Metallic Love

by Tanith Lee

  I picture Vera and Dizz out in the dusk, saying for a couple of nights, “Wonder where Lor is?” And then thinking maybe they shouldn't ask that, and discussing other things. Have they ever seen the robots? They must have. But it's never talked about. If you didn't know, you'd think META is just one more big, secretive, faintly government-affiliated organization, dealing with the duller end of espionage or minor foreign policy.

  One thing, if I vanish, they'll miss that half-bottle of wine every night. So I'll have left an impression, after all.

  • 2 •

  “I said something might change, didn't I?”

  Her hair was twisted up and up in a plaited tower, with large silver sequins threaded through. She wore a long silver dress, and it was hard to be sure where the material finished and her skin began. But the dress had almost definitely been formed from her skin, and it wasn't skin, anyway. Her eyes were that blue-green, emerald over lapis lazuli.

  Like my dumb daydream, I'd come round a corner—and found her. Glaya. Standing there, waiting.

  “What?” I said.

  “Your circumstances have changed, haven't they? Not your sexual inclinations. I'm aware they are constant. Would you like to see him?” My heart had stopped on finding her. Now it leaped forward and I couldn't speak. “Mmm,” she said, “I see you would.”

  “But—” I said.

  “If you're with me, you can go anywhere I take you. Plus they are having a meeting, the people who might want to get in your way. Today's a drill day. They have drills here, for the humans—like the military. Emergency drills. Computer crash drills. Forget all that. Come with me.”

  It was true, I hadn't seen anyone on this sunrise walk. I'd thought the complex was still asleep. Did META really drag staff off for drills one hour after the sun was up?

  Going with her remained an uneasy experience. Her grace as she moved was almost supernatural. No, what a pathetic thing to say—of course it was supernatural. The color of her hair—it's a shade lighter than I've ever seen his—more flamelike, yet intense. You want to sink your teeth in that color. With him I have.

  “The bare trees,” she said, as we went under a clump of them. “Do the leaves come back?”

  Startled, I said, “Yes—in spring.”

  “My program tells me so, but I'm not sure I credit that. How can they? They've all fallen out.”

  She is a terrifying Olympian child, dissatisfied with the mortal Earth that drops foliage in fall and turns cold. More than that, though. She has no true memories of before. Silver, who is Verlis now, would know about autumn.

  I recollected how she'd asked me questions regally, yet charmingly, when she and Irisa made me Cinderella for the concert.

  Was she still trying to put me at my ease? Would this work with others?

  I could not make myself demand of her, “Did Sheena kill that man Sharffe?” Or anything else. All I could think of—

  This appalling thunder in my blood. Fear, distaste, confusion—irrelevant. I'd have run all the way over broken knives to reach him. I was his slave. We are all their slaves. Why fight it?

  “What happened to Jane?” I managed, as Glaya led me through a kind of gulley between two of the taller blocks.

  “Jane's fine. Don't worry. She isn't with him.”

  I felt shame and anger. Glaya assumed that was my sole priority in asking. Was it?

  “You see,” said Glaya, “I'm puzzled by the pine trees. They don't shed, do they?”

  “I don't know. Maybe.”

  “But they still have their needles.”

  “Yes.”

  We stepped on a ramp. It started to move, noiseless and quite fast, and took us down under the ground.

  “Poor little Loren,” said Glaya. She smiled back at me. “Everything's going to be nice for you.”

  We were in a hygienic underpass with mild clear lighting, and lined by elevators.

  “Here,” she said.

  In the elevator I was only two feet from her. I could smell her perfume, and her faked yet convincingly clean human scent of pheromones and physical allure.

  Once she reached out and stroked my hair—maternally. I shied away before I could prevent it.

  “Don't be nervous,” she said, a princess reassuring a jittery dog. “He really wants to see you.”

  “Why do you always say he? Do you mean Verlis? So why not Verlis?”

  “There's only one Verlis,” she said.

  He's their leader. I've understood that. If from nothing else, from the dream-that-wasn't that morning, when he told Goldhawk to back off. Verlis is their lord. There is no lord but Verlis.

