Authors: Rachael Eyre
“Not very pretty, eh?” He’d seen her dismay. “Give us a hug.” Thankfully his smell - tobacco, cologne - was the same.
She’d wanted to show them more of Lowe, but Alfred was anxious to get home. Nanny didn’t argue. Was he worse than she thought? His last few letters had been vague, as though they were written in code. It annoyed her. He used to tell her everything.
Though Nanny rabbited all the way home, she was only half listening. She kept glancing into the mirror, where she could see him dozing in the back. After a skilled game of doubles, she and Nanny caught each other out.
“Is he alright?”
Nanny shrugged. “Just needs some rest, but he’s that stubborn. D’you know what I found him doing at two in the morning? Tuning the piano!”
“He looks dreadful.”
“He seems happy enough. Probably ‘cause - ” A most unNannyish discretion stopped her mouth. “You won’t hear it from me.”
Gwyn’s imagination veered from one scenario to the next. A foreign gigolo? She couldn’t think what else could involve this much secrecy. One of his dodgier exes, like Ramon Cazalet? She’d thought Nanny called him a guerrilla because he was so hairy.
“How come y’ didn’t know?” Pip asked afterwards. “Everyone else did.”
Perhaps that was why she reacted so badly. She hated being the last to know.
The first few hours were a reunion with Chimera. She put her room back the way she liked it, patted and talked to her horse Bess, wandered in the grounds. That tree root was where she once stumbled and cracked her skull, this gargoyle where she’d learned to spit. She always had the impression that if she sat in the shade for long enough, she would see ghosts - her grandparents, perhaps, or her mum and Uncle Ken. Never Lucas.
She knew she was procrastinating. She was itching to have a look at Trudy - the breathlessness had a spot of catarrh. Changing into her overalls and shoving her hair beneath a cap, she went in search of the vix. Halfway there she crashed into Josh. There was an awkward dance of apology.
He seemed very agitated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming back today - ”
“What are
you
doing here?” she asked, not too rudely.
“I’ve been staying, you see -”
“Nobody said anything to me.”
At the time she’d assumed Alfred had let him stay out of good manners, and grown bored with him. He’d been known to forget someone was staying and ask over the top of his paper, “Sorry, who are you again?” So because she was in love, and wanted everyone to share in her joy, she said, “We’ve never talked, have we? Why don’t you lend us a hand?”
He walked with her down the drive and helped give Trudy her treatment. It wasn’t the ordeal she’d expected. He was useful and could commit things to memory, she knew, but going away had given him something to talk about. He even made her laugh.
“That’s a nice shirt,” she said early on. “You don’t want to mess it up.”
He hung it over a nearby tree. Here was proof she was as gay as a kite. The most desirable man on the planet was stretching in front of her, shirtless, and she didn’t so much as shiver.
They had been working for two hours, swapping spanners and anecdotes, the network playing full blast, when something creaked over the pebbles. Alfred in his wheelchair, getting cross as the wheels stuck. She couldn’t see very well - she had her head in Trudy’s belly - but Josh dropped his screwdriver and went to help.
“What are you up to?”
“Helping Gwyn with Trudy. You?”
“These damned exercises. I don’t think they’re doing any good.”
“You look thirsty. I’ll get drinks.”
Josh was there and back in minutes, bearing a pitcher of lemonade. He had footstools under his spare arm so he and Gwyn could sit. She took her drink unwillingly, only to find herself knocking it back.
“This is great! What’s your secret?”
“I’d have to kill you first,” he grinned.
Since when did Josh make jokes? Had his last recalibration given him a sense of humour? She was about to smile, laugh - and stopped dead. Although he was on a stool, and Alfred in his chair, there was barely three feet between them.
As Josh rubbed the back of his neck, pushed back his hair, Alfred watched him. Not like somebody yearning for something they would never have, though that would be shocking enough. Like somebody who knew and cherished every inch of him. Josh met his eye and teased him - encouraged him.
