“You came back,” Kapec said.
“Barren Cove is mine now.”
“Master Beachstone has been sick.”
“Master Beachstone?”
“You came back,” Kapec said.
To have such simple thoughts must make life so much easier. To have such simple tasks. “Where is everybody?”
“In the back. Mary has cared for Master Beachstone through his sickness. She is always with Master Beachstone.”
Perhaps it had been a mistake to go away. Kent had hoped that it was his father’s weakness that made the human seem important, but if now that Father was gone Mary was serving him, and Kapec too, then Kent had indeed been away too long. He wouldn’t wait to put that right. He started to dismount.
“Please don’t leave that here, sir. I’m mowing the lawn.”
Kent rolled the motorcycle alongside him and left it at the foot of the stairs to the porch. He messaged Dean as he mounted the stairs. “Where are Mary and Beachstone?”
“Welcome back, sir.”
There was something grander about the house now that it was his. Barren Cove seemed to loom over him, so large, so Victorian, so different from the city. “Where are they?” he said out loud in the foyer.
“They are in the back. I’m sure Mary will be so happy to see you.”
“I’m sure she will,” Kent said. He continued through the house but stopped just inside the kitchen. “What did they do with Father?”
“They buried him, sir. Near Master Vandley.”
What else did he expect? Father would have wanted it that way. He had decided to deactivate, after all. Kent crossed the kitchen and looked out the window onto the backyard. Two figures sat at the edge of the cliff, framed by the sky ahead of them. Mary, even from behind, looked unchanged. She wore a dress that he didn’t recognize—yellow with a red paisley design—but otherwise, it was his sister. Beachstone, because the figure beside her could only be Beachstone, had changed considerably. He was taller than Mary now, but skinny, the shirt he wore tenting around his body, not even finding it when the wind blew. Kent was amazed, despite himself, and he had a moment of regret for having stayed away for so many years, missing a chance to watch this boy grow. This man grow. “I thought Beachstone had been sick,” he said.
“He has,” Dean said. “But today is one of his better days.”
Kent almost messaged his sister, but then decided he would go to them in person. He went out through the back door and into the yard. It would be so easy to rush them and push Beachstone off the cliff. It would be over then. He had seen humans killed in worse ways. In the end, it didn’t matter to the humans one way or another. Instead, he called when he was only halfway across the yard. “Mary.”
She turned and her smile was instantaneous. She pulled herself up from the cliff edge and ran to Kent. She hugged him, something she had never done before, something he didn’t think he had seen any robot ever do before. His arms remained at his sides, but he was surprised to find that he was relieved by the greeting. “You’ve missed Father,” Mary said when she stepped back.
“I know. That’s why I came back.” He looked down at Beachstone.
“Kent,” Beachstone said.
“Beachstone. You’ve changed.”
“You haven’t.” Beachstone began to cough, little more than clearing his throat at first, but then the fit began to rack his body, and he heaved, folding at the waist. Mary dropped down behind him and put her arms around him, holding his chest and collarbone. “Breathe,” she said. “Breathe.” But Beachstone’s breathing didn’t sound much better than wheezing, a strain between coughs.
“Mary, leave him be,” Kent said.
She looked back at him. “He’s sick.”
“So what do you hope to do by holding him like that?”
The coughing eased. Beachstone looked up at Kent through wet eyes, but he was still focused on evening his breath. “You’ve been gone a long time,” Mary said.
Kent reached down and grabbed her arm. “That’s right,” he said, pulling her up. She gave at first, unprepared for the sudden violence, but then she braced herself. As always, they were evenly matched.
“Let go,” Mary said.
“Come with me,” Kent said.
Beachstone wiggled out from behind Mary. He had to push himself farther over the edge, his legs dangling, before he was able to climb back up to solid ground. The ocean churned below, its rush and crash endless. “You’ll want to let go,” Beachstone said, standing.
Kent saw that the human was taller than he now as well. The white scar that Kent had given him still stood out on his tanned leg. But he was skeletal; there could be no force there. Still, Kent let go of his sister. She went to Beachstone’s side immediately, putting her arms around his waist. He put an arm around her shoulders as if he had been the one protecting her. Protecting her! I’m her brother, Kent thought. “What’s been going on here?”
“Life,” Beachstone said. “Just like everywhere else.”
“I came back to run Barren Cove.”
“Kapec and Dean do a pretty good job,” Beachstone said. A gust of wind blew Mary’s hair.
“I could kill you,” Kent said.
Beachstone didn’t say anything. Mary messaged, “Kent, please.”
Kent looked at the two of them, his sister, and—what had his father said?—his brother, huddled together like lovers. He turned his back on them and went into the house.
Upstairs he searched through the rooms. His had been left untouched. Beachstone’s and Mary’s rooms looked lived in. His father’s room, however, now appeared to be a workroom. The bed had been pushed into one of the corners, and a long wooden bench was set up along the far wall over which a pegboard hung lined with tools. Various wires, circuits, and spare parts littered the table. There was an old PC to one side, in addition to Dean’s panel. Some of the materials Kent recognized from his father’s old workroom, his own birthplace and the birthplace of his sister. He turned away from the room, as disgusted as he had been at his sister and Beachstone’s displays of affection. Why had he come back? Because it was his right to. It was his home. It was his.
