Pet Peeve

by Piers Anthony

  "I can think of one thing, but—"

  "And if one of us is genuine, and the other is fake, what would that mean about our constancy to each other?"

  "Actually, we are both experienced adults," he said.

  "I'm not."

  "Yes, you are. We—"

  She blushed. It was far redder in her dream state. "Apart from you, I'm not."

  "But you were so—"

  "Because you were. I pretended I was your wife. That made it easy. Otherwise—well, never mind."

  Goody found that immensely flattering. But it was beside the point. A demoness like Metria could surely be more apt in that respect than any mortal woman. And while she was diverting him, the real Gwenny might be suffering or dying. So it was no good as a test.

  Then he thought of something. "On Iron Mountain I happened to see the twin princesses running. It nearly freaked me out. I bet you could run just as nicely. Show me that you can."

  She looked crestfallen. "Oh, Goody, I wish I could do that for you! But I can't."

  "Can't or won't?"

  She reconsidered. "Then again, this is the dream realm. Maybe I'm not limited the same way. So if you really want—"

  "No need. I accept your identity."

  "Yet if I can do it here, it's no test."

  "A fake Gwenny bent on seduction wouldn't have hesitated. She wouldn't have known about your knee."

  She nodded. "This is the first time I have appreciated my lameness. But I still need to verify your identity."

  "And I'm not lame."

  Then a little bulb flashed over her head. "Goody, whom do you love best?"

  He paused. "You mean, among living women?"

  "I accept you," she said, and kissed him.

  Because she knew of his lingering love for Go-Go. A fake wouldn't have hesitated to reassure her that he loved Gwenny best.

  "Then we have verified each other," he said. "Yet it reminds me of the time Hannah was transformed to the likeness of Go-Go, and I wanted to—" He shrugged, embarrassed.

  She put her hand on his. "I understand, Goody. I really do, especially now, and I wouldn't have blamed you if you had. You hadn't met me yet; Hannah is the one who safeguarded you so that you could come to me." She led him to chairs in the Lost & Found pavilion. Even in the dream state, she was wary of staying on her feet too long. "But now we need to talk."

  "Of course. I need to know where you are, where the robots have you, so we can rescue you."

  She sat opposite him, her skirt showing her legs to advantage, surely by no coincidence. "It's more complicated than that, Goody. I think it best if I tell you the whole story, so that you'll understand."

  "You're hurt?" he asked, alarmed.

  She smiled. "No, not hurt. But something has changed, and I'm not sure you'll accept it if you don't have the background first."

  "You love someone else?"

  "Oh, come on, Goody. If I did, would I do this?" She leaned across, giving him a startling peek down her blouse on the way to kissing him.

  He remained alarmed. "But something's wrong."

  "Not wrong. Just complicated. The others may not readily understand."

  "What's so difficult to understand about rescuing you from the robots?"

  She kissed him again. "Now be quiet while I tell you."

  "Yes, of course."

  "I was going from section to section, exhorting the troops as they battled ever greater concentrations of robots. One group was being pushed right out of formation, to the very edge of the Mountain Lake. Goblins can't fight very well in water. So I—"

  Her narrative broke off. Because she was gone.

  Goody stared at the empty chair, appalled. What had happened? How could he lose her so abruptly after just finding her?

  He stepped out of the pavilion, searching for her. Wafts of mist had formed around it. As he forged through one he became extremely negative; he had lost her and was never going to find her again. Then he passed through another waft, and felt far more positive; of course he would find her.

  Then he remembered his spot return to the waking state, when Hannah had broken his connection to the gourd's peephole. Gwenny would have set up a similar interruption, so as not to get locked in forever. She had been returned to her natural state. Soon she should return, to the same place she had been when she left the dream realm. That was the way of it.

  Sure enough, after several long moments and a few nervous instants, she reappeared. "Sorry about that, Goody. I'm set for an hour at a time, and I had been waiting for you for a while before you found me."

