Authors: Rachael Eyre
Upgrade
Josh patrolled the flat, bored. It was the third day he’d had to stay indoors. “It takes time for the new settings to assert themselves,” Dr Sugar had told him. “At least we can keep tabs if something goes wrong.”
Claire was no good. She complained constantly, saying she didn’t notice any difference. By the end of the second evening they quarrelled and she’d gone to stay with Joyce. Already he felt calmer.
He turned to the marketing Sienna had sent him. He switched on the network and started to hum: “
You and me,
our love is virtual
...” At least Claire couldn’t demand who had trodden on the cat.
Autographs. The results of a shoot he’d done a few weeks back: ‘Id: The Scent of a Man.’ The bottle was shaped like a bolt of lightning, its lid like a salt dispenser. He read the spiel, written by Sienna: ‘Discover the new you.’ He sprinkled it on and felt cheated when nothing happened.
Voices beneath the window. He went to the glass and peered down. He had a foreshortened view of Linford the superintendant talking to somebody much taller, with very red hair. Josh skidded down the corridor and leapt into the stairwell.
“He can’t be too sick if he’s doing acrobatics like that.”
“Ms Howey said he wasn’t to go out or see anyone -”
“It’s alright, Linford.” Josh tried not to beam. “It’s Lord Langton. He’s allowed.”
Linford walked away muttering. Josh hugged Alfred, remembering seconds later he was in his dressing gown. What a sight they must look: him in raspberry pyjamas, Alfred in an unfamiliar jacket and ticked trousers.
“You look smart.”
“I’ve been helping Jerry with this environmental initiative he’s trying to launch. I’ll be in town for the next few weeks.”
“You came just in time.”
Alfred squinted into his face. “You don’t look well. Are you alright?”
“I’m having an upgrade.” As Alfred mimed something swooshing over his head, “We can talk upstairs. Linford’ll charge us for mucking up his floor.”
Alfred followed him up. “Not a bad little place.”
“It’s not a patch on the old one.”
Josh wondered if Alfred designated everything pre or post Claire too. He punched in the code and the door swung open. Alfred began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Dear boy, it looks like a tart’s boudoir.”
“How would you know?”
“You hear stories.” Alfred had gone red. “Claire’s idea, I suppose.”
Now Josh understood why he was so awkward. He hovered in doorways, his hands clenched. “She’s at her mum’s.”
His relief was comical. “Shall I get you something to drink?”
“Go ahead. It’s in that cupboard over the sink.”
Alfred in the flat. A masculine presence in this fussy, over scented wasteland. Like him he kept barking his shins on chair legs and catching his elbows on door handles. “Who’d they design it for, pygmies?”
“So it would seem.”
He caught sight of
Girls’ Love
. “Is Claire trying to tell you something?” He flicked through and chucked it aside. “Talk about misleading.”
Alfred told him about the latest bee in the mayoral bonnet. They laughed and stretched out. When the strain became too much, Josh let him smoke. Provided he put the fan on for the next few days, Claire would never know. Josh tried the pipe, wanting to see what the fuss was about, but reacted so violently Alfred nearly broke his hand banging him on the back.
“I can poison myself but you’ve more sense. What’s all this about upgrades? You look terrible, no offence.”
“They fit me with new features and see how they work. I spend a week in the lab and a week recuperating. Do you want to see?”
“Only if you want to.”
“D’you notice anything different?”
“Your hair?”
“Well, that too. No, something important.”
“Your eyes. I don’t remember you blinking so often.”
“They thought it was creepy the way I didn’t before.”
“I liked them the way they were.”
“Me too. I keep thinking there’s something in my eye.”
“What else have they done?”
“Body temperature: it’s why I look so lousy. There’s no point having someone look flesh and blood if they’re freezing. Sometimes I’m burning up, others I can be wrapped in fifty blankets but still feel cold. Here.”
Josh held out his hand. Alfred surrounded himself with smoke rings.
“I don’t see what the big deal is. I didn’t know you were artificial when I met you.”
“Yes, but that’s - you.” They smiled. “Don’t ask me how, but other people can tell straight away. They can’t get away fast enough.”
The couch creaked as Alfred sat beside him. He put his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “You’re the kindest, smartest, most wonderful person I know.
Person
. There’s nothing admirable about being human. Sometimes I wish I could cancel my membership of the race and declare I’m something else. Maybe a lion.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
Josh rested his head on Alfred’s shoulder. They sat like that for some time, content simply to be together.
