+J.M.J.+
Zenon Eyes: Eyes of Truth
By "Matrix Refugee"
Author's Note:
First the apology: I put this on the back burner MUCH too long, but I was trying to figure out what happens next. "One of THOSE in Our Midst!" plotted out fairly whole, so I focused on getting that out and out of my way so I could figure out what happens here. As of this typing, I haven't quite come up with a satisfactory ending for this, but perhaps the only way to get there is to Keep Writing it. I'm sorry if I kept anyone in suspense for too long, but hopefully this chapter will compensate. Special thanks goes to "Lady Neferankh" on the Yahoo! Group "AI_Fanfiction" for graciously prodding me to get back to this story. You ladyship's protestations have borne fruit.
Also, a fair warning to the slightly more cynical readers: this chapter decided to turn into a Christmas story of sorts (I know, "Christmas in OCTOBER??? What about Halloween?!), but a few darker elements creep in to keep it from getting too mushy.
Now the sillier note: It's not often that I dedicate my fics or chapters thereof to the stars of the film, etc. it's based on, but I'm making a special case here. And thus I am dedicating this chapter to the most beautiful man alive…we know who I mean…who has also proven that an incredibly sexy guy can also be a family man; in my book, it only enhances his sexiness (End of shameless drooling).
Disclaimer:
See Chapter I.
Chapter V
Fatherhood
Every day after that, at the lunch hour, Joe went to the cafeteria to meet up with Galloway and check in with him on the progress of David's repairs.
"I should have him ready by early winter," Galloway said.
"How far do the damages extend?" Joe asked.
"He has the usual mechanical complaints: a little corrosion on his spine, so I'll have to replace the affected sections. Fortunately, I know where I can get the right parts."
"What of his neural cube?"
"I got a programmer scanning it for anomalies and bugs: nothing yet. He has a few servos gone bad, and some sticky linkage in his pulleys. I thought Cybertronics scrapped the last of the line when Hobby died twenty-five years ago, but I guess he slipped through somehow."
"And what of his imprint sequence?"
"Well, uh," Galloway glanced around without looking up. "I know a girl who can get that for me, though it's gonna take some heavy lifting on her part trying to salvage it from the Cybertronics d-base."
"Ah," Joe said, with astute understanding. "And you say you can complete your work by early winter?"
"Finish date's projected for December 15th."
Joe clasped his hands in bated excitement, his eyes snapping with delight. "Then Rhiannon shall receive an image of the first gift of Christmas."
"She'll love him."
Joe held up one finger in warning. "Yet speak not a word of this to her. I wish this to remain a secret."
Galloway pressed his fingertips to his throat. "My voice synthesizer is on lockdown."
@--`--
October passed into November. Hamner, the movie producer, sent Joe a copy of the screenplay for film version of the autobiography, Different Constitution, which Joe examined carefully. To his relief, it was a fairly faithful adaptation. He had no cause for concern or complaint, but only praise. They had even worked in a bit at the very end in which he would appear.
About this same time, the Three Laws of Humanics Bill passed in the House by a narrow margin. Now it just had to go through the Senate and thence, if all went well, to the President's desk for final approval.
Swinton's case went to court two weeks before Thanksgiving. The only charges were thirty counts of "Theft and destruction of self-motivated property valued at or above 2,500 NB". Rhiannon wished the bill had gone through already, but defense would have argued that the crimes were committed before the laws had passed.
"And he cannot be retried for the same crime," Joe said, as Rhiannon described the first day of the trial that evening, as she had her dinner.
"No," she said. "But…the sentence could be commuted after the laws goes into effect, but only if he has his case appealed."
"What will his sentence be if he is convicted?"
"He'd be seeing about five to ten years prison time."
"And if the sentence were to be commuted?"
"I'm hoping he'd face the jail time for aggravated assault and armed battery with criminal intent: fifteen to twenty years, no parole."
"What of the maximum sentence? He damaged some of those unfortunates beyond repairing. What of the death penalty?"
She put down her fork and reached across the table to caress his wrist. "I wish we could have it that way, especially if someone like you got killed. But try convincing the judicial system."
His shoulders drooped gracefully. "One cannot have everything," he said. Brightening somewhat, he asked, "What term would they apply to this crime?"
"Instead of calling it homicide, they might call it Mechacide."
"And in which case they would rephrase manslaughter as Mechaslaughter."
"Stands to reason."
"And in all cases murder would be murder."
"Exactly.'
"And in that case endangerment of life and limb would transmogrify to…endangerment of function and fiber."
She looked at him playfully cross-eyed. "How do you come up with these? For someone who started out as a man-whore, you've got a hell of a logic processor."
He smiled modestly and shrugged one shoulder. "I was built to manifest more intelligence than the average Mecha man-whore."
A couple days later, Joe was called in as a witness for the prosecution. Defense refused to accept his testimony at first, even when the prosecution proved Joe's competence and ability to testify.
"Masters, you understand the meaning of perjury?" counsel for the defense asked him.
"Yes," Joe replied. "To perjure myself, I would speak a false statement after I had already sworn to give only true statements."
"And you realize this, perjury, carries a penalty."
"I am aware of the moral consequences of speaking falsehoods under oath, and I am aware of the state's penalty for this action. The consequences of breaking the moral law alone is sufficient to prevent me from overstepping the line."
"But why should we be asked to believe the testimony of a mere machine?"
"Objection!" the prosecutor called.
"Sustained," the judge ordered. "Proceed with the cross examination, Mr. Ludston." She added, "And only the cross-examination.
Joe kept his face relaxed. Rhiannon had prepared him for this: she'd warned him that Ludston was an aggressive lawyer with decidedly anti-Mecha leanings.
The next few questions were ordinary enough: what did he see in the barn Swinton was renting? Had he been there before? Was he aware of the recycling program Swinton was involved in?"
