ACT 9.5: NIGHT AND WAYNERIGHT
He was born, perhaps programmed, to save Paradigm City. And he was a louse with no taste.
Dorothy pondered the contradictions of that as she watched Roger Smith's sleeping figure on a security camera. The slender man in black pajamas remained an enigma. The mercenary, the Negotiator, would have laughed if anyone called him a hero. He mocked the idea even as he battled a sixty-foot monster outside the domes to defend some penniless peasants. If Dorothy were in danger, he'd risk his life to save her – she knew that. But he had just as readily pushed her into a hail of bullets for a moment's convenience when he first met her. He took her for granted and depended on her utterly. She wondered sometimes if this paradox was the reason she served him. He was a louse, but a fascinating one. And whether he acknowledged it or not, a hero.
Some nights Dorothy remained like this, watching him or Norman for hours as they slept, guarding. At other times she went offline, needing `sleep' as well, but tonight she felt restless. She turned away from the monitors and headed toward the mansion's secret internal elevator. Descending into the depths, she did not know what she expected to find there except the black megadeus, which took up most of the space under the mansion. Several stories tall, it normally remained inert while Roger slept. But the megadeus was not without a will of its own. It would respond to Dorothy or Norman also, and as she entered its chamber she felt it watching her. Apparently Big O was restless as well. The most powerful battle machine in Paradigm City turned its massive head in her direction.
"You chose Roger Smith," she stated in her flat android voice. "Why?"
The megadeus, incapable of regular speech, did not answer.
"Is it because he likes black?" She asked.
For just a moment, Big O appeared to smile. But that, of course, was impossible. Slowly, the megadeus turned its head back to its original position and became inactive once more. Not wanting to disturb it further, Dorothy walked away through the most familiar section of the tunnels. The subterranean passageways were the easiest egress to the world outside at night. Paradigm City was a dangerous place, even for an android with the reflexes of a circus performer and the strength to bend steel.
She emerged from the tunnels three blocks from Roger's mansion, still uncertain where to go or what to do. She didn't like to frequent the all-night android swing clubs that were spread throughout the out-of-dome area. She had little money of her own. And though she still missed Pero with all the heart she supposedly didn't have, she'd stopped looking in alleyways for more stray kittens.
She paused at the thought. Perhaps that was why she felt restless. Perhaps a kitten waited out there for her to find it – tonight. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. She began her search anew.
The first three alleyways she peered into contained nothing but rubbish, scraps of garbage that not even the scavengers and recyclers would want. But as she lit up her headband to scan the fourth alleyway, something moved. A man-sized something. Cautiously, prepared to fight or flee, she intensified the light and moved in to get a closer look. As she did so, the object revealed itself to be another android, an old and decrepit one that appeared to be missing some pieces, including one leg. It raised its rusty arms unsteadily and whimpered at her approach.
"Don't hurt me," the pathetic figure pleaded. "I have nothing left, I swear!"
"I am not going to hurt you," Dorothy told him, now able to hear that he was a `male' android. "What are you doing here? Do you need assistance?"
The other android nodded.
"I was attacked – by Harvesters. They took my leg and I cannot walk. Will you help me get home?"
Effortlessly, Dorothy reached down and picked him up.
"If you were attacked and robbed, we should report it to the military police."
As soon as she said these words, the other android began shaking violently.
"Nooo!" He practically screamed. "If I go to the police, the Harvesters will find out! Then they'll destroy me! Please just take me home – please!"
Dorothy thought this behavior rather odd. But when the older android could not be persuaded, Dorothy decided to take him home as he asked. He gave her an unfamiliar address in a part of the outer city she normally did not visit without Roger. She found herself wishing that Roger were with her now, in case these unknown `Harvesters' showed up.
`Home' to the handicapped android proved to be a building labeled `St. Elizabeth's Shelter For Indigent Mechanicals.' Dorothy walked into a large, careworn lobby with her burden and found herself surrounded by worried-looking greeters, both human and android, some wearing nun's habits.
"Gideon!" A female android in nun vestments exclaimed, approaching the no longer nameless figure in Dorothy's arms. "My dear! What happened to you?"
The damaged android explained again how his leg had been stolen and how Dorothy came to his rescue. Gideon was then gently placed on a stretcher and carried off to another room by a handful of St. Elizabeth staffers. The android nun who had addressed Gideon by name smiled at Dorothy and patted her on the hand after first introducing herself as R. Sister Bethesda.
"However can we thank you, Miss-?"
"Dorothy. R. Dorothy Wayneright is my name."
