That makes two of us, she thought as she left Yod to handle Avram by himself. Gimel and me, the entities sex has left behind. “Oh, Yod,” she called after him. “My disliking Hannah doesn’t mean I need to be defended against her. Don’t hurt her. She’s no danger.”
“I comprehend the difference between dislike and danger, Shira,” Yod called back, sounding insulted. “I will not defend you against anchovies.”
“You made a joke!” She strolled toward her house. Then she thought, I should have asked him what he would do if Hannah tries to get him into bed. Hannah is fully capable of pressing her luck. I’d better prepare him for dealing with her in a polite but offputting way. Too bad I couldn’t have done the same for Gadi, all those years ago, taught him to say no gently but firmly. Cyborgs have certain advantages over people: they can be programmed.
FIFTEEN
The Same as Me
If Gadi was in disgrace, Shira thought, he did not seem to know it. As soon as he was conscious, he began holding court. Fame gilded misadventure. Few women condemn a man for pursuing another woman illegally or inconveniently, and Gadi’s flogging seemed to have made him a martyr for sex among the young people of Tikva. The older people might judge him harshly, but he was one of Tikva’s famous exports. Everybody was chattering about Gadi, Gadi, Gadi. Shira found herself constantly reminded of his presence, his charm, his aura, even before he summoned her.
If she did not go, everyone would gossip more. If she did not go, she would be revealing fear of him. She had married, borne a child, taken other lovers; did nothing successfully interpose? Was she still a child subject to his whims, vulnerable to smiles and frowns as if they were victories and defeats central to her existence? She dashed about her room, tossing dresses and undergarments to the floor. Half her earrings were strewn over the dark blue coverlet like fallen petals from some exotic tree stripped by the wind. She could not bear the thought of his finding her unattractive. She would appear before him and she would feel the same old pull, she would want him again, while he would be merely friendly. He lived in a world of high glamour, surrounded by reconstructed females, bodies constantly resculpted by scalpels, implants, gels, to the latest image of radiant beauty. She was a techie whose only operation had been retinal implants to correct hereditary myopia. She had borne a child. She would seem almost middle-aged to him. She was commonplace, banally human, as natural as seaweed and mud. She felt ashamed, as if her unaltered, unenhanced body were something gross.
Blue was her favorite color. It set off her skin, her dark hair, her dark eyes. She would feel safest in blue. But what blue? She should not appear too dressed up. She should not appear sloppy or ill-clad. Her clothes had finally arrived and she had a full closet, but many of her things were the style of Y-S, backless and long. She needed a woman friend. Malkah had dozens. “Malkah!” she bellowed. She was ashamed to be overwrought about visiting Gadi in the hospital, but she needed advice.
Malkah came up the steps. “So the prince has sent for you, and every piece of clothing you own is wrong.”
“I have to wear something, Malkah. I can’t go there naked.”
“You’d look stunning. All right, you want a decision. Wear the bright blue sleeveless dress with the U neck and the flowered shawl. Put them on.”
Shira obeyed, out of emotional fatigue. Then she clasped on her favorite lapis lazuli necklace, which her mother had given her when she graduated. “I want to look happy. I want to look successful. I want to look like anything but what I am, a twenty-eight-year-old miserable failure.”
“Nobody at twenty-eight is a success or a failure. It’s too early to figure out which way the tide’s moving…Take Yod with you.”
“Why?”
“A strange man is the best accessory.”
“But Yod isn’t.”
“Gadi won’t guess that. Yet.”
“I’d be worrying the whole time that Yod would decide to smash a doctor into the wall for giving an injection, or Gadi will say, Can you raise my bed a little, and Yod will pick up the whole apparatus.”
“Good. That’s exactly what you need for facing Gadi. Take a problem with you, and Gadi won’t be your focus.”
“Malkah, you’re a genius. But I’ll have to persuade Avram. He’s beginning to prepare Yod for defense of our Base.” She had gradually been introducing Yod into groups of people. Several times, Avram, Yod and she had dined in the Commons. Most evenings she walked Yod all over Tikva. Yesterday afternoon she had taken him to observe a teenage soccer game. He did not find soccer any more entertaining than she did, but he thought people fascinating. She tried, however, to avoid extended one-on-one conversation. She had outfitted Yod in the usual summer uniform of young men in Tikva: shorts or pullover—tee or tank—with a contrasting scarf.