Josh’s upgrade went from being the worst week of the calendar to his favourite. As soon as Alfred had finished at the Council he came up to Azalea Heights. Linford mumbled about Ms Howey’s conditions, but Ms Howey could go whistle.
They worked their way through the marketing. Alfred raised his eyebrows at the letters. “This one wants you to wear a green rose in your lapel. Do they
have
green roses?”
“You’re the expert.”
“Would broccoli do? Strike a pose - there. Send that.”
“It’s better than my last campaign, that’s for sure.”
Josh picked up a letter from a sweet old lady and read, “
Dear Josh, I pride myself upon being your most devoted fan. If we met, I would dip you in honey ...”
He stopped, blushing.
“Go on!”
“I feel violated.”
Alfred skimmed it and burst out laughing. “The old playthings are best.”
“It’s probably Nanny under a pseudonym.”
“I’ll hide the preserves next time you visit. The fans were never this rampant in my day.”
“Are you joking? I’ve seen the Explorers calendar.”
“That was a serious campaign for endangered species.”
“Serious pornography, more like.”
“Don’t knock it. That calendar got me so much cock.”
He’d spoken without thinking, as though he was with Nanny or Gwyn. Realising, he burned with mortification. Rather than the outraged purity he expected, Josh burst into a lovely, genuine laugh. It was infectious. They couldn’t stop.
There were many such moments. Ordering in gourmet hampers. Watching experimental films - apparently better after a ton of hash, but Alfred wasn’t sure how Josh would react. Planting bulbs in the balcony garden. Debating Council decisions. Trying a new puzzle. Josh wished Claire could be at her mother’s forever.
The first few days he wanted to declare himself. By the fourth he realised Alfred was on his best behaviour, stepping around any awkwardness. Claire had frightened him off for good.
The fourth night, Alfred fell asleep on the couch. Josh tried shaking him and he wouldn’t wake. He brought in the covers from the bed and tucked him inside, taking the chair opposite. He tried to read but his gaze kept being drawn to the couch. More than anything he wanted to get in beside him.
Somehow he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, his eyes had snapped open and he was staring out at the night sky. White flakes whirled across the suburb. “Alfred!”
He woke, alarmed to find himself in Josh’s bed clothes, but relaxed once he’d realised he was in the living room. “What is it?”
Josh led him to the window. “Look!”
“Are you telling me you’ve never seen snow?”
“No idea.”
“This is something I can’t allow. We’re going to the park.”
“What if something -”
“Nothing’s going to happen. We’ll take your dial, but you’ll be fine.”
Josh wasn’t used to the city at night. Normally lights crisscrossed overhead, illuminating the dingiest areas, but the Mayor had cut lighting to less than twenty percent. “Silly git, there’ll be no end of accidents,” Alfred grumbled.
“Why didn’t you vote against it?”
“I did, but the others are in his pockets. They’d scratch his balls if he asked them to.”
“I thought you were friends.”
“Past tense. He tolerates me, I despair of him. Here we are.” Alfred climbed over the railings and gave Josh a hand up.
“It’s everywhere. I don’t think I’ve seen anything so beautiful.”
“You should see Chimera in the snow. Me and Gussy went in for every winter sport going. Once we made this snow dragon that coiled around the house. She was so upset when it melted.”
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
“Let’s talk about something cheerful, shall we? Race you to the pond.”
“In this?”
“It’s manageable.”
He loved Alfred like this. Plunging through the snow, hiding behind statues and flinging snowballs at him. Josh gasped, indignant. Soon he was gathering his own and pinging them back. It was four in the morning and anyone who saw would think they were mad, but they didn’t care. They didn’t mind even when their attempt at skating became an undignified heap on the ice.
“What do you expect? We’re the least co-ordinated people in the world.”
“Claire was so embarrassed at this party, she sat out after two dances.”
“She doesn’t deserve you.” Alfred didn’t hide his bitterness.
Josh couldn’t see his face. Lying on their backs beneath the stars, he wondered if he should risk it. He touched his hand.
“Do you think what they say in books is true? There’s only one person for everybody?”
The moment had passed. Alfred steered him to his feet, dusting down any frost. A good friend, nothing more.
When he wasn’t looking, Josh struck himself in the forehead.
Stupid, stupid stupid!
