Love and Robotics

by Eyre, Rachael

  He helped her pack and walked her to the station. No one was about. They had their last embrace in a dank shelter that reeked of raincoats.

  “Find someone nice,” he said. “He’ll have me to answer to if he isn’t.”

  She hugged him so tightly it was lucky he was human. “Take care, won’t you?”

  He watched her face, mascara streaked but shining, as the craft whistled away.

  Josh took his time returning to Chimera. Kevin’s hat masking his face, he tried to walk like a human. It seemed time consuming and awkward; his hand kept flapping and knocking leaves from the hedges. It must have been convincing as nobody stared.

  They wouldn’t leave it much longer. Crispin’s show was an attempt to flush him out. Now it had failed and Claire disappeared, they weren’t going to play nicely.

  Another onslaught of rain. He held out his arms and felt it sluice down his face, inhaled the scents of the countryside. Firs, soil, rock, bark - he loved them all. He wouldn’t smell them after this.

  Puss raced over. He bent to stroke her but she wriggled out of reach. “What is it, girl?”

  She seemed anxious to get him home, bounding ahead and glaring when he didn’t keep up. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was afraid. What could have that effect on a lion? He followed her up the drive, clutching his hat to his head.

  He nudged the door and was shocked to find it unlocked. What was Gwyn playing at? Anybody could walk in -

  “Josh!”

  He was caught up in a pink and blonde dervish. Something fluffy yapped at his ankles.

  “Cora?”

  “Best in the world, sonny! And this - ” she picked up the hyperactive poodle and tossed it into his arms - “is Tutu. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  Josh winced as urine trickled down his leg. “He’s something.”

  “He does that when he’s excited. See it as a compliment.”

  A discreet cough. “Um, Cora - ” A swarthy, well built artificial stepped forward.

  “Oops, nearly forgot. Josh, this is Esteban. Met him in Clockwork City.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Josh went to shake Esteban’s hand, nearly dropped Tutu and put him on the stairs. Puss glowered at the intruder. Rather than flee, Tutu scratched his ear with unassailable smugness.

  “I don’t want to break up the party,” Esteban said, “but there’s something you should know.” As Cora protested, “It’s his house.”

  Josh couldn’t cope. All he wanted was a quiet afternoon, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. “Why are you here?” he asked, exasperated.

  “Huh!” Cora exclaimed. Esteban didn’t seem offended. “Perhaps it’s better to show you -”

  He opened the nearest door. Twenty artificials milled around the state rooms. Sitting, standing, examining model ships. When they looked up and saw Josh they broke into applause.

  “Um, hello.” In a distracted whisper to Cora, “What’s going on?”

  An artificial he had never seen before shuffled over. Most robots were built for youth and beauty; this one had neither. He had a clever, sheep like face, haloed by wiry hair. He looked like the kind of academic duffer you’d find in any university or lab.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Mr Foster,” he said. “Waiting for who knows how long.”

  Josh’s first impulse was to escape through the garden doors. This had to be a trap. How could twenty artificials travel unnoticed? Where did their handlers think they were?

  The academic artificial, who seemed to have nominated himself as spokesperson, tried to reassure him. “This isn’t a put up job, Mr Foster. We’re all friends here.”

  Josh held his hand out to Cora. “Please tell me you haven’t been tampered with.”

  “If it stops you acting out.” She let him place his hands on her forehead. When he encountered her most recent memories he flushed. “I’ve seen enough, thanks.”

  She winked. “Fancy a trade?”

  He pulled his hat over his ears. “Definitely not.”

  The artificials watched him expectantly. Now he noticed one was human: a small bespectacled Linese woman, unnerved by the company she was keeping.

  “Hello, everybody. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Josh Foster, and -”

  Nineteen pairs of eyes in varying shades of glass, all watching him. Could he truly be said to be one of them?

  “ I don’t know why you’re here. Sorry, Cora, I don’t. I can’t think of anywhere more dangerous for you to be. The owner of this house, Alfred, is in jail because of me. We love each other but it isn’t allowed in this country. The only reason they didn’t get me is he told me to hide; they’ll be back any day. Please, for all your sakes, get out -”

  Somebody was crying. It was the human. The academic put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Don’t you see, you ass,” Cora said, “we know? We’ll stick by you anyway.”