She found Yod playing go with the computer while Avram critiqued his game and on another terminal kept up with his technical journals. Avram’s first reaction was utter refusal, but Yod argued hard too. “Your biological son can’t be kept from meeting me. When he comes home, you can’t go back to locking me in the laboratory.”
“Should have built you with an Off button,” Avram mumbled. “Don’t bet I can’t design a security apparatus that will keep you in!”
“I doubt that, Father, but I must assume my duties soon anyhow. Locking me in will have to stop.”
Yod spoke quite differently to Avram than he did to her or Malkah. He spoke more precisely, more coldly. Which was real? What did it mean to think of a real affect for a machine? Could Yod simply alter his style to please each of them in turn? Well, didn’t people do the same? “This might be an ideal way to introduce them. It is likely Gadi will pay more attention to me than to Yod.”
“Perhaps it has a use,” Avram muttered. “I certainly don’t want to introduce them. Beat the computer at go, Yod, and I’ll let you. Otherwise Shira visits alone.” He settled back in his chair with a little smile. She was reminded of the civil war between Gadi and Avram when Avram had tried to make him play chess or go. Gadi hated competitive games. All of Avram’s attempts to teach Gadi chess ended in mutual temper tantrums, father and son glaring in silence like stuffed owls over the lopsided board.
So why wasn’t Avram playing games with Yod? Because Yod could too easily beat him?
A look of manic concentration came over Yod’s face. His eyes glittered. He bared his teeth slightly. He began playing twice as fast. Within fifteen minutes the computer conceded and he was free.
When they got outside, Yod assumed his usual position, on the street side as they walked. He liked to interpose himself between her and as much of the world as possible. At times he ducked around her to and fro like a large dog. “You’re dressed differently tonight. For instance, when we go out, you do not wear such a dress that shines.” He pinched the cloth between his fingers.
“Silk.”
“What is the purpose of that object around your neck?”
“It’s a necklace my mother gave me. Just to look good.”
“Would I look better to you if I wore stones around my neck?”
“Men sometimes wear pendants—a single stone. It depends on the place.”
“It depends on the neck, to be precise.” He smiled. Perhaps he was making a joke. A weak pun. “Body covering has symbolic and aesthetic values that elude me. Clearly this climate in June is warm enough so that there’s no real use to clothing.”
“As an adult, when you strip, you make yourself vulnerable. Nakedness has a symbolic side also.”
Yod was silent for the next two blocks. That was unusual enough for her to take his arm and ask, “Yod, what’s wrong?”
“I’m trying to overcome a desire to attack Gadi as soon as I see him.”
“Yod, if you’re thinking of attacking him, you go straight home.”
“I’m in control. I promise I am in control.”
“Why do you want to attack him?”
“Both you and Avram perceive him as a threat.”
> “Not a threat like pirates or organ scavengers, who kill people. Just a source of discomfort.” She held on to Yod’s arm. “If you think you may attack, you must go home.”
“I won’t attack. I will be still. Keep holding on to me.”
“I can’t do that in the room, when we go in. Why do you want me to?”
“It helps me to keep control. Half of me wants to demolish him. Half of me is curious and wants to know him.”
“Yod, could you be jealous of Gadi? Is that possible?”
“I don’t know what jealousy is, precisely, as applied to myself. It’s true, he’s the biological son. I’m a weapon, a tool, but also designed to perform well at activities Gadi failed.”
“Then he should be jealous of you.”
“Why? I’m not even human. Half the time you don’t think I’m real, not fully real, not as real as Gadi.”
“Is anyone as real to me as Gadi? Only my son.”
Gadi’s room was in the recovery wing of the hospital, rooms that opened on an external corridor, rooms with trees in buckets and window boxes full of flowers. In his window box verbena grew. She had to pull her gaze away from the bright heads of flowers and make herself meet Gadi’s cool stare. His room was full of toys, presents, objets d’art, fresh bouquets.
