That Sort of Partners

by Hollis Shiloh

  I waved to him distractedly, then endured a goodbye kiss. It would have meant more if it had been a regular occurrence, instead of a performance for Green.

  I wasn't in a great mood as we climbed into the car and Green started driving us to work. I let him drive without complaint these days because he didn't speed with me in the car anymore. He'd taken to driving sedately.

  The silence felt pregnant, though. I expected some pointed questions from Green, and sure enough, they started soon enough.

  "Have you been seeing one another long?" he asked in a bland voice. He was driving impeccably, eyes on the road, hands at the correct angle on the wheel, all that could be wished for from even the best professional chauffeur or driving program.

  "A couple of weeks." I didn't know if I should apologize for Gregory or throw him under the bus—or try to ignore the whole thing.

  "He seemed remarkably possessive of you. Is that what you prefer in a partner?"

  "Why remarkably? Is it odd that someone would be possessive of me?" I might have spoken a bit sharply there. I didn't feel like defending myself, especially when I already felt kind of foolish for dating the guy.

  "Not at all," Green said smoothly. "It was simply a surprise that you had not been dating very long, when he seemed to be quite attached to you."

  "That's me. People get attached quickly." My hackles were up now, and it wasn't fair to Green, but he was the one who was here, and if he was going to poke at it, I was going to counter his thrusts, not answer honestly. "I guess I'm just too good to pass up."

  "That is...excellent," said Green.

  The silent was longer this time—and not comfortable. I was hoping he had dropped the subject entirely, but no, there was more. "I wondered why his dating profile is still active?"

  Oh, shit. He was going to call my bluff, was he? "Oh? Checking up on my boyfriend, are you, Greenie?"

  "Greenie?" He sounded surprised—and pleased, unless I was missing the mark. "Is that a nickname?"

  "If you'd like."

  "I'll have to give you one as well." His hands shifted position slightly on the wheel, as if he was relaxing, though I hadn't thought they looked tense a moment ago. I studied his hands: the sleek minimalist design, metal with the minimum of connections and polycarbonate, and only slight skin mod on the fingertips and palms.

  I snorted softly. "Just don't make it a rude one. Or something you can't say in public." I was more pleased than not with the thought of nicknames. That was something friends would do—suggesting the warmth between us wouldn't be ruined by Gregory's crude attitude.

  "But about Gregory. Are you certain you're all right with him maintaining a very active dating profile at the same time as he's seeing you? I simply ask because your dating profile is not active, implying this isn't a truly open relationship."

  "I wish you wouldn't."

  "What is it that you wish I wouldn't do, Jake?"

  "Can't you just let it go? Why are you on dating sites, anyway?"

  "I'm not on dating sites. A few simple searches—"

  "While you're driving? Focus, please."

  His hands tightened again, then flexed a little, tightening, flexing. "You're well aware of my processing capabilities."

  "Am I? Are you sure I'm bright enough to understand them? Obviously, I can't even figure out how to have a relationship."

  "Very well. I can see I've offended you. I mean no harm, Jake. My concern is entirely for you."

  "Thanks. Keep it."

  He didn't say anything. Neither of us said anything for the rest of the drive, and we studiously avoided all but neutral topics all day at work.

  That night, Gregory smirked at me. "Your robot pal was so jealous. He wants to fuck you."

  "What? He does not." I felt my face heating up; I'd always been a very visible blusher, and this made Gregory grin harder.

  He wrapped an arm around me. "You should have heard his pointed questions about who I was, what I was doing there. Ha. So jealous. Well, why not? You've very fuckable."

  "You don't know anything about it."

  "I think I do." He gave me a kiss. "Want me to demonstrate?"

  "I meant—yeah, okay."

  He did a very good job, too. Leaving me feeling good enough and soppy enough to ask, "Do you think maybe you're ready to deactivate your dating profiles?"

