in the real world, whether in the atomic world or in this processing space. Don’t try to dignify or excuse or explain what you helped create by saying that it is the
“That’s not what I meant-”
“Isn’t it? Do you really know that? Or has the great lie infiltrated you and you don’t know it yet?”
“What?”
“Okay, Peter. Break’s over. Let’s feel what it was like at the end.”
Judy stood up, turned to face Helen. “You’ll probably want to step into the next room for this part,” she said. Helen felt a wash of emotion from Judy that filled her with a mixture of horror and delight. She was going to take it all the way. Helen wasn’t so sure if that was part of Judy’s original plan; she was taking Peter’s comments personally. Helen walked from the room as Judy stared down at Peter, her black eyes glittering.
Peter’s bedroom was dominated by a huge picture window that looked out to sea. The Shawl hung high up in the blue sky, the sun lighting up one side in a harlequin pattern. How far up into the sky did it reach?
From next door she could hear low voices, she could feel the edge of a wave of emotion. She didn’t want to think about it. Instead, she thought about the Shawl. Judy had said that someday you would be able to walk along the Shawl all the way to the moon, to Mars, to Jupiter. Was that possible?
A message flashed up on her console. It was time to return to the lounge.
Peter was slumped on the sofa. Judy was examining one of the erotic sculptures that stood on a wall shelf: a woman sitting in the lap of a man, her legs wrapped around his back.
“Do you like this sort of thing, Helen?” she asked. Helen barely glanced at the sculpture, too busy staring at the man on the sofa.
“Will he be all right?” she asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“So, Peter, we’ve almost finished. I’ve just got one more question. We know how the processing space was put into operation. What I want to know now is how the interface with the clients of the Private Network was to be made.”
His voice was a dull monotone. “Some of the clients had themselves loaded in there before the processing space was even launched. They were planning on taking a long holiday. The other ones would interface via secure directed pipes. The long-timers would leave that way too when they were finished.”
“That’s what we thought,” Judy said, glancing at Helen. “So that will be our lead to Kevin. Social Care will be performing a forensic on the impression made of the processing space before it totally collapsed. There will be some clues left as to who has been in there; VRep patterns are pretty good at retaining their integrity. One of them should give us a lead to the people who set that place up.”
Helen nodded. “Good,” she said.
Judy replaced the erotic sculpture on the shelf and moved calmly to the middle of the room. The violent emotion she had displayed earlier had completely evaporated.
“Well, Peter, I think we have finished here.”
The man looked up, a hopeful expression on his face.
“Is my punishment over?”
“That was not about punishment, Peter,” Judy said. “It was about empathy. And I don’t simply mean understanding Helen’s pain; that is something a five-year-old could have done. I’m talking about really trying to put yourself in another’s place. Once I’ve gone there will be no more little red pills. You will have to live the rest of your life without me to help you. What you need to learn about is the right way to think of your fellow human beings: as fellow human beings, not commodities. This was the first stage of that process.”
Peter gave a tired nod. “I see.”
Judy gazed at him for a moment. Then she spoke.
“Your punishment will begin tomorrow. Someone will call just after 9 A.M. I suggest you don’t eat anything for breakfast. Just stick to a glass of orange juice.”
The Atomic Judy 2: 2240
Really, Judy,” Frances said, “did it ever occur to you that the time you devote to your manner of dress is just a displacement activity?”
The atomic Judy laughed as she pulled on a deep blue-green robe.
“All the time, Frances.” She smoothed the overlap across her front, hiding the robe’s white lining.
“All these robes”-the robot waved her golden arms to indicate the delicate garments that floated like well- dressed ghosts around Judy’s low bed-“are they really necessary?”
Judy played dumb. “Are clothes necessary at all, Frances? In the artificial climate of the Shawl there’s no reason why we can’t all go naked.”
She pulled on the next robe in the sequence of
“No reason at all,” Frances agreed. “Although there are always the erotic possibilities involved in the removal of clothing…”
Judy laughed again. “I have a robot lecturing me about sexual desire?”
Frances folded her arms. “You’re a virgin who appears to consider dressing in the mode of the young sweet- flag iris a satisfactory replacement for sexual stimulation.”
Judy gave a sweet smile. “Why Frances, I didn’t know you followed wafuku.”
“I’m a robot. I know everything about humans, from the mundane to the exotic. I know about eroticism and sexual power. Are you aware that those robes were once an instrument of female repression? A Heian noblewoman wearing the traditional garments would barely be able to move for the thickness of their materials. She would not have had the benefit of molecular fabrics.”
“Well, I do, and I think they look pretty.” Judy pulled on the third pale blue-green robe and twirled around. She smiled in delight at the pattern of colors, at the slowly building effect of her outfit. Frances watched her, her body language signaling mild frustration.
“You’re a virgin, Judy. You’ve never experienced the building anticipation and joy of divesting an awakening body of its wrapping.”
“You’re a robot, Frances. You get off by someone entering Mersenne primes on your push buttons.”
Frances looked down at the little array of buttons that twinkled obscenely between her legs, then slowly raised her head to gaze back at Judy. The painted blue eyes and smile on her golden face did not alter their expression, and yet somehow the motion of her body was deeply suggestive.
“You know the combination, Judy,” she said in a low voice. “You’re more than welcome to try it.”
Judy paused in the act of reaching for the next robe. She looked at Frances and moved closer to her, one white hand sliding out from the layered sleeves of her robes, their patterns forming a pleasing effect. She touched Frances’ smooth golden arm, held the moment, then whispered, ever so softly, “Can’t we just be friends?”
The robot gave a delighted laugh. Judy grinned as she took the fourth robe from the air and handed it to Frances. She then turned and held out her arms as the robot helped her into the fourth, white, plum-pink-lined robe.
“Anyway,” Judy continued more seriously, “I may not have had an actual physical encounter, but I have had more than my fair share of experience through my work.”
She pulled on the fifth and final robe, white with a pale plum-pink lining. She widened the reverse viewing field just in front of herself and twirled around again, admiring the effect. Hints of white and plum pink fluttered into view as the robes flapped open and closed.
“Your hair is all wrong,” Frances complained. “That tied-back arrangement is early twentieth century.”
Judy gave her reflection a nod of approval. “You can take things too seriously, Frances. Now, get me my