  "I understand. It happened to me on the way here. I was really concerned, before I realized, especially as I walked through the mist."

  She looked out of the pavilion. "The pessimist, the sad fog," she agreed. "I ran afoul of that too. But then the happy fog optimist restored my confidence."

  "Exactly." They kissed.

  "Where was I?"

  He smiled. "You were providing me peeps up your skirt and down your blouse. To keep me quiet while you talked."

  "Of course." She adjusted both to make sure they provided just the right amount of peep. Girls were good at that, especially in dreams. "I meant in my narrative."

  "Your troops were being driven to the edge of Mountain Lake. You were afraid they'd be in trouble in the water."

  "Thank you. I actually ran into the water to help a goblin get out. But a robot was pushing forward, and when my goblin moved clear, the robot charged into me. We became entangled and staggered together deeper into the lake." She paused. "You know, here in the dream realm we should be able to make a dream scene. Let's see if I can animate it."

  Goody hadn't thought of that. What better place for a dream, than in the dream realm? Or more properly, a dream within a dream.

  A bubble appeared over her head, like the flashing bulb, only without the flash. It expanded at a moderate rate, becoming as big as her head, then larger. It looked like a balloon, only open, so as to be seen inside. Now Goody saw that it contained a picture, with blue sky above, green water below, and a confusion of things in the middle.

  The floating picture expanded further, as Gwenny got the details filled in. The cluttered center was brown land, and a lake bank, with a gang of goblins facing out from the water, and a roll of robots pressing in from beyond. The goblins had stout little clubs with which they banged the robots, denting their surfaces. The robots just had their arms, but those were iron, and dented the goblins just as badly when they connected.

  Then a lovely lady goblin chief appeared. "Beware of the water!" she cried, catching a goblin by the arm and pulling him to the side. He moved as directed, and the robot he had been engaging lurched forward, crashing instead into the gobliness. They wrapped their arms around each other, trying to recover their mutual balance, but both were staggering farther into the lake.

  Then they lost their footing and plunged over a nether ledge. It turned out that the bottom of the lake was not flat after all, but slanted toward the center. Still embraced, they slid down a steep bank, bubbles rising from her exhaled breath and its combustion chamber. They were drowning!

  The slippery bank took them down well below the surface. The gobliness might have swum back to the shore, but she was snarled with the robot, which was much heavier. So both continued down, until at last they dropped off an overhang and landed before a rocky outcropping. Gwenny—for of course she was the gobliness—saw it, and struggled to get under it, dragging the inert machine along with her. It seemed its metal wasn't as heavy in the water, so she was somehow able to move it. But her hope of climbing back to the surface of the lake was remote; she was about to drown.

  Then the space under the ledge became dimly visible. It was the opening of a cave that slanted up under the bank. There was air in it! Somehow Gwenny dragged herself and the robot into that air, so she could breathe again. She collapsed panting on the sand.

  The walls of the cave glowed with fungus, outlining it; that was why it was
visible. There was a small assortment of other things there, evidently washed or crawled in some time before. One was an old pot with a crack in it, probably thrown away. Another was what looked like a separated animal tail. Another was a sick bird that seemed to belong to the letters species; this wasn't a C-gull, but more like an E-gull. Another was what looked like a little pile of netting, that smelled fishy. And there was a hypnogourd.

  Goody paused, reflecting. He was watching Gwenny's dream image of her memory of recent events. How was it he could smell it? Well, there could be smells in dreams, and sounds, as well as images. He stopped questioning it.

  After a time Gwenny roused herself. She was sorely bedraggled, but seemed intact. Even with her clothing stuck on her and her hair matted, she looked lovely.

  Where am I? she thought. He was able to receive her thoughts too. Well, why not, in her dream?

  She looked about. "A crock pot," she said, spying it.

  "No, I'm cracked," it replied. "I am now a crack pot. I'm crazy."

