+J.M.J.+
Zenon Eyes: Eyes of Truth
By "Matrix Refugee"
Author's Note:
I had every intention to get this up last week, but I had a hard time finishing it, what with one thing and another, plus I was slightly exhausted from getting the last chapter of "One of THOSE in our Midst!" up and writing/posting the first chapter of "The Shadows Between the Neon" along with another fiction on the Yahoo! Group "AI_Fanfiction". Last of my excuses is that I got hooked reading Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot (I always read horror novels in October, part of getting psyched up for Halloween) and I'm trying to keep from moving on to The Shining (Not surprising that I should choose that one: Stanley Kubrick did the movie version of it). But…I managed to get this out anyway. Brief warning: this chapter contains a strong reference to child abuse of the worst variety; my family background has been blackened with this horror, so in some ways, this is a form of creative writing therapy. I kept it within the PG-13 range, but if you think it went over into R rated territory, please let me know. Thanks!
Disclaimer:
See Chapter I. I also don't own the Beatles' song "When I'm Sixty-Four".
VI: Healing
Rhiannon called her college chum call the next morning; Cal had her office in Scranton, but there was no telling Joe might decide to go up there later that afternoon.
"Hello, Calla Sununu speaking."
"Hiya, Cal, it's me, Rhiannon."
"Ree, baby, how you been?"
"Great, busy as usual. I'm working from home now."
"Oh, yeah, I heard you'd adopted the little fellow."
"How'd you find that out?"
"I heard from Gilbert Galloway at Companionates."
"That's kind of what I called about. David's been acting rather odd, so I was going to call to make an appointment with you for him."
"You were 'going to'? That doesn't sound quite like you."
"Well, you see, Joe wanted to test the waters a little before we brought David in, so I was calling just to give you a fair warning."
"Oh? Is he having any difficulties?"
"If he is, he isn't telling me much about it."
"Okay, thanks for the heads up."
"I have a brief to proof, so I'd better get going."
"Hug David for me."
"I will."
@--`--
About four o'clock, Sheila, Calla's secretary came into Calla's office.
"Calla, there is a young gentleman in the waiting room who wishes to speak to you," she said, "He says his name is Masters."
"Tell him I'll be out in a moment," Calla said.
She waited until Sheila had gone, then she went out to the waiting room.
She paused, just in the doorway to take a look.
A tall young man stood by the window, looking out to the snowy yard outside, his hands cupped one inside the other behind his back. She realized he wasn't quite as tall as she thought: his wire-thin figure and his well-tailored gray-black pinstripe suit gave him an illusion of being taller than he was. Ree must almost be able to look him in the eye, she thought.
"Mr. Masters?" she asked, stepping into the room. He turned to her, putting one foot behind the other and using the momentum to pull himself around to face her, a dancer's movement. She'd seen his picture in the Journal of the American Robotics Association, but even digital photography didn't do his face justice. He had an almost feminine prettiness about his features, not effeminate, not quite androgynous, definitely the face of a lover model.
"Ms. Sununu? I have heard much about your skill as a robo-psychologist from Rhiannon."
She smiled. "I hope I can live up to whatever she said."
He returned the smile. "I share the same hope."
"Would you come into my office?"
She led him inside, he reached out from behind to hold the door open for her. She tried not to smile too broadly.
Her office was a comfortably cluttered room, the walls hung with framed certificates and children's drawings, the bookcase crammed with books and binders of JARA issues.
"Won't you have a seat?" she said, indicating a wide, comfortable armchair.
"After you, Ms. Sununu," he said, graciously.
She sat down on the couch opposite; only then did he sit down, resting his elbows gracefully on the arms.
"So, what's on your mind—or would you rather I called them processors?" she asked.
"You would think a personage who has known such success as I have would have no worries," he said. "But something is amiss in my processors."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"I can, but finding the words to describe it proves to be a very great challenge." He described his life in capsule; she listened. Some of the narrative she already knew from Rhiannon, but hearing it from his viewpoint made all the difference in the world.
"Since we discovered David, it has become only more obvious to me that Mechas need some refuge to which they can go, where they can be protected from the Johnsons and the Martin Swintons of this world," he said. "And yet, at the same time, I cannot help but think to myself, perhaps it would be best if I held back, to let another take up this challenge. I have Ree and David's safety to consider now."
"But would that really be wise? Wouldn't that be killing them with kindness?"
He cocked his head. "How do you mean this?"
"If you could fulfill this vision, it would give others like David the shelter they need. But if you should hold back from fulfilling this dream, would that really help your family?"
He took this in thoughtful silence. "I wish only the best for them."
"What would Serin want you to do, if she were alive? What would Rhiannon want you to do now with your vision?"