"Aren't you involved with promoting a bill that would declare Mechas equal to Orgas?" Ludston asked, leaning against the edge of the witness stand.
"Objection!"
Ludston ignored this and leaned closer to Joe. "Aren't you using this testimony against my client to further your agenda?"
Joe's thought was to reply that it could prove useful to promoting the ideal of the Three Laws of Humanics, but he knew he could not admit this to anyone by Rhiannon.
"Proceed to your next question, Mr. Ludston," Joe said.
"Mr. Ludston, stick to the present case," the judge ordered.
Ludston stuck his meaty face at Joe, "Isn't it true you're sleeping with one of the advocates for the Robotics Board?"
The gallery murmured noisily. Swinton smirked at Joe, who kept a straight face. MacAfee made a rude noise, while Slinger only heightened the look of cold disdain she had maintained throughout the trial. Joe looked at Ludston calmly, even humorously, as if to disarm him.
"This court will recess for ten minutes," the judge announced. She pointed at Ludston. "Counsel for the defense, I'll see you in my chambers. Now."
Joe met up with Rhiannon in the hallway. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I was afraid something like this would happen," she said. "You okay?"
"He has not disturbed my logic processors at least," Joe replied. "But the longer I looked upon him, the more he began to resemble Lord Johnson-Johnson."
Rhiannon grinned with only a trace of humor. "Y' know, I thought that myself, plus he's just as belligerent and self-serving."
"Imagine that the mastermind of the Flesh Fair had obtained his license to practice law—no, that is too horrible to imagine. Besides, the man had roughly half the brain tissue of an average Orga."
"I used to say, 'If you looked up "meathead" in an online dictionary, you'd find a web page about him'."
Joe's unsettled face relaxed. "That is a most appropriate statement."
"Actually, Allen Hobby filed suit against Johnson after the Haddonfield debacle. I read the trial dossier, transcripts, everything. It would make a great legal drama comedy."
"I can perceive the drama, but what would make such a case comic?"
"Johnson's responses under cross-examination by the counsel for prosecution for one thing; for another, counsel for defense was just as brilliant as his client. Fellow by the name of Dunluvin; they both sounded like a couple of thick micks."
@--`--
When the session resumed, Ludston looked chastened, but it might only have been a scrim.
Prosecution cross-examined Joe much more rationally. Ludston made a few reasonable objections, but Joe sensed defense really wanted to make more.
The session adjourned for the day an hour later. In the hallway, on the way out, Joe and Rhiannon passed by Ludston and his clerk. Ludston eyed Rhiannon with his small eyes squinting in suspicion.
"So it's true, Jackford: you are sleeping with the fiberhead," Ludston sniped.
"I beg to correct you, Mr. Ludston," Joe cut in, holding up Rhiannon's left hand and showing his own. "She is my wife."
"Oh, and it's Masters now," Rhiannon added.
@--`--
They rented a classic romantic comedy vid and watched it after her supper, cuddling on the couch, preparatory to a much more active session upstairs in their room.
Afterward, she held his head over her heart as she ran his hair through her fingers, a few strands at a time; since their marriage, he had had his default hair texture reset to natural, which gave him a slightly tousle-headed look, but it only enhanced the "ordinary guy" role he had assumed. Ordinary guy? Everyman? …EveryMecha?
"They say every dog has his day in court, so does every Mecha," she said.
"And this has not been a simple day," he said. He turned over on his back and lay apart from her, turned slightly away.
"Whazza matta?" she crooned, running her hand down his spine. "Don't tell me you're letting that jerk get you all frazzled."
"Perhaps I am letting his words disturb me. They are replaying constantly in my auditory matrix."
She slid over and held him from behind. "It's okay, fella."
"There are times when being able to recall every word you have ever heard is NOT an asset." He put his hand on her; she thought he would push her away, but instead he turned in her arms and held her closer.
@--`--
Next day was a normal day like any other, bringing familiar things and sights and sounds, the comfort of colleagues and the routine of work, which put the memories of the day before into their proper place in his recall.
And he could check in with Galloway on the little fellow's progress. As a consolation, he replayed memories of David, the little one who saved his brain…
The Friday before Thanksgiving, the verdict was announced; Joe was present for that.
"Madame Forewoman, how do you find the defendant?" the judge asked.
"We find the defendants, Martin Harris Swinton, Richard Orson MacAfee and Kathryne Slinger, guilty of all counts of theft and destruction of self-motivated property valued at or above 2,500 NB," the forewoman replied.
Slinger and MacAfee kept their eyes dropped as the guards led them from the courtroom, but Swinton glared at Joe sidewise as he was led out.
If only the crime could be given its true name, Joe thought.
@--`--
His concerns started to lift later that week. The Senate would be voting on the Three Laws Bill, otherwise known officially as the Mecha/Orga Relations Bill, after the Thanksgiving recess, and he had heard from some of Rhiannon's contacts in D.C. that the vote seemed tipped in its favor.
But other, less personal concerns came to drive out the residual woes he had following the insults at the trial.
Galloway met with Joe in the atrium at noon on Tuesday.
"How goes our secret endeavor?" Joe asked, somewhat conspiratorially.
"Lessee, I had trouble finding the right fuse for the nuclear warhead—no, just kidding. We took out his voice synthesizer and hooked it up to one of the mainframes to test it using one of our metas: it worked like a charm. But we put it back in him, and it wouldn't work. I've gone over every inch of his conductors between his speech centers and his voice box: nothing wrong. He won't let out a peep."
"Have you had a woman work with him?"
"Yeah, I've had Chauntay and Arabella work with him on his rehab, but he's terrified of them."
Joe's brows gathered. "He is terrified of them?"
