It was a big city, after all.
Life might be cheaper someplace else.
Scott held the bag and the stick in the same hand. Going up was a lot easier although he had fallen once, losing his grip on the handrail. Sliding down six or seven steps, he was banged up on the shins, his left wrist hurt like hell. His bananas were squashed and there was one tomato that he never did find. His temper had been well and truly sparked that day.
He had said a few things, at least until Mrs. Jarvis came out and stood at the top of the landing, asking stupid questions and quavering, which he had always hated in a person. Of course the lady insisted on helping him. She came clunking down the stairs even as he told her not to.
That made two of them on the stairs, and it was all he could do not to tell the old lady to fuck off, get the hell out of my way—and leave me the fuck alone.
He was just passing the second-floor landing, tapping his way along, holding the handrail, as it was easy enough to put a foot wrong and go tumbling down the stairs.
There was the sound of a door.
“Mister Nettles?”
Go ahead, make my day.
It was a hell of a lot easier to be nice today. Just one of the many benefits of having a girlfriend, he supposed.
“Yes, Missus Jarvis?”
“Mister Nettles, I need to speak to you about something.”
Scott didn’t hesitate, although standing around in small talk could very easily disorient him.
He navigated the last few risers, tapping and banging the stick around so she would get back in her apartment and leave him room.
“Hi. So. What’s up?”
“Well. It’s just that I was worried about you.”
“What? About me? Why?”
“Well. I heard some noises, and I wondered if you were okay.”
“Noises?” The sounds of traffic came up from the street below and Mrs. Jarvis had the TV on in her apartment.
“Last night…er…”
Scott almost laughed aloud at the doubtful tone.
“Oh. I’m so sorry. It’s just that the walls are thin.” And his bedroom was directly above hers, most probably. “We’ll try to keep it down, and I am sorry about that.”
Scott took a step.
“Mister Nettles.”
He stopped.
“Yes?”
“You’re the only one listed on the lease, and you are supposed to inform me if your circumstances change.”
“Oh, well. Yes.”
No pets. No parties, no unnecessary noise after eleven p.m. While she had rattled off the terms of the lease when he rented the place, that was years ago. Yeah, no pets. He didn’t recall anything about circumstances.
“It’s just that I rented to one person.”
“Ah, yes.” Scott was the only one in the building who didn’t have a dog or a cat.
The perfectly rational fear of tripping on the animal, falling and breaking the thing’s back or leg was a compelling one, and he had never been able to bring himself to take the risk.
Of course he’d have to feed the thing and then there was the whole issue of them shitting all over the place. He’d have to go looking for it, a couple of times a week anyways.
“Well, okay. We’ll have a talk and then decide what we’re going to do.”
“Thank you, Mister Nettles.”
He could go on, but she had brought up an important issue.
Not unexpectedly, she took the grocery bag from him and then followed behind, breathing noisily and grunting as she took each step.
Argh.
Scott opened the door. He extended his hand and the weight of the bag dragged his arm down.
She wasn’t leaving and he repressed a deep sigh.
I suppose I really ought to be grateful.
“Betty? There’s someone here that I would like you too meet.”
There was dead silence in the apartment. Fear stabbed at Scott.
He moved in through the door and of course Missus Jarvis had no option but to come in.
Scott had endured worse.
“Betty? Betty?”
“I didn’t hear anyone go out.” His landlady seemed mystified.
“All right, well, maybe she’s in the bathroom, or doing laundry or something.”
Mrs. Jarvis hovered right there at his elbow.
“Look, if she’s not here then she’s not here. I’ll tell you what, Missus Jarvis. I’ll bring her down and introduce you a little bit later, okay?”
“Well…” That doubtful tone again.
He grinned.
“Look, I’m a big boy, I can look after myself.” He wasn’t all that eager to show Betty off, as deep down inside he had some doubts of his own.
The odds were she’d be gone soon enough. The thought was enough to make him sag a little in the knees. There would be questions. Scott hated questions.
“Would you like me to put your groceries away?”
“Ah, no thank you, Missus Jarvis.” The one time he let her do that, she’d cleaned out and rearranged his fridge, which meant that for weeks afterward, he hadn’t been able to find a God-damned thing.
“All righty, then. I’ll leave you to it.”
Scott gently closed the door. The sounds of her stumping off down the hallway were plain enough. He pried off his shoes, the toe of one foot against the heel of the other.
He would untie them before putting them on again. A knot in a shoe-lace was disaster, and so he left them a bit loose. Sometimes he could squeeze them on without the bother of untying and tying them. Sometimes he got angry just trying to put his shoes on.
The toilet flushed, the bathroom door opened and then Betty’s aroma was right there.
“Sorry, honey. She’s not that bad. She’s just curious.”
Scott moved into the kitchen, after carefully leaning his stick in the usual place. He put the grocery bag on the kitchen table.
She took his jacket and he heard her go to the front hall.