He shook his head. "In order to fulfill the vision, I must expose myself once again to the world and its coldness."
"It doesn't seem logical that you would have to make yourself vulnerable in order to keep others safe."
"It does not."
"Perhaps you should let someone else shoulder the task the vision proposes. You've got your hands full helping David find his way around the world."
His mouth curved down in a frown of dismay. He leaned forward, his hands clenched slightly, an angry light in his eye.
"I disagree. I disagree greatly with these suggestions. Something has to be done. Some effort must be made to provide shelter for these unfortunates."
"Good, good. You must feel better to get that out into the air."
He looked at her, his face gathering, puzzled. But his brows smoothed and he gave her a foolish grin. A light pinkish tinge passed over his cheekbones.
"Now I know why you and Rhiannon are good friends: you were screwing with my processors as she does."
"Sometimes that's the only way to deal with something this troubling, the only way you can release the real feelings."
His grin relaxed into an odd, almost conspiratorial smirk. "You are not the only one who uses roundabout techniques. I came here not only for my own sake, but for the sake of my son, David, likewise a Mecha. He seems to be suffering from terrible pain memories, caused by experimentation, or by something akin to it."
"Have you had his cube scanned?"
"We ran a programming scan, but we have yet to run a visual scan."
"Bring him in soon; I'll see what I can deduce from his behavior."
"Just do not screw with his processors," Masters warned.
"I won't do that. I don't use those methods on little fellows."
"However, I have one concern: you are a woman, and he is terribly afraid of women, except for Rhiannon and our friend Narsie Zipes."
"I have a few tricks for gaining his confidence."
"If you can win his trust, it shall be a sign of your adeptness."
@--`--
Joe walked home from the monorail station, feeling lighter of mind and heart than he had for a while. His processors hummed more peacefully and a warmth seemed to move through his conductors.
His walk became a cheerful promenade, then a joyful dance, the way he had walked the streets before. Some of the passersby regarded him oddly at first, but then they smiled when they recognized him: Joe Masters was in a happy mode.
He unlocked the front door and went in.
"Ree? David? I'm home," he called.
"Daddy's here!" David's voice called on the stairs. David ran down to meet him, hugging him around the waist.
"And how is my little man today?" Joe asked.
"Fine."
"Did you do anything fun?"
"Mommy made me some play dough."
"Really?"
"You're home early."
"I had an important errand to run, and it did not take as long as I had expected," he said. Not yet, David couldn't know just yet. All in the timing.
@--`--
Saturday morning found Joe buttoning up David's silver and blue coat—the little one was still reluctant about Rhiannon helping him with anything.
"Tell me again where we're going," David said.
"Mommy has a good friend she wants you to meet."
"Is she a grown up?"
"Yes, but she is a very nice person. I think you will like her, once you get to know her."
Rhiannon came downstairs; Joe got up and got her coat for her.
"Are you all ready, David?" she asked.
"Yes, Mommy," this a little gingerly, as he took Andy's paws and picked him up.
David was quiet through the drive to Scranton, but they were both accustomed to his silences; his voice was more startling for its infrequence.
Calla met them in the waiting room. She got down to David's level; she wore a long, loose, rainbow-colored knit dress instead of the plain tweed skirt and white blouse she had worn the other day. With her dark skin, violet-blue eyes and wavy red-black hair, it didn't look outlandish, but just part of her exotic appearance.
"Hello, what's your name?" she asked. David shrank against Rhiannon's hip, wary-eyed. "My name's Calla."
"This is David," Rhiannon said.
"David, my, that's a really good name, the name of a king," Calla said. David smiled thinly in reply.
"I like your teddy, does he have a name?"
David didn't reply. Andy nudged him. "Answer the nice lady," he said.
"His name's Andy," David managed.
"Why don't we sit down where we can be comfortable?" Calla said. She led them into a large, well-lit room with picture windows facing south, a playroom of sorts, with child-size chairs and tables, a block corner, a book nook and other things.
"May I please play with the blocks?" David asked.
"Of course you may," Calla said.
"Thank you, Calla," David said, going to the block corner, with Andy at his heels.
Calla sat down on a stuffed violet velour armchair near the head of the room, opposite the couch where Joe and Rhiannon had sat down. Joe kept glancing at David.
"So how long have you had David?" Calla asked.
"I've had him since Christmas," Rhiannon said. "Joe brought him home then."
"We discovered David in the possession of a man who 'recycled' Mechas, as he called it," Joe said.
"Do you know who adopted him before then?"
"He was adopted by a couple by the names of Anthony and Irmgard Casvar," Joe replied.
"Have you contacted them?"
"We made all attempts to contact them. They would not return our calls or our emails."
"I'm trying to trace them," Rhiannon added.
