Authors: Rachael Eyre
“I don’t want them,” Josh said. “I hate her.”
“Hate’s a strong word. Save it for someone who deserves it. Will Sugar be at CER?”
“No, but I know his address. It isn’t far.”
They were half way down the street when they heard feet running. Josh threw his arm over his face. It was Kevin, holding out a cap with ear flaps.
“Will you be okay? She’s gone mental -”
“We’ll manage,” Alfred said. “He needs medical attention.”
“Take this, it’ll keep your ears warm.” Kevin shuffled his feet. “If you need somewhere to stay, you could always share my tent.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
Josh linked his arm through Alfred’s. Pulling the hat down over his ears, he trudged up the road.
***
If Sugar objected to being woken at such an unsociable hour, he didn’t say. He led them to an extension he’d set up as a surgery, propping Josh up in an operating chair. “Tiff with the missus?”
Josh cringed. “You could say that.”
“No matter how we adapt, nails slice through artificial skin. This is only a small procedure, you’ll be ready to go in a few hours.” He nodded to Alfred. “You’ll probably not want to watch.”
“I’m going nowhere,” he said. Sugar averted his eyes from the fact they were holding hands.
The doctor peeled back the damaged skin and dabbed at the metal with solution. Josh squeezed his eyes shut and clutched Alfred so tightly it hurt. Sugar heated a branding iron until it was red hot and applied it to the skin. He asked Josh if he wanted to be unconscious. He shook his head.
“Don’t touch it till it’s had time to cool.” His glance in Alfred’s direction plainly said,
That means you too
. “And now gentlemen, I bid you goodnight.” He shut the door with such care they couldn’t help but laugh.
“Poor chap,” Alfred said. “He probably expects to come down and find us doing unspeakable things to each other.”
“If only. What a night, eh?”
“The best and worst.”
Josh wriggled so Alfred could join him on the chair. “What now?”
“We get some rest, Sugar discharges you-”
“You know what I mean. My marriage is void. Before she jumped out of that cabinet, we were going to - well.”
This was the Josh he knew: mounting him one moment, blushing the next. It reminded him why he’d fallen in love with him in the first place. “We need some time apart.”
“What? We can’t!”
“You’ve just come out of a relationship. We shouldn’t commit unless you’re sure.”
“What part of ‘It’s always been you’ don’t you understand?”
“I love you. Never doubt it. But - it’s complicated. Everyone’ll think we’ve been carrying on behind her back.”
“Weren’t we?”
“
No
, Josh.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’ve done research -”
Alfred blushed. “That’s not what I meant. I promised Gwynnie I’d take her abroad. It’ll give Claire a chance to simmer down.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“Whatever else she is, she’s not vindictive.”
“Um, this?” Josh gestured at his face.
“She’s angry and scared. A cunning person would pretend to forgive you, then stab you in the back.”
Josh squeezed his fingers. “Even now you surprise me.”
“It’s what Nanny calls pussology. Knowing people,” as Josh looked bemused. “You predict what they’ll do in any given situation.”
“Can’t say I know about that.”
“Stay put till I get back. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
They clung to each other, Alfred kissing his hands, neck and chest. “Better skedaddle before Sugar goes into a tailspin.”
“Keep out of trouble.”
“Occupational hazard, love.”
Claire hugged the cushion like a security blanket. Catching sight of the book cover, Jennifer simpering at her robot lover, she flung it across the room.
It was an hour since Josh had left. Leaving her with a cold empty flat and her shattered pride. Yes, there had been cracks in her marriage, but she knew how to paint on a smile and soldier on. It had been easier since Langton backed down. He’d lingered like perfume, played on their minds. But she was convinced nothing between two men could match the love between a man and a woman; to put it crudely, two keys couldn’t open a door. Josh would get over his crush, or whatever it was, and be a true husband to her.
Now she was weeping on the settee, staring at her wedding band. She’d taken it off and put it back on four times. Had it always been too loose or was it her imagination?