  "Ha. Don't get carried away, babe." He gave me a kiss on the nose and sauntered naked out to the kitchen. "You want anything?"

  I stared at the ceiling and felt like a fool. "No, thanks. I'm good."

  Green

  I probably needed to be adjusted.

  It was becoming an obsession, but a painful one, keeping track of Jake's "relationship." It was one-sided, or sexual at best. I just hoped he was maintaining safety and protecting himself physically from anything Gregory might pass on to him.

  It was downright painful to be jealous. The emotion was new to me, and I did not enjoy the sensation.

  I had nearly convinced myself that I was merely curious what it would be like, and of course I felt closest to Jake out of all of humanity, so naturally I had pinned my curiosity and possible attraction onto him. That had flown out the window as soon as I talked to the possessive boyfriend—who kept his dating profiles open on the side, flirted constantly with strangers, and liked to make Jake uncomfortable and embarrassed.

  I hated the man—and that couldn't be normal. He'd never done anything to me, and Jake was an adult. He could take care of himself, make his own choices. Clearly, there was room in his preferences for a person like Gregory.

  But I often reminded myself that Jake had not been thrilled to talk about it. I'd stopped because I hadn't wanted to poke at a sore spot and make him even less happy. He hadn't been comfortable talking about it.

  That shouldn't have given me hope, but it did.

  I continued to monitor the jerk's very active profile.

  I didn't know what anyone found appealing about him, although he had an almost five-star rating in the sexual satisfaction department from previous partners. There were only a few bitter reviews from exes.

  Jake had cut a much narrower swath through the online dating world. He was only on a few sites, and inactive on all of them. His reviews were mixed, and I wished I hadn't read them. One called him "needy" and "a nice guy—too nice."

  I hated that person, too, which was really not okay. It was okay to be protective of Jake on the job, or even in person, but not from every jerk online.

  We continued to work well together, but spent less time together off the job. I missed him, and I hated the wariness I'd created in him. He no longer wanted to discuss with me anything not related to work, no doubt concerned that I would continue to press him about his life choices.

  I wanted to, but instead I downloaded some information on tact and began to integrate it.

  It was the least I could do for him.

  Jake

  "Well, hey, big boy. Got plans?" The robot was lounging against an alleyway wall, eying me up like I was a tasty snack. This was the sex-selling robot we'd gotten reports of.

  Obviously, we should arrest him, but the reality was that nobody wanted more paperwork, and if we could just send him on his way to the next district, where it was legal for humans or bots to sell sex, problem solved.

  It was only a misdemeanor here, and a hassle to deal with. Also, since I was the human being propositioned, if that was what this turned out to be, I'd be the one having to testify about it. It couldn't be entrapment, or the department would get a slap on the wrist about that instead of the prostitute. Like I said, a hassle.

  "Places to be, things to do," I said, making as if to walk past.

  Naturally, I got to be the bait. I was the resident "robot lover." Ha-ha. Everything I said was being recorded so there would be evidence that I wasn't using entrapment. That didn't make me feel any happier about the job.

  The robot flashed me a smile and stepped into the middle of the alley in front of me. He said,
"Like me? I'm cheap, I promise."

  That clearly hadn't been entrapment. He'd made this easy after all. I took a good look at him—at least as good of a look as I could in the dim evening light.

  He was an inexpensive-looking model, rather battered and with scratched-up areas and a few newer additions, including to his face and groin region. The visible skin there (he was wearing a loincloth, so it wasn't all visible) was newer and more realistic, and probably felt almost like skin. I tried not to think about that. He was clearly outfitted with male sex characteristics.

  But before I could do my "Listen, son, you're under arrest unless you'd like to leave the area right away" spiel, he stepped up and laid his hands on my chest, putting his face close to mine. "I'll treat you right," he said in a very quiet sort of voice.

  I swallowed and took a step back quickly, losing my planned speech.

  "Don't be scared," he said, still quietly.