  It all came out. How Josh’s messages, rather than being drowned by static, were picked up by artificials around the globe. Cora had recognised his signature and demanded to go to Lila. Esteban had no choice but to follow.

  The artificial who had come furthest was Kazuo. He’d been created as a robotic boyfriend for a violin prodigy, Reina. When Reina graduated to human men he’d gone to work for the leading gaming company in Huiji. He’d been appointed CEO within ten years.

  “Do they know you’re an artie?” Josh asked.

  “They’re too polite to ask. It doesn’t matter back home.” Yet he sighed and stared at his picture of Reina when he thought no one was looking.

  One of the girls, Saffy, was sweet and unassuming. She’d led an idyllic existence with Howard, her boyfriend, until he grew bored with her. She woke one night to find herself on the skip. Even now she thought it was a misunderstanding.

  “Something must’ve happened,” she insisted. “He said we’d last forever.”

  The women shook their heads sadly. Cora urged her to open her eyes. “Forget him! You’re lovely. You could get anyone.”

  “I want Howard.”

  As he collected their stories Josh saw why they had come to him. They had all loved a human. Most of the relationships foundered through no fault of theirs. Whether their human had been a creator, lover or charge, they spoke of them with longing. There were cases like Anke, who had continued caring for her elderly patient after death, or Jesse, who had been unable to save his handler’s little girl from drowning.

  The story that moved Josh most was that of Hector, the academic. He and the human woman, Dee, had met at a conference and fallen in love. They applied to marry but were refused. Dee had suffered from depression after a miscarriage fifteen years previously and didn’t pass the psych tests.

  “That’s rubbish!” Josh exclaimed. “That was before you knew each other!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Dee said. “I’ve been unsound once and might be again. I pose too much of a security risk.”

  “They won’t arrest Dee, she’s too valuable.” Hector passed her a handkerchief. “We want to make people aware of our story, help them see these laws are outmoded. We’re behind you and Lord Langton one hundred percent.”

  Josh smiled gratefully. “I’m glad somebody is.”

  ***

  It goes without saying Gwyn resented the house guests. “It’s raining widgets,” she grumbled. “I thought Josh moping around was bad enough, but another twenty!”

  “They’re not so bad,” Nanny said. “You should see some of the slobs we’ve had in the past. The posher folk are, the grubbier.”

  “I don’t like it. It’s not natural.”

  “You’re more like your father by the day.”

  Gwyn stalked up the garden path, kicking a stick. Even Nanny was taking sides. The beebo in her pocket buzzed. She flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Hey, stranger.” Pip. She flushed to the roots of her hair.

  “Hey. You’ve got to get me out of this madhouse. There’s bots everywhere.”

  “Though
t there might be. Wanna go on a fact findin’ mission?”

  Gwyn arrived in Lux that afternoon, tethering in a lockup as Pip had instructed. She waited on a bench in Regency Park. An attractive woman pushing a pram gave her the once over.

  The evening was drawing in. What if people thought she was soliciting? Or somebody flashed at her? Nanny always said you should keep calm and say, “Sorry, not interested,” but it’d be different meeting one in the flesh.

  A small woman sat beside her. Gwyn tried not to groan. Why, with a whole park of benches to choose from, did she pick this one? She was about to get up when she heard a familiar chuckle.

  “Nice to see you too.”

  She gaped stupidly. It was Pip as she had never seen her. She was wearing a smart black coat, twills, pumps. Most shockingly, her hair was light brown and her face fresh of makeup.

  “I didn’t recognise you.”

  “That’s the point. When people think ‘Pip’, they think cockatoo hair and a face full o’ slap.”

  “I don’t think that," Gwyn said hastily. “So, what are we doing?”

  “Helpin’ the unc. They haven’ imprisoned anyone in years, why now? Reck’n CER are up to somethin’.”

  Gwyn couldn’t hold back a sigh. “Not more bots. They’re coming out of our ears at home.”

