Love and Robotics (41 page)

“What?”

“Look!”

They were visible on the ceiling: one naked, one in a shirt, Josh dominant. The prim artificial was gone; in his place was this virile, insatiable demon. It was so unlike his fantasies he had to laugh.

“The little blond’s gorgeous.”

“I like the redhead.”

“I’m not much to look at, am I?”

“You’ll do.” Josh kissed the top of his head. “Do you like this?”

“You’re making me weep.”

“Can we change round? I want to see you.”

Breaking apart, Alfred lay on his back, gazing up at him. Josh knelt between his legs and raised his buttocks to his hips. He slipped back inside, making an indecent noise. They cleaved closer together. Alfred embraced him fiercely, caressed and licked. They couldn’t tear their eyes from each other.

“I can feel you - it’s incredible -”

Skin silkier than any human’s, the sinuous motion of his hips. All he could hear was their moans and cries, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh. One anxious moment they thought the bench would collapse. They kissed fervently, broke apart for air, then kissed some more.

“You smell so good.”

“Bite me. Leave marks.”

“But the Code -”

“Bugger the Code!”

He held out his arm. Josh bit down hard, making him gasp. Teeth nibbled his throat, his wrists, his ears. And of course the ache itself, deep and insistent. There was the worry you would go too far, never come back. He never felt more vulnerable than when he was making love - probably why he’d been celibate all this time.

All the taboos had been ripped down. There were no distinctions, no difference between human or artificial. They were Alfred and Josh, now and always. Moving in tandem, they raced towards their goal. Josh came first, his voice cracking. Alfred followed seconds later, sweaty and blissful. They cuddled, kissing and stroking each other’s hair.

“If I’m damned it’s worth it,” Alfred said.

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff.”

“Best to keep your options open. Did you like it?”

“It’s better than crosswords.”

“Should hope so too.”

“I loved it.”

Alfred felt dangerously light headed. Afterglow or loss of blood? Idiotic thoughts crowded into his mind:
Are we together now?
He didn’t want to move, just wanted to luxuriate in this moment, Josh still inside him.

Mocking laughter. Alfred wondered why, if Nick fancied himself as a villain, he didn’t do something about his voice. It was the highest he’d heard on an adult man, jarring to the ears.

“This is
perfect
.” He didn’t spare a thought for his henchmen, he was too entertained by what he’d interrupted. “I’d planned an agonising death but this is
so
much better.
Smile
!” A flash. “Let’s send this to every news agency on the planet, shall we?”

“You haven’t seen anything,” Josh said. They got to their feet, pulled on their clothes. “We’ll say it’s trick photography.”

“Sorry, Langton,” Nick gibed. “You’ve had your chips -”

“Leave them alone!”

When you feel threatened you move towards the thing you value. Before he recognised the voice, Alfred shielded Josh. The artificial was quicker on the uptake.

“Hello, Cora.”

She emerged from the shadows, holding the pearl handled gun. Nick paused mid taunt. He turned an appealing smile upon her.

“Cora. Do you really want to do this?”

Wanting to believe, she lowered the gun. Alfred planted himself in front of her. Josh flanked her from the other side.

“He’s lying,” Josh said. “He always does.”

A twitch of irritation in the sharp cheek. “Who are you gonna believe? The one who gave you life or these jokers?”

Cora looked between them, tormented. Here stood her rescuers, the men who had given her the closest she’d come to love. And there was Nick. Despite everything he had done to her, he was a fact, like the sky or God.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I can’t think -”

Nick must have pressed the control in his sleeve. She screamed in agony and flung the gun to the ground. Alfred tried to calm her but couldn’t.

“Stop hurting her!” Josh shouted. He moved around the table, but Nick blocked him. He’d never known anything like it. Cora’s pain must be interfering with his logic.

“You’re a sick, sad fuck, do you know that?”Alfred asked.

“Takes one to know one.”

Nick craved the last word like he craved an audience. His finger left the control. Cora got to her feet.

“You nearly had me.” She shook her head. “Those times you made me feel worthless, there was nothing wrong with me. It was always you. And you forgot one tiny detail.” She raised the gun in the air, hands steady. “Bitch, I’m Cora.”

Nick’s jeering disbelief - the shit eating smirk you longed to punch - didn’t change. Even when the bullet passed through his skull, he heckled her.

“She’s - she’s –” Josh couldn’t find words. “What’s going to happen to her?”

Alfred brushed it aside. “She needs our help now.”

Cora was staring at Nick, gore pouring from the hole in his head. Alfred wondered how it must feel seeing your handler dead at your feet.

“He was my world.” Her voice rose to a pitch normally reserved for concerts. “He made me!”

Alfred touched her arm. “We haven’t time.”

The words snapped Josh out of inaction. He swung to the top floor for a few seconds; he returned wiping his hands, expression inscrutable. When Alfred tried to ask questions, he shook his head and heaved them over his shoulder. He streaked from the factory to purple scrubland half a mile away.

“What’s the hurry?” Alfred asked.

“It should blow any second -”

The ground shook, throwing up a cloud of grit and glass. The building was a flower of fire, wilting as it burned. The air seethed with cogs and screws. Josh’s skin was spiked with glass but he didn’t feel it. He was too concerned for Cora, weeping into his chest, and Alfred, bleeding down his back. He ripped off his trouser leg and made a tourniquet.

“It’s alright,” he said after another few miles. He set them down on the track. Alfred sat on an empty crate while Cora lolled where she was, oil glistening down her face. “At least we’re all in one piece.”

“Speak for yourself,” Alfred muttered.