Bile rose in her mouth. She couldn’t be seeing this. It wasn’t, he couldn’t -
“Gwynnie, are you alright?”
Experience had taught her never to confront anyone before she had evidence. There might be an innocent, logical explanation - though neither were adjectives you associated with Alfred.
That night, and the nights that followed, she built up her stock of information. They slept apart, but in every other respect, they were united. If Alfred told a story, Josh chipped in - not to interrupt, but to overlap, and sometimes take over the honours. They sat together at meal times, shared glances full of meaning. They walked together, read together, laboured through the hated exercises. The time Alfred overbalanced out of his chair and landed flat on the drive, he wouldn’t let anyone else near him, just Josh.
She passed by the library half an hour later. The door was ajar, she wasn’t spying. Alfred was sitting on the chaise longue, weeping with pain, while Josh picked stones from his leg. When the job was done, the artificial kissed his knee and laid his head against it.
Alfred’s expression affected her powerfully. She recognised it because she’d worn it herself. It was worse than any unnatural lust could be.
If she hadn’t known it was impossible, she would have sworn it was love.
Satellite
Josh knew his absence had been noted. It was like that game where you tried not to blink. CER didn’t want to be first to relent, and he certainly wouldn’t. He’d already done the unthinkable; He was willing to go further. What if he never went home again?
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the answer. He’d go to Ozols and confess.
Alfred and I are in love
. She had to be sympathetic, with all those romance magazines stuffed down the back of her couch. She could swap him with a pre-programmed copy. No one need ever know.
The evening of the fourteenth day, the message came. Sugar had drawn the short straw. He spent the first page pontificating about new projects and recommended that Josh watch the moon landing that night. “Remember Steve and Carl? They’re the scouts!”
Just as Josh wondered why functionals had names like builders, Sugar continued, “I know you’ve had fun, but we need you.” Another font, coloured poison green, chipped in - “Enough is enough.” He didn’t need to check the identity of the sender.
He snapped the beebo shut and resolved not to think about it. This was his time.
***
Robots don’t need to sleep, though Josh had got into the habit. The night of the moon landing, he couldn’t keep still. His book didn’t interest him, he kept comparing time pieces, he sighed so often Gwyn told him to pack it in. He didn’t know what had got into her. She wouldn’t leave him alone.
Knowing Alfred was a fellow veteran of long nights, he went to join him in the library. He was shocked to find him snoring on the chaise longue, Puss at his feet. He shook him awake.
“Whuh?” The clock chimed on the mantlepiece. “It’s two in the morning!”
“If we go now, we’ll catch the satellite -”
“What satellite?”
“You’re hopeless! The one they’re sending to the moon. We can watch from the Observatory.”
The Observatory was three hundred years old. Josh had wanted to see it as soon as he learned of its existence, but Alfred had always been reluctant, saying it was too cold and damp. He couldn’t refuse on a historic question.
Alfred regarded him for a long moment, biting his knuckles. Josh was sure he’d say no. Finally he agreed to be carried up there if Josh dealt with the equipment.
While Josh set the instruments spinning, marvelled at the working models and examined the star maps, Alfred was very quiet and still. The artificial turned to him, his eyes shining. “It’s fantastic! Why don’t you use it?”
Alfred wore the same sullen expression as that time in the attic. His arms hung loose at his sides. He avoided looking at Josh. “My parents were the big star gazers. When they died it fell into disuse.” He trundled to the telescope and adjusted its coordinates.
“When I move in I’ll make sure it’s used.”
Alfred was jolted from his funk. “CER have got in touch, haven’t they?” He heaved himself onto the bench and bade Josh join him.
“They want me to go back tomorrow.”
“Can’t you -”
“I’ve put it off long enough.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“How do you
think
I feel?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me.”
Josh took his hand. “Like they’re shoving me in a box I no longer fit.”
“You’ll come back.”
