Love and Robotics

by Eyre, Rachael

  Once he had - come on, he was a growing lad, she was a comely lass, what do you think happened? Love at first sight, or its gawky second cousin. I don’t believe in it, personally.”

  “Didn’t you feel something when we met?”

  “You were infuriating -”

  “Huh!”

  “- but damned attractive. Where was I? Rollo and Rosaline. By that time she’d come round. I wish I could say it was mutual. She saw this sweet, unworldly youth, waiting on her hand and foot. She felt sorry for him, she liked him, but love? Never.

  She realised the best way to protect herself was to lie. While she knew within ten seconds he wasn’t vicious, there was no knowing how other people might act. She spoke like the innkeeper’s daughter she’d been two years ago, said she’d got lost and she needed to rest. Could she stay here? Of course he agreed. She was at the end of her strength with a sprained ankle. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  No boy kept a secret more faithfully. He fetched and carried, nursed and talked to her for two months. Did he suspect her true identity? The search had reached Langre - that’s what Langton was called in those days. He must have thought something. He never let on.

  Rosaline loved art. Looking around these dreary walls made her depressed, so she asked Rollo if he could bring some materials to decorate them. She’d all the time she could want; she might as well use it constructively. He came down a few hours a day to help. Poor Rollo! If you love somebody and can’t tell them, they might as well be on the other side of the world.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  “Me too.”

  They were quiet for a moment, hands touching. Alfred resumed the story. “They reached the last stretch - they were so happy -”

  “Somebody turned them in, didn’t they?”

  “What did you expect? Humans are bastards. They’d noticed his suspicious behaviour, the disappearing materials, and reported it. Dunstan, never one to miss a dramatic gesture, showed up with the army. They crashed into the tunnel, finding the pair painting the walls. Rosaline went white but kept her dignity. Rollo tried to square up to him.

  ‘Turned to cradle robbing?’ Dunstan jeered. Rosaline said it to save him, but how it must’ve hurt: ‘He’s only a boy. I could never love him.’ Rollo gazed at her, she asked for his forgiveness. Dunstan snatched her up and rode off. They never saw each other again.

  The official story was she’d been abducted and slept with her kidnapper. While she died a queen, Rollo suffered a traitor’s death. Dunstan said our line deserved to be cursed. Her name was the last thing he said before the hangman broke his legs.”

  “Why did you tell me that?” Josh asked. “Couldn’t you give them a happy ending?”

  “You can’t change facts.”

  “Do you think they might’ve fallen in love if they’d more time?”

  “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

  “Of course I’m romantic! I want to be loved. Alright, I used to think a kiss was a sort of cake -”

  “Cake?” Alfred was baffled. “You’ve lost me.”

  “Mandy used to leave these books in the lab, mushy stuff about men called Gabriel and women called Sheridan, or was it the other way round? People were always giving each other kisses, stealing kisses, wanting a kiss -”

  Alfred burst out laughing. “What about when they kissed? Excessive mutual cake?”

  “I never understood why they seemed to get naked afterwards. Too many crumbs? Robots rub noses.”

  Alfred rubbed his nose against his. “Doesn’t do anything for me.”

  “Me neither. I’m a freak.”

  “The loveliest I know. So, what do you prefer? Cake or kissing?”

  “I like a nice cheesecake as much as the next person, but cake can’t do this.”

  Josh stood on tiptoe and gave Alfred a long, slow kiss. His lips parted. Their tongues sought one another, grew more urgent. He bit Alfred’s tongue and he groaned, lifting Josh so he was pressed against the wall. The artificial curled his arms and legs around him.

  “Alfred?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we - get close?”

  He’d never seen Alfred so unsettled. He was like a bashful teenager. “Are you sure? I was going to hold off till you were ready.”

  “I’ve never been readier in my life. I want you inside me.”

  Alfred’s growl went straight to Josh’s groin. “What the hell. I can’t fight this.”

