.exe

by Robin Jeffrey

  And I did. Despite everything that she was and everything that I was afraid she might be, I felt no different kissing Cadence than I had kissing any other human being. Except that, of course, I felt ten times more aroused by her lips than I had by any others in my history; even with the throbbing bruise forming on my cheek.

  A sense of clarity and direction reclaimed me. I released her, for some reason expecting to be caught up in a desirous embrace.

  When she hit me this time, I had nothing to hold onto and fell to the floor with a thwack. Cadence’s hands were clenched, her knuckles turning an even paler shade of white. Eyes clamped shut, she looked very much like a toddler at a toy store: beyond frustrated, but with no way to express it. She stomped one foot so hard that the vibrations rattled the paintings on my wall.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I sat upright, wobbling and punch drunk, rubbing my jaw. “Nothing, apparently, though I was worried there for a while.”

  The door slammed shut behind her.

  The morning faded away before I tried to find Cadence again. I hoped she’d had enough time to cool off. My jaw stung and while I was fully aware that I had deserved it; I still didn’t fancy the idea of getting hit like that ever again.

  I padded barefoot down the hall to my rooms, apology well-rehearsed. The door stood open, but feeling the need to reacquaint Cadence with my well-mannered side, I knocked twice before stepping in.

  My treasure was not there, but she had been. The room was a whirlwind of borrowed clothes and bath towels, toiletry items and teacups. She had even gone through some of my dresser drawers, pulling out several pieces of clothing I assumed she intended to wear at some point, the thought making me flush and smile.

  I was about to exit and continue my search elsewhere when I spotted a thin white rectangle face down on my bedside table. Recognizing the optric for what it was, I also recognized that all my own had remained in their proper places. I studied the thing from a distance, teeth cutting into my lower lip.

  When Cadence had escaped through the Charcornacian blockades, she could have only taken a handful of things with her. This optric was one of them; a picture important enough to take up space in the bag you were packing for survival.

  Casting furtive glances all around me, I tiptoed towards it. I picked it up, tapping the screen twice. The optric came to life with a bright flash and I found myself staring into a familiar face.

  Cadence sat in the middle of the group, a person leaning in on either side of her. Two older men had opted to stand in the back, crouching over and smiling with manic brightness. Half-eaten sandwiches and empty glasses littered the table in front of them and a bland digital sky hung behind. Whiston’s surface was uninhabitable; they’d had to burrow deep under the regolith and into the caverns the moon was honeycombed with to create a sustainable colony. This pixilated painting of blue and white was the only sky Cadence had known.

  Her face turned to one side, mouth open in a laugh, she leaned towards the red-headed woman on her left, whose brown skin was dotted with tattoos and symbols I didn’t understand. The young man to Cadence’s right had an arm thrown around her shoulders, waving at the camera.

  It was the kind of family I had dreamed of having, and it had been hers.

  I sat on the disheveled bed, staring at the optric almost without seeing it. What did she think of when she thought of them? Were they dead, lost to a war they hadn’t asked for? Or even worse, left behind? Forever.

  Cadence’s black hair, draped loose around her face and shoulders, stood out like embers in a dark room, but the brightness of her eyes was unmatched. Round marbles, a dark, endless blue, the lines of her smile had rippled up into those eyes, making her whole face glow like a cheery fire.

  The whole scene radiated warmth. Is that what Cadence thought of when she thought of them? Warmth? Love?

  I stayed staring at Cadence’s optric for a solid hour before I had composed myself enough to continue my search. With her words ringing in my ears, I searched the house for her, calling her name in a pathetic way that I am quite glad she was not around to hear. Just as my frustration reached its peak, one of the maids suggested that I might look for her out by the swimming pool.

  I hadn’t thought to make the long trek out to the pool for two main reasons. First, I was certain that Victoria would be there, and I had had my fill of her. She often spent the later hours of the day sunning herself and I couldn’t imagine why she’d let something like a murder interrupt her bronzing. However, I also hadn’t bothered looking for Cadence by the pool because I had assumed that she was unable to swim.

