Authors: Elizabeth Einspanier
“Good boy. I knew you’d understand.” Mechanus scratched the chimera’s ears, and it half-closed his eyes in cautious delight. “Now, let’s get you on your feet so you can get used to bipedalism, shall we? Up you go.” A cluster of robot arms grasped the chimera’s shoulders and thighs and eased it upright. Initially, it was as wobbly as a newborn foal, but Mechanus knew his work well, and soon
enough it was taking its first uncertain steps. Mechanus steepled his hands in front of his face as he looked on his latest creation with fatherly pride.
he beamed, feeling light-headed from the endorphins surging through his tissues.
Just then, a wolf-man approached Mechanus bearing a first aid kit in a black case. He whimpered as Mechanus glanced over at him.
“Yes, Romulus?” he asked. “What seems to be the problem?”
Romulus opened the case and showed him the supplies inside. Mechanus frowned as he consulted his files for the expected contents, and then heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“Yes, I can see that there are items missing. Somebody probably rifled it rather than go to the nearest supply depot for what they needed.” He frowned harder. “But what they would need a suture kit for is anyone’s guess.”
Arthur fell silent for a few moments as Mechanus watched Julia’s pet get used to walking around. After
a bit, the new chimera decided to try running, and the clip-clop of its hooves filled the laboratory.
It took a few seconds for this news to register.
Mechanus sighed, and mentally tapped into the speaker. “Julia, my darling?”
No response. He peered into the camera, which afforded him a flawless view of the entire room where Julia was staying. She was not in immediate view.
Mechanus sighed. “Julia, I understand if you are still upset about Jim. I really do. Like I said in my note, you won’t be seeing him anymore. Now, I know that you’re not the sort of woman to sulk about things beyond both of our control, so please, come out where I can see you.”
Still nothing. Mechanus chewed on his thumbnail. After a few moments, he tapped into the speaker in the bathroom. “Julia?” he whispered to see if she was there.
He heard heavy breathing. Finally:
“Yes?”
Mechanus smiled. “Ah. There you are. I was starting to get worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” she said, but there was a strange, breathless note in her voice that Mechanus could not quite decipher.
“Nothing’s the matter, I hope? No further bad experiences with my assistants?”
“No,” she said shortly. “Nothing’s the matter. Did you want something?”
Mechanus raised his eyebrow. She’d never been cross with him before, but then again she’d only been his guest for a few days.
“Yes, actually,” he said. “Your pet is ready—quite ahead of schedule, if you recall—and I would like you to join me for lunch to celebrate. Afterwards I can introduce you to him. How does that sound?”
There was a long silence. Mechanus briefly wished that there was a camera in the bathroom—but then scolded himself for even briefly entertaining the idea that he should violate a woman’s privacy. No. He would give her that much, at least.
“I... can do that,” she said finally.
“Excellent. I will be by in an hour to collect you.”
“Okay. See you then.”
She didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic, but then again she’d had a bit of a shock the previous day. Well. Certainly his gift and a delightful lunch would cheer her up a bit.
“I look forward to it.” Her tone was light, and he could easily imagine that lunch with him and receiving her new pet would be the first bright spots of her visit. And with that he smiled.
“Excellent. I shall see you then.”
He removed himself from the speaker.
That briefly stopped Mechanus cold. He didn’t really have much in the way of a dining room that he
would deem suitable for receiving guests, because he’d simply never needed one up till recently.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb over his fingertips in hurried thought, and then glanced at his hand in surprise at the movement. His thumb slowed, and then stopped—but the gesture itself had felt oddly familiar. He clenched his fist. This was no need to be anxious about this.
After all, he was just taking a beautiful woman to lunch and giving her a gift. How hard would this be?
Mechanus ran his hand over his mouth. Planning such a thing as a luncheon sounded so simple, but at the same time it was a simply delightful mental exercise.
Mechanus blinked, and then frowned.
There was a long pause.
Arthur trilled out a digital sigh.
Mechanus sighed.
Mechanus groaned and winced, his mind rebelling at the idea that there was a topic about which he knew next to nothing. What was worse, he knew of no reliable way to research it because it dealt almost entirely in intangibles.
Annoyed, he stripped off his rubber gloves and tossed them onto a nearby table. A robot arm extended from the ceiling with a fresh pair, and he pulled them on while mulling over the problem.
Mechanus winced again. Yet another field he would need to explore. He would start simply, however.
Chapter
SEVEN
Julia couldn’t stop washing her hands.