He was sitting up in bed, wearing purple into mauve translucent silk pajamas, with an amethyst band about his head, enhanced jewels, small but very reflective. He also wore one long amethyst earring and a large amethyst square-cut on his left-hand wedding ring finger. “Gadi, are you engaged?” she asked, pointing at the ring.
“To myself. ‘Above all else to thine own self be true.’ Isn’t that the quote? Who’s this?” He drew himself up in bed. She could tell he was not pleased. His gaze ran pointedly up and down Yod, who stood as close to her as he could get without actually squatting on her head.
“This is Yod Oblensky, Avram’s cousin.” Oh, shit, she thought, Gadi is going to know Avram doesn’t have a cousin Yod. “His second cousin. He’s working for Avram too, as you know I am now.”
“One happy lab rat family,” Gadi intoned, extending his hand.
“Gently,” she muttered to Yod as he pounced on Gadi’s hand.
“Yod Oblensky? I don’t remember…Family is one of those tedious subjects I have never bothered to keep up with. I suppose then we’re second cousins once removed, whatever that means, although removing relatives does appear attractive.” Gadi motioned Shira toward the bed. “Sit here.”
Yod promptly sat on the bed between Shira and Gadi. “Thank you.”
Shira had an abrupt desire to giggle. Gadi looked astounded. Yod was heavier than a person of his size would be, and the bed sagged alarmingly. Shira sat in the only chair. “How are you feeling?”
“How do you suppose I’m feeling? They had to replace a kidney. My poor body has been extensively processed by various machines, what else? I can’t wait to get out. Boring! I must figure out what to do with myself for the next three to six months, until I’m redeemed, resurrected and can ascend again to the heights of stimmieland.”
“Perhaps you could be knocked out till your time is up,” Shira said. “That would eliminate the boredom.”
“Don’t be nasty. I’m delighted you’re here. That puts a whole different cast on events. We can amuse each other.”
“Perhaps so,” Yod said. He intentionally moved into the line of sight between them. “What do you think you’ll do?”
“I haven’t been conscious long enough to slap plans together. I’ll improvise and play with Shira. Annoy my father. See old friends. Maybe teach some bright local kids about stimmies, run a sort of school in the streets. Graduation prize being a chance back in Veecee Beecee. Maybe I’ll make Shira the heroine of a fabulous adventure among the Green Fang People.”
A suspicion took her, a cold sinking suspicion, that Gadi was assuming they would become reinvolved. He might well think that way: she was available, convenient, with the intervening years giving her a patina of novelty. It was hopeless. It could not work. It would be fatal. She would love him again, and he would not love her. It was a pit.
“Hannah is here,” Yod said. “Perhaps you can play with her.”
How did Yod know about Hannah and Gadi? Certainly Avram never told him. It had to be Malkah, conspiring with him again. How could she keep her grandmother from gossiping with her cyborg? Or had Hannah herself told him? “Yod, you’re a terrible gossip. You love to collect old scandal.”
“Everything about Shira interests me,” Yod said blandly to Gadi.
“I can see that,” Gadi said. Shira strained back in the chair so that she could catch a glimpse of Gadi around Yod. Gadi looked annoyed, his eyes slitted. Then he produced a broad smile. “Last time I was here I tried to go swimming at the white beach where we used to so many times, but it’s drowned now. It’s just an offshore island. And the fisherman’s house where he used to stack his lobster pots to dry—remember he gave us a bag of lobsters once and we carried them home?”
“I’d forgotten.” For a moment she warmed to him, remembering the pot Malkah had set to boil, the feast under the peach tree. “Who did you try to go swimming with?”
“I was thinking of you the whole time…”
Two guys they had gone to school with ten years before arrived with three teenagers, all breathless about meeting the designer of Mala Tuni’s last seven stims, the designer who had created Devora, Land of Endless Desire. Shira took the opportunity to slip out, tugging Yod along. He came semireluctantly. She could tell he was curious about the group and still eager to try to confront Gadi. When they were on the street, she felt herself sagging with relief. “I can’t believe I got through that.”
