Love and Robotics (63 page)

“Noah! I need you to witness this.”

Her bark made him jump; his arm stuck in the machine. Josh said quietly, “Hold still,” and retrieved the chocolate. He took his creator’s wrist and eased it out. Sugar tried not to flinch. “Thanks.”

“Josh has something to say.” Fisk ushered them into one of the Prayer Rooms. If it wasn’t for the genuflection mat, you’d think it was a broom cupboard. Dust motes floated on the air.

“I want to be in the show,” Josh said, staring at the ground. “I want to get back with Claire.”

Sugar knew he was lying. But he desperately wanted this to be over; for Josh to live out his days in dignity rather than as a letch’s plaything. Women should be women, men should be men - that was what he learned at his mother’s knee.

“Good. We’ll get in touch with Sienna.”

Claire and Josh: The Next Chapter

Here they were again. The long awaited sequel to
The Clockwork Bachelor -
though who wanted it and who watched it, Josh couldn’t say. The titles set the scene. Cracks in the wedding figurines, an animated Claire with tear drops on her cheeks, a kiss of reconciliation. No adultery or face ripping in sight.

Of course there had been cut backs. This time round they were based in a complex on the outskirts of Lux. It had its own pool, gardens and petting zoo. While everyone exclaimed over the cuddly animals, Josh spent time with the reptiles. He didn’t see why they should be left out.

He’d assumed they would be reunited with the old gang. He’d always liked Bunty and Dot, and wondered if Yumi and Ash were still together. But they were elsewhere - pursuing new projects, Sienna claimed. Perhaps she didn’t want to nudge people’s thoughts down same sex avenues.

The new batch were remorselessly young and relentlessly straight. The boys tooled their hair into kiss curls and tried to look seductive; the girls were predatory, grading them out of ten. They were noisy, messy and never went to bed, talking endlessly about sex and popular culture. They quoted their favourite shows and songs rather than have conversations. Josh was so bored he could scream.

He couldn’t avoid Claire - it was called
Claire and Josh
after all. In the event, their first meeting happened by accident. There was a rope climbing frame in the garden. The second evening he climbed to the top, wondering if he would see beyond the compound walls. When he accepted he couldn’t and started to make his way down, he found himself staring at Claire.

She flushed, stuttered. “Do you think they can pick us up out here?”

“They wouldn’t have put all these features in if they couldn’t see us.”

“Oh.”

Claire picked at a loose thread in the frame. She hated silence and clearly wanted to break it, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How’s Mouse?” he asked.

“Mouse is Mouse, you know? She’s not scared of the dark now. Got a boyfriend, too. What counts as a boyfriend at her age.”

“Will she be watching?”

“’Course. She keeps askin’ when you’ll be back.”

While she had been speaking, the Claire he saw as his Claire - straightforward, unaffected, homely - came out. Now she was patting her hair, performing.

“Will we be okay, Josh?”

How could he put it without hurting her? “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

***

It set the tone for their encounters. Jay Cee was beside himself. “Feel something, damn you!” he hissed, yanking out clumps of his hair. “Our audience is switching off in droves!”

“Do you want us to create drama?” Josh asked. “Lie?”

“Maybe I do, bottle opener!” He never tired of insults. “Argue! Make up! Do whatever it takes!”

“I don’t like rows,” Claire said.

“I don’t see the point of them,” Josh agreed.

They made their escape before Jay Cee heaved a table at them. For a squat man he was surprisingly strong.

They’d be united for a moment, laughing and pulling faces, before remembering. Her smile faltered, she rejoined their ‘friends’. Only two stood out. There was Dirk, who hit on Claire continually, using lines from corny films. And there was Bridget, who copied whatever she did, from her hairstyle to her handwriting. Josh wondered if she fancied Claire - not that it’d go anywhere. The one time he’d mentioned gay girls, she scoffed, “Girls like that are kiddin’ themselves.” He asked what about Yumi and Ash; she said they’d find nice boys eventually.

Josh wasn’t surprised the viewers were tuning out. He tried to give his days a shape - plant the vegetable garden, exercise the animals, practise his diving - but by midday his rota was exhausted.

