.exe

  “But you see, my dear,” my father stroked his beard, staring Cadence straight in the face, “you, like many others, fail to understand the very nature of animanecrons. They are not life forms; they’re machines. Advanced machines to be sure, but machines nonetheless; they’re not alive in any sense.”

  Cadence kept her gaze steady, blinking little and moving even less. “If you define life forms as things that process thought, sensation, and interpret data from within and without themselves, and then act on such inputs in meaningful patterns, then all complex machines could be considered life forms.”

  Minerva coughed, the sound manufactured and hollow. Her gaze flicked between Cadence and my father, as if panicked, but the quivering around the edges of her mouth told me that she hoped her attempt to alert Cadence to her folly would fail. My father sipped his wine, shoulders tensing even as he jutted them upward, shaking his head.

  Cadence plowed onward. “Given that assumption, an entity who has displayed high-level problem-solving skills, logic chains in decision making, independent and inventive responses to stimuli, etcetera…Well, you might say that they are a life form comparable in intelligence to human beings; yes?”

  All eyes turned to my father, who sighed and leaned forward, his hands gripping both sides of the table. “What you are so stubbornly refusing to grasp, Miss Turing, is that machines do not think. They are incapable of thought, and certainly incapable of consciousness.” His knuckles tightened to white, volume rising with every exclamation. “They are programmed! Every response is pure mimicry! They have absolutely no mind whatsoever!”

  “One could say the same thing about you, sir.”

  I held onto the edge of the table to keep myself from leaping to my feet and kissing her. Everyone else in the room drew in a sharp breath, including my father, who blew himself up to the size of a large, angry balloon.

  A chuckle shattered the tension like a rock against a windowpane. We all turned as one body to see Solomon laughing again and louder, clapping his hands, a smile writhing on his lips like a rasher of bacon in a pan. “No, no, she’s exactly right! I see what you mean, Miss Turing. It’s all a matter of semantics, isn’t it? It all depends on your definition of intelligence and ‘personhood’.”

  “I suppose I just find it troubling that any civilized society would stand by on a technicality of birth and allow an entire world to be slaughtered for no reason.” Cadence shrugged, relaxing back into her chair with a shake of her head. “But, as I said, I understand very little of politics.”

  “It would seem you understand a great deal about philosophy, however.” Henry’s eyes brimmed with admiration.

  “A subject as useful to real life as winter wear in the summer.”

  “You’re too much of a scientist, Felix. Just like Solomon.” Minerva smiled at her husband, tucking a strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear. “Nothing’s worth anything until you can find a practical application for it.”

  My father neither confirmed nor denied this statement, but let it lie as it fell, ending the whole awkward conversation with alarming grace. Under normal circumstances he would have never walked away from an argument he thought he could win, his retreat adding to the mounting pile of evidence that something unusual was indeed afoot.

  Large slices of chocolate gateau and brimming cups of coffee made their way around the table, displeasure rolling off my father like fog, but silence holding sway. He waited until we were all on the verge of plunging into our deserts before tapping his fork against his wine glass and rising to his feet.

  “Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I wanted to say a few words. First, thank you all very much for coming tonight. It’s always such a pleasure to have my–” The muscles in his jaw rippled, his gaze boring into the top of Cadence’s head, “– my family and friends under one roof. I’ve known most of you all my life. You’ve helped me through my toughest times, shared my triumphs, and I care for you very deeply. I wanted you all to be the first to hear this important news.”

  He looked down at Desdemona and offered her his hand. She took it and stood, stepping in beside him as he continued to speak, a violent blush rushing over her face and neck. “The past few months have been some of the happiest of my life; ever since I met Desdemona. I can’t bear to think of my life without her and I can’t think of a single reason why I should have to face such a future.” He extended his arm with a flourish. “Desdemona and I are engaged! We’re getting married at the end of the month and, of course, all of you are invited!”