"Yeah, he sees anything with a light voice wearing a smock and he gets all jittery. But he's fine with me and Salminen and Ghiarov."
"That sounds so very strange."
"It's more 'n strange, it's downright creepy. He doesn't let out a peep, not a whimper, not a laugh, not a word."
"Does the problem lie with his programming?"
"'Tain't that neither. Milford, from Programming says it's clean, there's the usual idiosyncrasies you finding David models, but nothing alarming."
"You are capable people, you and your techs can disclose the problem and solve it."
Galloway shrugged humbly. "We'll do our best: we always do."
"I know that you do," Joe said.
@--`--
Rhiannon had watched them from the other side of the atrium. Joe hadn't sat with her at lunch lately, and she'd gotten a little curious about this. She couldn't hear what they said, but she guessed it had something to do with one of their reconstruction jobs. And there was something deliciously conspiratorial about their mannerisms, especially Joe's. She felt like a little girl overhearing her parents talking about Christmas shopping.
@--`--
They went to the Zipeses for Thanksgiving dinner. A few close friends and their families had gathered as they had every year: Rhiannon's cousin Darrell and his wife, who worked in advertising at Companionates, Galloway and his cousin and her husband and their son, and several others. Most of the women helped Narsie in the kitchen with the last minute preparations, while most of the men and the older kids played touch football in the backyard. Joe and Rhiannon watched them from the back porch, with Sina sitting curled up on Joe's lap, which had increasingly become her favorite place to be when Joe and Rhiannon came over.
Narsie came out with her great-great-grandmother's brass dinner bell in hand; just about to ring it, she paused and looked down to the second step, where Joe sat with her daughter on his lap, curled up, half asleep, Joe's hand resting protectively on the little girl's shoulders. Narsie almost didn't ring the bell just then, but Joe looked up at her with an expectant twist of a smile.
After dinner, while the women divided up the leftovers and set the dishes to wash, Galloway met with Joe in the back hallway of the house, taking a business-size envelope out of his shirt pocket.
"Zara the hacker I know brought this up to me this morning,' Galloway said.
"So she obtained the imprint protocol?" Joe asked, taking the envelope and opening it to see it.
"She done did," Galloway said.
Joe put the envelope into his shirt pocket. "Now I have one more thing for which to be thankful."
@--`--
Rhiannon, looking for Joe, came upon him with Galloway in the back hallway, both talking to each other in low voices. She thought she overheard something about an imprint protocol, but she wasn't sure. She hid a smile in her hand and tiptoed away as Joe put something in an envelope into his shirt pocket, but she wasn't quick enough: he glanced in her direction.
@--`--
A week later, Rhiannon sat twisting a strand of her hair as she sat in the cafeteria, reading her Christmas shopping list over her lunch.
Ninon, one of the legal clerks, came and sat across from her at the same table.
"Hey, uh, that seat is taken," Rhiannon said.
Ninon looked around. "I don't see him anywhere."
"He'll be along any minute now."
"What you got there?"
"Oh, my Christmas shopping list. I've got a few ideas for everyone else, but I'm still trying to come up with something for Joe. That's one of the very few ways he's no different from a flesh and blood man: he can be hard to buy for."
"The beer of the month won't work: that's what I'm getting my brother-in-law."
Rhiannon grinned. "I gave Joe the holiday print boxer shorts of the month last year."
"Oooohh! That must have put him in uppity mode."
"It did, at first, but then he thought it was amusing."
"Got any idea what he's getting you?"
"I dunno," she fibbed. "Whatever he has in mind, he's been really secretive about it."
"You sure that's what he's up to and he isn't having an affair? Remember what he used to be."
"Nah, he's imprinted. He might get tempted, but he won't stray."
@--`--
But then, next day, something happened that made her set aside the head scratching over her list.
She was proofing a brief when her computer chimed that she had a new message. She opened her inbox.
From: jmasters @ design.companionates.com
To: rj_masters @ legal.compnaionates.com
Subject: Asimov and Masters
Ree—
Please read this page now:
http:// www.cnn.com/headlines/05Dec2210.html.
Joe
She opened the link and found the headline:
Mecha/Orga Relations Bill Passes Senate by Margin of 77-23.
She breathed deeply and offered a quick prayer of thanksgiving. Now it just had to get past the Oval Office, and President Rainier Sevigny was somewhat ambivalent about Mecha rights.
At the end of the day, she met Joe on the mezzanine that communicated between Legal and Design. She could see he had been crying: damp streaks showed on his cheeks. They walked into each other's arms joyfully for a long, wondrous while. Then he let her go.
"It is not over: it is but the beginning," he said, wisely.
@--`--
December fifteenth, Rhiannon still hadn't come up with a present for Joe, and she had less than ten days to decide. But it soon hardly mattered: They both got a much better present."
CNN broadcasted at three that afternoon a tape of the President signing the Mecha/Orga Relations Bill into law. The department directors and several interested persons—including Rhiannon and Joe—watched it on portable television in Lutwyn's office.
Through the anchor's prepared commentary, Joe sat calm but intent, his body poised in his chair, back straight, face serene, but hopeful, his eyes just starting to smolder with anticipation. Rhiannon wondered if his face had borne the same look of disciplined arousal when he had awaited a hesitant client to give in.
As the image played out, as they watched the President sign the bill and affix it with the official seal, a cheer rose from everyone in the room. Directors and personnel clapped and hugged each other. Rhiannon jumped up from her seat, letting out a triumphant scream.
She turned to Joe, who had turned to her. They embraced, their heartbeats hammering against each other. They separated enough to kiss, hard, open-mouthed, Joe leaning over her.
@--`--
They celebrated the following Saturday night. Lutwyn hired a private dining room at the Scranton Ritz-Carlton and arranged a dinner party for the directors and their spouses, with Joe and Rhiannon as the guests of honor.