  "Not if you can still be used." She picked it up and carried it to the edge of the water at the front of the cave. She dipped it half full, then heaved it to a dent in the sand. She scrounged for dry see-weeds, piling their dessicated eyeballs around its base. Then she found a chip of firewood and used it to light a small fire.

  "Oh, that feels good," the pot said. "I hope I don't leak on the fire and put it out."

  "Your crack goes down only halfway," she reassured it.

  "So am I half crocked or half cracked?"

  She kissed its rim, which become more brightly burnished. Goody knew how that was, too. "You're wholly useful."

  Then she pulled off her sopping clothing and dumped it in the pot for a washing. Goody's eyes threatened to freak out, but he reminded himself of two things: first, he had seen her bare before, so should be partway immune to freaking. Second, this was a dream within a dream, so its effect should be doubly diluted. He could look at her without freaking. He hoped. Still, it was a close call when she pulled off her black goblin panties and added them to the mix.

  Gwenny, waiting for her washing to cook, explored the rest of the cave. "What are you?" she asked the sick E-bird.

  "Oh, I'm illegal," it replied. "You don't want to associate with me."

  "I didn't quite hear that."

  "I am an ill E-gull," the bird repeated carefully. "You might catch my disease."

  "Nonsense. Goblins don't get bird illnesses. Let's see if I can help you." She went to the pot and fished out her panties, which were now steaming. She used them to wash off the bird's feathers, beak, and feet. The encrustations on the bird fell to the sand. They looked like little B's. "I think you were just B-fouled," she said. "You're clean now. How do you feel?"

  "Much better," the bird said. "In fact now that those awful letters are off, I feel like an eagle."

  Goody realized something about Gwenny: she was compassionate. She was helping things and creatures, just because they were there. He liked that.

  She shook the remaining B's off her makeshift cloth and returned it to the pot. She picked up the severed tail. "I'll tell! I'll tell!" it cried.

  "Tell what?" she asked it, surprised.

  "Whatever bad things you're doing, you naughty girl."

  "But I'm not a naughty child. I'm a grown goblin."

  "Oh, phooey! I thought you were a small human."

  She set it down. "Better luck next time." She went to the fishy netting and picked it up. This turned out to be a pair of fishnet stockings. "Too bad Goody's not here," she remarked. "I could really freak him out with these." She put them into the boiling pot to clean.

  Then she spied something much larger in the back of the cave. It looked like an enormous tangle of seaweed. As she studied its outline she realized that it was a kraken, the deadly deep-sea weed that preyed on the unwary. What was that doing this far out of the water? Was it dead?

  She squatted beside a tentacle and touched it with a finger. It quivered. It was still alive! But of course it had no power; it had to be suspended in water.

  She held the tentacle in her hand, communing with the monster. How did you come here?

  I got lost, and wound up in fresh water. I'm a seawater monster; I had to get free of it. I dragged myself out. Now I'm stuck.

  "You must be hungry," Gwenny said aloud.

  More tentacles quivered. Very.

  Goody was amazed. Was she going to help a kraken? What was the limit of her compassion?

  She returned to the pot and fished out the fishnet stockings. She put them on. Her legs became outstanding; Good almost did freak out. Then she went to the water and waded in. She reached out, holding the upper section of each stocking, and caught a fish in each hand. She tossed them to the sand and grabbed for more.

  Fishnet stockings: they enabled her to net fish. Now he understood.

  When she had a suitable pile, she left the water and picked up two of the fish. She carried them to the kraken and tossed them onto its mass. The tentacles writhed, grabbing the fish. There was a chomping sound.

  She went back and forth, ferrying the pile of fish she had caught. Every time she walked, the fishnet stockings showed off her legs to such advantage that Goody found himself panting. Maybe they were actually pantyhose. Finally she completed the task. Only then did she remove the stockings.

