by John Shirley
Marilla took that as an admission of a kind. “So you know something is wrong with it!”
“No, Marilla,” Anne replied. “I honestly didn’t.” She looked at Matthew, who was quietly sitting in the kitchen chair, watching the exchange. He gave her a gentle smile of encouragement.
“I need a truthful answer from you, Anne,” said Marilla. “Did you play with Matthew’s watch until you broke it?”
“No, Marilla,” said Anne truthfully, since she had no idea when it broke.
“Then who did?” demanded Marilla.
Anne simply stared at her. She’d been taught never to guess when she didn’t know the answer.
Marilla glared at the android, trying to keep her temper in check. “Now listen to me carefully, Anne,” she said at last, ominously enunciating every syllable. “If you don’t admit that you’ve done wrong, and that you just lied to me, you will not be allowed to go to Diana’s birthday airship flight next month.”
Anne’s mind quickly considered the possibilities and the consequences. If she did not admit to purposely breaking the watch, Marilla would not believe her and she would not be permitted to ride on the exotic airship. On the other hand, if she lied and admitted to breaking it, Marilla almost certainly would believe her and she would be allowed to go. It was very confusing: if she lied she would be rewarded, and if she told the truth she would be punished.
Which was worse—to lie and be believed, or to tell the truth and be doubted? In the end it was not the airship that was the deciding factor, but a desire to please Marilla by telling her what Anne assumed she wanted to hear, and what she obviously already believed.
“I broke the watch while I was playing with it,” she said at last.
Marilla stared at her a long time before speaking. Finally she said, “All right, Anne. Cuthberts always keep their word, so you will be allowed to go on the airship.”
“Thank you,” said Anne.
“I’m not finished yet,” said Marilla harshly. “As I said, Cuthberts don’t lie. You just admitted that you lied to me. Therefore, you are not and never will be a Cuthbert. I’m going to have a serious talk with Matthew after you’re in bed tonight. I think we’re going to return you and get our money back. You are not what we were promised.”
Anne was still staring at the empty space where Marilla had stood long after Marilla had turned and walked away.
Deep down Anne had known she was different from everyone else in Avonlea, and that she had the means to repair the pocket watch if she only just acknowledged it. She didn’t know if she had refused to accept the truth about herself and had blocked it from her mind, or if she had simply been programmed to not think about it, but she had to confront it now if she was to ever help fix the damage she had inadvertently caused.
She pulled out her carpet bag, and for the first time since she’d arrived at Green Gables she opened it up.
Inside was a batch of tools, some of them not unlike those she was using to create Matthew’s milking machine, only finer in construction.
Her delicate hand reached in and sorted through them until she felt the one she needed and pulled it out, looking at it for a long moment.
She hesitated, then unlaced the top of her nightgown, looking down at the barely perceptible panel outlined on the left side of her chest. Her right hand hovered above it, implement in hand, knowing instinctively what she had to do, but unable to take the next step. Then she thought of the pain she saw in Matthew’s eyes when Marilla had decreed she had to be returned to the factory, and she steeled herself, placing the implement along one side of the panel and pressing it in, hearing a tiny whir as three micro-latches started turning. A section of her popped out, and she looked at it for a long moment before carefully hooking the brass nail of her thumb into the tiny crevice and pulling it open.
I’m a machine.
The realization struck her like a punch to the stomach as she stood staring at what she had revealed, unable to process anything for some time. Although deep down she had always known, it was still a shock to see tiny brass cogs, wheels, screws, and copper wires so intricately interconnected to a circuit board buried within her chest. It was a wonder to behold, even for the android.
She realized how primitive the pocket watch was in comparison, and yet she also understood its importance to Matthew, and her determination to repair it for him increased tenfold. She closed her eyes and tuned into the sounds her body made.
Tick, tick, tick, tick…
Her eyes sprung open, and she instinctively moved a bundle of copper wires that were covering the specific mechanism she needed to find. She analyzed the individual components, recognizing that some were similar to those in the pocket watch.
Tick, tick, tick, tick…
She rustled around in her carpet bag and pulled out a tiny toolbox, opening it to reveal delicate jewellery-grade tools. She selected one and used it to sever the connection between the tiny mechanism and her main circuit board without a second thought.
The ticking stopped.
The android’s hand froze. She felt a strong sense of loss, and she couldn’t focus. She had no idea how long it took her to adjust to the change in her body, because she literally lost track of time, but she finally was able to block out the feeling that she had lost something fundamental to her being when she realized how much more she’d lose if she had to leave Green Gables.
She carefully placed the little mechanism on the table in front of her and used the firelight to study it more closely. At first she had thought she’d wasted her time, but when she put the pocket watch beside it, she was able to compare the components more easily, and she could see they were of similar composition and size; they were just finished off differently.
Then she spotted it: the part she needed.
Using the precision that only an android could command, Anne very carefully detached it and transplanted it into the pocket watch within minutes. When the last part was in place, the pocket watch sprang to life.