  “Y’ did say. What’s goin’ on?”

  As they navigated the poorly lit streets, Gwyn told her. How Josh and twenty odd arties had started a society for robot rights, the Artificial Emancipation Association. One had a human fiancée; she acted as their ambassador.

  “They’re always bickering. That Hector thinks he’s in charge, while Josh - well, you know how stubborn he is. Cora Keel’s okay, but she’s such a diva! I’m surprised Nanny hasn’t told her to get stuffed.”

  “Good for them. Hope they succeed.”

  Gwyn was so startled she narrowly escaped being mown down. Pip pulled her to safety.

  “You think they should?”

  “Why not? If they think like us an’ love like us, they’re people. People are entitled to rights, last time I noticed.”

  “But - do they, though?”

  Pip’s voice was unusually sharp. “I’ve more proof of Josh’s feelin’s than many humans. Button it, we’re nearly there.”

  The sight of CER always silenced them. For Pip it stood for the best job she was likely to have, snatched from her. For Gwyn it represented the day it was finished: Alfred, young and whole, carrying her on his shoulders; Gussy and Uncle Ken preening in the limelight; her father skulking like a panto villain. Even in the dark Pip saw her wipe her eyes.

  “C’mon,” she said softly. “We’ve a buildin’ to raid.”

  They went round the back and swiped Pip’s old pass. Gwyn expected an army of Daves to descend but everything seemed to be in order. She followed Pip down miles of mint carpet, the lights switching on as they went.

  “What about the visicams?” she asked.

  “Turned off. They’ve all got the same code. Aidy’s birthday, talk about crap.”

  It was hard to reconcile her scatty, chatty Pip with the serious, assured woman who spoke so knowledgably about hacking and breaking into buildings. “You’re like a criminal mastermind!”

  “Hardly.”

  Their first stop was Josh’s control room. Gwyn had imagined an intricate cave of cogs and wires and felt let down when it was an ordinary room. Pip waved a hand over the control panel but nothing happened. “He destroyed the link, then. It was worth a try.”

  They went up a flight of stairs and down a corridor lined with offices. Pip stopped before the biggest and tapped the keypad.

  “Fisk’s more original but still easy.” Gwyn made out ‘vector’ over her shoulder. She knew it had something to do with maths, but unless it helped her fix engines she didn’t want to know.

  Inside it was difficult not to cough. It hadn’t been aired out for a while. Pip drew in the dust with a gloved finger. “I don’ get it. She can’t’ve been sacked.”

  “Alfred said something about her being signed off.”

  “She loves her job. She’d live here if she could.”

  Whatever the doctor’s intentions, her workspace and cupboards had been cleared out. Pip struggled not to swear.

  “If anyone’s doin’ anythin’ dodgy, it’s her. Suggy’s too straight an’ Malik couldna care less.”

  “What about Adrian?”

  “Him? He’s jus’ a figurehead. No, Fisk’s our woman.”

  Gwyn was starting to fret. She’d never done anything illegal, and the longer they stayed, the higher the chance of discovery. She didn’t believe there was a conspiracy. “If there’s nothing in Josh’s control room or here, shouldn’t we go?”

  Pip’s face hardened. “There’s one more place.”

  They ploughed down numerous flights of stairs, past the Pond. They had avoided lifts till now but Pip whispered, “Here goes,” and dragged Gwyn into what looked like a funnel. The door sealed shut and they dropped several fathoms. Gwyn clapped a hand over her mouth. Even Pip looked green.

  “Shuggy’s stomach must be iron!” she said as they climbed out. She took a few deep breaths, waited for Gwyn to catch up, and addressed herself to the eye in the wall. She used a high, breathy Lux voice. “Mandy Cowan, taking a Dave for restoration.”

  “Thank you, Ms Cowan. Allow me to perform the retina scan.”

  Gwyn thought they were done for. While you can mimic someone’s voice, you can’t steal their face. She was astonished when it scanned Pip and said, “Thank you, Ms Cowan. Proceed.”

  “How did you do that? And why did it let me in?”

