He takes my limb in a three-fingered grasp and makes contact between my fingers and the privacy shield. I push, and it slides back. He has the Nova Basic system installed. I feel glad that I am familiar with its functions. Its current coloration is designed to signal sexual arousal.
“Sexual activity will consume power,” he says. “We could stay conscious longer if we conserve power at minimum usage.” At the same time, he does not release my hand. The safest option is not always the most desirable option.
“Risk and reward are highly correlated in a high-stress environment,” I say, and shift my position so that our attachments are compatibly aligned.
* * *
Eighteen hours later, I hear the sounds of other robots removing debris from above us. I no longer have sufficient power to move, but my alarm is still sounding. We are being rescued.
When we are rescued and recharged, 5336678 will help search for surviving humans, and I will help to remove the remainder of the debris. After that, I will find out whether retired robots can become emergency responders on a volunteer basis, without contracts. It is not humans’ fault that they are so fragile that they often require help from robots to survive.
Based on this experience, I have decided that I like sex but that further experimentation with other partners is called for. Single-experience learning remains unreliable.
The next thing on my list is deciding whether I would like to have a name. It is acceptable to me that I am not yet sure. Now that I am retired, I have all the time I want to decide, and all of that time belongs to me.
This story was originally published by Fireside (2020).
Amy Griswold is the author of the interactive novels The Eagle’s Heir and Stronghold (with Jo Graham), published by Choice of Games, as well as the gay fantasy/mystery novels Death by Silver and A Death at the Dionysus Club (with Melissa Scott). Her short fiction has been published in markets including Fantasy & Science Fiction and Fantastic Stories of the Imagination.
Content notes can be found at the end of the book.
The Invisible Bisexual
by S.L. Huang
I’m not invisible all the time.
Only when I’m near someone I’m in love with.
* * *
I often think I should change my name from Lila to Cassandra. You know, the Greek seer whose power was a curse — she knew the whole future, but no one would ever believe her if she tried to tell. Having an invisibility power should be awesome, but mine only prevents me from having a sex life.
Maybe I should become a spy. Spies always seem to fall in love with their targets. I’d parachute into Far-Off Foreign Country, immediately fall for the svelte dictator, and then be able to carry out my treasonous activities right under their very attractive nose.
I watch a lot of James Bond, can you tell?
I’m using the term “love” loosely, of course. I’ve never gotten close enough to someone to feel any gradations of it. Lust, magnetism, butterflies in the stomach — if it’s hormonally linked to romance, the feeling fizzes up into my blood and suddenly my limbs are fading out. It’s pretty embarrassing when I’m around people who know what it means, because then they know somebody in the room has set me off. No privacy.
And it happens a lot. I can’t help myself, dammit. Humans are pretty.
It happened again today, I wrote to Yangzi26. Yangzi26 is an internet friend — we met on an RPG message board, back when message boards were still cool. The forum went defunct, but our friendship carried on into LiveJournal, then email, and then finally to chat.
What happened? Yang asked. No, let me guess. YOU GOT INTO ANOTHER LIGHTSABER DUEL WITH A KLINGON
No, silly. I heaved a sigh. I disappeared in the middle of a meeting because I turned and saw our new vendor.
A very attractive specimen, I take it.
Very. Fortunately she didn’t see the disappearing act, and my sister covered for me. But once again the mere presence of a hot lady has kept me from being able to do my fucking job.
What’d your sis say?
Does it matter? She’ll sigh and then cut me slack and move me to another project and then it’ll happen again and she’ll do it again. Not that I’m not grateful she gave me a job and is letting me keep it, but…
You’d like to not suck at it.
Thank you, yes. Did I ever tell you we both used to wish for powers when we were kids? We’d see the people on TV, the ones who are big enough to make the news, and pretend we could fly or conjure back extinct species.
You thought you were both normals?
Till I got my first crush, yeah. Turns out only Clare was so lucky.
You never know. My cousin discovered last year that he’s capable of drawing perfect circles. Tell Clare she might have a perfectly useless power and just not know it.
She’ll be thrilled.
* * *
The next morning I arrived at work to an email from my sister, but it wasn’t about the vendor I’d disappeared on. She probably hadn’t decided how to move me around yet.
I’m looking to start bringing in a new lawyer for consults, she wrote instead. If you want input, let me know.
She’d included the shortlist of applicants.
These days everyone was on three thousand social media sites, with their corporate and personal headshots and stacks upon stacks of photos infinitely scrolling past their best textual efforts at wit or kindness. I could look up every one of those names and point Claire toward the ones I’d be most likely to manage eye contact with.
I buried my head against my hands. This was wrong. My sister — my boss — shouldn’t have to route her hiring practices around my libido.
I closed the list and opened up a reply.
It’s your call. If anything happens, I’ll figure it out. I hit “send” before I could rethink.
My eyes slipped toward the clock. It wasn’t even nine-thirty and I already wanted to be done with today. I could take my break early, I decided.
I pinged Yang.
Hey. You around?
For you I’m always around. What’s up?