  The pool, nestled at the far back of the estate, was linked to the manor by a winding, flower-lined path. As I strolled down it, I tried to work out how it would be possible for a creature like Cadence to take to the water and stay afloat. The best I could come up with was that her frame, while made of metal, must be mostly filled with air, and therefore displace more water than she weighed.

  Excited to see this phenomenon in action, I ducked under some willow branches to find Cadence several feet away from the pool, sitting at one of the tables scattered about the area.

  The pool had never been my favorite part of the estate and I was intrigued that Cadence had gravitated to the spot. It was a quiet clearing, bordered by white marble statues of various seafaring folk and creatures, silent and stoic, watching all who sank or swam with the same bland indifference.

  Victoria was stretched out in her usual spot on the far side of the pool, next to the columns which held up the diving boards. Her skin radiated heat, sharp green eyes hidden behind thick sunglasses. By comparison, Cadence looked like one of the statues surrounding her, skin so pale I fancied that the sunlight might reflect off her skin if hit at the right angle. The effect was enhanced by the fact that, unlike Victoria, who shifted and breathed, Cadence was completely still, as if made of stone.

  Walking towards Cadence with a small hitch of hesitation, I racked my brain for what to say. Sitting in one of the ornate metal chairs, Cadence’s legs stretched out in front of her, and a floppy straw hat covered her face. Stopping beside her, I hoped that the sensation of another living thing so close would alert her to my presence, but it seemed that no such sense existed within her.

  “Cadence?”

  Wringing my hands, I was wary to touch her again without her permission. Maybe her auditory receptors shut down when she wasn’t at full power.

  “Cadence, are you alright?”

  Her chest rose and fell; a sigh.

  “I was taking a nap.” She uncrossed her feet, slouching even further into her seat. “Now I am being annoyed by you.”

  I gestured to the chair opposite her, hopeful that annoyed was a step down from enraged. “May I sit?”

  Cadence lifted the brim of her hat. If her voice had sounded less than angry, the daggers she glared into me indicated no such change in feeling. “It’s your chair; sit in it if you want.”

  I swallowed and sat, feeling like an awkward six-year-old at his first formal event. My clothes itched and I had to grip the table to keep myself from squirming. I took a loose nix from my pocket and got it going, taking a few steadying gasps from it. At a complete loss for how to begin this conversation, it didn’t help matters when Cadence dropped her hat back over her face, resuming her former position.

  Clearing my throat, I put out my barely smoked nix and folded my hands on top of the table. “I didn’t know that animanecrons took naps.”

  Cadence plucked the hat off her face, crunching the crown between her fingers. The glare was absent from her eyes, replaced by the detached blankness of which I had grown so fond.

  “Every sentient being takes, and furthermore, enjoys naps.” She pushed herself up in her seat, swinging her long legs under the table as she turned to face me. “Next to sex and showering, napping is the most enjoyable physical activity a living thing can engage in.”

  “I’m so relieved you had sex on that list.
” Smiling despite myself, I tapped the center of the table and woke up the Servo. The small screen blinked to life. “One iced lemonade and one Pentrachan Whiskey.”

  Cadence folded her hands on top of the table, lifting an eyebrow. “Please?”

  “Please,” I added quickly, embarrassed by my lack of tact and embarrassed for being embarrassed at being rude to a machine.

  The drinks appeared from the depths of the center column, condensation dripping off the glasses. Grabbing mine, I gulped down half of it by the time Cadence finished thanking the Servo.

  “Listen, Cay–”

  “I didn’t like you kissing me like that, Chance.” Cadence examined her frozen lemonade, frowning. “It was rude and clearly unwanted and you’re lucky I expressed my distaste for it on your face and not elsewhere.”