  The gentle hum of the incinerator in the kitchen next door was as loud as an AN-GRAV in the dead silence. I groped for the edge of the table and looked over to Henry who was doing the same, his mouth hanging open. Solomon clutched at his glass and Minerva held a steadying hand to her chest. Belinda and Dr. Merton, in a rare moment of camaraderie, shared a disbelieving stare from the corners of their eyes, and Victoria looked, as she often did when she was jealous, thoroughly disgusted.

  My father’s face began to harden. I choked on air, struggling to think of something, anything to say before it was too late. A sound like thunder made me jump, and I swiveled round to see Cadence smiling, applauding with vigor.

  The rest of the group tried to follow her example, one after the other stuttering out breathless congratulations. I could bring myself to do neither. My father’s words had nailed me to my seat. I tried to take in a deep breath. Henry’s hand closed around my own, anchoring me and allowing me time to gather up a mirthless smile.

  My father’s manservant glided into the dining room, oblivious to the stormy seas into which he was sailing, a large case in his outstretched hands.

  “Ah, there it is!” My father took the case from him with a wave. “Thank you, Bernard. After all, it would hardly be a wedding announcement without a betrothal necklace, would it?”

  He beamed and flicked open the case. A collective gasp pierced the air. Nestled against the dark velvet sat a multi-tiered necklace, the base and chain made from white gold and silver, with fistfuls of sapphires and blue diamonds dripping down from it like frozen rain. My father held the necklace up to the light, the gems’ facets refracting and amplifying every ray to its point of utmost perfection. He laid the necklace over Desdemona’s collarbone and kissed her cheek.

  “That’s the Negrescu Necklace!”

  I turned to stare up at Henry, who had jumped to his feet as if his chair was on fire. Leave it to him to get excited over history at a time like this.

  “I heard it’s cursed, you know,” Victoria slid one arm over the back of her chair, twisting to get a better look at the piece. “That everyone who’s owned it has died horribly or something.”

  Desdemona crumpled back against my father’s chest, biting her lip. “Oh dear! Felix–”

  “Now, now, my love, that’s just superstitious nonsense.”

  “Unfortunately,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  Henry moved to my father’s elbow, eyes never leaving the necklace wrapped around Desdemona’s throat. “Sir, shouldn’t that be in a museum? The Negrescu Necklace is over four hundred years old! All the great families of the Archerusian System have laid claim to it! It’s traveled to most of the spheres between here and the Sunflower Nebula. The hands this has passed through; surely, you don’t intend to let it sit in someone’s jewelry box? It belongs to the world!”

  “Did the world pay for it? No, I did.” My father chortled, stroking his beard. “And it will stay with me and not the world until I die or sell it, whichever happens first.”

  “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me, Felix.” Desdemona stood on tiptoe, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

  My father kissed her, all pretense of propriety vanishing. I pushed myself back from the table, appetite gone and what I had managed to eat threatening to return.

  Solomon stood and shook my father’s hand, smiling. “Congratulations, Felix. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

 
“Yes.” Belinda leaned forward, her voice breathy. “Indeed, all the best!” She took one bite of her dessert and then, dabbing the edges of her mouth with a napkin, began to rise from the table.

  “Belinda?” My father started towards her, his brows drawn up to a point. “Where are you going?”

  She clasped her hands together and sighed. “I just thought of the perfect way for us to celebrate this wonderful night. I’m going to make a batch of my special cider!”

  Victoria rolled her eyes, hunching down over her plate. “Oh, wonderful.”

  “Fantastic idea, Belinda,” said Minerva, smiling. “If you’re sure it isn’t too much trouble?”

  “No, not at all! I’ll just pop out to the kitchen. You all finish your dessert and I’ll have it done before you know it.”

  6

  Chapter 6

  Bereft of the maternal comfort Belinda’s presence always provided, I slid farther down into my chair, mute and sullen. The announcement had quieted the others as well and save for the odd, forced comment we remained silent, lost in whatever thoughts this sudden change had compelled us to contemplate.