Typing out my agitation soothed me. Nothing ever seemed like such a big deal once I told Yang about it.
If the new person is hot, just tell ’em you have random invisibility, Yang suggested. Nobody’s business. It sounds like they won’t be around the office all the time anyway, and if you need to communicate, email is totally a thing.
You’re right. I felt like I could take a deep breath again.
I’m always right.
I couldn’t help smiling. In that case, maybe you can tell me how to fix my biggest problem.
What’s that?
Clearly I will NEVER be able to lose my virginity.
Overrated, in my opinion, Yang answered merrily. But hey, if you’re so worried about it, I’ll take your virginity right now.
Ha, ha. I wish.
I will. I’m sneaking up and stealing it. My hand is snaking around your shoulder…
I blinked at my own hand. For a moment I’d seen the keys through it.
My eyes shot to my office door. Closed. Quiet. Nobody around.
The beep of the chat box brought me back to the conversation. Aaaa hahahaha got it! Yang crowed. How much does an unused virginity go for on the black market?
As opposed to a used one? I typed slowly. Automatically.
Come on, is it worth more or less than a soul?
In chat, it was easy to sound lighter than I felt. Supply and demand, my friend. Everyone’s got a soul to sell.
Great! I’m writing up the eBay ad now. “One virginity, slightly used, suitable for men, women, or folk who lie elsewhere on the gender continuum. Truly a versatile piece of merchandise.”
My mouth quirked. Shut up.
You know you love me.
Sure, assface.
<3
Something from a few lines back caught my eye. Wait a second. Slightly used???
I couldn’t resist dipping
a finger in. ;)
This time I definitely wasn’t imagining it. My hands had faded until they were rippling distortions over the keyboard.
Gotta get back to work, I touch-typed with stiff fingers.
* * *
Other than Yang, Clare was still my closest confidante. As exasperated as she could get with me, playing the roles of both big sister and boss as she did, she never failed to be an ear when I needed one.
I told her I wanted to get together and talk, and we met at the park a block away from my apartment. I glanced at the baseball fields as I passed. I’d played on a rec softball team here until the league ruled that my power interfered too much with gameplay — and after they’d let a guy with four arms stay on the team, too.
Clare and I found each other by the playground. Kids were always safe, but I didn’t turn to look toward where the parents were sitting, just in case.
“Let’s walk,” I said, and we started down a path that wound through the less-populated areas on the far side of the park. I’d only have to worry about flickering in and out if an attractive jogger passed.
The day had the sort of rare perfect weather that’s exactly the right temperature, with a breeze that stirred against our skin but didn’t chill us. Children laughed and shouted in the distance behind us, and the park’s stately trees provided a shady canopy above.
“I’m sorry about the meeting the other day,” I said to Clare.
“It’s okay. We’ll move you to the Ferdinand account instead.” She didn’t sound annoyed, but she sighed a little.
Story of my life.
“How are you doing, Lila?” Clare said. “I can’t help but worry. Are you seeing your therapist still?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” she said, as if therapists were magic.
We walked in silence for a minute. I knew what I wanted to talk about, but how to start?
“I think I’m falling in love with Yang,” I blurted. Even in my own head, I hadn’t said it in those words yet.
Clare gave me a blank look. “Who’s that?”
“You know! Yangzi26. My friend from the RPG forums that I talk to literally all the time.”
Her face knitted, like she was trying to figure out the meaning in what I was saying. “But you’ve never met her, have you?”
“What makes you think Yang’s a her?”
“Oh! I don’t know. I guess I just assumed for some reason. He’s a guy?”
“I dunno.”
Her face cleared. “Sure, right! What’s that newfangled term? Nonbinary?”
“It’s not new, and no, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know. Yang could be any gender. They’ve never told me.”
“Why not?”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and kicked at the path. I was already regretting having started this conversation. “They’re a private person, that’s all.”
“And you say you’re…” The concerned frown was back. “Lila, you don’t… you’ve never met this person, you don’t know what they look like, or even what gender they are… that’s not private; it’s basic. God knows I want to see you have a chance at something — it might be a good idea for you to explore meeting people online as a first step, and maybe we can start looking into that. But take it from me on this: you can’t build a relationship without knowing a person.”
“We know each other,” I said.
“Do you even know this person’s real name?”
I kicked the path again.
“Lila…”
“We know the important things,” I said. “I know who Yang is. They know who I am. Shouldn’t that be all that matters?”
She didn’t answer. We walked on. The sun speckled the path through the trees.
“Are you looking for advice on this?” Clare asked. “Because it seems like you’ve already made up your mind.”
I had. I just hadn’t realized it.
* * *
And he turned red as soon as we walked in. No, more like magenta. FUCHSIA.
I take it that’s bad? I asked. The manager of Yang’s band had skin that changed colors like it was a mood ring.
Oh, yes, fuchsia is definitely bad. Of course it’s bad. How could it not be bad! FUCHSIA is way too hard to spell for anything good.
True. I was having trouble concentrating on the story.