  I crossed my legs, casting a frightened glance at Victoria. Her chest continued to rise and fall in the steady rhythm of sleep. I moved my chair closer to Cadence, keeping my voice low. “Yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. It’s one of the things I want to apologize for.”

  “It was not how I wanted our first kiss to go at all.” She shook her head, stirring the slush around the cup with her drink’s rainbow-colored straw.

  “Well, I–” My mind dropped out of the track of my rehearsed apology, hands seizing around my glass. “I’m sorry, did you just say…?”

  Cadence’s wide eyes stared into mine as she sucked at her iced lemonade. I sat back, struggling out a laugh. “You wanted to kiss me?”

  “Well, not at that particular moment, no.” She tapped the sides of her glass. “But I had considered the possibility of such a thing occurring. As you said earlier, you did only bring me here because you wanted to sleep with me.”

  The remembrance of my confession shot through me like a pneumatic hammer to the shin. I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth, drawing a hand across my forehead. “Ah. Yes. I did say that.”

  “You also said I was a talking calculator.” Cadence dropped her hands onto the table, her gaze to the top of her shoes. “And a piece of scrap metal. And that you didn’t want my help. That you wanted me to leave.”

  “Yes, I remember. I’m…” Swallowing the lump in my throat, which must have been my pride, I placed my hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry I said those things, Cadence. I didn’t mean them. The truth is, I’m not very good at asking other people for help.”

  “From what I’ve seen, you’re not very good at asking for anything–” Cadence pulled one hand away, bringing her lemonade closer to her, “–from anything. Especially not politely.”

  “I’m afraid that’s only one of my many faults.” I spun my glass round on the table, staring into the whiskey which remained. “I’m cowardly, conceited, and a sluggard of the first degree. I certainly don’t deserve your help. During my tiny blip of existence in this universe,” my shoulders sagged, “I haven’t added one bit of anything to this world, good or bad. But my father did; for better or worse, the world is different because he lived in it. And he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

  I heaved out a sigh, feeling every one of my twenty-seven years and twenty more besides. “I suppose what I’m saying is, if your offer of help still stands, I would gladly accept it. But not because I deserve it; because for everything he was and wasn’t, it’s my father who does.”

  The breeze weaved its way through the trees, branches rustling all around us. I had said too much, leaving myself hollow. But when Cadence squeezed my hand with all the tenderness of any living thing I had ever known, I rushed back into myself, like waves tumbling back onto a beach. I had done something right at long last.

  “I would be honored to help your father.” She gave me a crescent moon smile, wavering and small, but just as bright as any other, patting my hand. “And I’d be happy to help you too, if you decide you deserve it. We machines are well-versed in usefulness. It wouldn’t be hard to teach you.”

  “One impossible task at a time, please.” I mustered up a smile and ran my hand through my hair. “Let’s focus on solving a crime, shall we? How exactly do you propose we go about it? I don’t know about you, but my sleuthing skills are a bit rusty.”

  Her smile vanished into thin-lipped concentration as she leaned back in her chair. “I was considering that just before you came out.”

  “Excuse me, but you were napping just before I came out.”

  She glared again, the effect ruined by the way she slurped her drink. “I was doing both. I am equipped with over seventy multi-core processors and all of my scripts have been written to ensure that parallel processing can be executed flawlessly.”

  I was alarmed to find that I understood what she had said. Some of those computer science courses at university had stuck after all. “But of course; how silly of me.”

  “Personally, I feel it would be prudent to begin with examining the motives and personalities of each person in the house and trying to narrow our pool of suspects.”

  “Inductive reasoning, good idea,” I sat back, propping my feet up on the rim of the table. “Shall we start with someone random and go from there?”

  Cadence crossed her legs, the pink skirt she had changed into falling off her knees. “Why not start with me?”

  “Why would we start with you?” I scoffed, waving away her weirdness. “It’s obvious you didn’t do it.”

  “Is it?”

  “You’d hardly be offering to help me catch the murderer if that murderer was you.”