  Then Green was there, my partner, stepping quickly between me and the droid. With a low trilling in robot language, he put a hand on the bot and pushed him away from me. He touched my shoulder lightly at the same time, as if to reassure me that he was there.

  "It so happens we're cops," Green added calmly. "You've just propositioned a police officer."

  "He's a cop? But he's too pretty," said the droid, giving me a little pout.

  Was he programmed to do that? Had he been a sex bot in the old days, and that was still all he knew? Or had he taught himself, and liked it?

  I was ashamed of freezing up like that, and found myself only half-able to follow the conversation, and not just because of the robot language. It was difficult to concentrate with my heart still beating hard like that. Along with my surprise and repulsion came the unwanted fact that I apparently could be sexually attracted to droids. Even when I didn't want to be.

  Later, after our work was done and the bot had agreed to leave, I thanked Green for stepping in and apologized for freezing up. "He caught me off-guard. I'm not sure why."

  "It's all right," Green said calmly. He looked at me briefly, then away again. "I don't suppose you want to do something tonight? It doesn't have to be drinks."

  He'd gotten so good at casual speech. I wondered if I should compliment him on it, since it was something he liked doing, or if that would be awkward and patronizing.

  "Sure. Why not?" I cleared my throat, realizing I hadn't gone out to do something with Green since the sex club. Damn, I wanted to stop thinking about robots and sex.

  Maybe I should have said no and gone home to Gregory instead.

  Yeah, right. Like he'd even be there. He'd been going out on his own more and more evenings in a row lately, with me definitely not invited along.

  I wasn't enough to satisfy him. Soon, I'd be traded in for the newer model. That made me feel like shit, but I still hadn't broken up with him. Too lazy, I guess—or too cowardly. Afraid no one else would want me, and dreading the search.

  Plus, whatever else I was telling myself, I'd gotten attached to Gregory.

  The feeling didn't seem to be mutual. Maybe he liked getting guys to fall for him, and then moving on.

  Maybe I was just pathetic and needy.

  Green

  I determined to make sure Jake had a relaxing time. I was embarrassed about what I'd said earlier, and sorry that Jake had been so uncomfortable. I must admit it had made my heart sink to see that look of horror on my partner's face. He was never going to be interested in a robot, and I needed to get my feelings in check, and soon—the next adjustment at the latest.

  Still, my caring for him was not conditional on whether he ever developed more complex and personal feelings for me. I was determined to help him enjoy tonight and feel better about things.

  With that in mind, I took him to see a movie he'd been wanting to go to, and we both enjoyed it.

  "It's always better on the big screen, isn't it?" he said as we headed to the next stop, a restaurant I'd reserved. It was expensive, but I could afford it, since I wasn't currently saving for any expensive mods and all of my bills were under control. From what I had heard about it, this restaurant was something Jake would really enjoy, and I would enjoy seeing him happy, for once.

  We chatted about the movie while he ate and I consumed some high-end oil. His eyes were bright and his hands were animated as he spoke. I felt as if I could be happy with nothing but this as long as I lived.

  But maybe the next adjustment would take away even this soft ache of acceptance and my wistful warmth towards him.

  I would hate to lose that. Even if they were never returned, the feelings were mine.

  Was that why that Yellow had run? Perhaps he hadn't wanted to lose something of his own.

  I wondered about that for a time and then put it out of my head. Adjustments would happen either way, for the rest of my life. I could only hope they'd never change me too much.

  Jake

  "I'll leave you a good review," said Gregory. He raised an eyebrow.

  "Yeah, same," I agreed, feeling numb. I'd known it was coming, of course.

  I watched him pack up the few items he'd still had at my place and helped where I could. Because of course I did. I was "nice." He'd finally found someone more worthy of his attentions—maybe even someone good enough to meet his wealthy parents. I had been a short stop on his high-flying sexual journey.

  It shouldn't have hit me hard; I'd known this was coming. But it came right on the heels of yesterday—the shock of the sex bot's effect on me, and then the lovely evening with Green that had helped me almost forget about it. It felt like whiplash facing the breakup this morning.

