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She stiffened
herself and spit out the saltwater in her mouth – god, she was
already so thirsty. She reached up to the line and braced her feet
against the mast, readying to pull. The storm was slowing down, and
she would need to get the boat bailed out immediately.

“Chal!”

The voice came from
right behind her, and she was so surprised that she lost her grip
mid-pull, this time falling directly backwards into the water. Strong
arms pulled her up so quickly that she did not even have time to
register the danger. Alan was holding onto the side of the boat with
one hand and her with the other, though he almost lost his grip when
she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him breathlessly.

“Alan...
Alan,” Chal said, her hand cradling his face. She did not know
what to say now that he was alive and back.

“Up,”
was all he said as he lifted Chal over the side of the boat,
scrambling in after her. The water was to their knees and Alan
quickly reached into the messy cabin for a bucket. It was true that
the most effective bilge pump was a scared sailor with a bucket. Alan
and Chal took turns bailing the water out with the bucket until they
were both exhausted and the water was down to a less alarming level.

The cabin was
secure, if a bit wet and chaotic, but the most important thing –
their drinking water – was intact, and after some time Chal and
Alan managed to get their bearings. The wind was gusty but manageable
with the repaired sail reefed halfway up the mast. The skies were
still gray with mist, but the GPS seemed to be functioning alright,
at least as far as position went.

“Thanks,”
Alan said. “It’s good to be back with you. He hugged her
briefly with one arm, then pulled back, mindful of the nearness. Chal
felt her body respond to his touch despite her best efforts to tamp
them down. He was alive, after all.
Alive
!

“We’re
three miles away from San Sebastian if these coordinates are
correct,” Chal said. “If we go east, any shore we hit
will be Catalonia, and we only have to avoid the central port
traffic. We need to remember to keep close to the border.”

And I need to
remember to keep my distance from you.

“Then we go
east,” Alan said. “And anchor wherever we hit land.”

“Yes,”
Chal said. “Let’s get off of this damn boat.”

***

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“What a piece
of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in
form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an
angel, in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the
paragon of animals – and yet, to me, what is this quintessence
of dust?” -William Shakespeare,
Hamlet

***

It was not long
before the skies began to clear and they found themselves sailing
closer to the shoreline. The cliffs rose high and dark against the
lightening sky. They had raised the keel and were coming in to anchor
just offshore in a small cove when the sun’s rays broke through
the clouds. Chal wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as Alan
lowered the anchor. They were in Catalonia.

The sand was white,
the water clear, and it was all Chal could do to keep from crying
through her laughter as they dropped down into the waist-deep water
and splashed up onto the beach. She threw down the blanket, collapsed
on the sand, and closed her eyes, soaking in the sun’s warmth.

“I’ve
never met anyone so ill-suited for overseas travel,” Alan said,
dropping down to his knees by her side. He shook his head in mock
disapproval.

“At least I
stayed aboard,” Chal said. “Unlike
some
passengers.”

“I’m so
sorry I worried you,” Alan said. He leaned over and pressed his
lips against her forehead, and some tension inside of her unclenched.
She felt the tears stream down her cheeks without any warning. So
many tears.

“I’m so
glad you’re back,” she said. She put her hand on his
shoulder, so steady even after all they had gone through. He seemed
as though he would always be steady.

“Well,”
he said, rolling over onto his side next to her, “you’re
home. Anything else you want?”

It was a second
before she realized what he meant.

“Alan–”
she began.

“I don’t
like that tone,” he said, shaking his head. “Not one
bit.”

Chal sat up and
gazed out at the ocean, her arms hugging her knees. There was nobody
around, maybe for miles. And yet she didn’t feel the loneliness
that she had felt in California, surrounded by people.

“I’m
sorry,” she said.

“Don’t
apologize, Chal,” he said. She shivered when he spoke her name.

“But I am,”
she said, wiping at her damp cheeks. “I feel horrible for
pushing you away.”

“Then stop
pushing me away,” Alan said, laughing. His hand came up and
traced the line of her arm. “You know you want me.”