In the midst of it, Lutwyn stood up, wine glass in hand.
"One reason brings us together tonight: we're celebrating the passing of the Mecha/Orga Relations Bill into federal law. But we must remember and set in our minds and at our fingertips that it was not an Orga who first devised the principles that went into this law to protect Mechas from the ignorant of Orga society. It was one of this rejected class, who has suffered greatly at the hands of the ignorant, who has sought only to be accepted by Orgakind and who yet seeks this same acceptance for his species. Now we can call him a man in full. Raise your glasses to him, folks: to Joe Masters."
Joe dropped his gaze modestly to his folded hands on the gilt back of his turned-around chair.
Rhiannon, sitting on his right, saw a light pink flush creep over his cheeks, up to his smooth brow. She put a hand on his arm. He looked at her as if gathering courage, and stood up to receive the adulation.
"Speech! Speech!" someone, a woman, yelled.
The flush on Joe's face had spread down his neck and under his collar. "And in the immortal words of the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz, 'Shucks, fellas, I'm speechless'." The gathering laughed. When they had settled down, he added, "I would like to remind you that none of this would be possible were it not for one small Mecha, a child who was not a child, by the name of David. With your gracious permission, I would like us all to take but a moment of silence in memory of him."
The gathering bent their heads respectfully.
Did you every find your Blue Fairy? he wondered.
@--`--
As the party broke up a few hours later, Rhiannon went up to the room she and Joe had reserved for a few hours. Before he went up to his wife, Joe took Galloway aside before his friend went home.
"As you know, Christmas is but a few days away," Joe said. "How go the repairs?"
"He'll be all set in a day or two," Galloway said. "I've had to keep him out of sight of the techs: they keep wanting to play with him. But I think he really wants to see you: he keeps looking around like he's expecting someone."
"I shall be up to visit him tomorrow. But now I must see to a beautiful African princess."
"Ooh, celebrating in grand style!" Galloway cried, poking his arm. "I better let you go then."
Joe smiled astutely. "Mustn't keep milady waiting."
On his way to the room where Rhiannon awaited him, Joe paused before a mirror in the hallway, more to look at himself than to preen himself.
Since his construction, he had been a man philosophically, but he realized that he was now a man legally. Serin would be proud of what he had accomplished for his kind.
Serin…she still held a bright place in his "heart", but the brightness of Rhiannon's name and image eclipsed its paler light.
He passed his palm over his hair as it shifted, going back to the oiled back look of the days of old when he was first made new. Come the next anniversary of his inception, his "build-day" as it were, he would be sixty-five, but he didn't look a day over twenty-five. In many ways he was not the Mecha he had been. He had settled down in a domestic, monogamous situation, but he would always be the sunset gent he had been built to be. He had changed, and all because of a little Mecha named David.
Things would change again, soon, on account of another little Mecha, also named David.
But the time had come to revel for a moment in the joy of success, to rejoice that the time had come when his kind could now seek shelter and protection from the ignorant, and to share this joy with the one lady who had stood by him through all his endeavors for this purpose.
Flipping back the skirts of his jacket with the rakish insouciance of the old days, he turned and half-swaggered, half danced to the door of the suite where she awaited him.
@--`--
Next day, late in the afternoon, Joe got a message from Galloway.
From: galleghergalloway@techservice.companionates.com
To: jmasters@design.companionates.com
Subject: He needs a daddy.
David's ready to go home. 'Nuff said.
G.
Joe went up to repairs, where he found a group of techs (mostly women) kneeling and sitting on the floor around a large floor cabinet with its doors ajar, talking to it as if trying to coax a small animal or a frightened child out of it.
Galloway got up from the floor when Joe approached. "We just powered him up. He's been down quite a bit, which might explain why his behavior."
"Why so? What has he done?"
"For one thing, he hid in that cabinet."
"Please, let me speak to him. He is familiar with me."
Joe got down on the floor; the others got up, giving him his space.
A few toys lay scattered on the floor, including a small green ball flecked with red, of a crinkly acrylic plastic. Joe took the ball and rolled it across the floor toward the cabinet, so that it bumped off the short leg of the cabinet and started to roll back toward him. He retrieved it.
"David? What are you doing?" No answer. "Where are you hiding, little one?" He rolled the ball back, bouncing it off the leg of the cabinet. The door squeaked open a crack. "Daaavid, come on out." No response. "Must I play with the ball myself? It is more than lonesome this way." The door creaked open wider. "Where is that little fellow?"
Joe retrieved the ball and rolled it back to the cabinet. A hand poked out of the cabinet and caught the ball, then pawed it back to Joe, who caught it.
"Ah, a hand emerged from that cabinet. If there is a hand, there must be someone attached to it." Joe rolled the ball back.
The hand caught the ball; the door opened wide enough that a small, shadowy form could be seen inside. David crept out and sat on the edge of the cabinet. He rolled the ball back to Joe.
"Oh, there IS someone in that cabinet, and I can see him," Joe said, as he caught the ball. He rolled it so that it stopped a foot away from David. The little fellow stared at the ball as if it were a hundred feet away. He slid off the edge of the cabinet and got down on the floor to poke the ball back.
Joe rolled it to the middle of the floor this time. David crept out to get it, which brought him a little closer to Joe in order to scoot the ball back.
"You like this little game…here it comes back to you." David caught it one hand and smiled, thinly, but he was smiling.
Joe held out his hands, waiting. David tossed it to him.
"Ah, a good throw, but here, can you catch?" he tossed it back gently. The little one caught it and edged closer to Joe.
Soon they sat so close they were almost passing the ball back and forth.
Finally, David crept into Joe's lap and hugged him around the neck. Joe held him gently, a serene smile passing over his face.
