All right, you convinced me. It took me a while to come up with a sufficiently Rube Gold"Beck"ian plan, but I have tried my best. Next installment at some point in the reasonably near future.
Feedback is always appreciated!
"Norman!" Roger called impatiently.
"What is it, sir?" the butler appeared in the doorway a moment later.
"Is there something wrong with Dorothy?" Roger asked. When he had come home, instead of greeting him and taking her place at the piano as had become her recent custom, she had shot him a look that would have peeled paint and announced she was going to the market. It seemed unwise, under the circumstances, to point out to her that the market was already closed, so he had called for his faithful servant instead.
"Oh, dear," Norman frowned. "Sir? You're quite late tonight. Did you forget?"
"Forget what?" Roger tried to ignore the whisper of a memory in the back of his mind of Norman reminding him that he was to be home this evening by a certain time because he was supposed to... "Oh... no!" he groaned. "Why didn't you just call me?"
"Sir, I tried, but you didn't answer," the butler said.
"The area I was investigating must have been in one of the dead zones." Roger muttered a curse under his breath. There weren't many places in the city where he couldn't be reached by his watch or the car radio, but he had obviously just discovered a new one. Well, there was no help for it. He would have to go after her and beg for forgiveness.
"I'll be back as soon as possible," he told Norman, heading towards the door at a brisk pace. There was no point in him taking the Griffon, she would see it and do her best to avoid him. He had a better chance of finding her if he was on foot.
It took him more than an hour to track her down, and it was sheer luck he had spotted her on the roof of one of the abandoned buildings only a few blocks away from Smith Mansion. She was looking the other way, and he was quick to duck into the doorway before she saw him and found another hiding place.
He climbed the stairs and came through the door on the roof, which wasn't locked. "I'm sorry," he said to her back.
"Kindly leave me alone, Roger Smith," she said coldly, without turning around. "I have nothing to say to you."
"It was inexcusable of me," he continued towards her.
"Yes, it was," she agreed. "I have asked you to leave me alone. What else is it that I have to say to satisfy you so that you will do as I ask?"
"Tell me that you accept my apology?" he said hopefully. It didn't hurt to try.
"I can say that if you wish, but it would be a lie," she said.
Roger took a deep breath, preparing himself for drastic measures. Clearly, nothing short of abject groveling would do. He was close enough now to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. "I am truly sorry," he said. "If there's any way I can make it up to you..."
He was taken aback when he caught the glint of tears as she turned her head away. Had it hurt her so badly, then? It was only the second time he had seen Dorothy cry in all the time he had known her. This time he did not make the mistake of assuming she needed repair, nor was he so foolish as to insist that she go down to the shop so Norman could take care of it at once. These prior errors of judgment had subjected him to days of her sarcasm and surly attitude.
He was no less disquieted by it than he had been the first time he had seen it, though. For good or for ill, it seemed R. Dorothy Wayneright had somehow developed the capacity to cry if she was sufficiently upset. He didn't know if he would ever get used to it, and he preferred to avoid it if at all possible.
"When we decided that perhaps it was wiser that we not appear together in public for a time," she said, as calmly as if she were commenting on the weather, "I didn't think the agreement extended to something as innocent as a birthday celebration."
"It didn't," he put his arms around her without hesitation, furious at himself for upsetting her so badly. "I am so sorry, Dorothy." He held her close, frantically trying to figure out a way to make her stop looking at himthrough those teary eyes with their improbably long eyelashes. Even a white-hot glare was preferable to the way this expression was making him feel. "I got tied up with the investigation and it completely slipped my mind--and that's an explanation, not an excuse," he said, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Norman apparently tried to get in touch with me, but the two-way wasn't getting through."
"I'm really getting tired of being stuck in the house," she admitted, relenting enough to lean her head against his shoulder. "Norman's been doing most of the marketing, and I don't go anywhere with you anymore."
"And I have to go and spoil your first chance to do something in weeks," Roger said,now completelymiserable. "Tonight was the last performance, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was," Dorothy said, the tears finally slowing. "Perhaps there will be another show in a few months."