  “If we’re going to be prosecuted for immoral acts, let’s commit some.”

  “You’re very determined, aren’t you?”

  “But not in here.”

  The light above them sputtered and went out. They stared at one another. The lamps lining the walls went off in quick succession, first the left side, then the right.

  “What the -?”

  A cold wind was rising. Josh shivered. He was sure that if he listened closely he could make out words. “Was it this sort of thing you were scared of?”

  “No.” That’s when Josh began to worry. Alfred was struggling to keep his voice level; Alfred who was never afraid. He buckled as the floor lurched beneath his feet.

  “That’s enough!” he roared. Josh felt his pulse beneath his cheek. “Hold tight. We’re going to run for it.”

  “What is it?”

  “A hex? Ancient burglar alarm? Could be anything in this nutty place. Don’t touch anything.”

  There are few things as disorienting as belting down a malevolent tunnel in pitch darkness. Josh offered to step down, make it easier, but Alfred refused. “The floor’s rolling. You’d never make it.”

  “Thanks!”

  “Like I said, don’t touch the walls. Don’t even think about it.”

  Now of course he wanted to, and craned to look behind. Alfred kicked the wall in front of him. Josh thought he’d flipped but it swung to reveal the minstrel gallery.

  “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess?”

  They ran their fingers over each other. Alfred was beaded with sweat. His heartbeat ratcheted. He set Josh on his feet. “Give us a hand.”

  They manhandled the bear everyone used as an umbrella stand, shifting it across the floor. Alfred planted it on top of the panel, rubbed his hands and stepped back. “That’ll do. We’ll get it walled up tomorrow.”

  “What about an exorcism?” Josh suggested.

  “Another nice, family friendly day.”

  “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Alfred winked. “How would you have me?”

  Josh was practically mounting him before Alfred decided this wasn’t seemly in a public area. “There must be a room going spare. C’mon.”

  It was a bedroom neither had been in before, with velvet coverings and exotic rugs. Alfred checked under the bed and in the wardrobes. Satisfied there weren’t any papbats in residence, he began to light the candles. When one failed to catch a third time, Josh went to help. “You’re trembling,” he said.

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “More than anything. It’s just - there’s no going back. You won’t be able to deny it in court.”

  “I wouldn’t want to. Is it really so different from the other things we’ve done?”

  Alfred considered. “From a legal point of view, yes. They’d say that was warming up.”

  “Relationships are a warm up to sex?”

  “More or less.”

  “I feel sorry for them.” Josh stroked Alfred’s hair. “Is this a warm up, or nice for its own sake?”

  “Hmm.”

  They finished lighting the candles and lay on the bed. They took their time, undressing each other and talking it through.

  “I wish you could be my first,” Josh grumbled.

  “I was, technically speaking. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Virgins are hopeless.”

  “How many men have you slept with?”

  Alfred soon lost count. “Ninety three?
Five? Ninety something.”

  “Oh.”

  Alfred patted his shoulder. “Don’t look like that. Nobody who counted.”

  “You’re not just being kind?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I wish I knew more. You’re the only person I’ve been with, other than Claire.”

  “Aren’t you the contradictory engine! You can’t be both.”

  Josh ducked beneath the covers. Alfred groaned and held his head.

  “Nobody needs to teach you how to do that.”

  Josh had never been sure where to place sex in the grand scheme of things. If he didn’t think it was messy and unworthy of the hype, he assumed it was a sacred act. Now he thirsted for it. He found himself asking Alfred to do things he’d never have believed he could say aloud.

  “Will you?” he whispered.

  “It hurts when you’re not used to it. You might not like it.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “Somebody’s got to.”

  “If I tell you something, do you promise not to laugh?”

  “Depends what it is.”

  “I thought we’d invented it in the factory. I didn’t know everyone did it.”

  Alfred broke his promise but grinned apologetically. “Gods, I love you. Don’t change.”