They sat this way for a while, then Joe held him away. "I have to go now, I have my work to do. But I shall come back to you tomorrow." David's face went slack with worry, but Joe stroked his hair. David smiled, letting him go.
Next day, during lunch, Joe went back to repairs for another "bonding session" with David. He found the little fellow busily building a wall with colored blocks. When David saw him, he jumped up and scurried to meet him, so quickly he knocked down part of the wall. David looked at the scattered blocks, then looked up at a female tech who sat nearby, watching. David's lower lip trembled.
"It's all right, David," Joe said. "Come, shall we build up this wall again?" David smiled at this and got down to collect the scattered blocks.
After a little while, David started glancing up at Joe with a quizzical pucker between his brows, as if trying to place who the older Mecha was.
"I'm afraid that I have you at a disadvantage: I know your name, but you do not know mine. You may call me Joe," he almost added, 'But someday you might call me your father,' but he overrode that. The little fellow reached up with one hand and touched Joe's cheek. "Do you like that name?" The little one bobbed his head, smiling and hugged Joe with both arms. Joe hugged him back and let the little one nestle there for a while. "I think you and I shall get along splendidly."
@--`--
Next day after work, Joe went with Galloway to do a little Christmas shopping; Rhiannon had the same idea:
In the big shopping mall near Scranton, they spotted Rhiannon coming out of a children's clothing store on the ground floor level (they were on the top level); she didn't have any bags from it.
"She must be engaging in a little wishful thinking," Joe observed. "Let's make her wishes come true."
"Yeah, maybe you can figure out exactly what she was looking at," Galloway suggested.
Joe reset his olfactory sensors on "high" and "exclusive". He traced Rhiannon's scent to several items: a blue sweater set with a matching stocking hat and mittens, several pairs of corduroy pants, a few jerseys and flannel shirts.
"You getting her anything else besides, y' know," Galloway asked on their way out.
"I have a few other presents in mind for her: an emerald bracelet she had her eye on, a set of Dickens."
"Good, always a good idea to give a few extras."
They spotted Rhiannon again, watching the kids in the line to Santa's winter castle. Next year…
Joe bought a few other odds and ends: a coffee of the month subscription for Astarte, a box of Godiva chocolate for the Zipeses.
"Anything for Sokhar the annoying?" Galloway asked.
"As a matter of fact, I did," Joe said, wryly.
They went into a stationary store where Joe got a mouse-pad with mice on it.
Galloway drove Joe home, agreeing to hide the "kid stuff" at his house.
"Of course that was not all my shopping," Joe said. "He will need a few toys."
"Uh-oh, don't take me along if you're doing toy shopping, or we'll be there all night," Galloway warned.
"Perhaps then you could help me pick out the best."
Galloway wasn't kidding: Joe had a few ideas he'd found online, but every time he looked around for Galloway, his friend was testing the demo models of Supertoy dinosaurs and aliens—and even some of the "girly" Supertoys, like a yipping pink poodle on a leash or a purple kitten.
They settled on a set of building blocks and a few model cars and trucks—Joe personally selected a model amphibicopter.
"You spoke the truth: this will be the last time in which I shop for David in your company," Joe said to Galloway with gleeful coldness, once they were back in the cruiser.
@--`--
Joe walked from the corner of their street down the slope to their house. A light snow had started to fall, settling on his hair and the shoulders of his black ankle-length overcoat. The temperature had dropped considerably, and he could just sense the chill nibbling gently at his skin. The snow crunched and squeaked underfoot as he walked along the sidewalk, admiring the lights on and in the houses, the glowing animated figures of Santas and snowmen and angels in the yards, the electric menorah in the Jablonsky's front window. He hummed holiday songs half aloud, half to himself, "Silent Night" and "Ma'oz Tsur" and a jazzy rendition of "O Christmas Tree" and the main melody of "Wolcum Yole" from Britten's "Ceremony of Carols".
They had a few modest white lights on the bushes in front of their house and some glowing ornaments hung from the magnolia tree on the front lawn, but as yet they had not put up their indoor Christmas tree. He decided this was the night to put it up.
He found Rhiannon had the same idea: she was upstairs in the attic, struggling to get their artificial Douglas Fir down.
"Here, let me take that for you," he said, taking the box onto his shoulder.
"Thanks," she said.
They finished decorating it about midnight, then they shut off the room lights and let the tree "glow" as Rhiannon loved to call it. They sat together at the foot of the tree, their arms about each other.
Rhiannon giggled.
"What?" Joe asked. "Did something amuse you?"
"You last year with the mistletoe at the Zipeses Christmas party last year."
"In which case, I could laugh about you and Narsie's cousin and Galloway popping the popping corn in the Zipeses' sauna."
"Well, I could diss you about New Year's Eve last year."
"Why, what did I do?"
"You don't remember? You wanted to know what it was like to be drunk, so Galloway and his stupid friend took you out and beat you up so your conductors would get all tangled every which way. After that you were staggering around singing Beatles' songs at the top of your voice."
"I believe I recall Galloway not thinking his idea had been so brilliant after he had to untangle my wiring in the morning of the next day."
"Good, I hope that cures you of repeating the same stunt this year…good thing we were staying overnight at the Zipeses', then all Lutwyn and I had to do was steer you upstairs to the spare room and shut you down."
She nibbled his ear. "So…what you ge' me fo' C-Day?" she asked in her fake ghetto mama voice.
He looked at her from under lowered eyelids and smiled mysteriously. "I cannot tell you; to do so would spoil the surprise."
"Can it top the gift you gave me Christmas night last year?"
"Do you mean when I wrapped myself up in the gift wrapping paper?"
"Yeah."
He caressed the inside of her thigh. "Yes, it will top even that."
They cuddled for a while beneath the tree. Then they shut out the lights for the night and went to bed.