  So far Goody hadn't seen anything that would complicate her rescue. Now he knew where she was; when he emerged from the dream realm he could tell Hannah and they could organize the rescue. It could have been much worse. He had feared the robots had taken her hostage.

  Gwenny looked around. This time her gentle eye fell on the defunct robot.

  Oh, no! She couldn't be thinking of helping that!

  She walked to the pile of metal. The robot was dead, in its fashion: its fire was out.

  Gwenny struggled to heave it up to lean against the wall, sitting. She checked its limbs and torso. They were in order. She opened its belly door and peered inside. There was a sodden half-burned chunk of wood. She took it out, then used her panty-cloth to wipe clear the interior. Then she went on a quest for dry wood.

  She was doing it! Did she have a death wish?

  She gathered all the dry chips she could find, and some more see-weeds. She packed them carefully in the firebox, then used a chip of firewood to ignite them. The fire caught and blazed up. She shut the door and stood back.

  The robot came to life, in its fashion. It got to its feet. It checked itself. It looked around with its lenses. It saw Gwenny. It spoke, using its speaker grille. "Why?"

  "You were hurting."

  "I do not understand."

  "You fire was out. You were dead. That's not nice."

  "My fire was out. I was inactive. What is nice?"

  She shook her head. "Maybe you have to be alive to understand."

  "I am not alive. I do not understand."

  She considered. "Why did you fight us?"

  "What is fight?"

  "What you were doing. Coming at us in masses, shoving us around. Trampling us. Killing us."

  "We were going to the iron. We forged through impediments."

  "You mean you weren't trying to fight us?"

  "We had to get to the iron. You were in the way. We tried to pass. You did not get out of the way."

  She considered again. "But you were overrunning us. We had to stop you."

  "All we want is iron."

  "So you can make more and bigger robots."

  "Yes. As long as the iron lasts."

  "We can't allow that."

  "I do not understand."

  "You will squeeze all the rest of us out of Xanth."

  "Yes."

  "That's not right."

  "What is right?"

  She tried again. "There should be room for all creatures in Xanth, each in its place. Cooperating when that is mutually beneficial."

  "Why?"

  "Why do you do what you do?"

  "I follow my program
."

  "Well, my program forbids me to hurt folk I don't need to hurt, or to let them hurt if I don't need to. That's why I helped you."

  "Give me a program that enables me to understand."

  She was surprised. "You would accept such a program?"

  "Yes, because it seems to be a better program than mine. No other robot helped me. I would not have helped another robot. You helped me. You have a directive that would be useful for me. I want to be the best machine I can be. That's in my present program."

  She considered again. "Maybe we can help each other. If you help me escape this cave, I will help you get such a program. Is it a deal?"

  "What is a—"

  "An agreement to help each other get what we need. To cooperate. Not to fight each other."

  "I do not understand cooperation."

  She considered yet again. "Can your present program accept something you don't yet understand but that may benefit you later?"

  "Yes, conditionally."

  "Then accept this: if we don't cooperate, we will not escape this cave. I will die and you will run out of fuel and become inactive. If we do cooperate, I will live and you will get out to get more fuel and a better program."

  "I accept that. I do not know what to do."

  "You'll have to trust me."

  "What is trust?"

  She shook her head. "You are really making me think! I think what you need is a soul program. That is, a program that emulates the conscience of a living creature. Then you would understand our case, and would understand the need to limit your pursuit of iron. Then maybe we could exist together in harmony. I mean all living creatures and all robots."

  "What is trust?"

  She smiled. "I suppose I didn't properly answer that. It means you accept that I mean you no harm, and that it is safe for you and your kind to do what I ask you to do. Until you get the program that will make it clear to you."

  "What you offer will benefit me. I will trust you."

  "Thank you."

  "What is thanks?"

  She laughed. "It is an expression of appreciation for a nice thing someone else has done."

  "I merely made a statement of acceptance."

  "This, too, is something the new program will clarify."