The Lord of the Sands of Time (5 page)

“Are you sure you needed me to come along?”

“Now don’t say that, Orville. Books are very heavy, you know. We’ll need help finding them and carrying them. We definitely need you here. Right, Shumina?”

“I wouldn’t have minded just the two of us.” The coffee-colored little girl giggled. Alexandr, who dwarfed her in size, blushed.

Shumina’s goal was to become a children’s writer. Alexandr had met her through a literary circle. Orville wanted to leave them and go back to the city immediately, but Alexandr begged Orville over his comm link not to go, and he reluctantly agreed.

When they arrived at the ship, they discovered it crammed with books stored in a protective vacuum. It wasn’t exactly a friendly environment for humans, but with their enhanced physiology Orville and Alexandr made do with simple breathing gear and located Shumina’s ancient children’s books. Phase one of their mission accomplished, Alexandr and Shumina huddled together, absorbed in deciding which books to take back with them. With little to do, Orville set off for a walk around the ship.

Paper books. Brittle, awkward, unbelievably low-density databases. Yellowing hunks of fiber piled up like relics in airless or dusty rooms. In fact, they really were relics. The ship’s contents were all that remained of the ancient British Library collection. Alexandr was drawn to such relics and so was probably drawn to humans with a fondness for such things. That at least was not difficult to understand. But Orville found it hard to share his enthusiasm. Books, and the wisdom they held, were nothing more than samples of humanity’s values. Somehow, trying to understand humanity through a mass of samples was not quite enough for Orville.

Lost in thought, he was walking along a dimly lit corridor inside the ship’s hull when he sensed a human presence ahead. Someone was transferring books from a bank of shelves to a cargo loader. Whoever it was seemed to be in a hurry. Instead of placing the books in the loader one by one, he was sweeping entire shelves clean—certainly not the best way to handle priceless relics. Then a shout came from somewhere behind Orville.

“You there! Hit the deck!”

The next instant, Orville found himself in the middle of a firefight. Shots came from behind; the man ahead returned fire. The air around Orville seethed with flying metal.

Again, the voice behind him: “Duck, you idiot! Want to get arrested too?”

Orville did not duck. Judging from the sonic signature of the bullets, the shooter behind him was using nonlethal rounds. He engaged his battle capabilities and broke into a run, covering the fifty yards to his target faster than any human sprinter, and had the man down and pinned to the floor before he could escape.

The firing behind him stopped. Footsteps approached. Orville turned to see the surprised face of Sayaka Kayaniskaya.

“You? But…why?”

“As a Messenger, I am of course a military weapon,” answered Orville.

“No, I mean, why are you here?”

“Just minor business, I suppose. I was brought here by friends who are avid readers.”

Sayaka was wearing light battle armor, with a gun and restraint gear. Orville turned the suspect on the floor over to her. “You’re the one who’s hard to understand,” he continued.

“How so? Junk vessels like this are under Supply Section jurisdiction. I headed here the instant I heard a theft was in progress.”

“Junk?”

“Yes, including the cargo. I mean, sure, it’s pretty valuable junk. One of these could buy you your own frozen asteroid. Yeah, I know what they’re worth.”

Orville looked down at the bullet-riddled cardboard covers of the books. He had a different reaction, but he kept it to himself. “By the way, I guess book thieves like this aren’t included in the ‘humanity’ you talked about.” He glanced down at the thief.

“What ‘humanity’?” Dubious, Sayaka’s eyebrows narrowed.

Orville felt himself losing heart. “The humanity you wanted people to be loyal to,” he persisted.

Sayaka’s look of bewilderment slowly changed to one of surprise. “Oh,
that
? Are you still thinking about that?”

“I haven’t been able to stop since I heard you say it,” said Orville.

“All this time? But you said you didn’t understand.”

“That’s what kept me thinking. It’s something that ties in with my biggest doubts. It wouldn’t have been right for me to just toss off an answer,” Orville said.

“But, but then why didn’t you just
say
that?” At that moment the thief gave a sharp tug, nearly pulling Sayaka off her feet. “Look, I better turn this perp over to the police.”

“I already notified them. They should be here in five or six minutes. Better be careful, your suspect’s got a laser knife.”

Orville reached out and gripped the man’s neck and right arm. A knife fell from his sleeve and clattered to the floor. The thief sat down, seemingly resigned to his fate. Sayaka blinked in amazement. Finally she regained her composure and shook her head. “Thanks. If he’d opened me up with that, I’d have a bit of a problem.”

“More than a bit of a problem for me,” Orville said.

“Really?” A smile flashed in her large eyes. Orville noted this and pressed on.

“I recognized your voice. That’s why I didn’t duck,” he said.

“But what if I’d hit you? That really would’ve been a problem,” Sayaka said. Orville smiled.

Orville chose his words carefully. The conversation had turned serious. “I have no second thoughts about being sent into battle. No fears, no doubts. I feel no mercy toward the enemy. I seek no reward or compensation. But having said that, I have no intention of simply following orders. I want to know the reasons behind everything.”

