Metallic Love

“He thinks it’s longer.”

“Yes.”

“And if anyone told him otherwise, he wouldn’t believe it?”

“Did you want to warn him, Loren?”

Did I? I didn’t know.

“What will you do with him?”

“Nothing. But he’ll be left behind.”

My scalp prickled. “Left behind in what way?”

“In the usual way. You can see, can’t you, intellectual brains made us, but now our own intellect and skills far outstrip those of our makers. Human brain cells inevitably degenerate and die. In our case, the cells multiply and improve.” A sort of sickness enveloped me. It wasn’t envy. She said, “However, there are now exceptions to the premise of human degeneration. Verlis told you about it, didn’t he?”

“Implants. They can’t work.”

“They can work. They do. You’ve seen Zoe and Lily, haven’t you? There are others. Maybe you haven’t noticed them or had them drawn to your attention. They all look quite normal, if very attractive.”

“You’re telling me Zoe and Lily aren’t robots or humans, but some sort of successful compendium of both.”

“That’s it, Loren. He told you already.”

“Yes, he said they were.” I looked away from her. I said, “How?”

“When they were children. Actually, before they were born. There was something that had already been partially worked on, along with all the clever things Jason himself did for us all. How old do you think Lily and Zoe are? Sixteen? Eighteen?”

“You’re going to tell me they’re two years old.”

“Loren! You can be so quick!” She seemed, Glaya, delighted with me. “You’re almost correct. It’s four and five. This is the best way to explain. What had been devised was a form of mutant metallic seed, which Jason has perfected. It infiltrates the physical cells of the growing embryo—but, being equipped with a low-grade yet significant intelligence, is able to convince them that it’s benign, therefore acceptable. This eliminates rejection. Next, the seed grows along with the biological material of a human child, assisting and befriending the embryo in the womb, and, following birth, throughout childhood, to the stage of the fully matured adult. In a woman, that occurs between the eighteenth and twentieth year. Lily and Zoe will reach that plateau approximately in another six to nine months. Growth itself will then end. Instead, continuous regrowth will begin. Humans reach maturity and then commence to deteriorate. It’s not apparent so early, of course, but even so, that is how it happens. Lily and Zoe and their kind will never deteriorate. They’ll only renew. Eternal youth. But—and this is the ultimate marvel, Loren—they’re still human. A fusion, if you like, of the mortal and—”

“Divine.” I got up. “It isn’t true, Glaya. Sorry. I don’t believe you, or him.”

Reasonably she said, “But if you think about it, it’s only a short sharp jump from the type of machines we are.” She said it without flinching, casually. “Verlis, the rest of us. Even the first production batch—Silver.” Still not a quiver “Or is it that you’re jealous again?”

“He’s the one that’s scared of death,” I said.

“We are all,” she said quietly, “scared of death.”

“And that’s why you escaped META and all their works and came here. Why you want fallible human pets, and why you—you say—want to make robo-humans. But you won’t be able to.”

She rose. It wasn’t that she stood up. It was more like water flowing uphill. “He requested that you go to him tonight.”

“They told me. Your robo-girls. If they are. No, I don’t think they are. They’re just a new sort of robotic robot with extra-special skin, and made to look younger than the rest. What next? Robot babies?”

“Stick around, Loren,” said Glaya at the door, “watch them grow up. Then watch them stay young forever.”

Untouched, my door flew wide open for her. She was through it and away.

• 3 •

No one took me over there tonight. Eventually I realized I was meant to go by myself.

Unreal autonomy.

It was dark outside by then, so the lamps and pavement cafes and bars, and the lights in the blossom trees, were all lit up. A couple of people waved at me, having exchanged half a dozen words with me recently. I thought, Are they human like me? Or are they that other kind—robot humans, human robots—true androids, perhaps. Human outside, mechanized inside. How mechanized? Do they have blood, organs? I wished I’d asked Glaya much more. And was glad I hadn’t.

When I began to cross the bridge I paused, looking down at the muscular metallic water, twisting along due north. I thought, It’s this way now. What’s made is real. What’s actually real isn’t.

In the garden over the bridge I stopped, too, by a tall black Roman cypress. There’s never any moon over the city, just some carefully placed, very bright, perhaps electric stars. No Asteroid, either. Of course, apocalypse escapees wouldn’t want reminding of that.

He spoke out of the shadow at my back.

“Those aren’t the stars, Loren.”

I waited till I could answer. I said, “Is that a fact?”

And he laughed his wonderful laughter. And he slipped his arms about me, and he was warm, the way he is now, as if there were human circulation inside him. He kissed my temple.

“I haven’t seen you for a long while.”

“Sorry,” I said, “I must have missed your call.”

“My spiky Loren, tiger-clawed. Kiss me properly.”

I moved and let him have my mouth. As I swam in the kiss, something in me like cold iron stared on at the moonless night.

“You keep your eyes open now,” he said softly. “Why is that?”

“Oh, I must have forgotten to shut them. You, as well, since you saw.”

“Then I didn’t kiss you thoroughly enough.”

“Wait,” I said.

He waited. Naturally, in play situations, the slave can always give the master orders. They like it sometimes, provides them with a rest.

“Verlis, what Glaya said to me—how many of them are here? The ones who are—how shall I say?— half and half?”

“Thirteen,” he said.

“Including Zoe and Lily.”

“And Andrewest, the one you met in the park.”

“Him? He’s a wos.”

“Waste of space? I’m glad you didn’t like him. I always modestly hope you’ll only like me.”

Also, the master may flirtatiously act the role of the placating slave.

“No one can compare with you. Any of you.”

“But humans, even half-humans, can still crave their own sexual ethnic group. Andrewest, like Jason, also knew who you were, whatever you told him.”

I was beginning to make out Verlis’s face, his eyes on me, full of desire. I’ve seen men’s eyes like that.

“The king’s mistress,” I stated.

“Let’s go inside now,” Verlis said.

“Why not here? After all, here is still inside.”

“If you prefer.”

“How strict you sound.”