“And?”
Chal asked, lifting her chin stubbornly.

“And I want
you. You’re the most wonderful woman I know, and I want you.”

“You haven’t
ever met any other women,” Chal said.

“Not true,”
Alan said. “I met Lucia.”

Chal shook her head
in amused disbelief, but Alan’s arm came around her waist,
pulling her toward him. She fell against his chest more willingly
than she cared to admit.

“I must say,
she was quite the temptation,” Alan said, nuzzling Chal’s
hair. Chal laughed in spite of herself.

“Please,
Chal,” Alan said, and this time his voice was serious.

She knelt over him
on the blanket framed in white sand. His body was perfect, for that
was how they had created him. And his mind – his mind was like
hers. There were imperfections, to be sure, but those imperfections
were what made him human. Her hand ran over his smooth skin, flawless
except for the one cut which he had suffered in the escape. The skin
had begin already to heal, though, knitting together pink and pale
and shiny. She let her fingertips run lightly over the scar.

Alan watched
everything she did, an attentive student paying close attention to a
teacher who was more than willing. Chal bent down and feathered
kisses over his cheek and down to his chin. His lips were hesitant to
respond, and the uncertainty of it thrilled her for some reason
unknown, but also gave her pause.

“Is this
good?” she asked. She wanted him to be comfortable, wanted
everything to be comfortable and perfect for him.

“Amazing,”
he said, his eyes crinkling back into a smile. It was odd that of all
the men Chal had ever found herself attracted to, this one would be
the most genuine. Yet there he lay in perfect sincerity. No part
about him was formed with pretention. It was, she thought as she
kissed him again, one of his best qualities.

One of.

Her mouth pulled
back in a smile. She sat back and unbuttoned her shirt, throwing it
unceremoniously up toward the dunes. Her bra unhooked easily and went
flying down along with her shirt. Her breasts perked at the cold of
the ocean air, her nipples standing on end even as the sun’s
rays beamed across her skin to warm them. Goosebumps rose on her skin
and areolae, pink and nubbed. All the time, Alan watched, his eyes
focused on one part of her, then the other. She watched his eyes
sweep across her naked skin and imagined his hands moving on her skin
in the same way.

“Touch me,”
she said, bringing one of his hands up to her neck.

Alan stroked her
skin from her collarbone down the side of her breast. Her heart
pounded in her chest as he paused, then let his fingers run lightly
over her nipple. He caressed her breasts, softly at first, then with
an increased possessiveness.

Chal’s eyes
fluttered shut, and she leaned into his caresses. He was holding her,
stroking her skin in long slow motions, and the waves of desire
rolled through her with each new caress. Her hair hung down on her
shoulders, and her skin was so sensitive that she seemed to feel
every strand that tickled her back. She shook her hair out, indulging
in the sensation.

Alan cupped his
hands softly around her face and kissed her on the lips.

It was gentle,
gentler than she had ever been kissed, but the softness was belied by
the strength she felt in his arm as it came around and pulled her
body closer to him. He pulled her in tightly and she felt his lips
needing hers, her breath unable to move in her body under the
pressure of the embrace. Every part of her body leapt to meet his,
and when he arched himself against the bed she felt his hardness
against her own body. When they broke apart she let out a small gasp.

He relaxed his grip,
still supporting her weight. Chal thought it was a good thing that he
was so strong. Her muscles had turned to jelly. He realized that she
was helpless – of course he realized, he was perfectly
observant – and before she knew it she was lying on the blanket
and he had rolled over on top of her.

She could not help
but laugh at his victorious grin, even as she felt her body respond
to his weight. She ran her hands up his arms, aching for him.

Looking down, she
considered their bodies as though from a distance: the quintessential
lovers giving in to their bodily passions. For a second, she saw him
as a robot, and herself as robot too, two structures grown with tiny
building blocks. Her arm moved as a lever, tense with muscles and
tendons. She felt her skeleton pressing into her skin at her elbow,
her knuckles, and she doubted her own humanity. Then Alan brushed the
hair back out of her face, and she was in her body again.