Going behind her back. She wouldn’t have believed it if Linford and Kevin hadn’t confirmed it. If that wasn’t enough, sauntering in with clothes skew-iff and satisfied expressions. She knew Josh’s post sex face. And he couldn’t stop gazing at Langton. He’d never looked at her like that.
Why?
Langton was sort of attractive, but in the way of a once grand house with a jungle for a garden. He smiled and you saw the man he had been, he had that knee trembling voice, but he was so
old.
In a few years he’d be sixty. Could you have still sex at that age?
She picked up the tube. ‘Only use in emergencies’, the scrawl on the card said. What was this if not an emergency? She punched in the number, biting her thumb.
“Ms Jones?”
Together and Apart
From the instant Alfred announced they were going away, the preparations didn’t let up. Trunks Gwyn hadn’t seen for years were unearthed, travelling clothes pressed. She and Nanny were engaged in writing lists, labels and everything else you might need for a three month trip. In the rare instances Alfred looked in, he kissed her, joked with Nanny and discussed matters with Derkins.
He hadn’t been the same since the gala. He was haggard and thin, always listening for something. He’d creep to the tube, put his hand out and think better of it. The areas he set aside for Josh - the green armchair, the place at the table, his guest room - gathered dust. One time she caught him curled up on the bed in there, fast asleep. If she hadn’t found his pipe smouldering on the dresser, the house would have burned down.
The night before they left, they were playing snooker in the library. She potted three balls on opening. Normally they were evenly matched but his mind didn’t seem to be on the game. The hand holding his tumbler shivered.
“I’ll get Nanny to light the fire,” she said.
“It’ll only make a mess.” His shot missed entirely. “Losing my touch.”
“Is Josh joining us?” she asked after a time.
He threw back the rest of the whisky. “No. It’s just us.”
“Have you had a row?”
He addressed the snooker table. “The night of the gala, we nearly - you know.”
“Oh.” She felt unnaturally shocked. “How close is ‘nearly’?”
“Claire came in and - you can guess the rest. We’re having a cooling off period.”
“I see.” She didn’t. She’d never been good at this sort of conversation. At last she realised what was bothering her. “But - arties -”
“I might not be a very good man but I’m better than that. He took the plunge.”
She suppressed a giggle. Little Josh mounting gigantic Alfred - what a weird mental image. “What are you going to do?”
“I can’t help feeling whatever we do, he’ll get hurt. I love him more than anything in the world.”
“Huh!”
“Other than you, darling.”
***
Josh felt disoriented. He’d never slept this late in the day. As he ran a hand through his hair, his skin felt tender. He remembered then what had happened, where he was. He was still wearing his dress suit, the shirt rumpled and the trousers grainy with sand.
“Alright, dozy?” Sugar asked. “How’s the face?”
“Itchy.”
“That means it’s healing. I’ll get you food while you freshen up. I’ve clothes put out.”
Josh climbed into the surgery shower, the water tickling his skin. He hummed tunelessly, thoughts drifting - he couldn’t help it - to the shell. He might have been bashful discussing sex but when it came to thinking about it, he had no qualms whatsoever.
I want you inside me. I want to watch your eyes as I make you come.
“Josh? Can I come in?”
He was so used to being naked in front of the team he stepped out of the shower, slinging a towel around his waist.
“Moira wouldn’t hear of you going hungry.” Sugar’s expression froze. “What’s that on your neck?”
As the pressure had mounted inside the shell and he’d stirred in Alfred’s fist, he whispered, “Bite me.” At the time it had seemed a natural desire to have. Now the proof was red and raised on his neck. “Nothing.”
Sugar sat opposite him, watching him eat. Moira made terrific eggs. She was a rare CER wife who wasn’t interested in robots. He liked her.
“Josh, now it’s just us: what happened to your eye?”
“I said. Claire got angry and went for my face.”
“She’s only little. How did she reach?”
“You haven’t seen her when she’s mad.”
“Look at the state of you. You’re all over scratches and bruises.”
“I’m accident prone.”
“Has Langton ever assaulted you?”