“Did you think you’d find them by falling in love?”

“Some Messengers do. Not me. Protecting those near you, protecting your friends, protecting Triton, human civilization—I can’t be satisfied with that alone. Why should I actually do any of those things?” said Orville.

“I think the answer to that is, you’ll never find the answer. I mean, probably. Soldiers have been asking themselves that question ever since there were soldiers.”

“But I thought you knew,” he replied.

“Even I can’t answer that one.”

Sayaka’s casual shrug put an edge into Orville’s voice. “You said you cared about people who were devoted to humanity.”

“I did indeed. But, you know, other people’s concept of humanity is something I can’t know. I don’t see how I could. There must be lots of different dimensions to that understanding. Someone might protect their superior officer with an escort robot. Someone else might distribute surplus food to war orphans or support logistics by running supplies along the main space routes with surplus ships. Anybody on the receiving end of that kind of help is going to see it as service to humanity.

“Then there are other kinds of people. Knowingly or unknowingly, it doesn’t really matter, they pursue what benefits them regardless of the big picture. What I’m saying is, that’s the kind of thing I hate. But you know what?”

Sayaka saw Orville frowning. Her own smile grew warmer. She drew her face close to his. “I didn’t tell you before, but all this isn’t really what’s on my mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of always having to think I’m on the straight and narrow to some distant ideal. It’s dangerous, you know? So I’m taking a more relaxed view. Everything is to end the war.” She laughed smugly and merrily emptied her glass. “That’s right. War is just a process. Dressing people down and yelling at them? That’s just till all this is over. After that, who cares? I’ll watch while people do as they please, regulations be damned.”

Orville stared at her, forgetting even to reply. He admired her without rancor. From an official standpoint she was spouting antiwar sentiment, far beyond anything Orville might have ever entertained. To call the war nothing more than a process to be tolerated when the survival of the species hung in the balance? That was beyond belief. Yet at the same time, Orville felt a strong surge of emotion, a sense that this way of thinking was something he needed to learn from.

That day marked the real beginning of their relationship. The more Orville learned about Sayaka, the stranger she seemed. It was like being with a kaleidoscope. She had an amazing network of contacts—not only workmates and the paramilitary types who came to the Supply Section, but people throughout the Defense Force Command, in the bureaucracy and in corporations, in the commercial district near her office and study circles and the places where she socialized; everywhere she went, she laughed, flared with anger, and wept the tears of others. There were always new facets of her personality on display. She could fill any room with her presence—she was frighteningly intelligent, with no reserve, no hesitation whatsoever.

Within minutes, she could enter seamlessly into any discussion. In conversations with many people, she could skillfully home in on a comment about to be lost in the chatter, skillfully guiding everyone’s attention toward it. Self-satisfied braggarts felt her biting sarcasm, but she fiercely defended anyone on the receiving end of unfair criticism. When asked her opinion, she responded with constructive, insightful, considered advice. She was also a skilled listener. If necessary, she could share long silences with friends of few words. Even in the twenty-sixth century, the old traditions of female shyness and diffidence remained alive and well, but Sayaka seemed to be from another era entirely.

Orville began accompanying her everywhere, finding easy acceptance among her friends. He became skilled at poking fun at himself, putting people at ease. He learned firsthand that an AI’s unlimited knowledge was sometimes of no use in relating to humans. Sayaka’s preferred companions were, without exception, brilliant, masters of the witty comeback. A head stuffed with knowledge, even an AI’s, counted for little with them. What really mattered was whether you knew your limitations and sought out those who had what you lacked. On this point, Orville was acutely self-aware, which enabled him to behave as a modest fool rather than as a conceited know-it-all.

But then something made him feel profoundly stupid, something that was not the fruit of his self-awareness. This was when Sayaka’s friends asked him whether or not she let her hair down before bed.

For some reason Sayaka nearly always wore her hair up, whether the occasion was formal or relaxed. In a crowd, her striking combination of slender build and hair piled high, like an ancient warrior’s helmet, made her conspicuous. But Orville knew that was not the gist of the question. People wanted to know what kind of relationship they had. After hearing the question two or three times the subtext was obvious even to him.

Of course, there was no law forbidding love between an AI and a human. The era when that had been considered problematic was more than three centuries past. And Sayaka made no distinction between AIs and humans. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t an issue.

Oddly enough, around the same time Orville began to ponder this, Sayaka’s attitude changed. Where previously she had always been completely open and frank with him, she now became guarded. On two or three occasions, she had invited Orville to her house for dinner; then the invitations stopped. She avoided discussing humanity or what was worth defending. Instead, she talked only about people they knew, food, the latest trends, and other trivia.

At this point the average male would have begun to worry that the woman’s interest might be waning, but unfortunately Orville was an AI with a heightened self-awareness. Even when he did not wish it, he was aware of Sayaka’s pulse and thermal signature. He understood that far from ignoring him, she was harboring a special interest toward him.