@--`--
Christmas eve, after service at "Cousin Rev's" church, they went straight home, at Joe's insistence; Rhiannon wanted to go to her stepsister's house for a while, but Joe was firm with her.
"There is one Christmas present you will wish to see right away," he said.
"It better be good," she replied, a little miffed.
Once they got to their door and he had unlocked it, Joe took the black silk scarf he wore about his neck and tied it around her eyes.
"What is this about?" she asked.
"I only want you to be surprised," he said, taking her hands and leading her into the house.
He steered her into the living room, then he took the scarf from her eyes.
The tree glowed in the shadowy room, painting the ceiling with soft pastel washes of light. The gas fire in the fireplace burned, filling the room with a cheerful warmth.
A small form sat curled up on the couch, a little boy clad in a white jersey, black corduroy pants and a red vest. He looked up at them with his blue eyes wide open.
"David?" Joe said.
The little one bounced up and ran to him, grinning, putting his arms up to be hugged. Joe knelt to his level and gathered him in, close to his heart.
"David, there's someone I want you to meet." He turned the little one to Rhiannon. "This is Rhiannon."
David looked up at her warily, even as she knelt down to his level.
"Hello, David," she said. "Can I give you a hug?"
The little one separated from Joe and let her hug him. David hugged her back, but even Joe sense something was lacking in this gesture.
Joe rose and tiptoed out of the room, giving them their space together.
When he came back from hanging up his coat, Joe found them as he had left them. Rhiannon patted the little one's shoulders as she said something that sounded like, "I'll be right back."
She got up and joined Joe in the hallway, tears of delight in her eyes. He led her upstairs to their room.
"Now you know what has occupied my attention for so many days and weeks," he said.
"You know, I had an idea of what you and Galloway were up to, but I was not going to let on," she said, grinning wickedly.
"Do you like him?"
"No, I love him already. Thank you." She hugged him around the neck.
"The first gift of Christmas," he said, holding her away.
"The best gift of all seasons," she added, Pulling his face closer and kissing him.
He let her go lingeringly and opening the top drawer of his bureau, took out a large red envelope, which he handed to her. She took it and opened it to find a Christmas card in which he had tucked the imprint protocol papers.
"Don't do this to me," she groaned. "I'll be imprinting him first thing in the morning. No, I'll be good and give him a week to adjust to us and our routine."
Leaving the papers on the bureau, she went to the linen closet and got out a big, rainbow-colored afghan, which she carried downstairs with her.
She found David exactly where she had left him, sitting in the armchair, looking up at the tree.
"We don't have a room for you yet, but we'll get you everything you need the day after tomorrow. But here's a blanket my grandma crocheted for me." She spread the blanket over him and tucked it in. He smiled up at her thinly.
She leaned down to kiss him. His smile vanished and he shrank back from her.
"What? I'm not gonna hurt you." But she decided not to press the issue. He needed his space in which to get used to everything.
She patted his head and switched out the lights on the tree.
She went upstairs and found Joe had already got into bed, where he waited for her.
"Day after Christmas we'll have to do some major shopping, get him a bedroom set, that sort of thing," she said.
"Galloway and I have already bought a few things for him, but you should be allowed the luxury of shopping for him," he said.
"He can have the spare room…gosh."
"What?"
"Oh, I just feel a little bad having him sleep, I mean, stay in the living room."
"He will have his own room soon enough."
But while Rhiannon slept, Joe thought of the little one alone in the night.
He got up and tiptoed downstairs to the living room. The little one looked up at Joe as he knelt beside the couch.
"It is not right to leave you here alone," Joe said. "Would you mind it were I to bring you upstairs?"
David shook his head. Joe gathered the little one up, afghan and all, and carried him upstairs.
Joe laid David in their bed, next to Rhiannon and got in next to him, so that David lay sandwiched between them.
@--`--
Next morning, when Rhiannon woke up, she felt something next to her, too small to be Joe. She turned over and opened her eyes.
David lay beside her, with Joe on the other side of him, smiling at her over the little one's head with gently impish delight in his eye.
"Hey, how'd he get up here?" she asked
"It did not seem right to leave him by his lone self," Joe said.
She noticed, however, that the little one kept a cautious, almost allergic distance from her.
@--`--
Galloway came over later that morning bearing gifts for them. Rhiannon had her digital camera read to take pictures of David unwrapping the gaily-wrapped boxes with his name on them. He seemed a little reticent at first, but at a gentle look from Joe, David set to work unwrapping the packages.
"The three of you look like you were made for each other," Galloway said with a broad grin.
"Thanks for taking such good care of him," she said.
"Hey, it's my way of helping the movement," he said with a nonchalant shrug.
"What do we owe you?"
"Nothing," Galloway said. "I fixed him up on my own time and money and love."
@--`--
That evening, they went to the Zipeses house for a couple hours. Sina was still up, showing off her purple-furred Teddy Supertoy, named Terry, which trundled after her wherever she went. But when she saw David, her eyes got big with curiosity.
"Whose little boy is you?" she asked.
"He's ours," Rhiannon said. "His name is David. We just adopted him: I'm going to be his mommy and Uncle Joe is going to be his daddy."
"Can you talk?" Sina asked. David looked at her with large eyes.
"Sina, maybe he's shy," chirped Terry.
"You talk when you wanna," Sina said. She felt David's hands and face. He pulled away a little, but his wariness gave way to curiosity. Sina looked from his face to Joe's and back to David's.
"He's different; he's like Uncle Joe." She said this with the acceptance of a child, unprejudiced.
@--`--
Later, when they came home, Joe carried David upstairs to their room, the little one resting his head on his shoulder.
"Sina took to him like a duck to water," Rhiannon said.
"She will be a good friend for him," Joe said, sitting David on the bench outside their door. "Do you agree, David?"
