Love and Robotics (64 page)

              “Psst!”

He placed the rabbit in its hutch and turned around. “Who’s there?”

“Who’d’y’ think?” She’d dyed her hair brown, wore a prim grey suit, but he would recognise Pip anywhere. “Whoa!” she cried as he hugged her. “Go easy.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been -” There were no words. “Here.”

“Don’ I know it. I’m in the control room.”

“What? I thought you’d been fired.”

“Bad news travels fast! When Mr Skidmark let me go, I didn’t sit idle. I knew they’d be usin’ the same production team - Gizmo - who by a stroke of luck were advertisin’. Jay Cee’s never been to CER, robots give him the willies. I acted all ‘Where’s my pony?’ and got the job. Even my mam wouldn’ recognise me.”

“You’re the only friend I’ve got now.”

“Y’ve loads of friends! The guys at the Pond, your artie mates, Shuggy - an’ isn’ there someone y’re missin’? A big, hairy someone?”

She was the first person he had mentioned his private grief to. “He’s left Lila. He’s not coming back.”

“Who told you that horseshit?”

He gaped. “I thought - Fisk -”

“Hear it from me. Gwyn and the unc are havin’ a nice few months in the sun. - Y’ alright, hen?”

He had fallen to the ground. “I’ve been stupid,” he muttered, “so stupid! I should’ve known Fisk was lying.” He covered his face with his hands. “It’s the only reason I agreed to do this.”

Pip put her arm around him. “He’s been writin’ y’ letters,” she said. “Got them from that weirdo who camps outside your house.” She laid the pile on top of the hutch.

Josh traced the address with his fingers. “It’s true. He still loves me.”

“’Course he does.”

He’d gone from misery to euphoria in ten seconds flat. Something puzzled him. “I’d thought you and Gwyn split up.”

“Girls, y’ know. I’d rather be her friend than nothin’. Enough of me. We’ve got to get y’ out of here.”

The rest of the evening passed him by. The others asked him to join their games tournament but he declined. He reconciled Claire and Dirk, though couldn’t have said how. As far as he was concerned they were in the past. In a few days he would have his freedom.

The plan had to work swiftly if it was to work at all. He must write to Alfred, let him know everything that had happened. Pip knew the address of their pension; she could get it to them in twenty four hours. Once Alfred had replied, she would create a diversion and help him break out.

Paper was easily come by, ink not so much. It had been banished from the complex. It didn’t bother Claire and the rest - why would they need to write? - but as an hour went by and he couldn’t find writing materials, he started to panic. How would he get his message out if he couldn’t write?

Frustrated, he hit the wall. When he brought his hand back to his side, something wet was on it. Engine oil. Inspired, he tried it on the tattiest page. It showed up good and strong, like ink. Would there be enough to write a whole letter? After a moment’s consideration he picked up a pair of scissors and cut along his arm. He dabbled his fingers in it, tried with that. Yes, there would be plenty.

Everything he felt went into the letter: the loneliness, the desolation, how he had been deceived. Above all, his love. He sealed it and put it on top of the hutch. It was gone by midnight.

***

Alfred and Gwyn were eating breakfast, looking down on the slumbering city. They were playing a game where they created romance novel names with a farfetched first name and a mundane last name.

“Vernita Rubble.”

“Aurora Mud.”

“Minerva Hogg.”

They didn’t notice the bellboy waiting, something in his hand. He gave a little cough. “For you, sir,” he said, passing Alfred a letter.

Alfred smiled and tipped him. He sliced the letter open.

“Iolanthe -”

The game died on Gwyn’s lips. Alfred was white and shaking, the letter in his hand. She thought he was having a fit.

“Read that,” he said, shoving it at her. “Those miserable bastards!”

She skimmed it. “Poor Josh! What are we going to do?”

“What we should’ve done a long time ago. Get him out of there.”