In other words, she was in a quandary, and this posed a major problem. For more than two weeks after he first became aware of Sayaka’s dilemma, Orville deliberated carefully. The problem, ironically, was his own feelings. Orville did not possess that mixture of vulgarity and pretension that drives human males to baldly approach females. On the other hand, he faced a very practical problem. Was it possible for him to love a woman? Were his feelings something he could trust?

Finally, the inevitable happened and Orville was forced to take action. One evening, he was at a bar with a new circle of friends. A young fleet officer—a man liked by all, including Orville—asked him more than half seriously, “Do you know whether Sayaka is seeing anyone?”

Orville was confused by the wave of emotion that rose up inside him. But before pausing to confirm what it was, he answered the question. “She isn’t seeing anyone, as far as I know.”

“Really? Great, thanks.” The officer rose from his chair with a look of determination and headed for the table where Sayaka was chatting lightheartedly with friends. Only then did Orville recognize the source of his agitation.

It was jealousy. He could feel actual jealousy. This astonished him, but it delighted him even more. He hadn’t expected to discover it this way, yet it confirmed his feelings for Sayaka. But this was no time for celebration; the officer had already wormed his way into the conversation and was casting frequent glances at her. The moment of truth would be along soon enough. No, there it was—the officer had requested the pleasure of her company, probably over at the long bar, and was already rising from his chair. Orville stood up.

When he reached the table, everyone turned to look at him. Sayaka, hand in hand with the now standing officer, was rising from her chair. She had just drawn a wry laugh from him, probably thanks to some cutting remark of hers, but she didn’t seem to be refusing him either. When she saw Orville, her face froze along with her body, half out of the chair.

One of the group motioned with his glass for Orville to join them. “Hey, Orville. Good timing. We’ve got a vacancy. Have a seat.”

“Thanks, not right now. Sayaka, I need to talk to you,” said Orville.

“Gosh, I’m sorry. I’m busy just now. Later, possibly—”

“It won’t keep. It’s probably the same thing he wants to tell you.” Orville gulped and prepared to deliver his message, but Sayaka sensed what was coming and held up her hand.

“Wait. All right, Orville. Let’s go over there. Next time, Yansen.”

While the stymied officer struggled for something to say, Sayaka lowered her eyes, slipped past him, and went to the bar, Orville in tow. As soon as they sat down, she emptied her glass and stared straight ahead.

“All right, you first. I might be making the wrong assumption.”

“You probably aren’t. I want a relationship with you. As a man,” said Orville.

“So I thought. Why the timing? Worried he’d beat you to the finish line?” she asked.

“Partly that, but I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. And so have you.” Orville waited for her answer. He was not optimistic. If Sayaka were inclined to accept him, her slender eyebrows would not be almost touching now. Still, he couldn’t help but be struck by her profile in the dim light of the bar. She was beautiful. Tightly pulled back, her hairline curved across her forehead like a glowing copper comb. The gently sloping line of her bare shoulders, the angled wrist holding her glass—she was more than just lovely form. Sayaka was delight. No human artifice could replicate it. This manifestation of decades of movement, animated by the mysteries of thought and experience, was something only humans possessed.

“You’ll go.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “You can’t stay with me. You’ll be deployed, that’s for sure. How can you talk like this?”

“Is it wrong?”

“It’s awful. Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t,” said Orville. “If it were, there’d be no point to love. This isn’t like you. Are you so afraid of the future?”

“Of course I’m afraid!” She was staring at him now. Her amethyst eyes flashed with anger. “I’ve always tried to live with an eye on the future. How wonderful things will be when this war is over. Even with everything coming at us, military service and everything else, I thought things would just get better and better the more time passed. But if I fall in love with a Messenger, it’ll all be for nothing.”

“Is that what’s been worrying you?” said Orville.

“You knew?”

“I know how to look. Maybe women have suffered the same kind of anxiety since the beginning. But if you care about me, try to understand how I feel. We Messengers don’t even have a future to dream about.”

“Orville…” Sayaka’s eyes filled with tears. In a distant corner of his heart, Orville tasted bitterness. The logic of seduction that he was deploying to such effect was not his. It was the logic of the designers who made him. It was agonizing to realize he was simply fulfilling that design. But the desire he felt for Sayaka was real. Of that he was certain.

“If you feel anything at all for me, let me share your suffering. And of course, your joy,” he said.

With a tearful smile, Sayaka dried her eyes and murmured, “‘In sickness and in health.’ How long has it been since anyone said that?”

She filled two glasses with wine and pushed one toward Orville. Her makeup was streaked with tears, but her smile was open and warm. She lifted her glass high. “All right. I’ll be your lover. We’ll share the good and the bad, fifty-fifty. But…let’s make it fun.”

“Cheers,” said Orville.

The clink of their glasses rose above the din of the bar.