"Well, then, Dorothy, many thanks for your kindness! We've been quite worried since our Gideon didn't come home two nights ago. It's very brave of you to bring him here by yourself and at such an hour!" Sister Bethesda clucked her tongue and shook her head slightly. "Sad days, these! When a person's very limbs are not safe from robbers!"
"But since robbers are involved, shouldn't this be reported?" Dorothy asked once more.
"Reported? You mean to the police?" A human woman in nun's habit interrupted. "Little good that would do – and possibly much harm! They don't regard androids as equal citizens and many of them are on the take."
"Sister Theresa," R. Sister Bethesda whispered disapprovingly, "you mustn't say such things! We have no proof!"
"I'll say what I mean, thank you very much!" Sister Theresa retorted. "You know it's true! Best to warn our young friend here while we can. Although from the look of your nice outfit, Dorothy, I would guess you come from inside the domes? The police handle things differently there."
Dorothy shook her head.
"I live outside the domes with my employer. He bought me this clothing."
The nuns exchanged worried glances and R. Sister Bethesda patted her hand again.
"And does he use you, dear?" Sister Bethesda asked, voice filled with concern.
"Use me?" For a moment, Dorothy could not imagine what they meant. Then she realized they were talking about something other than her normal chores and errands. "Not like that! I work for him, I help with the housework. That is all!" They actually thought Roger took sexual liberties with her! Not that she couldn't have decked him straight through a brick wall if he'd tried! Not, she realized, that she'd necessarily want to . . . .
"Please don't be offended, Dorothy," Sister Theresa sought to reassure her. "It's just that, well, it isn't a very unusual arrangement. There's many an android less pretty than yourself who've been forced to turn tricks for their oil. You must have an honorable employer."
"More than our poor Gideon did," Sister Bethesda nodded. "He worked thirty years down at a cannery on the docks, and as soon as he got too weak from all that saltwater exposure, they fired him, threw him out of his company housing with no pension – no way to support himself."
Dorothy listened and considered. She could not even remotely imagine Roger treating her like that. For all his faults, there was an inextricable goodness, a decency, in his character. Almost absent-mindedly, Dorothy tried to take her leave of St. Elizabeth's Shelter. Sister Theresa insisted on calling and paying for a taxicab.
"Much too dangerous for a fine young woman like yourself to be walking home alone at night!" She warned.
Dorothy did not want to give away too much information about herself to an unfamiliar cabdriver. She told the cabbie to take her to an address three blocks away from the mansion, in the opposite direction from where she'd originally emerged out of the tunnels. This was a better part of town, one she knew fairly well. The Nightingale Club's neon sign flashed in the darkness, beckoning wealthy patrons. Dorothy had belonged here once, when her father was still alive, but now she felt like she was seeing it for the first time. She'd never paid much attention to the highly painted, scantily dressed female androids on the street corners. Tonight she saw them – and knew what they were doing there. She'd been left penniless by Timothy Wayneright's death. If not for Roger and Norman, might she have wound up working these streets too?
"You there! Stop blocking the sidewalk!" An unfriendly voice accosted her, seconds before a portly human female wearing an expensive fur coat jostled her aside to enter the Nightingale. "Hmph!" The lavishly dressed woman complained to her male companion. "These mechanicals just don't know their place!"
Her partner chuckled and gave Dorothy an unpleasant leer.
"That one's not too bad looking, though. Maybe it can be trained."
Dorothy narrowed her eyes at them and did her best to look as angry as she felt. She was not an `it'! Her expression caused the man to back off. He flipped her a rude gesture and followed his companion into the club.
Suddenly, Dorothy wanted nothing more than to be home, safe, in her own room. She darted back toward the mansion, no longer caring who saw her. Because the mansion was home, was where she belonged. Where she could play piano. Where she could have her own private space. Where she sat at the dining table with Roger and conversed with him like an equal, not an appliance.
Home. Where she could be R. Dorothy Wayneright.
As she reached the mansion, she realized there truly was no place like home. Entering as quietly as possible, she could not resist one more glance at the security monitors. Everything was still undisturbed – Roger and Norman still slept peacefully in their beds, unaware of her midnight excursion. Seeing Roger on the screen caused Dorothy to pause. Other than his tendency to pilot a megadeus and save the city on a frequent basis, she'd never considered Roger Smith all that unusual for a human. But if he often took her for granted, wasn't it equally true that she did the same of him?
Perhaps he was not such a louse after all.
She couldn't bring herself to tell him that, though. And he still had lousy taste. But watching him now, she felt as if she was seeing him, too, in a new light.
"Ye not guilty," she whispered to his sleeping image, and silently went to the room of her own.