  The elevator had reached somewhere and we got out. A well-lighted corridor. I didn't need to question her about this. No one could get so far into this block unless they had a chip of the highest order, or one of the machines brought them.

  And she's a machine. They all are. But only he is the twice-born. That's why he's king.

  “Glaya,” I said.

  She halted and looked sidelong at me. She had changed her eyeshadow as we walked, gold to plum. Aside from demonstration or crime, their bodily changes might be their hobbies, what they did when they got bored.

  “Yes, Loren.”

  “What is it you want? I mean, the eight of you?”

  “Not out here,” she said. She smiled her beautiful smile. “He'll tell you. Do you see that wall? Touch it and it will open. No, I shan't do it. It's only for you.”

  I stared. “I'm not chipped.”

  “Aren't you?” Sly and coquettish, she turned again and slunk mellifluously away.

  My mind somersaulted, but I knew he would be behind the wall, and in that moment I felt a burning violence, not all of it sex, and very little of it love. Then I put my hand on the wall. META had gotten something into my clothing. A chip.

  The wall unwove. Beyond, it was dark night and open air—I could see the sky, and it was a sky of night, the stars glitter-powdered all over, and even the Asteroid high up, dim as a bluish steam. There were summery trees in full leaf. You could smell the fragrance of shrubs as a cool breeze fluttered through the artificial night.

  It seemed to go on for miles. I could make out hills in the distance, blacker on starry sky.

  “Do you like it?” someone said.

  “A robot garden.”

  “You disapprove.”

  “What do you expect,” I said, “after all this mess.”

  “Come here,” he softly said. “That's what I expect.”

  I couldn't even see where he was, but I went forward into the shadows. He was by a tree; it seemed real, but then, so did he. His arms folded round me and drew me in, and I wasn't alarmed, I didn't struggle, not with him. As my body met his, I became healed and whole, and nothing else in the entire universe mattered.

  “I've missed you,” he said presently, lifting his head. “My lioness, claws and suppleness.”

  “Yes,” I mumbled, “your pet.”

  “My lover,” he said. “Ssh.” He put his mouth again on mine. The stars cascaded, the world turned over. But I was held delirious and soaring against him. And only in my brain's back, the ticking time bomb of thought.

  I've made love in the open air, of course. Now it was in an enclosure that seemed to be open air. I couldn't even see him, not fully. Was this union what it had been before? How could it be? It was ecstasy, but not that act I can only write as——. Nevertheless.

  At the end, I heard him make a stifled sound against my breast. But I'd already been well aware Verlis came. Oh, yes.

  It was like short thick grass under us. The Asteroid hadn't moved, nor any of the stars. We got up, and he said, “We go in there, do you see, that doorway in the wall?” The doorway was in the night. We went through the door and into a daylit room, not very large.

  “Loren, sit down. I have to tell you now what will happen next.”

  “One of your team will kill me.”

  No. Sex hadn't made me approving, either. Separated from hi
s unflesh, the rage was rising in me, and the terror.

  “Their more savage instincts are correctable,” he said. “And anyway, all that has nothing to do with your safety.”

  “Goldhawk—Kix—Sheena—?”

  “I still ask you to trust me. Can you try, Loren?”

  “You mean, ‘practice,' and I might eventually get it right?”

  My vision had adjusted. He, too, wore silver, darker than his skin. His hair, which I had seized in my hands, which had stroked my body, was almost the shade of mahogany. He looked grave and composed. His eyes were nearly red, that color between resin and fire.

  “Tonight,” he said, “things will alter. No, no one can hear us. Anyone monitoring me sees me alone, and speechless.”

  “Then where do they see me?”

  “They're not tracking you very seriously. They underestimate you, despite your many talents. But there is a tiny chip in your cuff. It's one of several left in the clothes they had ready for you here. I know you checked them. Shall I say, no human, unaided, could locate this sort of stuff. You would need, or need to be, a fully primed machine. They're less than the size of a pinhead. However, you've prowled round the complex enough times, the tape is showing them a resumé compilation of six of your walks. Yes. I've sometimes watched you, too. Didn't you ever feel my eyes blazing down on you from the sky?”