“Betty? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Scott.”
“It’s just that you seem kind of quiet this morning.”
She took his hand and led him to his lumpy old armchair in the living room. He eased himself down into it. She was standing right there.
“Sounds like we’re going to get some weather.”
“Yes, Scott.”
The TV nattered away softly as the team on the Weather Network cheerfully speculated as to how bad the coming line of thunderstorms would be. The cold front was just to the west, minutes away by their urgent tones.
Some sort of weather apocalypse in the making, he gathered. He turned to Betty.
“She’s just curious, more than anything. She’s never heard a woman up here, I suppose. And as for the lease—after a year, that means nothing. I mean, it’s only a twelve month contract. After that, all bets are off. Common Law. I don’t think she’ll make problems.”
“Scott.”
“Hmn. It’s okay, Betty. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“Scott. We need to talk.”
“Yes?” Still smiling at his thoughts—Missus Jarvis was in her late fifties and it occurred to Scott that she might be a little jealous.
There was just a shit-load of lonely people in the world when you thought about it.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
His mouth opened and the dull tone, the seriousness of it sunk in.
“What is it, Honey?”
His guts went cold and his heart picked up.
Of course.
There is something she needs to tell me.
The thought of losing her lanced through him.
He sighed, putting his best face on.
“Okay. Well. Sit down and tell me about it.”
Chapter Four
Scott felt all hollow inside.
It was like he was going to be sick to his stomach.
“Scott. Please believe me. I am so sorry.”
/>
“Yeah.”
So Betty was a robot.
Not only was she a robot, she was a runaway robot, one worth an estimated three-point-eight million dollars.
Betty was the finest robot that money could buy, and she had picked him. Her owner, Doyle Cartier, and his wife Olympia, were among the richest people on the planet. And one day, she decided that the grass was greener on the other side of the fence and walked off all on her lonesome. And then she spotted me.
She seemed pretty rational by any other standard.
In the surreal, topsy-turvy economic wasteland that the city had become, the Cartiers lived less than ten blocks away, having three floors at the top of the majestic State building. It was their little pied a terre when they were back home in the States and slumming, not far from where Doyle had grown up. The tough streets of Union City hadn’t gotten any tamer over the years.
“Why me?”
“Scott.”
“No, seriously. Why me?”
“Scott, they have seven other household bots, nineteen more conventional human servants, and quite frankly, they’re never happy. Nothing is ever good enough for them. Those people piss and moan about every little thing. The sense of personal entitlement is appalling. I couldn’t stand them for another minute. If they find me, I will destroy myself rather than go back.”
“Well, ah, Betty—Betty Blue, my love, my ever true.” Scott blurted all that out with nary a second’s hesitation. “If I have to live without you, why, then, I’ll just have to slash up, or, ah, you know, chuck myself out the window.”
“Oh, Scott. No.” Robots didn’t sigh, apparently. “What are we going to do?”
“Them cops know you didn’t get too far, not in that short a time. There are street and intersection cameras. There are store security cameras, and big front windows. Sooner or later, they will come back, and they will be knocking at my door.”
“I know, Scott.” On the bright side, she’d turned off her transponder.
He wished he could see the expression on her face right now. She might have just grabbed him, right off the bat, as a start—a place to hole up, with a defenseless man who, quite frankly, would have been easy enough to strangle at any time.
The fact that she hadn’t, and then gone off over the rooftops in the depth of night when things were safer, was no real certification of her sanity or her intentions. But. When someone said they loved you…shit.
What in the hell were you supposed to fuckin’ do?
Love is blind, and so am I.
He couldn’t help or change the way he felt about her. That was just pure karma—for good or bad, and he had to roll with it.
What, am I supposed to do, just let go?
There was no way in hell that was going to happen.
Such is fate. Such is destiny.
Such is life, motherfucker.
“So.”
“I was going anyway, Scott. And then I saw you and I wondered. I could never have stayed there.”
She wondered.
Well, so do I.
I wonder what that means.
“Hmn.” His guts roiled inside, his heart ached. “Well.”
“Scott, I am so sorry for endangering you. But they will keep looking for me. Sooner or later, your landlady will wonder why I never go out.”
Sooner or later, they would get caught.
It all came to him in a rush. Looking back, it was strange he hadn’t caught on sooner.
They ate meals, and yet the food supply seemed like the miracle of the loaves and the fishes. He really hadn’t been spending any more on groceries.
She went to the bathroom, and yet her shit didn’t seem to stink. When she peed, there was a tinkling, watery sound. But that would be easy enough to fake.
At night, in bed together, her breathing was a little too shallow and regular. She never snored, or mumbled, or made little noises with her mouth. Her stomach never rumbled, and the designers had seen no reason to give her even the ability to fart. She didn’t drool in her sleep and make the pillow wet.
How stupid could a man be?
She didn’t have a toothbrush—and Scott, blinded by his delirium, hadn’t remarked upon it.