“I want you,”
she whispered. He searched her face; for what, she didn’t know.
Truth, maybe. He had it. She had never wanted any man more thoroughly
than Alan. Right now she thought she would split into fragments if he
were to leave her without giving her satisfaction.

That’s it.
I’d just shatter into little tiny bits that would spill over
the blanket and mix with the sand.

Every cell in her
body was vibrating with desire. She was past doubt anymore. She
wanted him to take her wholly, entirely. She wanted him to possess
her in every way he wanted. Her hand came down and touched him there,
guided him down to her entrance.

She was slick with
desire but when he slid into her for the first time she gasped at the
pressure. How big he was, how he filled her! Leaning her head back
onto the softness of the sand, she felt her body relax, then clench
itself again around him.

Alan moved slowly
but with a confidence about him, as though he knew that he had
complete control of her and could do whatever he liked. Chal’s
fingers entwined themselves in the blanket as he rocked forward and
onto her, pressing her in exactly the right place.

“Ohhh,”
she moaned. Her hand came up and touched him on the face. She did not
think that it was possible, that he was possible, that any of this
was possible. That the universe had turned this way instead of that,
what did that mean? Every piece of the world had led them to this
moment. Every fiber of space threaded together to weave a story, and
the story was this one. There could not have been another.

Her hand moved to
the back of his head and she gripped his hair as he rocked forward
harder, working his thickness deep into her body. She cried out.

“Are you
alright?”

Chal almost laughed
at Alan’s concern.

“More than
alright.”

All of her attention
was focused on that burning part of her that seemed to be rocking its
way slowly to a climax. Every motion he made was carried through to
her body and repeated, the passion echoing between them again and
again. Each second she thought would be the last that she could hold
out, and each second brought her closer, ever closer to unimaginable
ecstasy. He moved faster against her, and drops of sweat stood on his
brow. Their skin was damp with lust, moving slickly against each
other.

“Yes, yes–”
Chal cried, and then Alan was burying himself into her body with a
passion she reflected. The orgasm shivered up from her stomach and
rolled through her nerves, shaking her body with an electrical
energy.

“Ohh!”
she groaned, her hands tensed against his chest. She arched herself
into him and felt him shudder against her. His face was a picture of
surprise mixed with anguish, his brow knitted into pleasure as he
released himself inside of her. His lips were parted and wet, and he
jerked once again against her body before his body relaxed into hers.
He was breathless, panting, and she caressed his hair so that it lay
smooth.

He lay down beside
her and she cradled him in her arms, pulling the blanket over his
shoulders and cocooning them both in the fabric. Her fingers would
not stop running through his soft dark hair. It was some moments
before he spoke.

“That was
wonderful,” he whispered.

“I think so
too,” Chal said.

“Is it the
same for you?” Alan asked. “How it feels?”

Chal paused. It was
the same, in a sense. There were many studies which tilted toward the
conclusion that the experience of orgasm was universal. There was no
difference in heart rate, pelvic spasm, blood pressure, or breathing
between men and women. Chal remembered a study proving that the
levels of oxytocin produced by each gender were nearly identical. And
to top it all off, in 1977, psychologists at Reed College had asked
groups of men and women to describe their orgasms in words –
even the semantic descriptions given were indistinguishable from each
other based on gender.

And yet, Chal knew
that no individual had the same experience as another, even given the
exact same stimuli. Add to that the fact that Alan’s brain was
digitally guided and had just recently developed, and who knew what
he was feeling?

What mattered most
was that they had escaped, at least for the time being. She could not
predict what would come next, but she felt alive for the first time
in a very long time. She felt curious again about the world, not
about an abstraction. Abstraction had ruled most of her life, but as
the sun rose and shone warmer on her skin, she felt her entire being
shift towards the present world and all of its sensory pleasures. She
smelled the warm sand, the salt of the surf and felt the sun’s
rays play across her body.