Part 6 (2/2)
He patted her anatomy under the snow blanket, where the curious demons couldn't see. ”A Proton problem.” ”The Lady Sheen.”
”The lovely self-willed robot lady Sheen, who will not accept reprogramming. I must work closely with her, for I have agreed to help her machine friends. They helped me survive when times were hard in Proton, and I must help them achieve serf status now. And they warn me that more trouble is coming; that I must gamble to enhance my estate vastly and research to learn who sent Sheen in the first place. I fear it links in some way to events in Phaze, so I must follow through. Only I wish I didn't have to use Sheen-take that in what sense thou wilt. It isn't fair to her, and I feel guilty.”
”As well thou might,” she agreed. ”I promised to consider her case, and so I have done. Now let me see if I have this right. The self-willed golems-machines-wish recognition as people?”
”Correct. Serfs are the lowest people, but are more than the highest machines. Serfs can play the Game, compete in the Tourney, win privileges or even Citizens.h.i.+p. When their tenure expires, they depart the planet with generous c.u.mulative pay. Machines are permitted none of this; they are slaves until junked. Yet some are intelligent, conscious, feeling.”
”And the Lady Sheen is one of these unrecognized ma chine creatures.”
”She is. She is in every way a person, with very real emotions. They merely happen to be programmed, rather than natural.”
”And is there a difference between program and nature?”
”I doubt it. Different means to similar ends, perhaps.”
”Then thou must marry the Lady Sheen.”
Stile paused. ”I don't believe I heard thee properly, Lady.”
”It is the other frame. She can never cross the curtain. Thou canst do as thou wilt with her there.”
Stile had been growing sleepy. Now he was awakening.
”I am sure I am misunderstanding thee.”
”If a Citizen marries a machine-”
”n.o.body can marry a machine!”
”-then that machine must have-”
”Machines don't have-” Stile stopped. 'I wonder. The spouses of Citizens do not achieve Citizen status, but they do have certain prerogatives. They are considered to be employed-their employment being the marriage. And only serfs are employable.”
”So a married machine would be a serf,” the Lady concluded. ”And if one machine were a serf-”
”The precedent-”
”Thinkest thou it would accomplish thy purpose?”
Stile considered, his head spinning. ”If the marriage stuck, it would be one h.e.l.l of a lever for legal machine recognition!”
”That was my notion,” she said complacently.
”But I am married to thee!” he protested.
”In Phaze. Not in Proton.”
”But thou canst cross over!”
”True. But I am of this frame, and never will I leave it for aught save emergency. I have no claim on the things of Proton, nor wish I any.”
”But I love only thee! I could never-”
”Thou lovest more than thou knowest,” she said with gentle a.s.surance. ”Neysa, Sheen-”
”Well, there are different types of-”
”And I spoke not of love. I spoke of marriage.”
”A marriage of convenience? To a robot?”
”Dost thou hold the Lady Sheen beneath convenience, for that she be made of metal?”
”Nay! But-” He paused. ”Nay, I must confess I do think less of her. Always since I learned she was not real, that-”
”Methinks thou hast some thinking to do,” the Lady Blue said, and turned her back.
Stile felt the reproach keenly. He was prejudiced; he had great respect for Sheen, but love had been impossible be cause she was not flesh. Yet he reminded himself that he had come closer to loving her before encountering the Lady Blue. Had Sheen's nonliving nature become a pretext for his inevitable change of heart? He could not be sure, but he was unable to deny it.
How could he fight for the recognition of the sapient self-willed machines if he did not recognize them as discrete individuals himself? How could he many Sheen if he did not love her? If he came to think of her as a real person, wouldn't such a marriage make him a bigamist? There were two frames, certainly, but he was only one person. Yet since the Lady Blue had generously offered to accept half-status, confining herself to Phaze- Think of the commotion the marriage of a Citizen to a robot would make in Proton I It would convulse the social order! That aspect appealed to him. Yet- ”Wouldst thou settle for a betrothal?” he asked at last.
”An honest one,” she agreed sleepily.
”Say six months. Time enough to get the legal issues clarified, one way or the other. There would be formidable opposition from other Citizens. And of course Sheen herself might not agree.”
”She will agree,” the Lady Blue said confidently. ”A betrothal is a commitment, and never wilt thou renege. She will have some joy of thee at last.” This was not a way he had ever expected the Lady Blue to speak, and Stile was uneasy. Yet perhaps she had some concern of her own, knowing She had taken him away from Sheen. Possibly the social mores of Phaze differed from those of Proton in this respect, and sharing was more permissible. Certainly his friend Kurrelgyre the werewolf had believed it, a.s.signing his b.i.t.c.h to a friend while Kurrelgyre himself was in exile from his Pack. The Lady Blue had met Sheen, liked her, and accepted her immediately as a person; apparently that had not been any social artifice.
”And if in six months it is legal, then shall I marry her,” Stile continued. ”In Proton. But I can not love her.”
”Then love me,” the Lady Blue said, turning to him. That was reward enough. But already Stile had a glimpse of that controversy he was about to conjure, like a savage magic storm.
In the morning they resumed their tour of the curtain, recrossing the White Mountain range and bearing south west. There were some deep crevices on the ground; when their steeds' hooves knocked sand into them, it fell down and away beyond the limit of perception, soundlessly. ”Deep caves, mayhap,” Stile remarked, a bit nervous about a possible collapse of the footing. But Clip tapped the ground with a forehoof, indicating that there was no danger of a fall as long as a unicorn picked the way. Stile checked his contour map and discovered they were heading for the Black Demesnes. He did not like the Black Adept, and by mutual consent they spelled rapidly past the grim castle and well on toward the Purple Mountains. Now the curtain bore directly south. Suddenly there was an explosion of fire before them. Stile squinted at the flame, trying to determine whether it was natural or magic.
”The warners!” the Lady exclaimed. ”The Green Adept!”
”It must be,” Stile agreed. ”I promised to bypa.s.s him.” They went around, rejoining the curtain southwest of Green's marked territory. The curtain was curving back westward, through the foothills of the southern mountains. The scenery was pleasant; waist-high bushes covered the rolling terrain, topped with faintly purple flowers. The steeds trotted through, finding firm footing beneath. The midaftemoon sun slanted down.
Suddenly a creature jumped in front of Hinblue. The thing had the body of a powerful man and the head of a wolf. It bayed-and the horse spooked. The Lady Blue, an expert rider, was not in any trouble; she brought her steed about and calmed her.
Then a second creature appeared, this one with the head of a ram. It bleated.
Stile's mind formulated a spell while his hand went for his harmonica. But he withheld his magic, uncertain whether it was necessary. He had heard of the animal heads, but understood they were not aggressive toward human beings. Was his information mistaken? More animalheads appeared, making their a.s.sorted noises. Cats, goats, hawks, bears, turtles-none of them with the intelligence or verbal ability of a man, but each quite formidable in its fas.h.i.+on. They were all snarling, squawking, roaring, or growling aggressively. A pighead charged toward Stile, grunting.
”I fear they mean mischief,” the Lady Blue said. ”This is not like them. Something has angered them, methinks.”
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