, Babe. Level with
me.”

“
Well. I still think we
should go to Detroit. We’ve been sort of leaving a trail. It’s
better if we end that trail somewhere logical. Right,
Scott?”

That part was right. That part they
had agreed on.

“
And then
what?”

“
Well, I just don’t know,
Scott. It’s just that I don’t think it will work.”

“
I thought we could steal
a boat and just paddle or motor across. That’s what we
figured.”

“
If we did make it…our
problems would just be beginning.” And Canada was so much weaker
than the States.

They would most likely be apprehended,
sooner or later, and then returned. The States would push and
Canada would be pushed. Scott didn’t think that was the whole
story. He was sure there was more.

“
Yeah. In other words, you
didn’t think I’d stick this far. But Betty. We have gotten this
far. We have been doing it.”

“
No, Scott. It’s not like
that. I could never do that to you.”

Oh, Betty. If only I believed
you.

If only I could believe in
you.

“
I’ve been doing some
thinking. Philosophical thinking, but thinking. And this is
important—what we are doing is important.”

“
And why is that,
Scott?”

If only he could look into her
eyes.

“
Because we love each
other. That’s why. That’s something they won’t understand. That’s
something they’re not going to be able to accept. And that’s why we
have to do it.”

“
Okay.”

What?

That’s it?

Women!

She plucked idly at his chest hairs.
The dimly coloured aura, all he could see, shifted slightly in the
morning sunshine, a fact he knew by the burn of the sun on his
exposed legs.

Going by the sounds of commerce and
humanity coming in from outside, the window was up behind him, and
therefore that must be east.

“
Yes. We have made it this
far.” There was a new note in her voice, and he shook a little
inside when he heard it.

“
How are we paying for
things?” He’d been meaning to ask her that for a while.

She had his wallet, and she had his
bank card. Only trouble was, all the kiosks would be monitored, and
at least those cameras were well-maintained. They were also located
in more respectable locations.

The forty or fifty bucks cash Scott
had originally begun with must be long gone by now.

“
Well. It’s a long
story.”

“
I have the right to hear
it.”

She was very quiet.

When she spoke, she sounded
miserable.

“
I set some money aside.
When I was working.”

“
Huh.” He clamped his
mouth shut.

Working.

Did he really want to know
this?

He heaved a deep sigh.

“
Okay. That’s
understandable. I guess. You knew you were leaving. Am I
right.”

There was a silence and then she
snuggled in close to him.

“
Yes. It was right after I
saw you for the first time…”

She’d been thinking of leaving anyway.
She saw Scott, lining up for his ration-card and there was
something in his demeanor. Defiance was written all over him.
There was something almost feral in his determination to be
independent and left alone, above all things. That's what caught
her attention.

Maybe even her imagination, was how
she put it.

“
And it was like I
couldn’t even think straight, Scott. It was love at first sight.
Such independence. Such fire! Such anger, but of course I knew
where it was coming from. I wondered how you did it, of course.”
She had wondered how a man could be so alone.

She had wondered how long a man could
live with such anger.

Here was a man who felt unloved, and
honestly thought he was unlovable. All of her initial impressions
had been borne out.

Here was a man who thought his life
was worthless, and she had this strong need to tell him it wasn't
true.

“
And so how did you get
the money, dearest?”

She trembled in his arms.

Now she was afraid of him; and of what
he might think.

Of what he might say.

He braced himself for what came next,
although there could only be one answer—he hoped, obviously there
were ways and then there were ways.

He was only slightly
shocked.

“
All right, Scott. I
embezzled it.”

“
From your employer?” He
grinned insanely, and a finger touched his lips.

She gave a darned good imitation of
heaving a deep sigh.

“
Yeah.”

“
If you don’t mind my
asking…?”

“
I fiddled the household
accounts, Scott.” Her voice was far away. “I knew we were going to
need some money.”

“
Huh. And how much did you
get?”

It was only when she told him that a
flash of something cold and electric splashed over him in a quick
wash of pure, unadulterated, ice-cold consternation.

Recovering from that shock, Scott
asked her what the rest of her plan entailed and that’s when things
got really weird. It turns out she didn’t really have
one.

She was making it up as she went
along.

***

“
Madame
Cartier?”

“
Yes, James?” The servant,
always deferential, sober and dignified, stood in the
doorway.

With a sigh she put down the reader.
She was ensconced on her bed, with a box of tissues on one side and
a five-kilogram container of jujubes on the other. The newest diet
pills were a real blessing. She had just received a dozen of her
favourite romantic intrigue novels via her subscription service and
was looking for an entire day of escape from the hum-drum of
reality.

“
Our new robot is
here.”

“
What?”

“
Our new robot is
here.”

“
I didn’t order any new
robots. Did Doyle order it?”

“
Well, no, Madame. I don’t
believe so.”

“
Shit.”

Angrily, she flung her silken comforter
to one side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stuck her feet in
her slippers.

“
Where is it?”

“
She’s in the kitchen,
Madame. And may I say, what a fine-looking model she is,
too.”

“
Did you sign for
it?’

“
Ah, no, Madame.” James
stepped out of the way as Olympia barged through the
doorway.

“
Damn that
man!”

“
Um, who are we referring
to, Madame?’

“
Danvers!”

Robots did not judge people. It was
part of their make-up, in that they did not comment on the human
activities around them. As much as anything, James appeared shocked
at her response.

The language was unusual to say the
least, for the Cartiers, especially Madame, led a serene, pampered
existence where the irritations and provocations of everyday life
must not intrude.

He agreed in all respects: it only made
sense after all.

People enjoyed life so much more when
they got everything their way and inconvenience did not interrupt
their bliss.

The notion that ignorance was bliss had
always troubled him.

What did people mean when they said
that?

The answer had always escaped Mister
Carlson.

He was aware that she had been upset by
the whole Betty Blue disappearance, and that she was
also worried about her. Madame Cartier was very good to
her employees and had great affection for them all, which she
demonstrated regularly.

In James’ opinion, the Cartiers were
very nice people who might have been spared such indignities. He
had no opinions on Betty Blue other than that she must have gone
off, somewhere in the head so to speak.

James was well-programmed, trained not
to betray emotion or shock in even the most extreme circumstances.
The mistress was clearly upset. He had his own emotions. This was a
trial for them all.

“
Did someone sign for
it?”

“
Ah, I believe someone
did, yes, Madame.”

“
Who?”

“
Most probably, Madame.
One would think so. One of the kitchen staff, they must have done
it, Madame.”

Damn. She should have left clearer
instructions when it became clear that the insurance company was
bound, bent and determined to settle the claim, ‘to the complete
satisfaction of the customer,’ come hell or high water. And with no
regard to her wishes at all. And no real attempt on the part of the
police to find her Betty Blue.

Her eyes glittered as they hustled into
the elevator, her hand slapping the button in no uncertain terms to
take them to the kitchen level.

She gave him a look.

“
I’m sorry, James, but
I’ve been sort of expecting something like this.”

“
Yes, Madame.”

Of course he had no idea of what she
was talking about. Robots were programmed to hear no evil, see no
evil and speak no evil. It interfered with their objectivity when
dealing with a certain kind of human being. If only they didn’t
have brains the size of a pea. It was infuriating sometimes to have
a complaint and no one of any real worth there to bitch at. Or to,
however one cared to say it.