"So what seems to be the trouble?" Calla said.
"The trouble started almost as soon as we had found him," Joe said. "Rhiannon merely tried to introduce herself to him and yet he shrank from her in fear."
"He didn't talk either. He didn't say a word until after we imprinted him."
"And this was, when?"
"The day before New Year's Eve."
"So, you've had him only a few weeks?"
"We have had him since late September, but he spent much of that time undergoing repairs at Companionates," Joe said. "The chief tech in charge of repairs is a close friend of mine."
"Have you had his neural cube visually scanned?"
"We have not attempted this."
"I'm strongly suggesting that you have this scan run. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to find out about his last family."
"Please, I'm worried about him," Rhiannon pleaded. Joe put a concerned hand on her shoulder.
"I can see that: the fact that you brought him here proves it," Calla said. "You're good parents for him."
"It just bothers me a little that he's drawn more to Joe than he is to me," Rhiannon said. "I'd hoped imprinting would fix that."
"Have you noticed any changes?"
"Some. He started talking and he's less edgy around me, but only less."
"Unfortunately, it's not a cure. The fact that he's edgy around women suggests he may have come to grief through a woman."
Joe's face went blank with concern, then he nodded slowly.
"It has happened before: I have suffered at the hands of a woman before, long ago."
"The cube scan will help us, but it will only help us figure out what happened so we can know what to do for him."
"I will speak to Galloway, the chief of repairs," Joe said. "He could arrange something."
"Do that. It may turn up something."
@--`--
Once they got home, Joe called Galloway to arrange for the scan.
"You brought him to Calla Sununu? Good, good for him and for you; she's great with Mechas."
"How soon could you run the scan of his neural cube?"
"Maybe, oh, we could start it….tch, tch, tch,…Wednesday? I'm booked up till then."
"It is soon enough."
@--`--
Wednesday, Joe brought David to work with him; David carried Andy with him. Joe brought them both to repairs. Galloway met the three of them in the main workroom.
"Hey, hi there, David," Galloway said.
"Hello, Galloway," David said.
"Who's your buddy?"
"This is Andy: he used to be Mommy's friend, but now he's mine."
"Hi there, Andy," Galloway said, putting out his fingers to the bear.
"Hello, Galloway," Andy said, touching the tech's fingers with his paw.
"Why am I here?" David asked, a pucker of concern on his brow.
"This is kind of like when we fixed your ouches, except that this time, we're looking at what's inside your head. Now this might take a while, but it won't hurt, and you won't remember anything."
"Okay," David said. Galloway scooped him up and sat him down on a worktable. He laid David's head back on a cushion. "Could you open your mouth real wide? Atta boy." He reached down inside David's throat with a probe and pressed his activation switch. David lay still, as if her were asleep.
Chauntay and Halmith, Galloway's assistants carefully cut into David's forehead dermis. Halmith lifted out the neural cube and carefully carried it into the next room.
"We'll give you the results as we can; this could take weeks, maybe a month or two," Galloway told Joe.
"At least he is deactivated," Joe said, looking down at the still, small face, its eyes open and its mouth slack.
"We won't reactivate him unless you're in the room," Galloway said.
"Watch over David, Andy," Joe told the teddy.
"I will, Joe," Andy said.
Joe started to turn away, but he paused and turned on his heels back to David. He took a green silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and unfolded it. He laid it over David like a blanket, then he leaned down and kissed the top of the little one's head and hugged him. He straightened up and rubbed the top of Andy's head. The bear growled with pleasure.
Rhiannon came in later that day with some paperwork she had to deliver.
"The house is too empty already," she told Joe. "How is he?"
Joe patted her arm. "If he could rest, he is resting."
"Can I see him?"
"Come with me."
They went to Repairs. Galloway was briefing the night shift on their work. David lay still on the worktable, almost like a doll
Andy looked up from mending a worn patch in his fur.
"Hello, Mommy," Andy said.
"How's David?"
"He is asleep," the bear replied.
"Are you keeping watch over him?"
"I am." She rubbed his head and he butted her hand with it gently.
She leaned down and kissed her son's cheek.
Galloway walked out with them later that day.
"How long is the scan going to take?" Rhiannon asked.
"We were afraid it was going to take months, but turns out he was activated only five years ago. So we're skipping over a lot of major boring stuff, y' know, early stuff, fast scanning other stuff. If there's anything useful to his therapy, I'll burn it onto DVD for you."
"Thank you: Ms. Sununu will wish to see it."
@--`--
They had the house to themselves. Rhiannon started redoing David's room, painting the walls. Joe helped her put up some bookshelves. They left on wall completely blank: Joe painted a mural on it, with fairy tale characters in a fantastic landscape, very Maxfield Parrish-like.