  But I knew I needed to pull myself together, so I dutifully wrote him a good review as soon as he was gone from my life, and then got ready for work.

  I was supposed to meet Green today at the station; he didn't have to drive me all the time. In truth, I think he stopped offering to drive me just to be tactful. Or maybe so he wouldn't have to talk with Gregory.

  Well, that wasn't going to be a problem anymore, was it?

  Impulsively, I texted him. I wrote that Gregory had left me, and if Green wasn't at work already, could he stop by and pick me up? I didn't feel like driving.

  He responded immediately with smooth words of sympathy, and I wondered how much he'd practiced them, since he'd clearly seen this coming as well. He agreed to be there shortly. That was a relief, and easier than telling him in person. Maybe we wouldn't have to talk about it now. Maybe he wouldn't say he'd told me so.

  While I waited, I pulled up the work website, logged in and started going over the transcript from yesterday. I hated the reminder, but it was best to get it out of the way here, in case anything in it made me blush.

  Instead, I found something that made me gasp aloud.

  As well as transcribing everything we'd said, the words the bot and I and Green had exchanged, the program had faithfully transcribed the robot language Green had blurted out as he intervened. Of course it had meant nothing to me at the time.

  That language isn't an easy thing to learn if you're flesh and blood, since it sounds like a bunch of whistles and beeps with minute variations, sometimes outside of the human hearing spectrum. Humans can't learn to speak it fluently, even if they have perfect pitch, incredible hearing, and understand most of it. It takes software and special programs—or being a robot.

  At any rate, the software at the precinct had faithfully translated what Green had said as he stepped between me and the rentbot.

 

  I tried to piece together exactly what that little outburst meant from what I knew. It was impulsive and not for my benefit, since obviously I hadn't been able to understand what he was saying at the time.

  It seemed to be a descending spiral of centering down on the central point, but the final word was "mine," and that was certainly not a logical conclusion from desist and inappropriate. It could, however, be construed to follow "not yours." He was protective
of me, and he was my partner, but this situation was clearly sexual, and that made the "mine" sound like something else. Intentionally?

  Perhaps it was a non-sexually territorial thing, or he'd said it merely to protect me from the uncomfortable situation. But still, in context...

  I wondered how accurate the translation was. Clearly, it had been an outburst, not something Green had planned to say.

  Then I had to stop wondering about it, because he was here, and I had to face him and try not to look like I was wondering whether my robot partner fancied me or not.

  The awful thing was that as soon as I started looking for evidence that Green was into me, I found it easily. Hubris, Gregory's insinuations, and of course how damned nice he was to me, all the time—thoughtful and protective, funny and engaged—and the little kindnesses he did for me. Damn.

  But that was just Green for you; he was like that. A nice guy. Maybe that was why we got along so well. Just a couple of nice guys. At least we weren't so bad that we'd stand around and "after you, no, after you" each other.

  Most of the time, I thought I was getting carried away and seeing patterns that weren't there. But sometimes, things were awfully difficult to read another way.

  Green didn't have any sort of sex bot modifications. He didn't need to wear any clothing to satisfy modesty laws. Nothing about him seemed sexualized or for show; he was just a beautifully sleek, lean bot with a modern carapace and a few skin mods to enhance his tactile sensitivity.

  That didn't mean he wasn't interested in trying out some sexual stuff, with or without a human. He could have downloaded programs, and there's a lot you can do just with touch, of course.

  Of course that didn't mean he did it, either—and it didn't mean he was interested in me.

  Believe me, I had quite a few confusing dreams on the subject. It got kinda so I didn't know which end was up, and if I was maybe losing it a little bit, mentally. A rough breakup, and now I had to imagine everyone I met was in love (or at least in lust) with me. I mean, if that helps—but I didn't want to need psychiatric care for self-delusion, either.