Now he knew what to look for, Josh discerned patterns in Alfred’s behaviour. They would reach a point where to put it off any longer seemed absurd, they were so close, and Alfred took fright. Headed for the nearest bolthole with an excuse.
He couldn’t vanish abroad or go home, the Council was in session, but he stayed away for the last day of Josh’s upgrade. It hurt to think he was in the city somewhere ignoring him. Josh walked in the park, tormented himself with recollections of the other night. He took a fly around town, not caring where he went, and nearly got out at the Forum. No, he wouldn’t play the jilted lover, he’d leave Alfred in there. He got out, giving the astonished driver twice the fare.
He’d walk back. That was punishment enough. It gave him a sour sort of amusement, watching the snow sizzle beneath his feet. He felt quite detached shuffling through the drifts. Foxes fighting in bins, tramps dozing in doorways - they left him unmoved. He wandered into a seedy off licence and bought a brown bottle. Once he’d made sure no one was watching, he took a quick sip. Scorching. If he staggered it he could make it last the afternoon.
The last few blocks were an effort. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the snow, and he was so tired, he wanted to lie on a bench and give up.
Alfred. Every thought came back to Alfred. If he’d stood firm and not listened when they’d started spouting about marriage, he could have had him. Would he have realised, if it hadn’t been for Claire? Oh, it was a mess.
In this addled state he didn’t see the figure outside his building. When it registered he let go of the bottle, letting it smash. “Alfred!” He ran, churning the snow as he went, and nearly knocked him over.
“Ye gods, what have you been drinking? I go away to organise a nice treat and you turn into a dipso.”
“You weren’t avoiding me?”
“Why would I do that? Gwyn and Nanny will be here in a few hours. Let’s get you tidied up.”
Gala Night
Josh drank a pint of coffee and had a cold shower. He came out calmer and more sensible, knotting his tie. It was a suit he’d bought months ago but never worn; Claire thought it was ‘poncy’. Lavender with a floral tie, cut to emphasise his narrow shoulders and slender hips. He was wearing a watered silk shirt underneath, the picture completed by an orchid.
Alfred lounged in his favourite chair, drumming a tattoo on the table. He was wearing the red shirt with one of his tweed suits. As he looked up and saw Josh, the beat stopped. He couldn’t speak. No wolf whistles, no japes. They were past that.
“Sorry about earlier,” Josh said.
“Can’t criticise. My first year at Roth, I streaked through the library in a pirate hat.”
Josh opened the last of Sienna’s boxes. It was full of paperbacks. Each cover depicted a dewy eyed girl and a blandly handsome man. An antenna poked out of his ear.
Alfred flipped one over. “
Our Robotic
Romance
by Floella Flotsam.
Will Jennifer and Algernon’s forbidden love survive? Find out in this latest instalment of the heart stopping
saga
.’” He dropped it into the wastepaper basket. “I see where Claire gets her ideas.”
Josh couldn’t get up the nerve to say they were actually quite good. “You could donate it to Nanny’s book club.”
“What else have you got in here? Action figures! I used to love these things. Who’s this wrinkly bugger? Oh, me. Very reassuring.”
“They’ve got a point about your hair. Have you seen it recently?”
“It grows on my head. That’s all there is to it.”
“Don’t you own a comb?” Josh went in search of one, finding it behind the clock. “Hold still.”
Alfred submitted to his ministrations with a martyred expression. Josh was on his fifth stroke when he vanished. Alfred yelled. The artificial rematerialised in the armchair opposite.
“That was awesome!” a voice bellowed.
Josh slid open the window. “I’ll ask the lab rats to get rid of that. My hangover’s back.”
“Right you are, boss.”
Alfred joined him at the sill. “Forgive me for being dim, but nothing that’s happened in the past sixty seconds makes sense. Somebody’s writing pap under the name Floella Flotsam, you evaporated and a man’s living in your shrubbery.”
“That’s Kevin. He’s my stalker.”
“What?” Alfred whipped out his revolver.
“Put that away,” Josh sighed. “Everybody has stalkers now. It’s a sign you’ve arrived.”
“That sounds like Claire talking.”
“In exchange for letting him take the odd picture, he waters the plants and collects the post. We’ll never get burgled.”
“I prefer my private business to
be
private.” Alfred brought the blinds down. “I hate the thought of somebody watching us.”
Josh put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off. Just as it seemed the evening was ruined, the doorbell jangled. “Door bell!” came a shout from below.
