A shrill neigh--a sound clearly signifying fright--assaulted the ears of the woman methodically doing the monthly accounting for the ranch she owned. That ominous sound prompted her to spring out of the chair facing her computer. Running to the window, she saw her sorrel gelding leap over the wooden rails of the pasture bordering the south side of her yard and race away into the large hay meadow beyond that smaller enclosure: one in which the sixteen-year-old saddle horse normally grazed placidly.
Shock blended with fear as she beheld the reason for his flight. In the center of the horse pasture, a luminous, silvery-gray, shimmering, stationary, non-transparent disturbance in the air--a phenomenon differing completely from fog--covered a large expanse of ground, and rose to a height of perhaps thirty feet. Highly noticeable despite the brightness of the July sunlight--the sky above, the woman saw to be cloudless--the strange apparition resembled no natural occurrence the Wyoming native had ever before beheld.
An avid reader of science fiction, the well-educated retired teacher immediately conjured up visions of aliens emerging to attack her.
Scathingly urging her alter self not to go off the deep end, she dominated an onslaught of fear. Acutely conscious that the nearest neighbors lived three miles away, in a house located in a hollow that allowed no view of her own dwelling, she knew she must deal with this happening on her own. She considered calling 911, but she shrank at the thought of having the Sheriff's deputies--most of them men well acquainted with her--drive at high speed to her home to find her afraid of some atmospheric anomaly, strange as it seemed. She likewise knew that it would take twenty minutes, at least, for an officer to come to her aid, and perhaps far longer.
Fright she instantly condemned as irrational failed to produce paralysis, but that emotion rendered her exceedingly wary. Striding across the living room, she reached for the .270 caliber pump-action Remington rifle reposing in a gun rack hanging on the wall, before opening the door and stepping out on the porch. As the unexplainable distortion of air utterly clear elsewhere filled her vision, she braced herself. Boldly, she advanced across the yard.
Having opened the wooden gate leading into the horse pasture, she hesitated. The hair on her head stirred. Her skin tingled, as if a thunderstorm approached. Belatedly recalling that the ship, if such it was, could be radioactive, she felt her gut constrict. Halting, she gazed at shimmering, silvery-gray opacity, wondering what to do next.
As she watched, change occurred. A dim, vertical streak appeared--a place where the luminosity seemed to have dulled. Fright verged on terror as she saw a figure step out of the gray streak, which then promptly disappeared, so that the strange manifestation again became uniform in appearance.
As she stood motionless, her heart thundering, her breathing suspended, she saw that the being walking slowly forward seemed as human as any of her neighbors. Relief contended with a new accession of fear.
“Freeze!” she commanded sharply. “Raise your hands, and then don't move a muscle. You may be an astronaut, but I don't know whose astronaut!”
The person thus summarily addressed instantly raised his hands and moved not a muscle thereafter.
Her heart still pounding, the woman walked through the gate, holding the rifle aimed at the mysterious visitant. Chin jutting, she approached the man she saw to be clothed in a loose gray jumpsuit featuring many pockets. On his feet he wore sleek black boots. His hands she saw to be empty. Nothing resembling a weapon could she spy on his person.
Frowning, she stopped about ten feet from where he stood as if carved of stone. His face she saw to be handsome. His age she first surmised to be around thirty, but some indefinable quality in his grave expression prompted her to judge him older, despite his lack of the lines etched around eyes and mouth that normally accompany middle age.
“What's that strange alteration in the air behind you?” she asked, her nervousness rendering her tone imperious. As she spoke, she kept the rifle pointed at the man's chest.
“It's a force-field surrounding an escape vehicle formerly attached to a ship plying space,” the figure responded in wholly unaccented English.
Holy shit . “Are there…more people…inside?” the woman queried hoarsely.
“No.”
“Are you an American astronaut?”
“No.”
“A Russian astronaut?”
“No.”