***

The complex woke to chaos. Even before Bridget charged in and shrieked the news, Josh knew the game was up.

“Adrian and Sienna turned up for an inspection. They weren’t happy about the way the show’s gone -”

“Yeah, and?” Dirk was sitting on a bean bag, stringing his guitar. He couldn’t actually play it, he just liked to hang it over his bed so people could admire it.

“There was a saboteur!” 

“Come off it!” one of the smelly, indistinguishable boys cried.

“I’ll show you.”

They traipsed out into the corridor. They could hear Jay Cee’s denials - “This had nothing to do with me! How was I supposed to know?”

Next came Adrian’s acid snipe. “That girl is a pervert. I can’t believe you let her work here!”

Claire appeared, sleepy and cross. “What’s goin’ on? What’s all the yellin’?”

The production team, having vacated in drips and drabs, congregated in the hall.

“I’ll make sure no one in your pisspot company works again!” Adrian ranted. “Blacklisted! Banned!”

“Does that mean the show’s cancelled?” Claire hooked her little finger through Josh’s.
“Will someone
please
say what’s goin’ on?”

The crew decided they might as well tell. “One of the researchers was a spy. Used to work at CER -”

“Aidy Pinder had her slung out -”

“She had a grudge against the company -”

Josh kept his face blank while his thoughts raged. Pip can’t have let anything slip. If she couldn’t create a diversion, he’d make his own.

“Spotlight!” he shouted. “Spotlight in five!”

“Are you sure?” Claire asked. “Now?”

“It can’t wait.”

Josh let himself into the Spotlight Suite. Thirty reflections jostled one another, the white light making it impossible to see. He spun in the chair to get the right height, then faced where he knew the crew was watching.             

“Hello, Control.” He spoke clearly so nothing could be missed. “After today’s events I see myself faced with no alternative. I resign from this programme with immediate effect.”

A gasp in the doorway. Claire, finger in her mouth.

“I want to clear up a number of points. Firstly, any rumours about Claire and me. I wish to confirm these are one hundred percent true. While my intention was never to deceive anyone, our marriage was managed throughout by CER. Their stranglehold on my life has become unbearable. I want to bring it to an end.”

“For Thea’s sake, cut!” Adrian screamed. The crew carried on recording, spellbound.

“Is he going to top himself?”

“It’s against the rules -”

“Is
this
in the rules?”

Josh dug his nails into his temple and drew out a small glowing bee. He crushed it between his fingers. He expected instant retribution. Instead the wound sealed up. “That’s the link to my interface. I’m independent. There’s one more thing I need to say -”

“
Don’t you dare!”
Adrian howled.

“Alfred, I’m sorry. They made me think - oh, it doesn’t matter. I love you. I hope you’ll still have me.”

You could have skated upon the silence. It stretched out, unblemished and pure.

“Thanks for your attention, ladies and gentlemen.”

He wrenched the chair from its bearings and hurled it at the mirrors. As the glass danced, Josh vanished. He smashed the light banks, plunging the building into darkness.             

“He went that way -”

“He’s gone psycho!”

“What was that about being gay with Lord Langton?”

“Looks like we’re down the welfare queue tomorrow, mate.”

“D’you think we’ll be on the news?”

“We’re on the network
now
, you chode!”

Claire held back from the hordes. As the last friend left, she slipped through the sun doors and walked to the reptile house. She waited and listened. Just as she had given up hope, she caught a flash of green.

“Thought you’d be in here,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

“I thought you two were just doin’ it. You’re really in love?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“Fantastic. I hope it happens to you. Not with Dirk, though.”

“Lady, no. He talks too much.”

They laughed. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Look after yourself.”

“I will, treacle.”

“
Must
you call me that? See you around.” He flung himself out of the skylight.

The others burst in. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

Claire lay slumped against the wall. Opening her eyes, she acted as she had never acted before.

“No idea. Didn’t see him.”