“What do you mean?”
Suddenly Josh remembered the man in the alley, how he had seized him around the neck and forced him down. He remembered Alfred’s grief and disgust, how he’d hit him until his face was a river of blood.
“How can you even think that?”
“I blame myself. I liked it when you became friends - it’s not healthy to be alone. If I’d known he had ulterior motives -”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? He would never hurt me. We met and fell in love, like two humans.”
Sugar met this with a disbelieving smile. It took all of Josh’s self control not to punch him.
“What I’m going to say is for your own good. They might disapprove at CER, but what the heck. Desperate times call for desperate measures, hey?”
“I hope it’s an apology.”
“Artificials can’t fall in love.”
“Excuse me? I ought to know.”
“
I
ought to know. You can’t have feelings for Claire, you can’t have feelings for anyone. You might like your handler -”
“I don’t.”
“- but nothing more.”
Josh pushed the remains of his brunch aside and slipped on the jumper and twills Sugar had given him. Last was Kevin’s hat.
“Thanks for the hospitality, no thanks for the lies. I won’t be keeping in touch.”
He slammed the door. Sugar made straight for the speakertube in the hall.
“Josh just left. It’s worse than we thought.”
Josh’s schedule was booked solid. Shoots, talks, appearances with or without Claire. He ignored them all. He avoided everyone from the Centre, Pip and Mandy being the exceptions. He spent the first week on Mandy’s sofa. The glassy eyes of two hundred stuffed toys kept him from sleeping and her cat kept patting his face. After six nights he made his excuses.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“No idea. Don’t let anyone know I’ve been here. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“I’ll carry it to the grave,” she said, sweeping him to her bosom.
He met Pip in the park, kicking a can along the alleys. “I told you to be inconspicuous,” he said.
She was wearing a jacket that made her look like a raccoon, complete with bushy tail. “They’ll think I’m a raccoon,” she shrugged. “How are y’?”
“I’ve been better.”
“How’s Lord Langton?”
“Gone away. Don’t tell me Sugar’s been filling your head with crap.”
“Sod Shuggy.” She’d supervised the interface the night of the gala and knew what had happened.“I’ll give evidence if anyone asks.”
“Won’t you get sacked?”
“I wouldn’ be out of pocket.”
“It’s only temporary. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Anythin’ that pisses Aidy off suits me.”
This arrangement was even more fleeting. He didn’t mind that Pip’s rooms were on the top floor of a warehouse with intermittent lighting; he didn’t care she had to leave a few hours later for her weekend job as a DJ. What he
did
mind was her coming in at three in the morning, introducing him to a half naked girl called Bebe.
“What about Gwyn?”
“We’re on a break. She
still
hasn’ told her folks. It’s too soon or some bollocks.”
She and Bebe proceeded to have noisy, acrobatic sex on the kitchen floor. He piled every cushion on top of his head but could still hear them. She came to see him later that morning, necking a filthy concoction from a vase. “Hope you slept alright.”
“Where’s -?”
“Called a fly to take her home. The instant someone composes an ode to my tits, they’re out. What are y’ doin’ today?”
“Seeing Dr Fisk. I want my old flat back.”
She didn’t seem surprised. “Good luck.”
He had never liked Fisk. He knew the theory. As the genius behind his interface and the person he saw first, he should feel a deep, abiding devotion. The thought of being alone with her made him sick with fear.
He trawled the markets, the Library, the Museum of Lux History. He avoided the section on robotics. What kind of prat would he look, loitering there? He preferred the galleries. He had the utmost respect for artists who could pull tableaus out of their heads. The most he could do was copy. Anything to do with death fascinated him. Winged skulls, beautiful women with scythes. Love and death, the twin obsessions of human experience.
He must have taken a wrong turn, he’d wandered from Middle Period Fantasia to Lux Notables. There was the city founder, her piggy eyes and swollen chops reminiscent of Jerry Etruscus. Magdalena Smythe, Lux’s worst poet, clutching her long ascetic face. Nerissa Darkholme, its finest actor. Most of them were buried at the Citizens’ Cemetery.