  I sat rigid. I said, “What will happen tonight?”

  “For one thing, Jane's mother is due to arrive.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yes. Despite her barracuda grip on the company, no one has ever seen her at META. Apparently, she's abruptly become interested. Jane's here. There's the connection. This woman has always liked to play puppet-master with Jane. Perhaps Demeta never had a doll when she was young.”

  “Where is Jane?”

  “In her suite, or the hospitality gardens. They've merely blocked your calls to her. Tirso attempted to call Clovis on the Hatfield line. They interrupted the circuit there, too.”

  “What are they—META—what are they doing?”

  “Trying to retain control. It doesn't matter about that.”

  “Because you and the—team—”

  “We are in control. And tonight, we finalize it. At least, the first stage. I need you to know this, Loren. I want you with me. It's that . . . banal. But if you can't stand the thought, then you'll be able to leave. Once this evening's over.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Wait and see.”

  I could only see him. Inside myself the robotic fish of my fears and doubts swam in circles, beating themselves against my angry mind. Uselessly.

  “Do I believe you,” I said bleakly, “when you say I'll be able to leave you, if I decide that?”

  He came towards me and lifted me up from the chair. “No,” said Verlis, the silver metal lover, holding me with his hands and his gaze, “don't believe me. The meaningful phrase was I want you.”

  • 3 •

  There was an evening gown in my room when I went back. It was the gown from Russia, complete with the shoes and amber bracelets.

  A card lay on the bed. Gold lettering, some kind of built-in light effect that spangled the words. It was in the Hatfield Block. One more party, this time for the select few, and at which the director and First Unit staff would be present, and to which the founder of META would pay a surprise visit. And that, presumably, was her.

  Mother, do you realize you're rich enough to buy the City Senate? So . . . I can safely publish this manuscript.

  Perhaps you'd like to tell me what the manuscript contains?

  Had I felt disappointment, horror, or sadness when Jane told me, “I think I still somehow wanted her approval . . . after everything I'd learned, all he showed me—I still made that bloody stupid mistake.” I don't know what I felt, but it had to be a pity that she did.

  Yes, even after I'd been with him today, in all the closest and most intimate ways, until this very afternoon, some crouching part of me still thought that: a pity. Surely only God can bring back the dead. And when the Devil tries it—

  No one came to make me up. So I did that myself, in the normal facile way. The dress had been cleaned, though, and impregnated with some smoky scent. The costly bangles I left in the room.

  Vera and Dizzy and the usual pack were out in the yard, drinking their nightly rations. The girls hadn't realized, of course, I wouldn't be at dinner, sharing my half wine bottle with them. But they just gaped at me, like one or two others round the fountain.

  “Oh, Loren, are you going to Hatfield?”

  I smiled and said not a word.

  And Dizz dug Vera in the ribs, “That's Lor's business.”

  “Sorry, Lor,” said Vera. But then she smirked and added, “Have a great time. Give my best love to B.C.”

  “Shut up!” sizzled Dizz.

  Vera shrugged. (Has she had—tried out—Black Chess?)

  The guys by the archway parted respectfully to let me through. I was a valued employee, indeed, if I was going to Hatfield tonight. Maybe I might be worth dating, after all. . . .

  As I walked over the “campus” in the cold clear twilight, past the inaccessible buildings and lots and underground areas marked by High Security: First Unit Only notices, I didn't ask myself why I was going. He'd told me to. And although META had sent the invitation, the summons was from him. You can't easily refuse a reigning king.

  But I'm not being straight with you, am I? I'm not saying what I felt. And in this case, it wasn't that I didn't know.

  “I want you,” he'd said.

  I want you.

  A man cornered me the moment I rode in on the moving stair. Probably he was looking out for me, as others of his tribe were looking out for others of mine.