Visibly perturbed, the questioner blurted, “Are you from Earth?”
“I came here in an escape vehicle from an interplanetary ship built on Earth.”
“No nation on Earth has ships capable of interplanetary flight!”
“Not…in this age. But…owing to an unfortunate circumstance beyond my control…I come from an Earth…future to this time.” That assertion seemed to the listener as if torn out of a speaker dreading having to reveal it.
Taken sharply aback, the woman grew aware of a seeming evasion. “Are you human?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I'm an android created by Earthmen,” the object of her scrutiny stated tonelessly, his manner subtly conveying that he expected his admission to engender hostility.
Deprived of speech for the few seconds it took for her to digest those astounding assertions, the observer trained in the scientific method rasped sardonically, “You really expect me to believe that you're a time-traveling manufactured person who speaks American-style English?”
“I told you the truth,” the android replied levelly. “I'm incapable of lying to a human being. I speak hundreds of languages, along with a multitude of dialects arising from those root tongues.”
“Can I pass through that shimmering whatsis to see the vehicle?” Determined on obtaining proof that she was not the victim of an elaborate joke, the woman unconsciously took a step forward.
Agitatedly, the mysterious visitant exclaimed, “No! You cannot! You'd die the instant you made contact with it!”
“But you just passed through it!”
“I passed through it from the inside to the outside, but I'd be destroyed exactly as you would, if I tried to go back through it!”
“So no one can see…or examine…this vehicle you say is inside?” the interrogator queried, her voice dripping sarcasm.
“No. Not to touch or to study. No! But if you'll allow me to do as I intended…initiate a process that will reduce the vehicle to its component atoms…the force-field will cease to exist once the disintegration becomes complete.”
Racked by doubt, confronted with an enigma, the woman frankly stated her thought. “I wish to hell you could prove to me that you're telling the truth!”
“I can tell you how to obtain proof that I'm an android,” the visitant stated levelly. “Aim that projectile weapon at my chest, and fire it. The bullet will glance off my torso. I'll stagger a trifle, but I'll quickly reassume this posture you commanded me to take. The missile will gouge my flesh, and I'll bleed, but my fleshly exterior will heal in a short time.”
Badly jolted, the woman cried, “I have no wish to harm you!” Stepping a trifle closer, she studied the taut face of the human-appearing man claiming to be from the future, and made a startling discovery.
“You're scared spitless,” she asserted, frowning. “Terrified! Of me?”
“Of…what you could do,” the man explained softly. “Of your contacting the officials of your country and telling them what I am. They'd take me away for study. And when they found me to be…what I am…they'd almost certainly deactivate me…out of fear…and the wish to learn how I'm made.” A slight quiver in the soft, clear voice attested to an increase in the terror sensed by the woman.
Having weighed her limited options, the epitome of self-reliance arrived at a decision. “If you think I want a bunch of damned bureaucrats, or military brass, or members of Congress flocking onto my property to haul you off, you're very much mistaken,” she declared vehemently. “How long will that force field continue to render entry into the vehicle impossible?”
“For ten days. At that point, the self-destruct mechanism will automatically initiate the change I'm incapable of implementing after receiving your orders.”
Faced with the direly unsettling prospect that the weird phenomenon might already have drawn the notice of pilots of planes, or been photographed by satellites, the woman launched on an irreversible course.
“Initiate the change,” she ordered. “Destroy the vehicle, and get the damned thing out of my pasture.”
“I cannot obey, unless you allow me to face the force-field, take a device from my pocket, and activate it,” the android replied, moving no whit.
“Face the force-field, take out the device, activate it, and then put it the instrument back in your pocket before you again face me,” the woman commanded, hoping that the request formed no devious ploy designed to put a weapon in the hand of the being who looked eminently human, his startling claim notwithstanding. As she spoke, her grip on the rifle tightened.
“Yes, ma'am.”