A painting towards the end caught his attention. First he recognised the contraption at its heart: a kind of golden mangle, studded with buttons. He’d seen something similar in the Memorial at Chimera, though he didn’t know who it was a memorial to. Alfred had been keen to hurry him on. It was only once he’d made this connection he looked at the sitters, each with a hand on the machine.
The first was the sort of craggily intellectual man who never aged. He had severe cheekbones, hooded eyes and thinning hair. He was wearing the most aggravating smirk Josh had seen; he might as well have been saying, “Behold my genius and grovel.” The second sitter was painfully familiar: petite and pale, ringlets in a dark cloud around her face. He’d seen her in clips, heard the deep quiet voice with a lisp. Gussy.
He read the inscription:
‘Lady Augusta Wilding, 2114 - 2150. Mother of Robotics.’
It didn’t say anything about the man. Perhaps he was Gwyn’s father. He looked horrible enough.
There had to be a portrait of Alfred somewhere. Josh went in search of it, adjusting his earflaps. He took a few wrong turns, but when he found it, it was by the window in the quadrangle, the light beating down on it. It didn’t look much younger than the Alfred he knew. An autumnal Chimera in the background, a rifle on his shoulder. Puss was at his feet, gnawing on a pheasant. Despite the pose he had a gentle, faraway expression. The one he’d worn as Josh slid into his lap, putting his arms around him. He touched the picture’s lips but the glass got in the way.
Enough. He was procrastinating. He bought copies of the two paintings in the gift shop. The girl stared but he couldn’t care less.
Josh would always remember this day, for the worst reasons.
The first was when he went to the bank. He allowed himself a strict budget, guaranteeing everything he did fitted within it. Lexis Avenue was out of his way so he decided to get a fly. Flies cost money. He stepped into the bank, approving of the amber pillars and the workers in livery. He didn’t see why everyone was impatient to move into the future when the past was so wonderful.
“Afternoon, Mr Foster.” The man behind the counter was called Reg. He had terrible dandruff.
“Afternoon, Reg. Please may I withdraw fifty?”
“Bear with us.” He fiddled with his equipment, humming
Virtual Love.
Josh joined in.
“Uh, Mr Foster? There seems to be an irregularity.”
Josh stared. “I came here last week. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I do. But your account’s empty.”
“That’s impossible! There’s thousands in there.”
“There’s no need to get excited.”
“I’m not getting excited! Let me have my money!”
Two liveried robots appeared either side of him. “Come now, we don’t want any trouble -”
“Show me!” He reached across the counter and swung the terminal around. Within seconds he found himself bouncing down the bank’s steps.
There was nothing for it but to trek the ten miles to Lexis Avenue. There wasn’t the least doubt in his mind that CER was responsible. He’d defied them and this was their punishment. Without money he was grounded.
After an hour he turned into the Avenue. They did themselves well, the doctors. Dr Fisk’s house resembled a chess piece, black and aggressively shiny.
He didn’t even touch the bell. The doctor stood in the doorway, alarmingly tall. A perfume like decomposing violets hit his nostrils. “Hello, Josh. I wondered when you’d drop by.”
He’d never noticed how prominent the gap between her teeth was. As he followed her into the hall he caught sight of a dining room, a lace draped table with candles.
“Can I get you something? A coffee? Some wine?”
“What’s happened to my money, Dr Fisk? Why are you doing this?”
“We only want to help you,” she murmured.
She pressed the switch beneath his fringe, sending him crashing to the carpet.
When Josh next knew consciousness, he was in a seminar room. Slatted blinds, tempered walls, chequered carpets. Fisk, Sugar, Adrian and Sienna looked at him as though he was a naughty child. He grabbed a chair and thrust it at Fisk. “Don’t touch me.”
“Poor chap,” Sugar said. “Completely bananas. It’ll take months before he’s normal.”
“We don’t have months,” Adrian snapped. “What we need is damage control.”