“Thanks, Kevin. - I feel sorry for him. I think he’s a bit, you know, touched.”
“I’d never have guessed.”
Two sets of footsteps, one quick and light, the other ponderous and heavy. At last the door opened and Gwyn slipped inside. Her hair was piled like a sandcastle and kept escaping around her ears; she wore a severe grey dress with epaulets. She should have been ferrying dying warriors from battlefields.
“You look lovely,” Alfred said, and meant it.
“You’re not bad yourself. Hello, Josh. Fancy a night on the tiles?”
“Not in these shoes,” Nanny groused, sidling along the wall.
If Gwyn was striking, she was extraordinary: a furry black dress that had last seen action thirty years ago, clamping in the famous bust. Two mouldering foxes dangled down her back.
“Everyone’s here.” Alfred radiated tension. “Let’s get a fly.”
“What, go back down those stairs? We only just got here!” Nanny complained.
“We’ll take the lift,” Gwyn said. As both men opened their mouths, “As soon as someone invents proper shoes to go with evening wear, I’ll take the stairs.”
They surfaced into a cold fraught night, rain beating down. “What a shame, the snow’ll get washed away,” Josh exclaimed.
Gwyn retorted, “Good. You should’ve seen the sheep on the way here. Thoroughly miserable, poor things.”
“You’ve no poetry in your soul, Gwynnie,” Alfred sighed.
“At least I’ve
got
-”
His glower stalled her. Josh looked down, hurt.
“Has anyone ordered a fly?” Nanny asked. She picked her way across the lawn and tapped Kevin’s tent. “Young man? Can you recommend a fly firm?”
Kevin swigged from his flask. “Dunno -”
Alfred cocked his gun. Josh blurted, “You can look after the flat - make yourself at home.”
He was forthcoming after that.
***
The fly took them to an ornate marble building, its gates gilded with golden leaves. Gwyn bounced up and down. “Grizzly! Really?”
“I know it’s been a while.”
She was like another person as she took Josh’s arm. “We came here every year when I was little. I wanted to be in the dance troupe, remember?”
“Of course,” Alfred said. “We did whatever we could to talk you out of it.”
“Marcus was insufferable. ‘As if they’d want fat thighs like yours on a chorus girl’.” She smarted from a twelve year old injury.
They brushed past ballet girls in spangles, singers in powdered wigs. A man in a monocle reared up and Alfred sidestepped into the lift - a colleague, a crashing bore who spat. Josh ducked when a stout blonde funnelled into aubergine silk saw him: Floella Flotsam. She was desperate to put her theories about artificial sex to the test; he was very keen it shouldn’t be with him.
“All this spinnin’ and weavin’s given me a powerful thirst,” Nanny said.
“Agreed,” Alfred said. “Let’s put fire in our bellies.” He ordered a green bottle smoking in a bucket, popping it open. “It’s traditional to make a wish as you take your first sip.”
“I’ve got everythin’ I want,” Nanny said. “A good job, a home, family -” She spoiled it with a long wet belch.
“If I meet the love of my life, I’ll bring him here,” Gwyn said.
Nanny was startled. Alfred and Josh noticed nothing. Their eyes met and they looked away.
“To adventure,” Alfred said. Everybody echoed it, clinked their glasses together.
The orchestra swelled. They went in according to the seating: Nanny beside Alfred, Gwyn beside Josh.
“It’s like your birthday when you’re little,” she said. “You don’t know what to unwrap first.”
For the next two hours Josh was overwhelmed. Why was everybody smitten with robotics when humans were capable of so much more? This man could sing in harmony with himself, this woman tie herself in knots. He made a mental note to go to the theatre more often.
It was at the beginning of the second act the trouble began. It was a low point in the programme, an experimental dancer whose act seemed to be wiggling her fingers and toes in a body stocking. Josh felt his attention wander. He couldn’t blame Nanny, snoring on Alfred’s shoulder.
Further down their row was a man with a squished face. He’d been forced into his seat by the ushers; he kept rocking and making odd noises. For some reason the woman on stage tickled him and he wouldn’t shut up. Josh couldn’t make out the words at first, but then he started to roar: “Girl! Girl fisting!”
Alfred flushed. Nanny woke and fixed the man with her most baleful glare. As for Gwyn - he’d never seen Gwyn so upset. Pink faced and close to tears, she pushed back her chair and ran out.
“Talk to her,” Nanny said. “It’s time.”
