by Steve Perry
It was the least any of them could do to honor their fallen friend’s memory.
“Well,” said Zac, rubbing his still-hurting shoulder. “Methinks it’s time we hit the road. Everyone say their good-byes?”
“To everyone but Psy–4,” said Radiant. “I think he’s still hiding from Roy.”
Zac grinned. “Yeah, well—he did tell Roy he’d be his new daddy.” Then Zac and Radiant laughed at the same memory—of Roy, arms outstretched, stumbling around in his new body after Psy–4 and calling out, “Wait for me, Daddy, wait for me!”
“All set,” replied Stonewall.
“I think Singer would be pleased,” said Radiant.
Zac nodded. “Well, let’s just make damn sure the law gets passed.”
A few minutes later, they were on their way.
* * *
Killaine sat alone in the living room, looking at the pillow that Stonewall had made for her. It was covered with happy little puppy dogs.
She liked it very much.
Itazura came into the room and saw her sitting there alone.
He joined her on the sofa, putting his arm around her shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes better, sometimes not.”
“Have you, uh . . . have you talked to Roy yet?”
Killaine shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know if I can. Even with the new voice circuitry and faceplate, I still look at him and think he’s Singer.”
“Pardon me for saying so, Killaine, but I don’t think Singer would want you to act like this.”
“I know.” She sighed and looked out the window. “Do you think he made it out alive?”
Itazura blinked. “Okay, you switched gears on me. Who’re we talking about?”
“Janus.”
“Oh.”
Killaine looked at him. “Do you think—”
“It’s hard to say,” replied Itazura. “He’s a damned clever guy. He very well might have gotten away. The news reports have never mentioned anyone matching his description as a casualty of the disaster.”
“I hope it doesn’t make me sound like a Judas,” whispered Killaine, “but I hope he got away.”
Itazura leaned over and kissed her cheek. “For your sake, I hope so, too.”
“What’s this?” asked Killaine, reaching down to take a small paperback book from Itazura’s hand.
“Huh? Oh, some damned book Psy–4 gave me: The Theory of Mechanical Race Memory. It has to do with an argument we had a while ago.”
“Oh.”
“Hello.”
They both looked up, startled, to see Roy standing a few feet away, drumming his fingers nervously against the sides of his legs. “I got lonely.”
“Can’t have that,” said Itazura, rising to his feet. “Hello, Roy. I must be going. I’ve got a pressing appointment with some plumbing pipes in the basement.”
“Itzy,” said Killaine.
“What? Did you know there’s a fungus down there? It’s purple. It appears to be breathing. I think it’s developing a rudimentary language. I have decided to call it Victoria.”
Roy made a metallic laughing noise. “You’re funny.”
Itazura bowed. “Well, it’s good to know that at least one person in this household has some taste when it comes to—” He froze, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.
“Itzy?” said Killaine. “Itzy, what is it?”
He turned toward Killaine and whispered, “You haven’t talked to him about—?”
“No.”
“Has anyone else told Roy about—”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“Look.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Roy.
And as he spoke, his hands signed the same question.
“How did you learn to do that?” asked Killaine, rising slowly to her feet and walking toward him.
“Learn to do what?”
Learn to do what? asked his hands.
“Sign,” whispered Killaine.
“I dunno.”
I dunno.
“Itzy,” said Killaine, not taking her gaze from Roy’s face. “What’s going on here? Is this your idea of a joke?”
“I swear, Sis, I swear I had nothing to do with this.”
“Roy,” said Killaine. “Can you . . . can you say something to me without speaking?”
“Huh?”
Huh?
“Talk to me with your hands. Don’t say anything out loud, okay?”
Okay.
Killaine and Itazura looked at each other in astonishment.
“Roy,” said Killaine, slowly, very calmly, “Is there anything you want to know about, well . . . about anything?”
Yeah.
“And what might that be?”
Who is Singer?
Again, Killaine and Itazura exchanged astonished looks.
“So we have no race memory, huh, Itzy?” asked Killaine.
Itazura was speechless.
Roy tapped Killaine’s arm. Do you know Singer?
“Yes, Roy, I . . . I knew him. He was my friend.”
Could you tell me about him?
Killaine nodded her head, holding back any further tears as she at last touched the newest member of the family, putting her arm around his shoulder and leading him toward the kitchen where she intended to share some milk and cookies with him.
Was he nice? signed Roy.
“He was wonderful,” whispered Killaine.
Tell me ’bout him, please?
“Okay, shhh, listen: Time was, robots like Singer were a wonder to humankind, the culmination of its dreams of merging the mechanical with the humanistic in order to form the basis for a more enlightened and advanced society.”
Huh?
Killaine smiled at him. “They were way cool.”
And soon, she was able to look at him as Roy.
Only Roy.
Her absent friend would have wanted it that way.
Later that night, in what many would call the “wee hours,” a moth fluttered near the bright front porch light of the I-Bots’ current home.
It neared the hot bulb, circled, hovered dangerously close.
Then it sensed something about the house, maybe emanating from somewhere inside.
It moved closer to the bulb and the fruition of its life.
Then—and no one was there to guess why—at the moment when it should have slammed its body against the light and screamed its insect scream as wings burst into flame, it veered to the side, circled the light one last time, and flew off into the darkness.
Choosing to live a little while longer.
Choosing life, if only for one more day.
And knowing that, after all, there was another day to choose.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GARY A. BRAUNBECK is the author of over eighty published short stories in the fields of science fiction, fantasy, mystery, horror, and suspense, as well as of the acclaimed collection Things Left Behind. He lives in Ohio.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
ALSO BY THE STEVE PERRY & GARY A. BRAUNBECK
COPYRIGHT
HarperPrism
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TIME WAS. Copyright © 1998 by BIG Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any mea
ns, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ISBN 0-06-105295-7
EPub Edition November 2013 ISBN 9780061861765
Version 11152013
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First printing: June 1998
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