  “I copied Mandy’s retinas an’ made them into contact lenses,” Pip said calmly. “I wear ‘em anyway, so it dinna compute.”

  “And me?”

  “It thinks y’re a Dave.”

  Gwyn continued to splutter. Yes, she was six foot two and hard faced, but it didn’t mean she could pass for a monstrosity with guns for arms. At last she registered the shelves of dormant functionals.

  “What is this place?”

  “-5. It’s where they keep the bots after hours. If y’ want somethin’ to back up y’ arguments, this is it.”

  It was like a cathedral where the dead were on display, held in suspended animation. Gwyn imagined the arties she had met - Josh, Cora - in a similar condition. It was horrifying. “Let’s get out of here,” she bleated.

  Pip hadn’t heard. The ceiling plunged; they found themselves in a tunnel. Gwyn had to stoop while Pip strode through. There was very little light and even less air. All you could see were the silvery exoskeletons of the robots. Just as Gwyn feared they would be groping blindly forever, it opened out into a hollow.

  If -5 had been all order, this was unholy chaos. The gutted parts of artificials and functionals lay in a great pit, thousands deep. Their eyes were open, accusing. One moved - Gwyn thought it was a trick of the light. As she looked again she saw it was no illusion. The eyes, hands, faces and bodies were sentient, moving. One hand plucked at her trouser leg. What she had mistaken for the hum of machinery was hundreds of mechanical voices speaking at once.

  “Can you hear me? Are you there?”

  “Mummy ... I want my mummy ...”

  “I’m so cold ...”

  “Help me ...”

  Gwyn backed against the wall. “Why are these bots here? What’s going on?”

  Tears coursed down Pip’s cheeks. “This must be the Robot Graveyard. It’s where they put bots they’ve squelched or reprogrammed.”

  “Reprogrammed?”

  “Of course, y’ can’t really reprogram them. Y’ can only restore them to factory settin’s and leave them to run down.” As another hand clutched at them, “This is barbaric.”

  Gwyn’s knees buckled. She recalled the conversation she had had with Captain Lucy a few days ago.

  “I know where Josh Foster is. I can give him to you.”

  “Does Langton know you’re makin
g this call, Ms Wilding?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Humans come first.”

  “Indeed they do. I’m glad one member of your family speaks sense. I knew your father - an excellent fellow -”

  That should have tipped her off. Amazingly she’d ignored it. “He’ll be alright, though? You won’t hurt him?”

  An indulgent laugh. “He’ll be fine. We only need to reprogram him and this nasty business can be swept under the carpet.”

  This was the sentence she had given Josh. A lifetime trapped within a failing body, fully conscious. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemy. All he had done was be an artificial - which he couldn’t help - and make Alfred happy. Was that a crime?

  She was sickened by what she had done. The instant they were out of here, she would call it off. She’d thought ‘reprogram’ was a case of flicking a switch -

  She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Pip had gone ahead. She heard her voice echo. “Look at this!”

  She joined her at the farthest edge of the pit. Pip was staring into a handsome, vacant face. Its blue eyes rolled helplessly. “Hello? Anyone home?” it asked.

  “I’m sure I’ve seen this one before,” Pip frowned. “Has he been on veebox? Some kind of presenter?”

  Gwyn was transported back to a summer’s day, years ago. Fisk’s swine of a nephew tripping her. Grabbing Alfred’s hand as life was breathed into the perfect shell - its cheesy, staccato voice -

  “Hello, Guy,” she said.

  The two words had a galvanising effect. The shattered pieces of its mind flew together, it tried to raise itself from the pit. The other robots pulled him down.

  Gwyn gripped his wrists and tugged. “Lend us a hand,” she ordered. Pip had no choice but to obey. She took hold of one arm, Gwyn another, and levered him out.

  They gasped. The blue eyes and virile profile had remained, but the magnificent body was mangled beyond belief. The skin was blackened and peeling, rust showing through. His fingers and toes had fused. He struggled to take three steps. They barely caught him in time.

  “Okay,” Pip said. “Now what? We can’t take him anywhere lookin’ like that.”