David gave him a quiet smile and nodded.
"He can communicate, he's just not using words yet," Rhiannon said.
When they were ready for bed, Joe brought David into their room. Rhiannon got down on her knees to help David into his pajamas, but the little one suddenly jerked away from her and clung to Joe.
"What is it? I'm not gonna hurt you," Rhiannon said, trying to reach for David again. The little one hid himself behind Joe, clinging to the older Mecha's hand.
"Perhaps I should undress him," Joe said.
"Okay," Rhiannon relented.
@--`--
Next day, they took advantage of the after-Christmas sales and went shopping for a bedroom set for David (Galloway loaned them his vancruiser) as well as a few other things for him. They decided on a cozy bed with a canopy lit with blue fiber optic cabling.
That evening, Joe and Rhiannon assembled the furniture in the spare room they had converted into a room for David.
"We'll have to redo the room," she said. "Paint the walls, find new rugs, something nice and colorful."
"In which case I shall help you," Joe said. "But there is an important question I must ask you."
"Shoot."
"Shall you continue working?"
"I'm going to downsize a bit and work from home," she said. "I want to be David's mom, not just his imprinter."
"If I could tell you what to do, this would be what I would say. But it is yours to decide."
"I've already decided." She looked toward the doorway.
David stood there, peeking around the doorjamb at them, just one eye and some light brown hair visible.
"David, your room's all ready—for now," she said. "You want to come in and see it?"
David stepped into the room, gingerly, looking around. Then after a minute or two, he smiled his little boy smile.
"He likes what he sees," Joe observed.
@--`--
The day before New Year's Eve, Rhiannon finalized her decision to downsize; she brought David to the Zipeses' house during the days before. Rahmer, the head of the legal department wasn't too thrilled with her decision.
"The thing's only a Mecha," he insisted as she cleared her desk.
"He isn't only a Mecha: he's my son, Joe's son," she said. "Galloway and his team went to a lot of trouble with his repairs."
"But that's just it: he's no different than the rest of them. He's a machine."
She slammed a drawer shut and stood up to her full height.
"He's a little boy; he's just made of different materials. Besides, we're biological machines ourselves."
@--`--
They picked David up from the Zipeses on the way home. Rhiannon decided her supper could wait a little while: she had something important to do.
While Joe sat with David in the living room, Rhiannon went upstairs and got the envelope with the imprinting papers.
When she returned, she drew in a long breath as she knelt down before David. He didn't draw away from her as he had the past few days, but he kept a leery eye on her.
"Okay," she started. I can do this, she told herself. "David, I'm going to read off a few words; you have to listen to me while I read them."
Joe put a hand on her shoulder as she reached up to David's forehead; she felt the switch under the dermis, lower than it had been on Joe. She pressed it, then she reached behind David's neck. As she pressed the trigger there, the leery look did not vanish, but he looked into her eyes.
"Cinnabar…
"Sarabande…
"Paradigm…
"Derivate…
"Harpsichord…
"Digitize…
"Transparent…
"Rhiannon…David…Rhiannon."
The look of wary concern had vanished. She looked deep into David's face, seeking a change. Imprinting Joe had been one thing, but David was an entirely different creature.
She started to get up, but David looked up to her, holding up his arms to her. She leaned down to him got down to his level, into his little embrace. She folded him to her heart, cuddling him.
Joe had decided to imprint David that night, but he overrode the decision, setting it aside for another time: mother and son needed to bond.
Would he ever speak?
But he knew he could not neglect this most important duty to this little one. He gave them an hour, then he returned to the living room.
He found them sitting on the couch, Rhiannon reading aloud to her son. Joe sat down on the floor, just inside the doorway, listening in silence, not wishing to interrupt or intrude.
When she had finished, Rhiannon set the book aside; she looked up at Joe, their eyes meeting across the room.
"Now it is my turn," he said, rising as she rose. She took the imprint protocol sheet from her pocket and handed it to him. He sensed her fingers tremble as she did so; she stepped away.
Joe knelt before David, who still sat on the couch, looking up at Joe with curiosity.
Joe scanned the imprint sheet.
Caution! Do not initiate imprinting if you have any doubts about your feelings.
He felt calm determination flowing through him, and yet the note of uncertainty trembled just on the verge of sensation. He knew he had been imprinted; he knew this same process bound him to Rhiannon. And now he was about to bind David to him.
"David, there are seven special words I must read to you. Can you listen to me?" he asked.
David nodded, a slight smile on his face.
Joe reached up to David's brow, feeling the structure under the skin, sensing the tiny switch. He pressed in and up, as one did with all internal switches. He reached behind David's neck and pressed the switch there.
"Cinnabar…
"Sarabande…
"Paradigm…
"Derivate…
"Harpsichord…
"Digitize…
"Transparent…
"Joe…David…Joe."
He retracted his hand from the switch. He watched David, gauging the response.
David grinned up at him and hopped off the couch, right into Joe's lap, hugging him so hard he bowled Joe over. The imprint papers went flying.
Joe looked up at Rhiannon and found her laughing, her hand over her mouth. She got down on the floor and hugged the both of them.
They nestled and wrestled together, laughing, David's grin getting bigger…one family together.
@--`--
Next day, Rhiannon set up her home office. David kept nearby her, drawing with the crayons she gave him on a big sketchpad Joe had got for him.
She also got something in a hatbox down from the attic that had been up there much too long, since she'd suffered at the hands of her ex-fiancé, nearly ten years before she met Joe. She hoped it still worked…
Joe came home around three in the afternoon; they were going to the Zipeses for their annual New Year's Eve party.
He approached the open door to Rhiannon's study, quietly, barely letting his heels down, and peered in so as not to be seen.