He thought of Alfred. He couldn’t help it. With this lot he felt foggy, meaningless; with his friend he was wide awake. The feel and taste of him was part of Josh now. He missed a sinewy arm around him, a head against his shoulder. He’d hold invented conversations with him, even the fights he couldn’t manage with Claire.

He hated the thought of Alfred out in the world somewhere, indifferent to him.

***

Of course Alfred was doing nothing of the sort. He wasn’t hiding, the estate wasn’t for sale. He was fulfilling a promise he had made to Gwyn long ago: to show her every capital city on the continent before she was thirty. It was the first time she had been abroad. She shrank from some of the food and couldn’t speak the languages - she’d hide blushing behind Alfred - but at least she tried.

He thought now would be the time to ask her. Yes, it had been awkward in recent months, but the talk on gala night restored their old camaraderie. They were sitting on a sun baked stone fortress. Nobody was about. Gwyn rubbed lotion into her long freckled limbs.

“So. Pip,” he said.

She stopped what she was doing. “You know?”

“I guessed.”

“Thought Nanny might’ve. Does everyone know?”

“Uh-huh.”

She hit herself in the forehead. “So much for being discreet.”

“It’s the way you look at each other.”

“She thinks it’s weird I’m not out. It’s not like you’re going to disown me or anything.”

“Pip’s great. She’s good for you.”

She worked on a patch she had missed. “What about your latest adventure?”

He took the lotion from her. “You got too much out of me last time.”

“Look who’s talking!”

“A gentleman never tells. Once the Fosters - Howeys - whatever the hell they’re called reach an agreement, I’ll be there. He’s got a strong relationship with Sugar. I’m sure he’ll make a convincing case.”

Gwyn frowned. “They haven’t been very understanding so far.”

As Alfred took off his hat, he noticed a boy leaning against the wall further along. How long had he been there? Could he have been eavesdropping?

Gwyn caught his expression. “Don’t worry. He’s probably admiring the view.”

He hoped she was right. A sense of unease lingered for the rest of the day.

The nights were the loneliest times abroad. He didn’t mind them back home - he’d gone thirteen years sleeping in a cold bed - but when he opened his eyes and saw the shadow of mosquito nets and heard cicadas outside, he ached. Since he couldn’t call or send incriminating letters, he filled his diary with sentimental rubbish.

What did people mean when they said “love”? The kind in books, where a self indulgent gesture wiped out the work of years? The sort that fizzled out if you met somebody ‘better’? The sacrificial love Gussy had made into an art form? He wanted someone he could confide in. Someone he could be himself with. Someone who told him when he was being an arse. Someone he loved unconditionally, who loved him in return. He wanted Josh.

One evening he and Gwyn went to the opera. It wasn’t one of the classics; Gwyn was bewildered by it. By the end of the second act the racket and incomprehensibility had become too much. They joined a sizable portion of the audience sneaking out.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s my scene.”

The theatre was a stone’s throw from their pension. They were soon mounting the stairs. Gwyn reached the top of their flight and gasped. “Someone’s forced your door!”

The intruder had picked the room apart with ruthless efficiency: the contents of his suitcase, his wardrobe, his bed. “What queer thieves,” she said. “Nothing’s missing.”

“Don’t count on it.” Alfred pulled down his dressing gown and felt in the pockets. Sure enough, his diary was gone.

Gwyn didn’t understand. “A gang’s hardly going to break in for a diary, are they?”

He paced. “It’s not just a log.” Every ardent passage taunted him. “Everything’s in there.”

“You’re a prat, Grizzly. Leaving the juicy details out where anyone can read them.”

“Thanks. Helpful.”

They watched the news that night, convinced it’d make an appearance. It wasn’t mentioned. Alfred refused to take comfort in this.

“If it’s who I think it is, she’s saving it for the right moment.” To himself, “Next time she drops in the polls.”

Gwyn watched him fret, certain he was stark mad.

Every morning he wrote Josh a letter. “I’ve nothing to lose,” he said the first day. “It’s almost liberating.” Since he still had a sense of self preservation, he wrote them in binary. He was glad he had taken the time to learn. As the days passed and no reply came, he grew wild. “They’re stopping them. They must be!”