Jay Cee shook his head in disbelief. “CER’ll have our butts for this.”

The Wanderer Returns

Adrian Pinder was apoplectic. It was bad enough that skanky dyke Profitt had been working at the studio, but Josh going rogue?

He ripped across Lux in his Barracuda, racking up ten traffic violations. He didn’t tether, simply pulled up as close to the main entrance as he could and slammed into the building. “This is the end!” he shouted.

Everyone looked up in the Pond. They were showing each other the footage on their beebos. Choice phrases leapt out: “Stranglehold ... I resign ... I love you.” He snatched at the nearest, Ravi Thakkar’s, and crushed it underfoot.

“That cost a month’s savings!” he complained.

Adrian let out a strangled whinny. “You’ve more than a beebo to worry about. Five years’ work down the drain, all because a dirty old queer can’t keep his pants up -”

“Isn’t it romantic? It’s like a story I wrote,” Tatum said.

Everyone began to count. “Three ... two ...”

Adrian’s nostrils twitched. “Has somebody been smoking?”

Everyone looked at one another. They didn’t want to say it. Dean raised his hand. “Must’ve been Lord Langton.”

“You let that faggot in here?”

“Josh gave him a key card. He wanted to talk to you.”

“Where’s Julia? She’s his bloody handler!”

“Fisky and Shuggy are off with stress -”

“What a time to choose! I’ll deal with the bolt licker myself.”

Adrian’s office was on the top floor of CER, with stunning views across Lux. It was a showcase of his values: spotless, airless, loveless. The desk’s sole adornment was a jar of jelly beans that had never been opened. He nodded at the brass plate screwed into the door - Adrian V Pinder, CEO. He swiped his card and he let himself into the room. Within seconds he was choked by outrage. Not only had an invader dared to smoke, they’d defiled the jelly beans. An orange one lay on the desk like a faulty apostrophe.

Usually he took solace from the view. Today it was blocked by a pair of muscular shoulders. Adrian didn’t need to see the auburn hair or the wreath of smoke to know his visitor’s identity. He reached for one of the golf clubs behind his desk.

“Funny thing about golf clubs,” a gruff voice said. Langton hadn’t turned.“They turn up in places you’d never expect - a hot tub, perhaps, or half way down a ski slope. Would you like to put that down?”

Adrian wavered. A hand reached out and bent the club in half.

“I’d hate to think we were starting out on the wrong foot.” Langton faced him with a smile. “You know who I am. Josh has told me everything I need to know about you. ‘A ferret in a suit’, he said.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Still smiling, still pleasant.

“I don’t want you in my office.”

“Yet I’m here.” Langton helped himself to a handful of jelly beans. “These are really good. You should try them.”

“You can’t intimidate me. Trying to put one over me like the baddy in a Boy’s Own Adventure. Which, I’m given to understand, you’d like.”

“Is that the best you can do? A gay joke?”

“I thought it up at the weekend.”

“Have you ever got laid? Actually, I could do without the visuals.”

Adrian pressed the button on his desk. Nothing happened. “Don’t tell me you’ve disabled the alarms!”

“No, I disabled the sound so you would think that. My sister designed this building, remember.” Langton stuffed more tobacco into his pipe, puffed industriously. “Now we wait. I want as many people as possible to witness this.”

They arrived in fits and starts. Malik, Mandy Cowan, everyone from the Pond, the staff from the canteen. Adrian rang for security but the Daves had been locked down.

Langton raised his hand for attention. “Before we start, I’d like to state I hold none of you responsible. We’ve had disagreements in the past -” Malik wouldn’t meet his eye - “but we can overlook that for now. My grievance is with people I can’t help noticing, by a remarkable coincidence, don’t seem to be here.”

“Sugar and Fisk are off sick -” Malik began.

“Where’s Ms Jones?”

“She’s chief advisor on the show,” Tatum said, blushing.