She sat at her desk, typing something, with David sitting on the floor close by, drawing what looked like a pair of arms cradling a bird.
She must have heard him: she glanced up slightly without raising her head, but she pretended not to notice.
Joe let down the secrecy and stepped into the doorway. He knocked softly on the doorjamb. "May I come in?"
She looked up with innocent impishness in her eyes. "The door's open." He stepped into the room and approached her
"How goes the new location?" Joe asked, his hand on her shoulder.
"It's great; I've got the world's shortest commute now," she said, turning her face up to him. He leaned down to kiss her.
As he did so, David bounced up and hugged Joe around the waist, nestling his head into Joe's flank. Joe let go of Rhiannon and reached down to pat David on the shoulder and hug him with one arm.
"Hello, David." His son turned his face up to him with a big smile.
"So how goes the new venture?" Joe asked.
"I've got everything set up, I just have to see how it pans out. Of course I'll have to go out for case work and for hearings and such, but I think it's gonna work."
Joe looked down at the drawings scattered on the floor. "And I see David has set himself to work as well." He knelt down to study some of the drawings. "He shows signs of great talent."
"He gets that from you side of the family," Rhiannon said. Joe playfully cuffed her arm.
While Joe changed for the evening, Rhiannon set about preparing David's surprise.
Rhiannon brought the hatbox into David's room. She sat down on the foot of the bed beside him. "Here's something I had when I was little; I want you to have it now."
She lifted the lid and took out a black-furred Teddy. She twisted and pushed in the activation switch on its bottom. The little animal twitched its arms and legs. Its head moved and it opened its mouth in little growling yawn. She set the bear on its feet between them.
"David, this is Andy."
David smiled thinly at the little bear.
"Hello, David," Andy said in a furry voice.
David looked up at Rhiannon. His lower lip trembled, but he opened his mouth.
"What do I have to do to get Andy?" he asked.
Rhiannon almost stared. He could talk! But her lawyer's horse sense kicked in and she kept her cool. "Nothing, David. He's yours."
"Nothing?" David asked, incredulous.
"No," she said. "I'll let you two get to know each other." She got up and went to her room, trying not to run.
She found Joe buttoning on one of his best shirts before the full-length mirror in their room. She shut the door behind her.
"Joe, he just talked: David just talked for the first time," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
He turned to her, his face beaming. "Then he is fully functional, and he is adjusting to you."
"That's not all," she said and went on to describe what had transpired in David's room. He looked so worried, like I was going to hurt him."
Joe cocked his head, his gaze tracking to the floor, his face thoughtful. After a moment, he looked up at her.
"It sounds as if all is not right with his emotions. I think he must have come to some harm, somewhere."
"Do you know anything about his last imprinter?"
"Galloway and I have sought to contact them, but they would not reply to us."
She found her planner on her dresser and made a note in it the day after New Year's Day. "I know a robo-psychologist we might ask for counseling for him. She's really good; you'd like her because she really understands Mechas."
"Perhaps she could help me as well."
"You? Why?"
He wagged his head, a pensive look in his eye. "I have my troubled moments which overwhelm me, but I hide them well: perhaps one might say too well."
"You can talk to me about them."
"Now is not the time, and I would not wish to burden you with my petty woes. And I would like very much to see her methods at work on a Mecha, as a test, before I let her work with David."
"Good thinking: 'What's good for the gander is good for the goose', or in this case the gosling."
"And yet they both have different, though equitable needs," he said, with a gently suggestive smile. His face relaxed. "And if she can help David, perhaps she can aid in the endeavor."
To be continued…
Afterword:
I'm going to try to go semi-full time writing this, to make up for lost time, so keep watching for new chapters. Hope still thrives!
Literary Easter Eggs:
"The first gift of Christmas"—Okay, I admit it: I lifted this from Richard Paul Evans's The Christmas Box, which is one of my favorite Christmas books (Next to A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and Skipping Christmas by John Grisham.).
Rhiannon overhearing Joe and Galloway about the imprint papers—Drawn from real life: Two Christmases ago, my dad and I got a light-up plastic Nativity scene for our yard as a Christmas eve surprise for my mother, and we built the stable for it the afternoon of Thanksgiving. My mother came out on the deck to let us know when supper was ready, and she kind of found out what we were up to (Like Rhiannon, she didn't let on that she did.)
The jazzy version of "O Christmas Tree"—Probably Vince Guaraldi's version which he did for the 1965 TV special "A Charlie Brown Christmas" which I was listening to as I drafted this chapter; I imagine Joe would be drawn to it for its unusual rhythms. Also, I imagine him having a special place in his processors for the music of Benjamin Britten for its delicacy and innocent sensuality.
popping the popcorn in the sauna—stole this wholesale from "Santa's Funniest Moments", a really crazy Christmas special based on the principle of "America's Funniest Home Videos", only it was wall-to-wall Christmas shenanigans. There was one bit with three guys finding a quick and hysterical way to pop popcorn: in an indoor sauna.
"you wanted to know what it was like to be drunk…"—Another wholesale theft, this time it was a device I had seen used in two comic "A.I." fictions, King Raisin's "Artificial Flame" and Sapphire Rose's "Day After Day". I just thought it was a great, goofy idea, plus the image of Joe singing Beatles' songs in his pseudo-inebriated state came to me as I was listening to the "Golden Oldies" station and they were doing wall-to-wall Beatles' songs since Paul McCartney was in town. (No, it was NOT "Hey, Jude", it was "All Together Now")
"…painting the ceiling…"—I've noticed this phenomenon year after year whenever the lights on our Christmas tree are on and the room lights are off, and then I heard a similar metaphor used in the text of "Somewhere in my Mem'ry", the song John Williams wrote for his film score for Home Alone (Soundtrack tie-in/cross-reference: John Williams did the score for "A.I.".)