Gwyn was sick of the whole business. This was meant to be her holiday, her treat, but most days Alfred was too distraught or hungover to go out with her. He’d press money into her hand - “Go somewhere interesting, buy something nice -” and spend his days arguing with the Lilan embassy.

The seventh day there was a breakthrough. He returned with a basket of oysters, his smile at odds with his scrubby beard and hollow eyes. “Got through to Sugar. He said Josh is having an upgrade. That’s why he hasn’t written.”

Gwyn didn’t buy it. Why couldn’t they have said so days ago? But Alfred seemed perfectly satisfied.

“Sugar’s a funny old stick, but he loves Josh. If he’s looking after him he’ll be alright.”

***

If Jay Cee had wanted drama, he got it, though not in the way he’d anticipated.

One of the compound’s many features was a skating rink. Josh had been taught by Cora and regarded himself as competent; he had been trying to persuade the others. They hemmed and hawed, but they’d finally grown bored and wanted to do something different.

“What about you, Claire?” somebody asked.

She sucked her thumb. “Well -”

“Come on!” the others pleaded.

“I’ve never done it. I’ll be useless.”

“What kind of talk is that?” Josh demanded. “I’ve seen those trophies in your room. If you can ride a horse, you can do this. I’ll show you.”

Everybody nudged and winked. He ignored them. He wanted to help her, wanted her to have a new interest. She was always complaining she was bored, wasn’t she?

The others clomped ahead, showing varying degrees of skill. Dirk had learned at finishing school; some of the boys tottered like they were on stilts. The girls joined hands and skittered across the ice.

Claire hung onto the side. “Don’t be nervous,” Josh said. “Everyone’s got to start somewhere.” He showed her some beginner’s steps, held her hand. “I’m not going to let go. You can trust me.”

She gritted her teeth and tried her best. Her pride wouldn’t let her do anything less.

What happened next wasn’t her fault. They were gliding at a gentle pace, Claire looking to him for reassurance, Josh smiling and encouraging. Dirk barrelled into them, showing off. As Claire scrabbled on the floor, trying to get up, he skated over her fingers.

She screamed in pain. “I’m sorry, baby,” Dirk began. Josh cut him off with a furious, “Haven’t you done enough?”  He coaxed her fingers open. Dirk had sliced clean through her middle finger.

She was extraordinarily brave. After that first shout she didn’t even cry. Bridget said she felt sympathy pains and one of the boys fainted. “We should get a doctor,” one of the girls said.

“No.” Claire and Josh spoke at once. She was afraid of hospitals. As she hid her face in his jacket, he took the injured hand. “I can mend her.”

Bridget forgot her pangs. “She’s not a frigging bot. You can’t put her back together!”

“Watch me.”

Josh wasn’t as confident as he sounded. He might have staunched Alfred’s wounds, but never one of this severity. What if it went wrong? Claire was gazing up at him, believing in him, and he didn’t want to let her down.

Her finger was so small and pale. Josh recovered the tip and returned it to its rightful place. Her teeth chattered, she gripped his hand. A blue light illuminated her palm. As the flame died her hand was restored to its normal colour.

The doors banged open. “Claire! Are you okay?” Jay Cee bombed onto the ice. It was only the wall of onlookers that stopped him from slipping.

“It’s all over,” Josh said. “She was really brave.”

Jay Cee stood watching them. Josh could hear his thoughts -
Jackpot! -
as plainly as if he’d said them aloud, and felt disgusted.

Claire kissed Josh’s forehead. “Thanks for saving me.” With a giggle, “I’ll need a lie down.”

The others were only too happy to comply, Bridget leading her out as if it was her god given right. Dirk was in disgrace. After the rest had gone, he whimpered, “Put in a good word for me, Josh? It was an accident.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The petting zoo was the one place that didn’t have cams. Josh had discovered this by accident the first day. One of the birds had tried to escape and, doing so, landed on the arm where the visicam had been. So when he wanted solitude, this was where he went.

He lifted one of the rabbits from its hutch and fed it a carrot. He stroked it, hoping Claire’s wide eyes had only been gratitude. This must be why the Code said you mustn’t touch humans. You could create a charge without meaning to -