Her heart was still pounding from the narrow escape she had with the wolf-monster, and the idea that any moment now Mechanus was going to ask what she’d done with the things she took. When he’d contacted her in the bathroom she had only just gotten herself settled and the tap turned off—and now her nerves were jangling again.
The fact that he’d only asked her to lunch should have been a relief—but it meant she was going to have to go through with her half-cocked idea to be nice to him and build his trust.
The more she thought about it, the worse the idea seemed, and the dirtier her hands felt.
Stop this,
the sensible voice said.
Stop washing your hands—they’re already raw.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking with nerves.
You can,
the sensible voice insisted.
Now turn off that spigot and dry your hands.
“I can’t. This is a bad idea. I can’t.” She bit her lip hard enough to hurt.
Yes, you can. He said himself that he wasn’t going to hurt you. And if he does, well, you have a few things with which to defend yourself. Now take a deep breath and turn off the goddamn tap. Your hands are clean enough.
“But—”
Clean. Enough. Turn it off.
Julia pulled her hands out of the water as though it had suddenly turned boiling hot, and with shaking fingers she turned off the water. She gingerly dried her fingers, mindful of the raw spots, and wondered how she was going to conceal them. After all, if Mechanus saw them, he would wonder why they were there, and that would raise questions she didn’t want to answer. Not right now. And definitely not to him.
He probably won’t even notice,
said the sensible voice.
And what if he does?
returned the rat voice.
He’ll know that you’re damaged goods. You’ll never be free of Jim, no matter how hard you try. He’s left his mark on you.
For a few shaky moments, Julia started to believe the rat voice. Jim had never said in so many words that she wasn’t good enough for anyone else. As she turned over the rat voice’s cutting remark she realized that over the years they’d been together, Jim had been methodically reshaping her into...
Into what? A perfectly obedient Stepford girlfriend? There was no way for her to know now, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him. The idea of
confronting him about anything had always terrified her, and now that Jim was a deranged cyborg...
She shuddered.
“Miss Julia?” came Arthur’s voice, interrupting her thoughts.
“Yes?” she said.
“Dr. Mechanus has sent over a dress for you to wear to lunch. Please come out of the bathroom and have a look at it,” said Arthur.
Julia sighed. From a controlling asshole boyfriend to a crazy mad scientist with a crush. From the frying pan and straight into the fire—flash.
“I’ll be right out,” she said, and then deliberately waited to a count of thirty before emerging.
When she stepped out, she saw the stick-insect-coat-rack robot standing in her doorway, holding up a light blue dress in a perfect emulation of... well, an autonomous coat rack. At least Mechanus was still following her request not to send that shark-thing. What did he call it? Scarface?
Well, he also insisted that it was a sweetheart, so she supposed there was no accounting for taste.
“Your dress, Miss Julia,” the robot buzzed in a voice that sounded just like an electric shaver trying to talk. It sent a chill up her spine to hear such polite words rendered in such a clearly artificial voice.
“Just... just set it on the bed,” Julia managed, not daring to step any closer to the insectile machine.
The robot carefully arranged the dress lengthwise on the bed, taking great care to smooth out the wrinkles. It then inclined its head to her in a weirdly humanlike gesture and departed.
Julia ventured forward and inspected the dress, feeling on some level like she should expect the thing to come alive. It didn’t, of course.
Don’t be silly,
said the sensible voice.
Why would he give you a dress that would attack you?
She wouldn’t put it past him to make one anyway, just for the challenge.
She picked up the cane and poked the dress with it, to be certain. The garment did not respond, and Julia started to feel really stupid for thinking it would.
Told you
, said the sensible voice.
“Fine,” she whispered. She picked up the dress—it seemed to be made of very soft cotton and was nearly weightless in her arms—and retreated to the bathroom to change.
What do you plan to do if he starts to think you genuinely enjoy his company?
asked the rat voice.
What then? This stupid plan of yours will only encourage him, and then you’ll be stuck.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice right now,” she murmured as she changed into the dress. “I’m already stuck. It’s just a question of how stuck am I.”
And how long do you suppose it will take you to figure this out?
the rat voice sniffed.
She didn’t know.
She zipped up the dress, which—as she had come to expect by now—fit her perfectly. She looked herself over in the mirror.
Julia wasn’t sure she could say she looked nice, because despite how pretty the dress was and how well it fit her, she herself still looked like she imagined a kidnapping victim to look—pale, hollow-eyed, and generally like someone who was here against her will—and that, combined with the nice dress, just looked
creepy
! It was like every movie
she’d seen where the damsel in distress is dressed up by the villain in a possible prelude to having his way with her.
That put a really dark spin on her upcoming lunch, and she shuddered.