  In time chocolate cake lay decimated on plates, the last puddles of coffee were growing cold, and we all elected to retire to the sitting room, where more refreshments and other amusements awaited us. I was surprised that Belinda had not yet returned, and I mused aloud that with any luck the kitchen had lacked the ingredients required to concoct her brew. Henry laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we stood from the table, following the others who were chattering amongst themselves as they headed out into the hall.

  My father led the way with Desdemona at his side, who struggled to keep pace with his elephantine stride. He glanced down at her, the edges of a frown peeking out from under his beard. “Dearest, why don’t you put that away for now?”

  “My necklace?” Desdemona’s free hand fluttered over the dripping piece of decadence around her throat. “Oh, but Felix, can’t I wear it for a little longer? It’s so beautiful and it means so much to me. I don’t think I ever want to take it off!”

  “Something like that should be worn only on special occasions, Desdemona. It will cease to impress anyone if you wear it like common jewelry.” Father unwound her arm from his and nudged her in the direction of the dark room across the hall. “The case is in my study. Just put it back on the shelf behind my desk.”

  “Oh; of course, Felix.” Desdemona shuffled away, her smile crumbling under the weight of her downcast eyes. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  As Desdemona peeled away from the group to discard her gift as instructed, the rest of us continued across the entryway and into the sitting room, spreading around the various couches and tables like melting butter over a pan.

  I hovered just inside the doorway, chewing on the inside of my mouth and watching as Solomon and my father called up some blueprints on the screen embedded into the far wall. Cutting across the room towards them with a sudden lurch, I avoided a frowning Victoria, who doubtless wished to discuss why a betrothal necklace was not currently sitting around her neck. I had to dig deep to find the resolve to carry through with my plan, but for once my distress outweighed my fear of my father.

  I strode up behind him. “Can I talk to you?”

  My father jumped, looking between Solomon and me with a frown. “What - now?”

  “If you could spare a moment, yes.”

  My father’s jaw tightened. I thought he would refuse, but he cleared his throat and turned back to Solomon, nodding. “Excuse me, won’t you?”

  Solomon gave a small smile in answer and sipped at his port.

  I spun on my heel, arms stiff at my sides. The slap of my father’s heavy footfalls followed me out into the hall, pausing only to shut the door behind us. The darkness that seeped through the tall windows highlighted the surgical brightness of the electric lights high over our heads.

  I faced him with a sour grimace. “You can’t be serious about going through with this lunacy.”

  My father drew himself up. “You best mind your tone, Chance; that lunacy you’re referring to is my marriage.”

  “To Desdemona Eydis? A glorified typist?” I stepped back, pushing my hands through my hair. “You don’t know anything about her, Dad; you’ve been with her for three months!”

  “This might be too much for someone who treats their bed like a train station to understand,” his chest puffed out as he looked down his nose at me, “but I happen to be in love with Desdemona.”

  “Oh, so you’re in love with her now?” I spat the word back at him. “You’re the one who always criticizes me for being too emotional, but now you’re in love?”

  “I,” he beat his fist against his chest, closing the distance between us with a step, “am sensible enough to understand the consequences of my actions. Unlike you,” his finger dug into my shoulder, “who, despite my best efforts, is still a weak-minded fool! Letting that insufferable woman con her way into our house–!”

  “This is not about Cadence, Dad,” I knocked his hand away. “I felt sorry for her. It’s called compassion, not that you’d know what that is, seeing how it doesn’t fit into a business model or a flowchart.”

  He sputtered, anger flaming into rage, but I pushed on, my hands wheeling through the air. “Desdemona Eydis is younger than your own son! You don’t think that’s going to make you a laughingstock from here to the Quincy Moons? She doesn’t want you, Dad; she just wants your damn money!”