“That’ll have to do. Let’s set the scene. My niece and I were enjoying a well deserved rest. I’d contacted you about Josh a few times, but was assured he was undergoing an upgrade. Oh, this is news? I sent letters - they’ve disappeared? The coincidence fairy works overtime in this building.

Two days ago I received this.” He drew a letter out of his pocket and held it up. “Written by Josh himself. Would anybody like to hazard a guess what he wrote it in? You work in robotics, you must recognise it.”

“I don’t see how this is relevant,” Adrian snapped.

“It’s relevant, Mr Pinder, because it displays the intolerable conditions you were keeping him in. You lied to him, kept him prisoner and infringed who knows how many human rights regulations.”

“Ha!” Adrian poked him in the chest. Langton stared until he removed his finger. “
Human
rights. Not robot rights.”

A sea of horrified faces stared back at him. Even Malik looked nauseous. Langton tapped out his pipe and continued.

“You work for a man who has no qualms about keeping a sensitive life form in conditions you wouldn’t keep a dog. When you founded the company, what did you have in mind? ‘Human and other intelligences living in harmony’? When did that include forced marriage, abduction and deprivation? Keeping him from the person he loves?”

“Langton -” Malik said warningly.

“It’s no use, doctor. If anything, I owe you one.” He stashed the letter away. “Go on, turn me in. I’ll drag the lot of you down with me.”

Adrian began to gurgle, tears on his cheeks. Everybody backed away. “He’s a sodding nutter,” Ravi whispered.

“You!” He doubled up as he pointed at Langton. “This is
priceless
. I thought you were only screwing him, like your buddy the professor.” Everyone gasped. “But no - you’re in
love,
you buffoon. Don’t you realise he’s a pretty little moron? He can never love you back? Might as well stick your dick in a squelcher -”

Langton picked him up by the scruff of the neck and rammed him through the ceiling. The work force dispersed, leaving him dangling.

As the workers filed out, Alfred caught sight of someone he recognised. “Hello, Mandy. May I borrow you?”

The plain, pleasant face flushed. “How come you remember -”

“Josh always speaks highly of you. Could you tell me where this abomination’s being filmed?”

She goggled. “Don’t you know? He’s escaped - that’s why Adrian was weird. He thought you had a hand in it.”

“I came off the hub an hour ago.”

“We can try his control room - there might be some of his thoughts up there -”

He followed as she beetled down the corridor. “You watch his thoughts? How is that ethical?”

“We’ve got to know what he’s doing.”

Nothing in Josh’s life was private, not even his memory drive. Was this what Gussy and Ken had slaved for? “You call it the ‘control room’. Who controls it?”

She stared at him as though he was stupid. “Dr Fisk.” As though it explained everything. And it did.

Alfred knew the field attracted unstable personalities, but never had one seemed so tangibly wrong as Fisk. Something about the woman made his hackles rise. Who knew what intimate moments she had spied on? The lapses in Josh’s memory, the mood swings - no wonder. The moment she saw something she didn’t like, she deleted it.

After a moment’s fumbling with the key card, Mandy let him in. He was disappointed to find a spare white room, six screens dotted about. All the panels were touch sensitive, she explained; some responded to Fisk alone.

She looked baffled. “It’s off. They can’t switch him off, it’s illegal -”

“I’ve got to find him.”

“You’ll be arrested as soon as you step outside!”

“There are worse things.” He clambered down the fire escape.              

What would Josh do? Given the choice, the artificial picked flight over fight every time. When he got into difficulties, he’d find Alfred -

Once informed of a fact, Josh never forgot it. Alfred consulted his watch. Wednesday. He knew where he’d go.             

Wednesday afternoons, come what may, Alfred met Derkins at the Bustopher Club. ‘The best gentleman’s club in Lux’, it counted scores of Wildings amongst its past members. Alfred was at a loss to understand why. Perhaps it had been created for men nostalgic for school dinners. Or men impatient to chat in condescending tones over the tops of newspapers. There was a saucier gentleman’s club a few doors down, but he was too old for that sort of thing.