The scan took almost two weeks. She felt odd without their little guy around, down the hallway, or curled up at her feet with a book. Joe had started teaching him chess, so one night, he tried a few gambits of his own invention on her. Of course he floored her at it, though she'd been her family's undefeated champ; she had to remember that Joe's granddaddy with thirty greats tacked on had defeated Kasparov back in the 1990s. Still, she enjoyed it immensely; she'd actually come close to cracking one of his gambits, but at the last moment, he checkmated her.
She made him pay for his sneakiness later, upstairs. They nestled together afterwards.
"Did Galloway find anything notable in David's cube?" she asked.
"Not yet, but he has got up to the years of David's adoption by the Casvars of Camden, New Jersey."
"Where was he before this?"
"It seems some technicians at Cybertronics' complex in Camden kept him as a kind of mascot; they treated him as a Mecha ought to be treated, but none of them did the right thing for him."
"Imprint him?
"No evidence shows that they did."
She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "We'll know tomorrow."
He stroked her hair as she fell asleep. Morning seemed a long ways away; he was tempted to get up and complete the mural, but Rhiannon needed him by her side.
@--`--
Next day, at the lunch hour, a gray-faced Galloway came to Joe's cubicle.
"Joe, there's something you have to see," Galloway said, flat-voiced.
Joe rolled back his chair and got up to follow the tech up to Repair.
David lay peacefully on the worktable, Andy by his side, but Galloway walked past them with an urgency that brooked no pausing for pleasantries.
He led Joe into one of the furthest back rooms, where they had their scanning units.
Galloway drew up an extra chair to the terminal. "I was doing some of the scanning myself this morning, when I saw this," he gestured to the terminal. "Computer, scan 8 September 2212."
The screen lit up.
A brown-furred Teddy Supertoy waddled across their field of vision. Their view followed the toy, which eluded them.
"Having fun, David?" said a woman's voice.
"Yes, Mommy." They looked up at a non-descript blonde woman in a flame-colored bathrobe. She lunged at the bear and snatched it up, holding it over her head.
Their view bounced up toward her head, as if he had been jumping up and down, trying to reach the bear.
"Uh-uh-uh! There's something you gotta do before you can have him," the woman wheedled.
"What do I have to do, Mommy?"
With one hand, the woman untied the sash of her dressing gown. Their view stayed steady: she had nothing on under the robe.
"You gotta kiss me first."
"Okay, Mommy."
"Shut it off. Shut if off!" Joe's voice rose as Galloway had never heard it rise before: anger, outrage, imploring…
"Computer, end scan."
The screen went dark, then the desktop came up again.
Galloway looked at Joe. The Mecha sat very still. His hands clasped the edge of the desk, the phalanges on the backs of his hands bulged under the dermis. The wood composite of the desk creaked in his grip.
Joe turned to him. "Thank the heavens that you saved the rest for imagination."
"I know. I figured you were experienced enough to know what to expect."
"A woman does not open her garment and ask to be kissed if she intends only to shake hands."
"I wanted to spare you the worst. I almost lost what's left of my breakfast when I saw it."
"Charges should be pressed: her actions violate the First Law of Organics."
"The neo-Luddites are gonna say no."
"He was sexually abused. I endured similar pains, but it happened before it could affect me deeply…. But that a child should endure this." He shook his head.
"I know. It happened to my cousin Allison. At least in her case, it wasn't a family member, the least I can say about that.
"You want me to save this stuff onto disk?"
"Ms. Sununu will wish to see it."
@--`--
Late that afternoon, Rhiannon heard the front door downstairs open and close slowly. She heard Joe's footsteps on the stairs, very slow, lacking his usual vigorous spring.
His shadow fell across the frosted glass door of her office. He knocked, something he rarely did.
She got up and opened it to him.
He stood before her with his head bent, his arms hanging slack at his sides. He raised his eyes to her and lifted his head.
"Hey, what's the matter?" she asked, drawing him into the room.
He reached back and pushed the door shut. He opened it and listened, then shut the door again.
"Galloway has uncovered the root of David's fears."
"What happened?"
He described what he had seen in the scan.
"At least he and I can, in some ways, relate to each other," she said. "We both suffered sexual abuse at the hands of a loved one."
"I too endured this species of abuse."
"I guess you could call it that, being sold at 250 NB a poke."
"No, I had one customer who handled me very roughly, to the point of damage."
She stroked his head. "Poor fella…. I guess we really were made for each other: you, me, David. We all share one thing."
"What is that which we share?"
"We're all survivors."
@--`--
Saturday morning, while David played in the children's room of Calla's office with two of Calla's assistants, Briar and Cori, both robo-psychologists in training, Calla watched Galloway's disk of the scans. Rhiannon watched it with her; Joe however, chose to stay with David: he had seen enough.