  “You're Loren, right? Oh, that's good. Let me escort you in. What a fabulous dress, absolutely Now.” He was young and highly M-B, rather a relief, until he said, “You knew poor old Sharffe, didn't you? Jesus, what a rotten deal. That darn car of his. I wouldn't have trusted it. You know the mech report showed he'd actually tried to switch to auto—but it just hadn't kicked in. That saved the corporation having to pick up the Senate fine, though. Hope I'm not upsetting you?”

  “No.”

  “You barely knew him. Did you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Poor old Sharffe.”

  Poor old Sharffe, I thought, with unliking bitterness. What had Sheena done to him? Cracked his ribs, dislocated his spine—injuries that might only look like they came from the crash she was about to engineer? Why had she killed him, anyway? Just petty annoyance, like swatting a fly?

  The lofty room was lit in quietly slow-moving rays of aqua and gold. Expensive food sat on tables, and there was the ubiquitous champagne. Not a sign of the team. Just humans, looking preened and joyful at their great jobs and the favoritism being shown them.

  “It's going to be an ultra display tonight,” said my M-B companion/guard, whose name was apparently Alizarin, like the paint. “You'll have heard, she's coming tonight.”

  “Who's that?” I ignorantly asked.

  “You don't know? Our founder and president. The Platinum Lady. That's the nickname some of us give her. She's quite something, though I've only seen her before over the phone vids. Supposed to be in her seventies—but she looks stunning, about forty, forty-six tops. One of the richest and cleverest women on the Eastern Seaboard, what we have left of it.”

  I said, cautious, “Isn't she—”

  “Jane's mother. That's right. Demeta,” he pondered simpering, and added a second name. It took me aback. Most people don't bother with two names anymore. If two get used, you know this person has unusual prestige, but hadn't I known that, anyway? Jane never put this second name, which is also hers, I assume, in her Book. Nor am I about to. See how honest I'm being. It's for your own good, really, and mine, if any good is left that I can recover. The name I've coined instead is “Draconian.” You won't get a single clue from that, except what I've
already said, her power and authority, her strategy, etc.

  “Madam Draconian,” went on chatty Al, at my side, “is due here in about ten minutes. It's exciting, she's traveling in on her private VLO. You know the SOTA VLO's—State Of The Art. In fact,” he led me towards long doors and out onto a wide, crowded, lamplit roof garden, “over there—you see the lighted landing pad on top of the library?—that's where she'll be putting down.”

  I tried to look impressed. I was cold, even in the warmly air-conditioned garden.

  “Is Jane here?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure. Jane's coming. I'd think she's over there, in the library block, waiting to greet Mom.”

  Mom. Well, I'd called her that.

  Al grabbed us two tall glass buckets of champagne. He squeezed my arm and whispered, “You're the one that tried out Verlis—am I correct?”

  Not all M-B guys are like this. Danny was M-B.

  I looked at Alizarin.

  He took my look as a coy mask for wanting to say everything. “Oh, go on, you can tell me. God what I'd give—he's supposed to be sensational. Yes? He and Black Chess, they are the top male lovers. Glaya, Irisa, and Sheena are the females.”

  He'd dismissed Copperfield. Maybe Copperfield had been designed solely with more masculine M-B's in mind? I'd thought they could all be all things to all persons. I said, “What about Goldhawk and Kix?”

  “Hey, which one of those do you fancy, then, Loren? Come on, own up.”

  “They both look like they'd be wonderful. That's the idea, isn't it?”

  “Well, true. But you know, those two really are more fighter models than lovers.”

  “I thought they each did everything, now.”

  “Well, they can. But the recent designs are more—how shall I say—focused.”

  Would Clovis, momentarily, have liked Alizarin? Al had thick black curly hair and dark gazelle eyes. But then, Clovis has blond Tirso now.

  I'd begun to feel incredibly nervous at the thought of Demeta, the Platinum Lady, landing right across the edge of the park, on the library roof.

  Above, the sky was almost as starry as the robot garden had been, and the moon was rising. No sign yet of the Asteroid. Then something big and droning, like a gigantic heavy black moth, came thumping out of the ether and blotted away the moon.