It seems implausible he could walk the mile from CER to the club unmolested, but it’s true. In the same way Josh was camouflaged by Kevin’s hat, people didn’t expect to see him after he’d been outed as a Deviant. He strode down the street as though he had every right to be there.

He reached the club’s grimy columns and spiky railings. A window flapped open and Derkins stuck his head out. It would be misleading to suggest the man of business was wearing a false beard. The beard annexed his face, leaving only his eyes and a twitch of mouth visible.

              “Get in! I don’t think they’ve seen the news, but when they have -”

Alfred slipped into the room. Derkins grabbed him and hurried along.

“Our best chance is to barricade ourselves in,” he said, talking out of the corner of his mouth. Alfred wondered why he went to such trouble with disguises yet didn’t change his accent.

Like many townhouses it suffered from an excess of doors. This led to embarrassing clashes with broom cupboards, lavatories and a peer claiming he’d lost his contact lens and this valet’s groin got in the way. Finally they found the veebox area and double locked it. Alfred sat down and started to smoke, filling the room with pungent clouds.

“Oh, that’s nice. We’re walled up and you’re puffin’ away like a cross little dragon.”

“First time I’ve been called little. Is there anything to read?”

Derkins tipped out the book tree. “Reactionary newspapers, blood books - oh, gods!”

“What is it?”

“I thought vix magazines were pornographic, but this is the most disgustin’ thing I’ve ever seen.” He waved something called
Bolts
. It would have resembled a third rate wank mag if it hadn’t been for the model pushing back her thong to reveal whirring cogs.

“‘Does your mechanical honey need oiling?’” Alfred read. “I feel unclean.”

“Let’s get a signal.” While Alfred trebled the carbon monoxide ratio, Derkins thumped the veebox with the fake beard. The picture was on the fuzzy side but the Bustopher Club preferred the retro look.

“Shock developments in
Claire and Josh: The Next Chapter
,” an artificial newsreader burbled. “The presence of a spy was rumbled earlier today, raising questions about security clearing in CER. Then, in a speech that has stunned millions, Josh Foster declared his love for long time friend Lord Langton.”

A clip of Josh in the Spotlight Suite. The more incendiary comments had been cut, making it seem like an impromptu confession.

“He looks
awful
,” Derkins exclaimed. He looked over to see Alfred rapt. They’d kept dramatic footage of the escape.

“That’s my boy,” he said softly.

“We’ll switch over -”

“No, it’s fine.”

The special following the broadcast was anything but fine. It charted their relationship, making all sorts of insinuations. It compared the case with other Transgressions. People in the street were asked for their opinions.

“Sickening - ought to be hanged -”

“Castrate the bugger -”

“Who
wouldn’t
want to shag Josh Foster?” (This was hastily cut).

“Isn’t it ironic - Lady Augusta’s brother doing a robot -”

“Makes you wonder -”

“Of course, he’ll get off with a slap on the wrist. Probably won’t even demolish the bot.”

“Give him five years. Make an example of him.”

“The man is an incorrigible Deviant. He deserves our pity.”

“You can switch off,” Alfred said. “I’m not having some god botherer pray for me.”

Derkins obeyed. They sat in silence for a time, breathing in the fug.

“Can I open a window? It’s beastly in here,” Derkins complained.

“Suit yourself.”

“How I endured this for two years, I’ll never know.”

“Wiggy.”

“Beardy.”

“Mummy’s boy.”

“Gaylord!”

“Can’t say fairer than that. Boys are the best cure for depression.”

“Not being funny, but isn’t that how you got into this pickle?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve got Ffion and the girls. You know what my track record’s like. Put me in a room full of men and I pick the biggest bastard. I used to see my parents - while they had their ups and downs, I’ve never known a more devoted couple. I want something like that.”