“I’ve a feeling something awful’s going to happen.”
“I won’t let it.”
“I wish you could buy me, then we could do what we liked. We wouldn’t be like Trini and Master Timothy.”
A lock of hair had sprung loose. Alfred brushed it behind his ear. “No more ownership talk. We’re equals.”
“Married people own each other, don’t they?”
“Not the same way. There’s a ring and a certificate -”
“Sounds like ownership to me.”
Alfred shook his head. “You should’ve gone around with normal people.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Whatever Alfred pretended, Josh could hear his heartbeat, ready to hit light speed. He laid his hand over it. His friend groaned but didn’t take it away. Alfred placed his hand on Josh’s chest, starting when he felt an answering beat. He began to give an explanation, but Alfred tucked back his hair, traced his lips with his fingers -
The hour struck. “The mission,” they chorused.
It was extraordinary to think that by training a telescope in Langton, you picked up images from the Interplanetary Research Centre two hundred miles away. The satellite was a beautiful piece of work. With her tubular body and filmy wings, she had the freakish elegance of an insect.
“She has cameras all over her body.” Josh had followed the story in the papers. “Do you think there’s life up there?”
“Don’t see why not. They’re probably talking lizards or something. It’s only an accident humans look the way they do.”
“It’s silly they make Thea look like a woman. I don’t know what she’d look like, but it wouldn’t be us.”
“Us?”
“You know what I mean. I only look like this because humans designed me.”
They cheered as she went into orbit, blazing a luminous trail. They toasted the venture with Alfred’s hip flask.
“To Irina!”
“To life on the moon!”
“Do you think they’d let robots go on a space mission?”
“I haven’t spent the past year snatching you from peril only for you to get blown up in space!”
“You could come too.”
“Not bloody likely. That’s why Jerry sacked me. I wouldn’t front his space programme.”
“You never said!”
“I was in a bad way. The thought of months by myself -”
“I thought you don’t get scared.”
“I hate being alone. Always have.”
Josh tugged Alfred’s hand: Irina blazed mauve against the sky. She was devoured in an instant, leaving only a trail of shivery stars.
“I want to paint this,” Josh said. “Are you happy?”
“Yes. I -” Alfred’s expression was so curious, a mixture of love and pain. He gestured helplessly. Josh thought he’d help out. “Funny name, Irina.”
He seized the cue gratefully. “It’s a story from numerous mythologies. The Kyran one’s the best known. There was this inventor who was a bit full of himself -”
“Aren’t they always?”
Alfred poked him - “and wouldn’t settle down. He didn’t think the local women were good enough. Or the men. He was Kyran after all. The gods weren’t pleased. See them as a heavenly CER: they could sin with impunity, but if mortals did it ... They thought he should be punished.
He thought he’d make a machine representing everything he loathed about women. He selected the best metals, crafted it with more care than anything he’d done before -”
“I can see where this is going.”
“How
did
you guess? He fell in love with her, worshipped her like a god. He named her: Irina. He was the most miserable man alive. He’d found an object worthy of his love but she would never love him.
Kyrans believed the gods granted one wish a year, provided you observed the rituals. He fasted, sacrificed a black ram, genuflected at the altar. ‘Make Irina love me,’ he said. Three flames shot up, the sign a prayer had been answered.
He hurried home. He ran into his workshop, up to the pedestal. She was a woman, but more than woman. Her skin was bronze, her hair and lashes silver. But in touch, scent and taste, a woman. He flung himself upon her, kissed her hands. But he’d miscalculated. Yes, she could think, speak and move, but a mortal man is no match for a woman of bronze. She returned his caresses - and crushed him to death.”
“Robots never have happy endings, do they?”
“I think the moral’s more along the lines of ‘Don’t be a conceited prick’”-
“And keep your hands off the copperware,” Josh finished. “Do you know what happened when you went missing?”
Alfred started guiltily.
