didn’t like VNMs.
The Russian Free States were riddled with Von Neumann Machines, but it still gave her a lurch of sickening vertigo to think of them all crammed together in the duct, their long segments curling as they stripped apart the metal to make copies of themselves. Ivan had found her a job to do well away from the infected duct. She stood along the corridor from him, her hands shaking as she peeled off the magnetic scale that was forming across one of the walls and threatening to interrupt the lighting circuit. Ivan was an attentive man. She liked that: it was a gentle, fallible thing after the unfailing attention to detail that the Watcher had forced upon her. And now, as he sat in the jolting britzka, explaining how the induction screwdriver magnetically reached through the panels to take hold of the screws beneath, he noted the distress in her face.
“I’m sorry, Eva; you don’t want to talk about screwdrivers, do you?”
“No, it’s interesting. Honestly. It’s that duct I’d rather not think about.”
And again now, his breath acetone sweet from their morning nip of vodka, he gently placed his hand on hers.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, the britzka bouncing him sharply to the left as it swerved around a slippage of red rubble. “Really, I mean. I would have thought that you were used to that sort of thing. There are still lots of people here in the RFS who have never really seen self-replicating machines, but you came here from England. They must have been a common sight there.”
“They were,” said Eva. “I didn’t like them back then, either.”
She was trying to look away from him, not wanting to meet his big grey eyes. Ivan was at a loss, completely without guile in these situations.
“I wish you would tell me, Eva, why is it you really came here? You don’t act like a typical Free Stater.”
“I told you. I wanted to get out from under the gaze of the Watcher. I wanted to do something to help the handicapped. I felt as if I had some affinity with them…”
Ivan knew there was more to it than that, but he did not know how to push her to reveal more. He was a skilled, intelligent man who spoke English and French fluently, and he was technically very able, and yet underneath it all he remained shy and uncertain. Eva found that incredibly attractive.
“I worked in England for a few months,” said Ivan, “back in ’58.”
“I know,” said Eva, taking his hand and giving it a warm squeeze. “You told me.”
They were now rolling through one of the areas of forgotten industrialization that littered the landscape of the southern peninsula. Concrete blocks of flats—too rotten even to be used to house the refugees who had fled to the last free space on Earth—tilted as they subsided, their carcasses overturning like dead animals. The heating pipes, whose network had once described rubber loops through the grey sky, were tangled and fallen, their ends broken off to leave rusty mouths that could not taste the hot morning air.
“Should be through here soon,” muttered Ivan.
“You
“What do you mean?”
She squeezed his hand again.
“You and I both know that these places are breeding grounds for VNMs and venumbs. You didn’t want me getting upset again.”
Ivan said nothing, two little pink spots burning on his cheeks. He took refuge in pessimism.
“Hah! This is an unstable society. The RFS only exists because the rest of the world props it up.” He gave a mournful smile at the thought. “The big organizations are using this place as a testing ground. They’re letting the VNMs run free and seeing what develops. Oh…”—he caught sight of Eva’s face and began to laugh—“all that effort to change the subject and I mention them again.”
Eva laughed along with him, one hand to her mouth.
“That’s okay. It was nice that you thought of me.”
She rolled back the sleeves of her white blouse as the britzka swayed along under a clear blue sky. It was going to be another hot day.