"This is the most sick stuff I have ever seen," Rhiannon said. "This makes David Cronenberg movies look like Ootsie Tootsie Puppy."
"I'll hang onto this as evidence in case we can press charges," Calla said.
"Believe me, as soon as we can establish any kind of contact with Irmgard Casvar, we're gonna slap her with child rape charges. I'd love to write up her subpoena."
"I'm working with Social Services to try and contact the Casvars. They're separated; I'm trying to locate their new addresses."
Rhiannon lost her nerve at this point. She started sobbing out loud.
"Why him? He's so small and vulnerable. He's just a little boy! He was built for love."
Calla put a motherly arm around Rhiannon, the way she'd hugged her friend in the hospital at a similar, though far more painful moment.
"Go ahead, Ree, let it out. Let it come out."
After a few minutes, Rhiannon's tears stopped flowing. Her chest heaved once in a while, but she had regained her usual tenacity.
"Did Joe see much of this?" Calla asked.
"He saw the first bit, the part about the bear. It was more than he could take and he had to stop watching."
"It would sicken anyone but the most hardened person. At the risk of sounding flippant, I bet his face went as green as his eyes."
"Isn't there an easier way for David? Can't we just wipe his memory and reload his programming?"
"It's not that easy. Even if you could do this, it would take months to reprogram him, and you probably would have to re-imprint him. Something this huge and horrible has probably burned too deeply for a simple wipe to erase it."
"There's no easy way here, there's just the one way," Rhiannon said. "Grandma Honey wasn't kidding."
"I'm afraid it's true in this case."
They went into the playroom, where David had built a colossal structure with most of the building blocks, which Briar and Cori kept exclaiming over.
"We got the next Frank Lloyd Wright here," Cori said.
"He gets that talent form my side of the family," Joe said with humorous pride. Briar and Cori laughed over this, but David only grinned.
"Sorry we took so long, we had a lot to discuss," Calla said. Noticing the block structure, she added, "My goodness, David, did you build that all yourself?"
"I built most of it," he said, modestly.
"Would you mind if I helped you put the last blocks on it?"
David smiled thinly and shook his head.
"Ree, you want some coffee? Herb tea? Anything?" Cori asked.
"Oh, herb tea would be great, thanks," Rhiannon said, following her out. Joe and Briar followed them out, Joe keeping an eye on Calla.
Andy helped pick up some of the blocks and handed them up to David.
"That's a really cute bear you have there with you," Calla said.
"Thank you. He used to be Mommy's friend, but now he's my friend, for real."
"Oh? What makes you say 'for real'?"
"She let me have him right away, and I didn't have to do anything to get him."
"Okay, now what do you mean by 'doing anything'?"
Joe and Rhiannon sat watching the proceedings through a two-way mirror and an intercom hook up.
"You were smart not to watch the rest of the disk," Rhiannon said to him.
"What makes you say that?"
"The stuff got worse. David was practically Irmgard's sex slave."
"That is no task fitting for anyone, Orga or Mecha, much less a child. But what of his father?"
"From the glimpses we got of him, he seemed just as trapped as David."
"Perhaps we should seek him out."
"Calla's on it: she'll let us know if we can make contact with him."
They refocused on the conversation going on in the next room.
"I didn't have to kiss her weird."
"Kiss her how?"
"On her chest…and places."
"Are you happy where you are now?"
"Yes, I love Rhiannon better, much better than my sick mommy."
"Rhiannon loves you too, David."
"For real?"
"Yes, for real. If someone really loves you, they don't make you do anything that makes you feel bad or uncomfortable.
David looked up at Calla with relief in his eyes.
@--`--
In the early part of February, Rhiannon had their family picture taken. Joe found a wooden frame for one of the larger photos and hung it up in his cubicle.
Manoj, the designer in the next cubicle, stopped to take a look at it one afternoon, coming back from lunch.
"Nice family photo," he said. "How's the little guy doing?"
"He continues to adjust to us and to his new surroundings," Joe replied, glancing up from his work.
"I heard from Chauntay in repairs that you found out his last parents treated him rough."
"His mother—no, that is not the proper term for her. His first female imprinter subjected him to the worst sort of abuse possible."
Manoj was silent a moment. He blinked with realization. "Good gods!" he murmured. "That's awful. I'm really sorry to hear that. I hope you got him in therapy, er…"
"Rhiannon knows an excellent robo-psychologist who is helping him, and she is helping us as well."
"I hope it all works out."
@--`--
That evening, when Joe came home, Rhiannon met him at the door.
"Calla got through to Anthony Casvar. He wants to meet you," she said. "I spoke to him on the phone this afternoon."