12.
MARY DIDN’T HAVE to go to Mr. Brown’s just yet. Beachstone had taken ill again that week, spent most of his time asleep, and so the food supply was fine, but she was determined to continue her usual routine, if for no other reason than to show Kent what that routine was and that she valued it. And so, when Tuesday came, five days after Kent’s return, Mary set out for town by foot as she always did, leaving Dean to watch over Beachstone.
The weather was beautiful, although the sky was a bit cloudy, and each time a cloud passed in front of the sun, Mary would look up, suddenly concerned that it was going to rain even though the barometer hadn’t changed. Each time she found no sign of rain. She worried about leaving Kent and Beachstone alone. She remembered the way they had tortured each other growing up, and the time apart didn’t seem to have changed their dispositions. But they would have to learn to live together. That was what Father had wanted. He had never forgiven Kent for leaving.
When Mary had left the house just now, Beachstone had been sequestered in his workroom, poring over the electronics texts that he had been studying for years. Kent needed to find a hobby as well. Maybe he could collect something. She would talk to him about it.
The wind blew off the ocean, carrying the sound of voices. Mary stepped to the edge of the path and looked down at the beach. Two naked human boys ran toward the water, and then as the waves came in, they screamed and ran away again. She watched them as they did the same thing once, then twice, then again. She scanned the beach for any sign of adult humans or robots. They must be children from town. She had never seen any children when she went to town, but there was nowhere else they could have come from. The sight gladdened her. She would go down to them. S
he turned, climbed over the cliff edge, and began scaling the cliff. The wind came in strong off the ocean, and she worried that she would tear her dress as she climbed.
The boys noticed her when she was still climbing, and they were standing not far from the base of the cliff when she came down. They both had their hands behind their backs. Mary found her eyes drawn to the little nubs of flesh sticking out from between their legs. “Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” one of them said. “You want to play with us?”
“My dress will get wet,” she said.
“You’d have to take it off,” the other boy said.
She wanted to very much just then. When was the last time she had jumped waves? She lived right at the ocean, they had the cabana on the beach, and yet, with Beachstone always sick, Mary hadn’t actually been to the beach in . . . could it be years? She had time enough, she figured. “Okay,” she said, peeling her dress over her head.
One of the boys giggled, and they both ran away as she dropped the dress onto the beach. She ran after them. Her hair blew out behind her. The first shock of water felt good. While the two boys ran away from the wave, Mary plunged into it, her nakedness soon hidden by the water. They seemed to like her again then.
“You’re pretty,” one of them said, standing in the shallows.
Mary was reminded of another human boy who had said something like that, and she was all at once ashamed that she had allowed herself to be deterred from her chore. “Thank you,” she said. “Do you live in town?”
They both nodded.
“I’m going to town to get some food,” she said.
“But you’re a robot,” one of them said.
“For a friend,” she said.
The boys squatted. The water washed over the three of them, buoying up the boys while Mary’s feet stayed on the ground. Another small wave came in, and one of the boys got some water in his mouth. He sputtered and then kept spitting, trying to free his mouth of the taste of salt.
“Do your parents let you get this far from town?” Mary said.
“We’re here, aren’t we?” one of the boys said.
“What are your names?”
“John,” the one who thought she was pretty said.
“Martin,” the other said.
The buzzing sound of an engine reached them from above the cliff. Mary zoomed in and could see Kent’s yellow motorcycle skirting along the road up above. Her first instinct was to duck below the water’s surface, to hide, but instead she stood up and started toward the beach.
“Where are you going?” John said.
“My friend’s waiting for me,” she said.
“We’re your friends,” Martin said, and the two boys followed her as she went back to her dress, which had blown closer to the cliff.
She turned to face them. John looked down. Martin giggled. “Yes, you are, but I’ve got to go,” she said. She watched them both. “I had fun.”
“Are you going to climb the cliff?”
Mary looked up. Kent had already passed where they stood. She hoped he hadn’t gone after her. He’d get to town ahead of her and wonder why he hadn’t passed her on the road. She could say that she had walked along the beach. “You can watch me,” Mary said, pulling her dress onto her wet body. She turned to the wall and started climbing. She felt the boys’ eyes on her, but when she got to the top of the cliff, she was surprised to find that they had already returned to the water, resuming their screaming match with the ocean, running with the waves. She was disappointed.
She turned toward the town. She zoomed to find Kent, but even at maximum magnification he was little more than a speck on the road. She hurried now. She tried to understand why she was so worried. He was her brother. They had had years together when they were inseparable, his silly experiments, exploring the grounds together, playing tricks on their father. But somehow he had changed. He had left because he was jealous of Beachstone. He had left angry. And he’d returned the same way. It hadn’t been Father that he had been angry with, so why was he surprised that Father’s disconnection hadn’t proved a solution for him? She hardly recognized him anymore.