  He got up and started to rummage in the drawer. “Fuck, I’ll have to go upstairs. - No, here we go.” Now he seemed to be jiggling with himself. Who knew why.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Putting protection on.”

  “Protection from what?”

  “Disease and suchlike.”

  “I’m not diseased. Are you?”

  “No, but it’s polite.”

  Josh plucked it off. “I want to feel you, not some random stuff.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “You fancy weird.”

  “That’s true.”

  Josh gasped as Alfred applied the cool gel and slid his fingers into him. He hated to think what faces he must be making. The noises were bad enough. Stroking inside, fingers curling - he almost didn’t want Alfred to stop, wanted him to bring him to climax with wet fingertips.

  “May I?”

  “Oh, yes. Don’t hold back.”

  Distracting him with a slow, leisurely hand job, it wasn’t long before Alfred was inside him, all the way up. It was unsettling, like being turned inside out. He wound his arms around Josh’s waist.

  “Do you want me to - ?”

  “Please.”

  The fingers hadn’t prepared him. Having someone move above you, inside you, was extraordinary. He couldn’t speak, could barely think.

  “I’m not hurting you, am I?” Alfred asked anxiously.

  “It’s nice. Strange but nice. I see where the expression ‘Stings like buggery’ comes from.”

  “You toad!”

  Alfred picked up pace. Josh opened to him, took him in deeper. Another wave washed over him and he gave himself up to sensation. Hands caressed his back, Alfred’s tongue glided over his throat and chest. Long languid thrusts followed by swift vigorous ones - Josh wasn’t sure which he preferred. Pleasure rippled through him, down to his toes; he curled and uncurled them. He was making embarrassing noises but it didn’t put Alfred off.

  Being with someone. The closeness of their body, the sound of their breathing. Burying your head in their hair, their smell. Your heartbeat keeping time with theirs. During sex you see someone as they truly are: no blindfolds, no illusions. The world who knew him as Lord Langton the disaster area, Alfred Wilding the adventurer, wouldn’t have recognised him. He was dazed, vulnerable, looking at Josh with a love so bright it hurt.

  “You’re wonderful,” he whispered.

  “I’m nothing special.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  As Josh felt Alfred stiffen and his insides grow hot and wet, he felt an answering beat in himself. They cried out together.

  “I love you, lad.” Tears shone in the blue eyes.

  “I love you too.”

  Josh was adorable asleep: colour high, one arm flung out, forehead creased. Alfred bent over him and, eyes shut, traced his face with his fingers. Eyebrows that always looked surprised, dainty ears, snub nose. Cheekbones you could cut diamonds on, that menace of a mouth, the dimpled chin. “That tickles,” Josh murmured.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t you get fed up looking at me?”

  “Why? You’re fucking gorgeous.”

  “I love it when you swear. It turns me on.”

  “Really?”

  Alfred roamed across his body, kisses interspersed with a cuss word and caress. He felt Josh’s excitement grow against his leg.

  “You did that,” Josh said huskily. “It wants you.”

  Alfred slid between his thighs and began to lick. Teasing, running his tongue around it, nuzzling. In a swift movement he took Josh’s cock into his mouth and sucked ravenously. Josh twined his legs around him. He dug his nails into his back and pumped his hips. Alfred’s mouth was bruised and aching, but gods, he wanted it. Josh increased his pounding, beside himself. He poured into Alfred’s mouth, sweet and troubling.

  After Alfred had washed his beard and mouth, lying on his side to cuddle him, Josh said, “We should get married.”

  Good thing Alfred had finished, he might have choked. “What?”

  “You heard.”

  “You’re wearing sex goggles, love.”

  “I want to divorce Claire and marry you. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Do I have any say?”

  “This is serious, isn’t it? It’s for keeps.”

  “Well, yes, but -”

  “What better way of showing we’re committed?”

  “To start with, it’s not possible.”

  “Because we’re both men?”