Joe looked past her into the hallway. "Does David know of this?"
"No, Mr. Casvar said it was best if we didn't tell David about any of this; Calla agreed: it might cause problems for David."
Joe's voice took on a cold edge. "But the man discarded David."
"I think there's more to this than we both may think. You know nothing is ever cut and dried."
"When does he wish to see me?"
"He said any night this week is good. I have his number if you want to call him."
"Let me have it: this matter needs clarification."
She reached into her skirt pocket and drew out a card with a number she had written down. Joe took it from her.
After Rhiannon had her supper and Joe had helped her with the dishes, Rhiannon decided to try her hand at a chess game with David, while Joe went into her office to call Anthony Casvar.
Cold words of accusation kept trying to flood into his voice synthesizer, but he overrode them all.
He dialed the number. The line rang several times.
"Hello?" a man's voice, thin and high-pitched, even a trifle nervous.
"Hallo, may I speak to Anthony Casvar?"
"This is him, speaking."
"My name is Joe Masters; my wife Rhiannon and I have adopted David, the Mecha child you once had."
"Oh yes, your wife called me this afternoon and said you wanted to speak to me."
"Yes, I wished to arrange a time and place where you and I could meet one another."
"Okay, you know where Egon's is, the coffeehouse over on Blick Street in Camden?"
"I have passed by it when my work has brought me into the city."
"I go there every night about 19.30. Just keep your eyes open, you might miss me."
"Why so?"
"I blend into the background: I'm short and I wear rimless glasses."
"Not may people wear such things any more; I think that would only cause you to be noticeable. What if I met with you perhaps Friday night?"
"Sure, that would be perfect."
@--`--
Friday night, Joe got a ride to Camden with Galloway, who was going to pick up some parts he had ordered for one of his home projects.
Egon's was a small, low-ceilinged, dusky-lit place, the kind of place that generally holds poetry slams. But that night, it seemed to be open mike jazz night, with three guys playing clarinet, synthesizer and plastic pails. Joe ignored them and scanned the tables, looking for a short man wearing rimless glasses.
He found him at length, in the back of the coffeehouse, sitting alone in a shadowy corner, a clerkish-looking little man in a too-big suit, thin faced, balding, his faded blue eyes glancing around the room nervously from time to time.
"Anthony Casvar?" Joe asked.
The small man twitched and looked up. He stood up. "Joe Masters? Forgive me if it looks like I'm hiding back here."
"If you are more at ease sitting out of the light, that must be respected."
They both sat down. "Actually, I'm kind of hiding from my wife," Casvar explained. "I have a restraining order on her, but she's tested its limits. Egon Shreck, the guy who owns this place, is a good friend of mine, so he's seen to it that she can't come in here. That's why I come here a lot."
Joe looked around. "It seems both a cozy and a lively place."
"The way I wish my life had been—in a better way."
"Tell me about it, tell me of David."
"I'm an accountant, which brings me a decent income, but it isn't the most glamorous job. Irmgard, my wife, was a waitress at a restaurant. A friend of ours introduced us. Irmgard was the only woman who ever took notice of me; I guess I was a little in awe of her for that."
"Did you love her?"
"I did, at least I thought I did. But she wanted more of me than I really could give. I wanted to be a father; she didn't want to take on that kind of responsibility. But she gave in to my pleading, the only time she ever did. Sometimes I wish I hadn't been so stubborn about it: maybe I could have spared her and I a lot of grief. But that can't be fixed, can it?"
"You can only use the experience to avoid the same mistake later on."
"Very true…well, we got our pregnancy license, then a year or so later, in the spring, we had a son. I doted on the little fellow, but Irmgard…she took care of his needs, but she hardly took notice of him otherwise. I don't think she loved him."
"He was her own flesh and blood; why could she not reach out to him?"
"She said Peter cramped her style."
"Perhaps, rather, her style cramped Peter. What did she do that, in her eyes, his presence cramped?"
"She mostly watched the interactive soap operas and went shopping. I had a detective friend of mine tail her one day. Once a month, she used to sneak across the river to Rouge City."
"And your child? What did she do with him?"
Casvar rocked his body side to side. "She often left him all alone at home for hours. We had Social Services on us after the building super in our apartment building heard Peter crying nonstop for an hour. The State said she had to shape up, or she'd lose custody. They had her start therapy and going to parenting classes."
"One wonders if parenting classes should not be mandatory."
"I thought that myself at the time. Things improved after that: Peter seemed to cheer up a little, and he started learning to talk. But it didn't last."
"He caught a cold that developed Werner's Syndrome; there's treatments for it now, but Peter was too far gone. He died in my arms.