  “Of course I would!” She leaned forward, shaking her head. “It would be the only smart thing to do. It keeps suspicion away from me while placing me in a prime position to plant evidence against whomever I like, including you, Chance.”

  “Alright then,” I crossed my arms over my chest, smirking. “What’s your motive?”

  “Well, let’s think.” Cadence rested her chin in the palm of her hand; the movements of her jaw making her head bounce up and down as she spoke. “Felix was a bigot. I might have killed him because of all the awful things he said about my people. Or it could be that he had discovered who I really am and threatened to reveal my secret; I had to kill him to protect myself.”

  A little flower of doubt began to bloom in my mind. “Did you kill him?”

  “No. I was asleep in my room with my door locked like everyone else.” She blew a stray hair away from her eyes, muttering. “Well, almost everyone.”

  “Good.” I trod on that flower of doubt with the hobnail boots of trust and felt all the better for it. “I didn’t do it, so who’s next?”

  “Hold on,” Cadence straightened in her seat, bringing her hands down flat against the table. “A good detective cannot have enough data at his or her fingertips. I think it’d be best if you told me everything that happened to you since the night before the murder until you found the body.”

  I began to shrug but arrested the motion when I realized what that span of time included. The corner of my mouth crept up into a one-sided grimace as I gnawed the inside of my cheek. “Everything?”

  “In detail, if you please.”

  I ran a finger along the inside of my opened collar. “Well, after dinner, I…” My instinctual reaction, honed from years of juggling women like so many colored balls, was to lie. I had one ready, something about being exhausted and going upstairs to read, when it occurred to me that just this once, the asker may not only forgive me for the truth but deserve to hear it.

  I squared my shoulders and tried to meet Cadence’s gaze, but still the words stuck in my throat, coming out in small stutters. “Victoria and I spent some time. Together. We– we were downstairs in the sitting room. Alone. We were there, until ten or eleven. And then we went upstairs. To my room. Together.”

  She didn’t even blink. I leaned back in my chair, gripping the table. “Just how much detail are you looking for here, Cadence?”

  “You’re doing fine.” Cadence flashed a toothless smile at me before resuming her bl
ank stare. “Did you and Victoria have sex?”

  I concentrated on my drink, wishing for an entire bottle of the stuff. “We did, yes.”

  “And did she spend the rest of the night with you or go back to her own room?”

  I glanced up at Cadence. She was as unmoved as ever, though my pause elicited a sharp rise of her brows. I pulled back from the table, hands falling into my lap. “No, she, uh, she slept with me.”

  Cadence sat back and nodded. “That’s good, a much better alibi than mine. Was the connecting door unlocked when you went to sleep?”

  “No, I made sure to lock it.” I wiggled against the hard seat, my brow furrowing. “But you can unlock it with either my father’s key or the one I had, from either side of the door.”

  “Alright. So, you woke up the next morning?”

  “I woke up because Merton and Belinda were trying to get into my father’s room, and it was locked. I came out to see what was going on, we tried to get the door open, but couldn’t. I remembered the connecting door, forgot that I had locked it the night before, and just pulled it open.”

  Swallowing, I leaned forward and rested my forearms against the table. “He was just…” I closed my eyes, squeezing my hands together. “My father was lying on the floor by the door.”

  “Did you lock your own door that night?”

  “Yes, I always lock my door. Don’t need over eager servants waking me up before I’d like.”

  “And it was still locked when you woke up in the morning?”

  With most of the morning an indistinct blur, I was about to answer her with a shrug when a thought struck me. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure it was. I remember having trouble unlocking it. I usually always leave my key on the bedside table, but in all the–” I looked up at Cadence and, as well as she had taken this Victoria business, thought it best to avoid describing the frenzied way we had made love that night.

  Shaking my head, I rubbed the back of my neck. “Well, I must not have the night before because it was on the floor in front of my door. I probably dropped it.”