“With one blow I could smash his skull.”
“Stop that. Do you want me to be afraid of you?”
“I exist to protect you. I would never let harm come to you. Never.”
“No one can keep anyone else from all harm, Yod. I could be harboring a disease at this moment. I could be struck by a piece of a falling satellite. But you did make it easier for me to see him.”
“He wants you. He wants to have you back.”
“I doubt it,” she said lightly, walking more quickly.
“Don’t doubt it. He wants you.”
“How would you know that?”
“I recognize it. It is the same as me.”
“What?” But she had heard him, and she kept walking numbly, more slowly. “That can’t be.”
“It is. The wanting is the same.”
How did I let this happen? she wondered. How can it happen? This is nonsense. This is absurd. I am not hearing what I think I am hearing. This walking computer cannot want to perforate me. “Yod, you’re a very intelligent and able machine, but you’re a machine. What does it mean to want a person?”
“I want to do with you exactly what he wants to. But I can do it better. I promise. I’m stronger than Gadi, more intelligent, more able in every way. I want to please you far more than he ever could.”
This was a facsimile talking, a machine like a beverage dispenser, and it was spouting nonsense. Fused circuits? Overload? Malfunction? She did not want to confront Avram, but she would surely bring up this malfunction with Malkah. “Avram hired me to teach you social interactions. That doesn’t include sexual initiation, frankly.”
“I don’t require initiation.”
“You’re telling me you’ve been with women sexually?”
“Only one. So far.”
Had Hannah got to him so quickly? It would not astonish Shira. But then could Hannah be so stupid as to fail to observe he was not human? None of that speculation got her off the large hook on which she was dangling. However absurd she found being propositioned by a computer, she had to let him down gently as if he were a human male. “Yod, I don’t want to become involved with anyone. I’ve told you I can’t respond. I’m a kind of cripple. And it would be extremely inappropriate. I don’t believe in complicating the
teacher-student relationship, which ought to remain disinterested.”
“I am not disinterested. It’s an obvious equation. As Gadi is to you, so you are to me.”
“If you can see how miserable my early fix on Gadi made me, can’t you abort what is obviously a losing pattern?”
“If you’re with me, you’ll feel protected from him.” They were walking along the street just outside the old hotel. In the shadow of a large maple that filtered the light from the antique streetlamps, Yod stepped in front of her. He bent forward and laid his hand gently along her cheek, fingers spread. Lightly, barely perceptibly, his fingers explored from cheekbone to chin.
Unbelievably, she felt a stir of response in herself. She stepped back, jerking away. “No, Yod. No. Can I trust you to listen to me?”
“You can always trust me.” He dropped his hand and retreated a step, clasping his hands behind his back. “I obey.” He went up the steps to the door. He took hold of the doorknob and then, with a twitch, crushed it. Slowly he entered, stopping to glance back at her where she stood under the maple. She hoped he would not entirely demolish Gimel in their martial arts routine that night.
SIXTEEN
Little Girl Lost
Summer has landed; the heat is enervating. However, in Prague in 1600 it is April, season of buds unfurling and small persistent rains. The rain is pattering on the gray stone and the mustard and terra-cotta stucco, on the red tiles of the roofs, on the gray waters of the Vltava, on the hills and the winding alleys that climb them, streets that are steps worn by centuries of feet. The castle on its cliffs hangs like a mirage at the top of random ways. Old lindens bend over courtyards where four hundred years later I drank wine and ate traif, at inns marked by the signs that name them in the time of Rabbi Loew: a hunter and an elk, three swans, a bear dancing, two camels. Twilight and love affairs seem about to stretch on forever. I was younger than Shira is. No one born now will experience the world of gentle air we could walk through on impulse, without protection, winds and rain that caressed our skin, deep thick woods, grass like green hair growing thick from the moist earth. We were killing the world, but it was not yet dead. The world of my youth was still the earth of 1600, when the Maharal penned up in the ghetto seldom sees trees, either, but paces in his worrying and prays.