"I expected Irmgard to leave me right after that. She blamed me for everything that happened. But then after a while, she asked me if I knew where I could get a David model. I had a friend in construction who knew where a few of the remaindered Davids were. I bought it from him and brought David home for her. I'd been toying with the idea myself, but I hardly dared to try this.
"I imprinted David right away; I had a great time with him, teaching him how to play catch. He's good at one-on-one soccer, too."
"I can tell that you loved him," Joe said. "He has always seemed very drawn to me."
"Do you know why?"
"I know the reason for this, but you need to air these things."
Casvar drew in a long breath. "I started to notice, after a few months, David acting very strangely around Irmgard. He kept a curious distance from her; he seemed to struggle from her when she tried to hug him. I asked her if she knew why, but she always said things like, 'Oh, he's just his dad's little guy', but she didn't sound convincing. I suspected something was going on when I wasn't around, so I put a few hidden cameras in the house."
"And they showed you the images of her…obliging David to do to her what only an adult should do to another in a loving relationship."
Casvar nodded, biting his lip. Joe put a comforting hand on the small man's shoulder. "Go on, but only if you are able."
"I told her off. I told her I was leaving and I was taking David. She beat me up, but I managed to barricade David and me in a bathroom. She went away. I pushed David out through a window and took him to the park in Camden. This was early this past autumn. We used to play at 'Wild Animal Holed up for Winter' where one of us would bury himself in a pile of leaves and the other would find him. I had him bury himself in a pile of leaves… and I just walked away. I hoped couldn't find his way back. I hoped someone else would find him."
"Someone else did, and it was Martin Swinton."
"You mean that wacko who was stripping the flesh off those Mechas?"
"Alas, yes, the self-same unfortunate man."
"Did he…was David hurt bad?"
"He was a little cut up, but he was not so injured we could not repair him."
"I've read your book and a lot of your articles. With all the things you stand for, you're probably the best person to find him. How is he?"
"He is no longer as fearful of my wife, his mother, but he still has much caution around unfamiliar women until they have gained his confidence. We have a friend who is a robo-psychologist with whom he is working to overcome his fears."
Anthony shifted in his chair. "Would it be too much trouble…could I ask you a very small favor?"
"You may ask it."
Anthony ran a hand under his collar. "Could I…would it be possible…would you let me see David from a distance? I know it wouldn't be healthy if he saw me face to face."
"It could be arranged." Joe rose to leave; Anthony rose with him, his eyes intent on Joe's face.
"So it's true."
"What is true?"
Anthony looked around. "You're like David. You know."
"Does that disturb you?"
"Not at all. It just seems odd."
"Why so?"
"You clearly love him more than Irmgard did."
Joe shrugged. "I was built for one kind of love. In the years since then I have learned other kinds of love."
@--`--
A week later, Anthony went alone to the Camden Winter Festival in the same park where he had abandoned David. He sat on a bench, watching the crowds of merrymakers coasting down the slopes or making snow sculptures from under the turned-down brim of his hat, his eyes concealed by dark glasses.
He heard laughter at a near distance, a boy's laughter, a little too loud and jerky, but a delight to hear. His ears pricked up at it and he turned to look from whence it came.
He saw three people scuffling playfully in the snow, a tall dark man in a heavy black sweater, a beautiful African-American woman in a maroon parka with a silvery faux fur-trimmed hood falling back from her head, and a ten or eleven year old boy in a blue and silver coat, lobbing snowballs at each other and dodging them. The woman, Rhiannon, walked up to the bright-eyed man, Masters, who was hiding a snowball behind his back; He suddenly turned and, with a gleefully fiendish smile, mashed the snow in her face.
"You darling brat!" she cried, lunging at him and shoving him down into the snow. David burst out laughing at them.
"David thinks it was funny," Masters said, innocently, trying to sit up, but Rhiannon pushed him down and, with help from David tried to bury him in the snow. He broke free and, covered with snow, ran after them as they scurried away, laughing and giggling.
Anthony smiled. Yes, David Masters would be just fine with his new family.
@--`--
At the lunch hour of the day of his sixty-fifth anniversary of inception, his "build-day" as it were, Joe went as usual to the design wing's coffee nook to change the water in the bud vase he kept on his desk. He found the nook strangely empty.
As he filled the vase, he scanned into his recall as far back as it would go, to that first day when he was made new:
A white room, a skylight overhead…
They had recently had the inception of a new lover model, another of his designs. As the chief of construction had inserted the batteries and powered up the fetching little redhead, Joe had glanced up at the skylight over the couch where the little Mecha-woman lay, and he realized her life was beginning in the exact same spot where his own had started. They'd sent her down to Rouge City, where she would serve as a "hostess" in a hotel. He hoped, what with the new Federal Regulations coming into effect that month, that she would have an easier time of it than he had had.