Alfred nodded. “Guard the seats, you two. Good grief, why can’t we have a quiet uneventful evening like normal people?”
He found her in the Winter Garden, leaning against a pillar. “Hello, Bash.”
She smiled at the childhood nickname. She’d got into endless scraps at school, which she always won. She barely looked older with her hair straggling around her ears and a runny nose. “Hello, Grizzly.”
He didn’t want to rush her. They wandered through the display she’d known since she was little: ice sculptures, the sugar castle with its sissy dragon.
“Can you see the damsel waving his hanky?” he asked.
“Poor thing, waiting all these years for someone to rescue him.”
“She’ll climb up the briar and come in through the window, like in stories.”
“I wouldn’t want someone kissing me while I was asleep. It’s a bit creepy.”
“Perhaps she falls under the drawbridge and the dragon eats her.”
“You gruesome creature.”
She started to cry. He put an arm around her, handed over a grimy handkerchief. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s ... I ...”
“That berk in the theatre upset you, didn’t he?”
“I feel so stupid. I’m twenty six years old, I shouldn’t get this wound up. I should - what’ve you been doing with this, cleaning chimneys?”
“No idea. Don’t worry, you still look lovely.”
“I like girls. There! I used to get so confused, think I was a boy in the wrong body. The girls I didn’t fancy bored me. I like men’s games, men’s manners, men’s clothes - but don’t want to
be
one. Does that make me a freak?”
Alfred tweaked her nose. He’d known since she was fourteen and caught her mooning over a chambermaid. Lucas accused him of ‘putting ideas’ into her head. He’d never told her. “Of course not, sausage.”
“You’re not disappointed?”
“What sort of hypocrite would I be? We’ll leave the breeding and messy stuff to Marcus.”
“I know I’ve been hard on Josh. I haven’t meant to be. All that rot about him being the perfect man. Must be congenital.”
“It’s funny how things work out.”
“Not that he’d notice me. He’s been yours since day one.”
“He’s not mine.”
“
Now
who’s being dense?”
Josh couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on stage. There was a skit about robots, making the audience crane to look at him, but his mind was outside, wherever Alfred and Gwyn were. Nanny dozed, face stuck to her seat with drool.
Alfred reappeared, a radiant Gwyn grinning. “Crisis over,” he muttered. “There’s thirty minutes left. Let’s enjoy it.”
Josh wished he could speak to Gwyn. Her attention had shifted to the stage already, blocking him. Why were humans so opaque?
They were on the last act. A beautiful black woman strode onstage and began to sing. The voice alone made him clutch the arms of his seat. Two men came out from either wing. One was short and fair, the other taller and darker. Although they didn’t touch, only circled one another, there was a definite frisson. They danced, eyes and hands gliding together.
Shocked murmurs. Alfred was so rigid, Josh worried he was having a fit. He tried to give him a consoling smile but he looked wretched. He was holding his breath and didn’t release it until the two men swayed up the staircase together, fingers entwined. The singer hit her last triumphant note.
The lights came back up. Everyone hurried to get away, they snatched up coats and programmes. Alfred bent over Nanny and tried to nudge her awake. “Come on, Lulu. Home. You can snore all you like there.”
She wouldn’t be roused. Gwyn prodded the stole and something fell from one of the fox’s mouths. “She’s been guzzling this. Neat gin.”
“Lucky her. While we’ve been on the rack -”
“I’ll get the old soak home. What was that firm called?” She bundled Nanny into her arms and trotted into the lobby.
Alfred gazed after her as though she had been a protective amulet. “Well,” he said. “Here we are.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Where’s open?”
“Ought to be a few bars dotted about. Might be rowdy, though.”
“Can we go for a walk?”
Alfred stared at the rain sprinkling the city. “In this?”
“It’s only water.”
“Anywhere in particular?”
“Wherever the mood takes us.”
“You’re extraordinary, Josh.”
“I try to be.”
Most of the snow had been washed away, turning the streets into icing sugar. Drains overflowed, shop fronts dripped, the roads swam with slush. Every now and then they passed a pub, windows lit and drunken singing leaking out, but that didn’t appeal. Neither was sure what they were looking for. It didn’t belong with city landmarks or Lady Thea, spear in hand and lions at her feet.
“Looks like Gwyn,” they both said, and laughed. Alfred almost lost his footing. Josh caught him, hand closing around his wrist.
“Gods, your hands are warm,” Alfred said.