"That's not soon enough," Roger shook his head. "We can go then, of course, it's the least I can do, but isn't there anything you would really like to do this week?"
"I'd like to go somewhere that I can wear my new dress," she said wistfully. "It's very pretty, even if it is a terrible color."
"I'm sure we can find something," he said, letting the comment about the color slide. He liked how Dorothy looked in black; he thought it set off her copper hair and pale skin beautifully. He was shivering before he spoke again. "Are you ready to come home now? It's getting cold out here."
"You go ahead," she said. "I'll come along in a few minutes."
"Are you saying that because you actually want a few minutes, or because you're trying to keep to the agreement?" he asked.
"Because of the agreement," she said.
"Come on," he said, keeping an arm around her. "It was an idea that was worth trying, but it really hasn't made much difference, has it?"
She let him guide her to the door and they slowly walked down the stairs together. "No, it hasn't," she admitted. "That's why Norman has been doing most of the errands lately. If anything, it's gotten worse--now people say you're ashamed to be seen in public with me."
"I don't see why they can't just mind their own business," he said with disgust. The increasingly nasty gossip, openly derogatory comments and harassment had been what had brought her to tears the first time.
Although Roger himself didn't care what people thought, he made a poor target because he would fight back. As an android, Dorothy was another matter--people knew perfectly well that she wouldn't harm them. She was the one being called a whore and worse, and it had been she who had been pelted with rotten fruit by the gang of children who always seemed to be playing on one of the corners near the marketplace.
His first inclination had been to march over there and start demanding names and tracking down parents, but Norman had managed to calm him down enough that he had realized that doing something like that would only make it worse. He and Dorothy had finally decided to avoid appearing in public together for a few months to see if it didn't reduce some of the speculation about their relationship and give a new nine-day wonder a chance to capture people's interest. From what she was saying now, though, it clearly hadn't helped.
As they walked towards the mansion, he realized that Dorothy had not shrugged off his arm as she usually would have. He drew her a little closer, still feeling terrible about having been such a louse. Tonight, after dinner, they would do something that she enjoyed, play a game of Go or Chess, perhaps, and they could decide where they wanted to go so she could show off her new dress. The weekend would probably be the most enjoyable for her, that's when most clubs had some kind of live entertainment. Maybe there was a band she would like to see.
Jason Beck choked back his laughter as he watched Roger and Dorothy walk down the street, Roger's arm protectively around her shoulders and both of them completely oblivious to anyone but each other.
He had been tempted to create a program that would have Dorothy crawling over Crow-Boy like a cockroach who'd come across an open sack of sugar, but he had resisted the impulse. He had to work slowly and subtly so that the changes in the android's behavior seemed... if not natural, than at least perfectly logical.
He had carefully gone over the notes and recordings he'd made concerning her programming and come up with a fool-proof plan. The first step had been to override her tendency to hide her emotions, at least where Roger Smith was concerned.
It had been successful beyond his wildest dreams. The street urchins had been delighted to taunt Dorothy for a couple of bags of penny candy, and when he had seen her running away from them, tears streaming down her face, he had almost laughed himself sick.
The second step had only just been implemented, and it too seemed to be succeeding even better than he had hoped. He had placed a radio signal jammer in the area Crow-Boy had gone to inspect and seeded it with enough interesting bits and pieces to keep him fully absorbed in his investigation.
He had hoped that Smith would get caught up enough that he would be late. That he'd been so late that they couldn't go to the show at all was sheer icing on the cake. He'd caught Dorothy with the second remote program as she had stormed out of Smith Mansion--his latest effort had emphasized her tendency to seek comfort and reassurance from her Black Knight.
And of course, Mr. Paradigm-City Negotiator had risen to the occasion, going all masculine and protective-like for his weeping companion. It was just too perfect. This was the best plan he had ever come up with!
He was of half a mind to send the third program on the spot--it was ready--but he reminded himself that if he was too impatient, it could spoil everything. "Next week," he promised himself once the pair had gone back into Smith Mansion. "Wednesday at the latest, I'll start Stage Three." He couldn't wait to see how Crow-Boy reacted to Dorothy's soon-to-be open admiration.