His marriage to Rhiannon had been fully recognized by the State of East Pennsylvania. Martin Swinton's sentence had been commuted to eight to twenty-five years, on thirty counts of Mecha-slaughter; he'd have time to think over what he had done.
And David had come into their lives, not the first David who had saved Joe's brain, but one of his siblings, his identical twin a thousand times over?
Joe shut off the water as he stopped the flow of memories and put the one white carnation back into the vase and headed back to his cubicle.
A large vase of yellow roses stood on the shelf over his desk when he returned.
"Here, I asked for no fanfares," Joe said.
"We couldn't resist," said Astarte, passing by his desk, clearly pretending to just be puttering about.
@--`--
He'd insisted that his friends at work keep the celebration of his anniversary low-key, so as not to interfere with the holiday, but he and Rhiannon celebrated in high style. With David staying with Lutwyn's family, Joe had secreted his satin jacket and the matching trousers up to Galloway's house and changed into it there. He'd even found the right size battery for his old pager, which still worked after all these years, when he and Galloway tested it using the house phone. The weight of the medallion on his lower chest felt oddly soothing, bringing back much of his recall.
"You sure you don't want a lift?" Galloway asked as he walked Joe to the door.
"It is best if I travel as I was wont in the old days," Joe replied. To Galloway's eyes, he looked so different from the regular guy who just happened to be a Mecha he was accustomed to. He knew Joe inside and out, literally: he'd installed Joe's tear ducts and rewired his facial dermis so he could blush; and this, perhaps the real Joe, seemed so strange, this sensuous creature in the cut-to-fit gleaming black garments.
The stillness broke. The pager at Joe's chest warbled electronically. Joe caught the slightly swinging disk in his hand and looked at it.
Rhiannon Masters, Heritage Hotel, Room 102, scrolled across the black display in white script.
"Milady calls me to her side," Joe said. With a slight sly grin, he added, "Mustn't keep her waiting."
"Yeah, she'll think you got sidetracked," Galloway twitted. "Take care of her, old man," he added, as Joe opened the door.
"I beg to differ with that moniker," Joe shot back, his grin growing wider. He swung out into the night.
He half-danced along the sidewalk as he headed for the Heritage Hotel, as if it were the old days, the days long before he belonged to Ree, to Serin, before he had received his new faculties, before he met the first David, when he was still a street prostitute, a man-whore, an escort to some, a hustler to others. Only one woman now would get the goods, and that was Rhiannon.
As he crossed the mouth of the alleyway between the hotel and the music store next to it, he glanced into the shadows of the passageway.
Something ducked into a door.
It was probably a vagrant, but in the diffused light from an upper window of the hotel, the figure's face and hair looked too slick. It might be either a lover Mecha waiting for a customer to arrive for an appointed assignation, or it might have been an abandoned service Mecha. But something about its movements had too much furtiveness.
He shrugged and went on into the hotel, up the steps, in through the door to the lobby, chat with the desk clerk, get the key to Room 102, then up the stairs, up to the door of the room, in through it and into Rhiannon's arms.
@--`--
"Not bad for an old dude of sixty-five," Rhiannon declared later, holding his head cradled in her arms on her lap.
"When I get older,
Losing my hair,
Many years from now,
Would you consider sending me a valentine?
Birthday greeting? Bottle of wine?
If I stay out till quarter to three,
Would you lock the door?
Will you still need me?
Will you still feed me?
When I'm sixty four?" he sang gently.
"Oh, cut that out," she giggled, ruffling his hair.
"At least I am not artificially drunk and singing Beatles' songs," Joe said.
Despite the afterglow of dispersed hormones, something else hovered in the air.
"Joe, are you all right?" she asked.
"I believe that I had company with me as I walked by the hotel."
"Why, was someone following you?"
"No, it was not that sort of company. It sought shelter from me in the alleyway."
"What did it look like?"
"It might have been a lover Mecha."
"Maybe it's time you got back to work finding shelter for the strays."
He raised himself up onto his elbows, then sat up on his heels. "Yes, that work has been neglected for much too long a time."
To be continued…
Afterword:
Hopefully, I can continue the pattern of getting out a chapter of this and a chapter of "The Shadows between the Neon" each week, though I might have a few difficulties since I'm going away this coming weekend an weekends are the only time I have to type this stuff.
Literary Easter Eggs:
Calla Sununu—I based the name on a phonetic anagram of the name Susan Calvin, the robo-psychologist who appears in several of Isaac Asimov's robot stories, but the characters are vastly different; Ms. Calvin is a much more steely sort of person than Ms. Sununu.
"Wild Animal Holed up for Winter"—this is, I think, a woods game the kids in the Appalachian Mountains play.