He
has
been polite to you this whole time,
said the sensible voice.
Means nothing,
said the rat voice.
He could be buttering you up for something.
“Hush, both of you,” Julia whispered, and started combing her hair. “I’ll see what he wants and go from there.”
Half an hour later, the door chimed. Julia jumped, despite her mental preparations.
Showtime
.
“Yes?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt.
“I’m here to take you to lunch,” Mechanus said over the speaker.
She took a deep breath, trying to will herself to be calm. This was just like her job interview at the hospital. No problem.
“Come in, Doctor,” she called, and stood up, crossing to the door to meet him.
The door opened, revealing Mechanus in one of his now-familiar lab coats, but this time the plates in his face were polished to a nearly chrome-like sheen. He offered a gloved hand to her, and after a moment of uncertainty, she took it. He smiled, and the lens in his mechanical eye dilated. Only then did she notice the dark circles under his other eye, as though he hadn’t slept well. She knew the rigors of sleep deprivation well.
“Are... you okay?” she ventured. It was a silly question, in the grand scheme of things—of
course
he
wasn’t okay, there were so many things about him that weren’t okay—but she hadn’t taken up medicine because she was coldhearted.
His brow furrowed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You, uh, you’ve got dark circles under your... eye. Have you been sleeping okay?” She gestured vaguely at her own right eye. She wasn’t even sure why she was so worried about this. If he wanted to work on his weird little projects until he passed out, that was ultimately on him... but it still wasn’t healthy, regardless of his mental baseline.
“Oh, that. I’ve been working hard on a number of projects,” he dodged. “And in any case I don’t need as much sleep as most people do.”
“Well... maybe,” she conceded, “But you look like you haven’t slept at all in days.”
“I... suppose I haven’t,” he said, sounding a bit distracted. “I’ve had a great many things on my mind. More so than usual these days, actually. In fact, I would like to discuss some of them with you over lunch. Let us be off, shall we?” He looked her over and offered her a genial smile. “You’re looking lovely, as always, Julia.”
She froze as he bent over her hand as though to kiss the back of it—but then he stopped, frowning. She bit her lip. He’d seen the raw skin on her hand—she was certain of it.
“What happened here?” he asked quietly.
“I...” What could she say?
You scare the shit out of me so I washed my hands until I almost drew blood?
He looked up at her expectantly, looking concerned.
“It’s... an anxiety thing,” she said finally. She didn’t like how her voice shook, but he was
right
there
and holding her hand like everything about the situation was perfectly normal and—
“Compulsive hand-washing?” he asked.
She nodded, staring at her bare toes.
“I still frighten you, don’t I?” he said quietly.
She looked back up at his face and said nothing. He sighed, released her hand, and straightened up, looking away from her as though he’d just seen something intensely interesting on the floor three feet to her left.
“Well, that’s going to make things a bit difficult for what I want to talk about over lunch.” He coughed delicately. “I trust we are still on for that, at least?”
She hesitated, but then nodded. She didn’t see any alternative, really—and his sudden change in body language from
I am the master of my domain
to
I’m about to do something that’s really going to suck
made her curious. This arrogant cyborg super-genius, possibly out of his depth? The idea was strangely humanizing.
This, she had to see.
“Lead the way,” she said, satisfied that her voice was now perfectly level.
“Excellent,” he said, his voice strangely subdued, and he offered his hand to her again. She took it without hesitation this time, and he led her down the corridor. “And let us dispense with the formalities, shall we? You may call me Alistair.”
“Okay...” she ventured. “Alistair.”
He smiled, a slight flush rising in the right side of his face.
Here we go,
she thought.
***
Here we go,
Mechanus thought, taking a deep breath.
in so many words.
He heard another digital trill as Arthur sighed in exasperation.
He felt a knot in the muscles of his right shoulder suddenly unclench.
Mechanus exhaled slowly.
He led Julia to Greenhouse Fourteen, where Arthur had assured him that preparations were complete for their lunch.
Julia stopped in the doorway, pulling her hand out of Mechanus’s. He turned to see what the matter was, and saw that she was looking past him, open-mouthed, at the collection of plants on display. Mech-
anus followed her gaze in momentary confusion; he’d seen the flowers a thousand times before, and could easily look up the scientific name of every single specimen here and in the other two dozen greenhouses he had. He had detailed files about each specimen, after all.
It occurred to him that he ought to say something.
“This is...” he began. No. Not quite right. He cleared his throat. “Welcome to Greenhouse Fourteen.” There. Much better.
“I’m just... surprised you have something like this here,” Julia said. “I mean, everything else has been so...” She fell silent.