A robot couple laughed on the road ahead of her. She was near town now. She didn’t recognize them, but then, she didn’t know many people from town. Barren Cove was a world in itself. The couple held hands. As they approached Mary, they smiled at her pleasantly, friendly smiles different from the smiles they had been sharing, and didn’t make eye contact.
Mary had the sudden feeling that she had changed too. She tried to understand what was different, running back through her memory, but it was merely made up of what she had learned and experienced, part of her, something she couldn’t separate from her self: a caring, loyal daughter—the thousands of little tasks to support her father even up to his deactivation—a matron running a household in her brother’s absence, a selfless caregiver, acts of love accruing—comprehending a hug, a kiss, a—Yes, she knew she must be different, because it was the only logical answer. Seeing her brother changed was like seeing herself. She had to reassess her data.
She turned to look at the couple behind her. As she watched, they ducked off the path and into the woods. In Barren Cove, she never lacked for privacy. There were Dean and Kapec, but they were just Dean and Kapec. Still, maybe Kent had been right to go away for a while. She wondered what the city was like. There were millions of robots there. She thought that could be frightening. Anyway, Beachstone needed her.
She entered town. She could tell that there was something unusual happening right away. There were more people on the street than usual, all laughing. Mr. Brown’s store was in the same direction that the people were walking, and so she joined the crowd.
“Did you bring the present?” she heard a man say.
“I’ve got it right here, now relax.”
“It’s such a beautiful day.”
“That’s why they picked it.”
Mary didn’t know what the people were talking about. There was some kind of celebration going on, she knew. She was worried all of a sudden that Mr. Brown’s would be closed, and that she wouldn’t be able to get her groceries after all. But the crowd seemed composed solely of robots. There were fewer and fewer humans left, anyway. The boys, John and Martin, hadn’t seemed concerned that they were missing any kind of festivity. No, Mr. Brown’s would still be open. She could see the fountain at the center of town now. People were coming from other directions as well, and filing down Merchant Street.
“It’s always exciting, isn’t it?” a man said next to her.
Mary turned to see a stranger matching step with her, waiting for her response. “What is?” she said.
“A birth,” he said. “The town celebrates like it has never happened before.”
Mary could see a house down Merchant Street with balloons outside. Most of the crowd seemed to be milling around the front yard. Mr. Brown’s, across the town center, had its door open. Mary looked for a chance to slip away; she didn’t want to be pulled into anything.
“I didn’t think I recognized you,” the man said. “I can show you around if you want.” His smile was so self-assured. “Such a pretty lady.”
“No,” Mary said, trying to cut her way through the crowd. “I’ve really got to go.” She cut away from the man, ducking behind a family, and then she was out of the flow of traffic. Standing by the fountain, she could see that there weren’t really that many people, that she had just been overwhelmed. She wasn’t used to such crowds. She started across the square to Mr. Brown’s.
“Ah, Mary,” Mr. Brown said from behind the counter, looking up from the transistor television he had been watching. The store was empty, the lights off. “A lot of excitement out there today,” Mr. Brown said, getting up and bringing a large brown paper bag up from under the counter. “Your usual.”
“I didn’t know,” Mary
said.
“The Internals. Their parents were RK-73s, but robots are taking their own surnames now. It’s the young couple’s first baby.”
“Oh.”
“How’s Mr. Beachstone?”
“Today’s a good day,” Mary said.
“Good. Good,” he said, his eyes already back on the television.
“’Bye, then,” Mary said, backing out of the store.
“I’ll see you next week.” Mr. Brown had resumed his position in front of the television. There wasn’t much business here. She wondered what she would do if he had to close his shop, or if he left to go to the city. It was supposed to be even harder for humans in the cities, she knew, but at least there were more of them. They could tend to their biological needs.
The square was mostly empty outside. Mary swung the grocery bag at her side, delighting in its weight—the same as every week—and the movement of her arm. It was a beautiful day, she thought. She looked in the direction of Merchant Street. Maybe she would go and see. She wasn’t in any hurry. She started across the square and down the road. The crowd spread out in density from the house with the balloons, what must have been the Internals’ house. As she approached, she saw that two folding tables had been set up on the edge of the lawn. One was filled with gifts and the other with numbers. It must have been expensive to have an open bar like that. Mary passed the tables, getting jostled on each side.
She felt uncomfortable at once. It had been a mistake to come. She didn’t know these people. She didn’t want to know these people. They were all talking. She caught stray group messages as well. She looked around suddenly afraid that the man who had talked to her in the square would find her and try to talk to her again. He had said she was pretty. Was she pretty? She realized only humans had told her that before.
People kept knocking against her bag. She was worried about the eggs. She brought the bag up to her chest and held it in her arms. Near the front stoop she saw three robots, two men and a woman, shaking people’s hands. “Thank you, thank you so much,” the man was saying. “It was time,” the woman said to a group of women in front of her. They must be the Internals, she thought. Their son looked like a blend of the two of them. They were very good designers to have managed that. He was talking to a woman who must have been fairly drunk, because she put her hand out to balance herself several times, touching his shoulder, his chest, his arm. “I think my parents plan to show me around, but thank you,” he was saying.
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