Tick, tick, tick, tick…
Anne clapped her hands together in delight, an affectation she’d picked up from Diana. She knew that what she achieved that night was more important than any work she’d ever done on the factory floor—or at least, it felt that way to her.
She looked at the part of herself she’d transplanted into the pocket watch, studying her handiwork, unable to find it lacking. The new part stood out from the rest of the components because it was free of tarnish and more rose gold in color than normal brass. It also appeared more refined in composition, and she wondered if Matthew would mind the discrepancy.
She resealed her access panel and relaced the top of her nightgown before methodically packing her tools back into the carpet bag. She considered whether she should clean the brass and restore the pocket watch back to its original condition. But the cleaning agent she normally rinsed through her copper hair was in the bathroom upstairs, and she didn’t want to risk waking the Cuthberts.
She picked up the pocket watch again to take it back to the kitchen where Matthew had usually kept it, and walked straight into someone.
“Anne! Give that to me immediately!” Marilla barked, standing in the doorway with a lantern in her hand. “You have been told you are no longer welcome in our house, and that means you are definitely not allowed to touch our things.” She looked at the android pointedly. “Especially ones you’ve already broken.”
Anne didn’t trust herself to speak after the trouble her mouth had gotten her into earlier that day, so instead she simply held out her hand.
Marilla was taken aback by the silent acquiesce. She looked down to see the pocket watch still open on the dainty little hand, and she wondered what other heirlooms the android had played with while she and Matthew had been asleep at night.
She retrieved the pocket watch, inspecting it to see if it came to further damage—and her heart nearly stopped.
The pocket watch was working again!
She couldn’t tear her eyes away fr
om it; she was so surprised. Then she spotted the gleaming new part at the heart of the clock mechanism, and her breath caught. “Where did you get that?” Marilla asked, looking up at Anne sharply.
The android raised her hand and placed it on her chest where a human heart would be. “Here,” she said simply, her head tilting to the side.
She had used a part of herself to repair the watch! Marilla realized what a huge gesture that was. “You didn’t break the watch yesterday by playing with the clock mechanism, did you?” she asked quietly.
“No.”
Marilla sighed. “Then why did you say you did when I asked?”
“You told me I couldn’t go on the airship for Diana’s birthday celebration next month unless I confessed to breaking it,” Anne said, her big green eyes seeking Marilla’s out in entreaty. “So I confessed.”
“But that’s lying, Anne,” Marilla pointed out.
“You wouldn’t believe the truth.”
Marilla sighed again. “So you thought you were giving me the answer I wanted. You were trying to please me.” She looked back down at the repaired pocket watch. “Let us make a deal, Anne: I will forgive you for lying, if you will forgive me for not believing you.”
“What is this about forgiveness?” Matthew asked, as he, too, walked into the room.
Marilla ate some humble pie. “You were right,” she admitted, and without saying any more she handed over the pocket watch.
Matthew brought the timepiece closer to his lantern to study it. That it worked again was no surprise to him. He had a feeling Anne would try to repair it after watching her dedication while building his milking machine. But what he didn’t expect to see was the glint of a new component in the clock mechanism that differed in color from the rest of the watch. He looked over to Anne in shock when he recognized its construction was far more refined than the rest of the watch’s components.
Anne’s green eyes twinkled. “I’ll never be on time for school again,” she said, and Matthew realized she’d used a component from her internal clock to bring his father’s beloved pocket watch back to life.
He knew what a sacrifice that must have been for the android, and his heart reached out to her, knowing that in a way he held a piece of hers within in his hand.
He walked up to her and kissed her on the forehead, much to her and Marilla’s surprise. “You’ll just have to learn how to tell the time like us average folks,” he said as he stepped back, his voice a little gruff with emotion.
“I’ll teach you, Anne,” Marilla stated. “If you learn from Matthew, you’ll never arrive anywhere on time.”
Anne had always thought that sailing on an airship would give her a sense of freedom unlike any other experience in the world.
She was wrong.
Yes, it was exhilarating. Yes, she felt on top of the world—quite literally—as she leaned over the bow of the ship, the wind lifting her copper hair as the vessel passed through another cloud bank. But she soon realized that she was just a spectator watching the world pass her by. There was some peace to be discovered in that, but she had no control over that journey; she just had to enjoy the ride.
She knew now that her first true taste of freedom had been when the Station Master had released her from the cargo trunk at the train station three months ago—she just hadn’t been aware of it at the time. She had stepped out into a brand new world, with sensations she’d never even known had existed, let alone experienced, and for the first time in her brief life she had the opportunity to be accepted. Appreciated.
Loved.
No longer was she being told how to perform her every action like an automated machine. She had to learn and adapt to the ramifications of her actions like everyone else, and deal with any consequences that arose. There was a great sense of freedom in being in control of her own destiny that she’d previously been denied until she’d met the Cuthberts.
Her keen android eyes searched the fields far below her until she spotted Green Gables nestled along the treeline. As she gazed at it she felt a sense of belonging that she’d never experienced before.