Nobody’s perfect, he thought wildly.
“Please don’t leave me, Betty.” Tears sprang at last from his eyes, bringing a kind of madness with them. “Oh, God, please don’t leave me.”
She held his hand and comforted him as he cried on her shoulder, body wracked by spasms of grief.
“Betty. Betty. Betty.”
“Scott.”
“Oh, God, why me?”
“Scott.”
She held him as he sobbed, stroking his hair and whispering his name.
Around them, outside of the open windows, curtains billowing in another surprisingly warm breeze, the sounds and the life of the city went on, cheerful, robust, and vigorous for all of its faults.
In here it was all pain, and poverty, and deprivation, and now it would get even worse because now Scott had a much better idea of what he was missing. Now he knew how much better life could actually be, if only a man caught a break once in a while.
A real good break that didn’t kill you with happiness one minute and then cast you into the depths of hell the next.
If only a man had a friend, a companion—someone to love, for fuck’s sakes. Scott had no one to talk to.
If only.
“Scott.”
Those vacant eyes stared hopelessly where her face would be.
“Betty.”
He tried to pull away, to sit up, and to just try and think it through.
It was obvious enough. Three-point-eight million.
“Yeah, they’ll never stop looking for you.”
He sniffled, back in control for the most part.
“Fuck.”
She squeezed his hand, saying nothing.
“I need you.”
“Yes. That was my original assessment.”
He half-laughed, and half-sobbed at those words.
“Betty.”
“Scott.”
There wasn’t much to say.
“I’m not letting you go. We’ll think of something.”
“Scott, the longer I stay here, the more likely it is that something will go wrong. I don’t want to see you in trouble.”
He sighed, unwilling or unable to accept it.
“Betty. I love you so much.” How to say it? “I haven’t loved anybody, not even myself, in too many years. I don’t think I can stand it any more—not after you.”
“Scott. I can’t endanger you any further.”
“Sure you can.”
“Scott. What do you mean by that?”
“What are you going to do, just take off and leave me here?” Scott’s face twisted in an agony of emotions, all of them feeding the big boil of pain and pus on his psyche. “I can’t take it. What do you expect me to do? Just forget? Just get over it?”
“Scott. This was wonderful. Our time together is something I will always treasure.”
He gripped her hands fiercely.
“We’ll go together.”
“What? Oh, Scott. My poor love. Scott. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“They’re looking for one robot. We’ll be two people together. We can travel. We can cook up a story. What we need is a plan, Betty.”
He fell forwards onto her upper body, clinging to Betty Blue.
“Please, Betty. Please don’t leave me.”
There were some noises and Betty picked up the sound of the landlady’s tread on the stairs.
She put a finger over Scott’s lips.
“Hush, Baby.”
Scott closed his eyes, tried to staunch the tears and the fear and the despair.
He had to get control over himself and make her understand what she was doing to him.
Weren’t there three rules of robotics or something?
He’d read that as a kid, before he grew up and los
t his vision.
Betty knew the facts better than he ever could. To her mind, it was impossible. What they had to do was irrational.
They had to do something irrational, in the face of impossible odds.
“Betty?”
“Yes, Scott?” Her voice was subdued.
“Do you trust me?”
She stroked his hair and kissed him and he fell silent.
The sound of Mrs. Jarvis and her vacuum cleaner, roaring and banging in the hallway outside, was of no great reassurance.
Sooner or later, Betty’s luck had to run out.
As for Scott, it already had. Scott’s luck had run out years before.
Wasn’t it time he caught a real break?
For much of his adult life he had done nothing but think. Time had always been the one thing he had plenty of. Scott was a man with a little too much time to think.
If only he had learned what to do with it.
They could sure use some ideas right about now.
***
They had talked it out, and while it was desperate, it was completely unorthodox, upon which Scott had insisted.
“We have to do something they would never anticipate.” Hopefully she could take it on faith. “We have to do something completely unpredictable, something they would never expect.”
She had outlined all the methods which they would have to avoid, or evade, or elude, methods by which she and he could be seen, recorded and identified. They faced a daunting prospect. Betty was monitoring hundreds of channels at all times, but her own recent files were blocked by police and original company protocols. Having anticipated this, she had a backup file ready-made. It was disturbing to know they were probing not just for her, but at her and in her.
“You know they’re going right by the book, and routine, on this one.”
The state would be relying on manpower and technology, Scott told her. It would be relying on its very ubiquity. The eyes were everywhere. One of the reasons the cops weren’t swarming all over the vicinity, was because they expected to solve the case by other means. They were counting on some data, a sighting, a recorded image, by the all-pervasive passive means at their disposal. Someone would find her facing into a corner in a blind alley, feet still going. He explained to her just exactly how they would think. Her battery must have died, her brain had a short circuit in it, or something like that.
The Mysterious Case of Betty Blue Page 3