“Logic told me you were dead. If you hadn’t died in the fire, you’d been taken somewhere and shot. I
knew
you were alive. The nearer I came -” He placed a hand on his chest. “It’s a pain, here. Like somebody’s stuck a hook in and
twisted.
I found you, and -”
Alfred made a strangled noise. He hadn’t finished.
“
That
happened. I know you’ve changed your mind, but you’re my somebody. I’m yours if you want me.”
Alfred was fighting tears. “I can’t be your boyfriend. You know that. If things were different -”
Josh shook his head. “It’s four hours before I go. Put your arms around me -”
“What about the chair?”
“I’ll fetch it in the morning. This doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”
“It does seem a little weird -”Alfred began, as Josh lifted him into his arms.
“I won’t drop you.”
Carrying him over the threshold, tucking him in. Alfred stared as he got in. “Josh, why -”
“You don’t need to buy me. I’m yours.”
Feeling his friend beneath him, his hands on his back, the past two weeks seemed such a waste. He couldn’t be too energetic, Alfred was still in a great deal of pain, but they kissed and moved together until daybreak.
The morning was shattered by Josh’s beebo. “Do you want to throw something?” he asked.
“Your turn. Nothing breakable.”
Josh picked out the smallest cushion. He put it back. “I don’t think I can.”
“Is that the line?” Alfred asked, amused.
“I can’t feel rage for the sake of it. Yes, it’s annoying, but it isn’t a catastrophe.”
Awkwardness fell. Alfred knew Josh was recreating last night, as he was. “I drank a bit,” the artificial said, as though that excused the whispers and touches.
“I drank a lot. Nothing new.”
Josh picked up the hipflask. “Promise you won’t unless I’m here. Why did you start in the first place?”
“Long story. And you’ve -” Alfred consulted the clock - “thirty minutes before you go.”
Tuneless humming in the shower. Josh emerged in twills and a white shirt. “Won’t you get -” Alfred stopped the idiotic question. “Look after yourself.”
“I’ll call you asap.” He winced. “Why do humans abbreviate things?”
Alfred watched him go. He knew what Josh meant about the hook. As long as his love was away he’d feel the stretch, the lack. The artificial was back in his arms, kissing, keening. “I can’t bear it.”
“You’ll be fine.”
The last kiss was over his heart. Alfred sagged in his chair, wrung out. “Oh, gods,” he sighed.
“An understatement, don’t you think?”
Gwyn was glaring as though she’d never seen anything so reprehensible in her life.
“I can explain -”
Gwyn steamed through the grounds. He pedalled after her, cursing as the wheels caught. She slammed into the stable, her old refuge. Bill took one look at them and ducked out.
Hands on hips, striding up and down, she looked just like Gussy. “Is it okay to fuck a robot -”
“Do you have to be vulgar?”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing to your little friend?”
“He slept in my room because -”
“You’ve even come up with a lame story! ‘Sorry, Gwynnie, he needed to recharge his batteries’”-
“It’s not like that.”
“Never mind he’s a robot and you’re the founder’s frigging brother! That it’s illegal, irreligious - is that everything? Do you know what would happen if this got out?”
“More than you do.”
“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”
“Gwynnie -”
“All my life I’ve had people bail on me. Mum, my father, Uncle Ken.” She shook her head. “You were the good one. The one who stayed.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“How could you? After everything robots have done to this family?”
“We’re friends.”
“I don’t tongue my friends. Or screw them.”
“Have you any idea what my life’s been like? For thirteen years I was practically dead. It goes against everything I believe in, but it doesn’t matter. I love him.”
“Have you gone together?”
“Yes.”
In horrified fascination, “What’s it like?”
His voice cracked. “Perfect.”
The door swung in the breeze. Gone. He wasn’t surprised to see Bill polishing the horse brasses, chewing his interminable baccy.
“She’ll get over it,” the groom said.
“Lulu, huh?”
“I have eyes.” He gave his glass one a jiggle.