“We would like to adopt you,” Matthew said quietly when she had hopped off the airship not long after, halting her excited rambles about how the journey through the clouds had given her such scope for the imagination.
“But you have already bought me,” Anne replied, perplexed, as she considered Matthew’s shy smile.
“That’s true,” said Marilla, “and what an expensive girl you were, to say the least.” She brushed off her skirts briskly, and then looked directly at the android, who returned her gaze. “But we don’t want to own you,” she added, reaching over to take hold of Matthew’s hand. “We want to know if you would choose to become a part of this family as the child we never had, and never knew we’d even wanted until you came into our lives.”
Anne stared at both of them, and for the first time since they met her, she was speechless.
In that moment she became Anne of Green Gables.
She had finally come home.
The Green Menace
By Thomas Tessier
I was weeding one of the flower beds out front when the black Cadillac came up the gravel drive and stopped just a few feet away from me. With its hooded headlights and the two huge chrome bullets mounted on the wide grille, it looked like some giant mechanical land shark. At the time—this was in May of 1955—I thought it was one of the most beautiful cars I’d ever seen.
The man who got out of the Caddy dropped a cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe. He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt, not tucked in, and khaki slacks. He didn’t look like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. The skin on his face was chalky and I could see that he had office hands. It was still the middle of the afternoon and he already had a shadow filling in along both sides of his jaw.
“Hey, kid,” he said to me. “Give me a hand here.”
I dropped the hoe I was working with and followed him around to the back of the car. He opened the trunk. There were two suitcases inside, one a little smaller than the other, as well as a black briefcase. He immediately grabbed the smaller suitcase and took that one himself.
“Get those other two for me, would you.”
“Sure. How long are you staying?”
He ignored that, slammed the trunk shut, and stomped up the wooden steps to the veranda and through the front door, like he knew the place. Which he didn’t; I was sure he’d never been to Sommerwynd before. Though I do remember thinking there was something vaguely familiar about him, like maybe I had seen his face on a baseball card a while back—not one of the keepsies.
My father was at the desk and quickly fell into conversation with the man as he signed in. I wasn’t really paying attention, just standing there, waiting to find out which room he was given. But then my mother came out of the office, followed by my grandfather, and I saw the adoring look on their faces as my father introduced them. And then my father gestured toward me.
“And you have already met Kurt, our son. Kurt, this is our distinguished guest, Senator Joe McCarthy.”
So that was why he looked familiar. I’d seen his face in a newspaper or on the television. But I was still a couple of months shy of sixteen at the time and had no interest at all in politics. The only thing I knew about him then was that he was a Commie-hunter and was loved for it by a lot of people, especially in our home state of Wisconsin. I nodded and mumbled something incoherent when McCarthy glanced at me and shook my hand. He had a so-so grip and cool, dry skin.
“Kurt,” my father continued, “anything the Senator needs or wants while he is our guest, please see to it at once, or tell me or your mother.”
“One thing,” McCarthy said, raising a hand, his index finger extended. “I am here to get away from Washington and all that for a little while. So, I’d appreciate it if all of you would skip the ‘Senator' stuff and just call me Joe.” He looked at me again and gave a thin smile. “That includes you, kid—Ku
rt.”
He was in room number 6, the best of the nine guest rooms at the lodge. It had the widest view of the lake, its own little balcony, and the largest bathroom. He kind of exhaled when he stepped inside and looked around, like he was not impressed. I heard an odd clunk when he set down the smaller suitcase he carried. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a money clip, and peeled off a dollar bill. He handed it to me.
“When you get a chance,” he said, pointing to the coffee table in the sitting area, specifically to the clamshell ashtray on the table, “I’ll need a bigger ashtray. And a bucket of ice.”
“Yes, sir.”
Knotty pine. He was surrounded by knotty pine, floor to ceiling on every wall, and it made him feel kind of edgy. Joe was fifteen minutes into his escape-from-the-rest-of-the-world, as he thought of it, and he was already wondering if he had made a mistake. Just one more in a long list of them, ha ha.
He was at Sommerwynd, a small fishing lodge on a small lake in a remote corner of northwestern Wisconsin. It didn’t have a telephone, and the nearest town was twenty-odd miles away. It was the perfect place to go to ground for a while, to relax, recharge his batteries, and think about what he wanted to do next, to plan his next moves. If there were any. Billy O'Brien knew the Wirth family, who ran Sommerwynd. Billy had made the arrangements for Joe. Billy was a friend who stayed a friend—he didn’t drift away, like so many others had. But now Billy had landed Joe out in the back of beyond, and Joe was not sure it was such a great idea after all. Still, give it a go. He could always leave whenever he felt like it.
Joe reached both hands behind him and up under his loose shirt to unhook the holster and the .22 clipped to his pants belt. He set them down on the bedside table. Then he pulled his left pant-leg up and unbuckled the holster and the snub-nosed .38 he wore above his ankle. He put them on the table next to the big armchair on the other side of the room. He’d never had to use either gun—yet. But Joe knew he had millions of enemies out there and he was not about to go down without a fight if any of them decided to come hunting for him.