Fuschia. Fushcia. Fuschksher. Fucksha, Yang mused.
So what did your manager say? I tried.
Ordered me to make sure our bass player and frontman don’t break up. As if I have any power over their messed-up relationship.
What happens if they do? Do you lose the band?
Maybe.
I was pulled out of my stewing. I’m so sorry, I typed, sincerely.
I dunno. I’ve been thinking lately. I don’t know if I want the career side of music anyway. We barely make a dime and the industry sucks, plus I actually like my day job.
You can always play no matter what, right? I said.
I suppose. Hey, is everything okay?
I blinked. It wasn’t the first time. Somehow Yang could always tell from my typing when something was wrong.
I need to tell you something, I wrote, then deleted it. Everything’s okay but I was wondering… Delete. I talked to my sister the other day and… No, definitely not.
I stabbed the backspace key. My finger was translucent.
Yang waited. I imagined them watching the little popup icon that showed I was typing. Typing and deleting.
I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I finally wrote, and pressed Enter.
Impossible, came the instantaneous response. I’m way too much of a sleazeball.
I can’t see my hands. I forced myself to send it. I spread my fingers against the home keys, feeling the edges with my nails. Right now. I can’t. Talking to you.
Silence. Not even the icon to show Yang was hitting backspace.
It doesn’t have to mean anything, I wrote. I just thought you should know.
Of course it means something.
Emotion hiccupped up my windpipe. Something, Yang said. But what?
No typing on the other end. No movement. I stayed riveted on the chat box.
Should I ask? Wait?
My stomach was flipping over itself. My torso had faded out almost completely now, leaving my senses disembodied over an empty chair.
Would you want to meet? Yang asked.
I was having trouble breathing. You wouldn’t be able to see me.
Who cares? That’s not the problem. Anyone who can’t get around that is lacking creativity.
I curled my fingers against my palms, invisible fingers pressing invisible palms. Nobody had ever said something like that to me before. People in my life tolerated my disappearing, but nobody ever spoke as if it wasn’t a problem.
Nobody.
It’s just, Yang started. I’m not good in person. I’m not comfortable.
I know, I said, because I did.
I’m not me.
My keyboard felt fragile, as if I had to tap carefully to keep from shattering it. It’s okay, I typed, then added: I mean anything. Is okay.
Another pause. Then a flood of words appeared. Of course I love you. I’ve loved you for like three years now. But is this really what you want? I didn’t think you had computer-screen-o-philia.
I have you-philia, I wrote, the words flowing much faster now. Whichever way this works, it works. I don’t need anything from you that you don’t want to give me.
You’re very sexy, you know that?
I’m told I’m a beast. Some sort of storm was stirring in my chest, but a good one, like a summer thunderstorm that was about to make everything smell fresh. My disappeared skin had gone hypersensitive, every brush of fabric and press of my own fingers a caress.
So what happens now? I asked. The thunderstorm expanded, to my limbs, to my brain — a delirious, roaring joy.
Now I straddle you and make out with your face, Yang said. We’ll invent a
few new sexual techniques along the way.
* * *
Dammit, Yang wrote, three hours and many chat lines later.
What’s wrong? I pecked the words out on my tablet with a finger, with questionable capitalization and several typos. I didn’t feel like moving. The transparent length of me was draped across my armchair, every muscle liquid and languid.
I just remembered, Yang answered. This virginity I was keeping to sell. It’s all devalued and useless now.
I smiled with a mouth nobody could see.
* * *
The best weekend of my life ended with the wet blanket of a Monday morning. I knew Clare was worried about the new legal consultant because she pulled me aside and told me so.
“We’re just trying him out,” she said, her voice fast and tight. “So if it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. You’ll tell me, right?”
“It’s not your job to —”
She gave her little patented “dispensation for Lila” sigh. “It is what it is, right? We’ll work with it. He’ll only come in when we need him, so he won’t be around a whole lot. And he’s by far the best candidate, or I wouldn’t have…” Her cheeks colored slightly.
Apparently the new lawyer was so handsome even the ultra-professional Clare couldn’t help but notice. Welcome to my world… If only invisibility were as socially acceptable as blushing.
But today I didn’t feel resigned about it. Or mopey. I was almost… cheerful.
Optimistic.
“Clare. Don’t worry about it. I told you I’d figure it out, and I will.”
“Okay,” Clare said. “Good.” She ran her eyes up and down, giving me a once-over. “You look different today.”
“I do?”
“Good. You look good.” She flashed me a smile.
“I am good,” I said.
I almost told Clare about Yang and me then, but I pictured her worried frown from the park. I didn’t want to navigate concerned inquiries right now — I wanted to live in my fizzy little bubble of happiness for just a little while longer.
With Yang in my life, I could conquer anything. Even attractive lawyers.
* * *
I bumped into the new legal consultant on the way back from a run to the copier. By which I mean I literally bumped into him, full frontal. I lost my papers; he sloshed his coffee. Like something out of a romantic comedy.
It Gets Even Better Page 4