  “And how exactly are you any different?”

  His words cut through me like an axe through rotten wood and I stood, split in twain, shaking, closer to tears than I’d been in years.

  “All you do is take, Chance.” My father paced across the smooth hardwood floors, oblivious to the blow he’d struck, hands behind his back. “Take what you want and then think you can live your life any way you see fit! You’ve never tried to be the son I needed, to be an heir to this company–!”

  “I tried for years, Dad.” Ashamed by the tremor in my voice, I avoided his eyes, pressing my lips together. “Maybe I just got tired of never being good enough for you.”

  “You gave up!” He took a few more slow steps before coming to a stop, disappearing into the shadow of one of the tall trees which lined the outside of the house. “Real Hales don’t give up. They fight.” He stepped back into the light, stroking his beard. “Desdemona – she’s a fighter. She has more guts in her little finger than you have in your whole body. You know, I have a good mind to give it to her.”

  My face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

  “My money.” He stared me down, lips twisting into something like a smile. “Yes. How would you like that, hm? Cut off without a cent? Cut off from your inheritance? After all, Desdemona’s been more family to me than you’ve ever been.”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to ignore his thoughtless words, trying to will the tears back behind my eyes. “Desdemona will not replace your family, father. She can’t replace me, and she can’t replace–”

  My father stared at me, brows drawn up to a point over his red face. I stepped towards him with an outstretched hand. “I understand that you’re lonely. I know that there hasn’t been anyone since mum, but surely–”

  “Don’t you dare bring your mother into this!”

  I jerked back, one arm coming up in an instinctive posture of defense, but not quick enough to stop the back of his hand from cracking against my cheek, sending me stumbling.

  “I do not have to justify my decisions to you, Chance Tobias Hale!” He grabbed my lapels and drew me up onto the tips of my toes, shaking me as he shouted in his tortured, ear-splitting growl. “Everything in this house, every luxury you enjoy; your very existence continues because I allow it! Never forget that!”

  A moment of silence passed between us, our eyes locked. Blood pooled in the bottom of my mouth, but I didn’t dare spit it out in front of him. I thought I would choke on it.

  He dropped
me and walked back to the sitting room with measured steps. I waited until I heard the door open before swallowing, prodding the cut in my mouth with the tip of my tongue and struggling to process what had just happened.

  “Chance?”

  I jumped and spun around. Aunt Be stood at the far end of the hall, poised outside the sitting room door, a tray of drinks in her hands.

  “Is everything alright, my dear?”

  I opened my mouth, half-formed words heavy on my tongue like bricks waiting to shatter windows. Prepared to unload all my troubles on her, the concern in her eyes made my heart ache with affection and I resisted, licking my lips and shaking my head. “Everything’s fine, Aunt Be; just fine.”

  “Well, alright then. You better come along.” She gestured to the sitting room with the tray. “You know this cider always tastes best when it’s hot!”

  The prospect of Belinda’s cider was the final drop of rain in a thunderstorm that soaked me to the bone. I straightened, tugging the bottom of my jacket as I shuffled back to follow her inside. Belinda had almost completed her rounds when I entered, offering Victoria a cup that she refused with firmness. A quick glance around the room told me that, as usual, no one had partaken of the vile mixture except my father, who sat beside Solomon in deep conversation on the sofa closest to the fireplace.

  Belinda took the mass rejection in stride, depositing the drink tray on a side table and hurrying over to the card game that had just been started by Dr. Merton. Merton leaned over to help Minerva read the small print on her cards while Desdemona stared at her own hand with a miserable frown, at a loss for what to play next.

  I walked to the side table and took hold of a cup of thick, black coffee. Henry leaned against the bookshelf beside the table, sipping a small glass of water, watching me closely. I threw a mouthful of the stuff back into my throat and managed to swallow with a garbled expletive as the hot drink burnt the top of my mouth and stung at the fresh cut in my cheek.