by Stephen Cote
Part 4: Confessions On The Terrace
Janus approached and stood beside Anastasia, resting both palms on a thick cement railing. "I’m sorry I said that."
"You meant it," she said, and dabbed glistening eyes. A few tear streaks marred her cheeks.
"Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit far? With the crying and storming out of the house? You’re a synthetic. Act properly."
She shook her head. "Synthetics are more than simulacrums of human emotion and physical traits. We've advanced to the point that the latest models are not far removed from human."
She cinched together her eyes and wept. "I must follow instructions. I have an owner and, by literal interpretation of law, I am a slave. But, my owner did not give me orders to act properly, nor do you have any authority to tell me so." She pushed him away and pointed at his chest. "You have neither the right or authority to treat me poorly."
"Look," he said, "I’m not used to dealing with this whole synthetics have emotions feature."
She turned her back to him. "Think of it in terms of humans are assholes."
"Synthetics are … soulless. And these parties," He spread his arms to encompass the back wall, "Are nothing but pretense. Like Priscilla’s synthetic." He tried to touch her shoulder, but she brushed his hand away.
"I didn't expect you to think so little of me."
"I meant – You're incomparable. I didn't know you were - this."
"Not knowing is no excuse." She peeked over her shoulder. "I wanted to help you, I asked to help you. The truth," she paused, "the truth is I knew of you."
He remained silent, not sure what to think of her admission.
"Your history with Priscilla," Anastasia continued, "and I know what is at stake tonight. I wanted to help you because I didn’t think anyone gave you a second chance."
"Pity?" he frowned and leaned against the rail. "My position is so bad that the synthetics pity me?"
"You're a fool," she said. "I did it because I am attracted to you."
"Pardon me?" he asked. "You were, pardon me?" Anastasia, unlike any synthetic he had met, remained a robot. No upgrade made her attraction natural. If anything, such attraction stood to be reviled. Shouldn't it?
She looked saddened, irritated. "I like you."
Awestruck, Janus said, "I’m not sure how you expect me to respond."
Anastasia held up her hands and looked over the garden. Most of the couples remained inside, and the moonlight cast lonely shadows alongside the few couples walking adjacent the expansive lawn. She folded her arms and leaned against the railing, her shoulders hunched together.
Taken by the natural pose, Janus removed his jacket and laid it across her back. Then he stammered, "I forgot. You looked cold."
She touched the lapel and then drew the garment over her goose-bumped arms. "Synthetics don’t feel cold," she said. "But the courtesy is appreciated."
Following a moment of silence, Janus began, "I don't understand," and added hastily, "If you don't mind my asking: Why would a synthetic be attracted to a human?"
"I can’t answer generally, only for myself. I told you I became attracted to you as I learned more about you. But, I don't know you personally; don't expect me to massage your ego with compliments to your character. I didn’t say I loved you."
"So," he said, "You’re just saying you … Like me. Nothing more."
She rolled her eyes, "Yes." She turned from the garden and faced him. "I’m still mad at you."
"In the car, you acted exactly like every other synthetic. Now, you’re not acting like a synthetic at all. Why the change?"
"Mr. Welch had me dress down so as to observe your reaction. If I didn’t act like a synthetic, you wouldn’t have thought of me as one. It is crucial for everyone in attendance to believe I am a synthetic, and that requires you to treat me as such."
He laughed. "You’re mad because I treated you like a synthetic, yet..."
"No," she said. "I didn’t say treat me badly. I wanted you to know I am a synthetic."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I like you," she said, her tone wavering with frustration. "I didn’t want you to think I am organic and feel deceived when you discovered otherwise."
Although less repulsed, she isn't in love with me, he found it difficult to identify Anastasia as a person. Hadn’t he selected her physical traits himself? Then, he smiled softly.
"You find this humorous?"
He shook his head. "No." He touched the collar seam of her semi-translucent gown. "I was thinking the woman you identified earlier in the near-nude dress seemed neither popular or attractive."
Anastasia sniffed and smirked.
"You must have a better fashion sense than I do. Would you feel more comfortable in a gown of your own choosing?"
"Perhaps."
He added, "I don’t know what you look like."
She raised an eyebrow, seemed to understand the statement, but remained quiet.
"What is your chosen physique? Did you … " he paused and groped for words.
"Ship with a default set?" She asked, her tone warmer and a hint of a smile crossing her lips. "No. But I do have preferred stock."
"Would you like to be yourself?"
"Why do you care?"
A cool wind brushed through his hair and, watching the strands flutter astray, he found words strung easily together to describe his feelings. "I didn’t mean to act like an asshole." His eyes were red and raw, and a tremble palsied his lips. "I’ve been a pariah this year. No one wanted to have anything to do with me. Mr. Welch and you have been the only people to say more than two words to me. Unexpectedly, Mr. Welch proposes a way out of this hell, and a synthetic," he paused, corrected himself, "And you not offer to help but manage to like me. I won’t pretend to know why you do because I have nothing left. If you noticed my reception inside, I have no friends left, either. If you like me, synthetic or not, I should be grateful and thankful for your generosity. I shouldn’t have stuck to my misconceptions."
Anastasia dabbed her eyes and then took his arm in hers. "I’d like to change now. We still need to solve your problem." She started to lead him into the house.
Janus balked and said, "I am sorry"
"I know," she said. "Are you still up to your challenge?"
"Would you think less of me if I wanted to go home?"
Momentarily, she looked hurt. "I would be disappointed."
"Then lets go."
"Where?"
"You wanted to change, didn’t you?"
Both human and synthetic walked hand-in-hand into the house.