Cora stared into the abyss. “He was the only man I loved.”

“He treated you like dirt,” Josh said. “You deserve better.”

“Survivor’s guilt,” Alfred explained. “Didn’t know bots suffered too.”

“Can the pair of you be weird elsewhere? You need a hospital and
you
need a -”

Alfred knew he’d been about to say ‘scrap yard’. He’d stopped himself in time.

“My beebo’s in my bag,” Cora said between gulps.

“Couldn’t you have mentioned this before?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Josh dug out the beebo and summoned a lift.

A hellish ride down Arkan’s interminable roads, the only relief the signs that glimmered then faded. The driver was very good, very discreet. After taking in Josh’s near nudity, Cora’s hysteria and Alfred’s blood sodden shirt, he put up the shield and turned on the network. The first song to play was one of Cora’s,
Never Love an Evil Man
. All three winced.

Cora explained that she and Esteban had returned to Alfred’s apartment, where Nick’s message was playing on a loop. She saw it for what it was: her chance to set herself free. Esteban promised to wait for her no matter what happened.

Alfred wiped his eyes. Anything to do with love touched him. He caught Josh gazing at him - of course, their story was just beginning. He slid an arm around his waist and kept it there.

At last scenery they recognised: the hairy palm trees and hanging lamps of Clockwork City. Cora tapped the shield. “Can I get out?”

“We’re not at the hospital -” Josh said.

“I’m turning myself in.”

“You’re crazy! Nick was an animal - look what he did to Alfred!”

When this didn’t work, Alfred tried reason. “You know what happens to a robot who kills a human. It’s suicide. And what about Esteban? You’ve got a chance to have something special.”

Josh leant against the door. “I won’t let you. You’re my best artie friend -”

“Huh!”

“Best
friend.
You’re worth a million Nicks.”

“I have to. If humans can have a conscience, so can I.”

“If that’s the case we can’t stop you.” Alfred held the door open, kissing her hand.

“Is this some stupid noble gesture?” Josh asked as the fly sped away. “
Humans!”

Alfred was at St Ida’s for a week.

“It’s amazing that leg’s survived, all the crap pumped into it,” the doctor said. “If you’d left it any longer we’d’ve had to amputate. You won’t be able to use it for months.”

“But I’m travelling -”

“Not now, you’re not.”

Even in a liberal society, Josh’s status was brought home. He sat with Alfred the night he was admitted, not budging from his bedside. When the ward matron came round in the morning she expected him to leave.

“Domestics visit during opening hours. Twice a week, fourteen to sixteen -”

“That’s not good enough!” He stood by the bed, willing Alfred to wake, but he’d been given too many drugs. “I’m his -” What
did
you call what had happened between them? “I’m his companion.”

She looked him up and down. “Only humans have next of kin rights, Mr -”

“Foster.”

“Whatever your relationship -” that offensive sneer, like her face had curdled - “you can’t stay. Your presence interferes with the equipment -”

“Rubbish!”

“- And there have been studies linking arties with cancer.
If
you don’t mind.”

He hung outside in the rising heat, glaring at the Cog in the distance. So much for equality. If it meant you couldn’t be with your dear friend in his hour of need, it wasn’t worth having.

He sat in the sun and baked. Dogs growled at him. A woman asked if he’d considered being in the movies. A man asked if he was for sale, then clarified did he want to sell his body. Josh declined.

Since he had nothing to do, he thought about the craziness of the past few days. He was responsible for the deaths of ten robots but felt no remorse - he’d kill them all over again to get to Alfred. That led to thoughts of their reunion. It was only the second time he’d seen his friend lose control. While the other was laced with violence and fear, this had been delicious. He’d never known a body could feel like this, that you could crave and seek and need.

It was then he spotted a familiar figure: Derkins in a striped suit, sunglasses on his head. He saw Josh and waved. “Hello! Is Alfie on the mend?”

“I wish I knew.” The artificial explained what had happened.

“Leave this to me.” He pulled Josh into the building and asked to speak to the senior staff. Out came an oily, overdressed man and the matron he’d spoken to.

“Mr Foster is Lord Langton’s trainer. He travels with him at all times. Can you imagine what would happen if you’d allowed a star to be without their trainer?”

They paled at the thought. “A thousand apologies,” the man oozed. Once they were out of hearing - human hearing at least - he muttered, “My office. Now.”

“What the heck is a trainer?” Josh asked.

“The Arkan version of what I do, only they tell their employer what to eat and wear.”

“I can’t imagine bossing Alfred about.”

“Who knows? He might like it.”

Alfred had spent the past day zoning in and out. He woke and tried to move. Every inch seemed taped up or had a tube running to a machine. He gave up, exhausted.

He glanced at the bedside chair. Josh lay across it in the floppy boneless fashion robots and cats sleep. He would think about the morality of what they’d done when they landed in Lila. Carnal knowledge of a robot! It was fucking wonderful.

A vase of blue and white chrysanthemums on the table, an action figure dangling. He didn’t need to read the card to know who it was from. Derkins himself appeared minutes later.

“Hello, slugabed. What would you like? Foreign language gore or historical bonk buster?”

“Bonk buster, thanks. I’ve had my fill of sulky mares in lumpy jumpers. It’s only brain wank.”

“Brain ... Is that the technical term?”

“It’s fun but completely forgettable. And you wouldn’t want anyone to catch you doing it.”

“You’re a very rude man.”

“I try my best.”

Derkins poured him a sugary tea. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m under siege. Soon they’ll be flinging dead horses over the walls.”