  “No, that’s fine. The Prime Minister’s been with her wife for years. The Queen’s middle son married his bodyguard. Nobody minds, apart from a few idiots.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “It’s our friend Clause 57. ‘It is a criminal offence for a person judged mentally unfit to engage in transgressive sexual relations with non human life forms or artificial intelligences’.”

  Josh pouted. “There’s nothing artificial about my intelligence.”

  “It lists the ways this can be violated, not least ‘living together in a pretend relationship.’”

  “I’m not going to roll over and take it. If I could marry Claire -”

  “What are you thinking of doing?”

  “I’m going to tell all the robots in the world.” As Alfred raised his eyebrows, “What’s the point in giving us intelligence but no rights? They must hate it as much as we do.”

  “Cora’s friends seem happy.”

  “Only because they don’t know any better. We can’t be the only ones in our situation. If we get more couples to prove they’re in love, they’ll have to listen.”

  “It’s going to be tough.”

  “Anything worth doing is.”

  Alfred knew it was ridiculous to be this happy. Reporters buzzed around the gates, Perversion Prevention would turn up any day - he knew all that. He also knew he and Josh could communicate with a single touch, kept bursting into laughter, couldn’t get enough of each other. On the rare occasions they were apart, he only had to receive their secret signal - a blue rose - to go flying to Josh and take him in his arms.

  They made love every night. Mouth against mouth, body against body. Riding Josh, sinking hands into his flesh. Hot cries against his ear, plucking kisses by the roots. Josh seemed unnerved by his desire. He’d confide everything in a shy murmur - “All the ways I want you,” as he put it.

  Afterwards they lay pressed together, Josh’s thigh over his, golden hair damp against his jaw. When they slept they coiled around one another, Josh’s head fitting exactly between Alfred’s chin and shoulder. He couldn’t believe the artificial was beside him, that he’d offer up his lithe body
and full lips to his idolatry.

  “Is it sinful to love somebody too much?” Josh asked once.

  That made Alfred sit up. “What bollocks is that?”

  “The old gods hated personal loves. They punished it mercilessly.”

  “No wonder they went out of fashion.”

  “It’s just - these stories you’ve told me. Hardly any have happy endings. I wondered if that was why.”

  “Love’s worth everything.”

  “You didn’t think that when I met you.”

  “You’ve taught me otherwise.”

  Their third night together, Josh whispered, “Let me do it to you.” Alfred blushed in spite of himself.

  Josh coaxed him onto his back, hooked his arms beneath Alfred’s thighs and entered him. He’d heard stories - “it’s like hydraulics,” one eye watering account claimed - but had nothing to fear. It was slow, deep and intense, just the way he liked it.

  Before Alfred had thought that if he didn’t come soon, he would die. Now he fought to prolong it, float in rapture. Josh looked divine from this angle. Hips moving, chest gleaming, face intent. He had a mouth on him to make Nanny blush. Already he had said, “I want to watch.” Now, sliding dreamily in and out, “I can feel you gripping me. You’re so hot and tight.”

  “Josh, you can’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true.”

  He was so deep, yet Alfred wanted more. “Fuck me till I scream.”

  He stilled for a moment, then changed gear. Building momentum, a battering ram hammering his core, blasting his defences. It drove through him, cleaved him in two. He gritted his teeth, clawed Josh’s back. It teetered past agony but he didn’t want him to stop. They moved beyond pain or sanity. There was a moment of weightlessness, of looking down, before they were seized by an orgasm so electrifying it frightened them.

  “Was that what you wanted?”

  “Gods, yes. It’s funny. I never used to like being made love to.”

  “What do you think now?”

  “Let me get my breath back and you can have a second helping.”

  Sometimes Alfred was paranoid. What was the likelihood of him, a former robophobe, falling in love with a robot? He’d pissed off enough people; it’d be the perfect revenge. Did Josh feel it when they had sex? Robots were programmed to please - might they be programmed to come to order?