As he spoke those words, the android turned his back to her. Lowering his right hand, he reached into a pocket. The hand he immediately withdrew grasped a small object, which he held at waist-height.
Moments later, the distortion in the air thinned, allowing the dim outline of what the astounded viewer clearly saw to be some sort of strange vehicle to become visible. As she watched, the outline grew more substantial, but only for a few fleeting seconds. Swiftly, the apparition blurred, faded, and was gone. Simultaneously with its disappearance came that of the field itself. All that remained of the unearthly manifestation were five gouges in the sod of the meadow: imprints of the five metal feet the keen observer had briefly seen to be supporting the cone-shaped body of the craft. The sun-dappled grass of the pasture she saw to have suffered no charring, no withering, no change of any sort.
“Well, I'll be damned,” she breathed softly, wondering uneasily whether she hallucinated. Glancing at the android, who again faced her with his now-empty hands raised, she saw that his face looked unutterably bleak.
Pity overwhelmed her. “Look, my friend from the future, you have nothing to fear from me, hear? I'm not about to tell anyone what you are or how you got here. And even if I tried, anyone I told would think I'd gone crazy. See? I'm no longer aiming the rifle at you.”
As she spoke those final words, she lowered the Remington, eyeing the visitant warily as she did so. To her relief, he stood motionless, as before.
“Now, then. Walk up to the door of the house, and open it.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Obediently, the android strode ahead of the woman. When he crossed the ground-level stone flagging beneath the roof of the porch supported by log pillars and stood facing the door, he pressed his hand against the knob, seeming to recognize that it represented the key to entering, but remaining unaware of what to do with it.
“Turn the knob, and push,” the woman directed. “Walk straight ahead, through the living room, and turn left, into the kitchen.”
Having followed the personage obeying her directive, she ordered, “Pull a chair out from the table, and sit down.” When the android seated himself at the square, sturdy kitchen table, she cocked her head, and stared at him for a span of seconds, conscious that her heart pounded.
“My name is Ashley Russell,” she declared. “What's your name?”
“AHLI579400085.”
“Didn't the people aboard the ship you say you came from give you a nickname?” the woman asked, frowning in disapproval. “Surely they didn't spout that mouthful every time they addressed you! Or did they?”
“They called me Eighty-Five.”
Grimacing, Ashley absorbed that bit of data. “You need a name,” she declared forcefully. “Do you mind if I give you one, or would you prefer to pick your own?”
“I don't mind if you give me one. Please do so, if you think it necessary that I have one.”
“Mmm. I'll call you Jason. In ancient mythology, Jason made a voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece--a dangerous journey that turned out to be full of nasty surprises. Like yours, eh?”
Intent on watching the face she saw as wholly human in aspect, the woman caught a fleeting change in the grave, unsmiling expression. The eyes opened a trifle wider, as if her pronouncement startled their owner.
“Like mine…yes. I'll answer to that name…Jason…from now on.”
“Jason…Jones. That's one of the commonest last names in the country. It breathes anonymity.”
“I accept the name.”
“Do androids eat?”
Again, the face changed: betrayed a glimmer of what Ashley swore was humor. “Yes,” the visitor acknowledged.
“Holy shit! You must be starved. Are you hungry, Jason?”
“Yes.”
“Can you eat what I eat?”
“Anything that nourishes you will nourish me.”
Springing out of her chair, the woman cogitated for a moment, and then withdrew a covered casserole dish from the refrigerator. Having reached into a drawer for a serving spoon, she deposited a generous portion of the contents of the dish into a bowl, which she placed in the appliance she used for heating leftovers. As her hand reached for the start button, she hesitated. Turning to face her guest, she asked, “Jason, this is a microwave oven. Will the radiation harm your…delicate innards?”
At that point, the handsome face definitely registered discernible emotion: fleeting amusement. “No,” its owner replied softly.
“Sorry--I just wanted to be sure. I hope you like lasagna. Would you prefer to drink milk or tea?”
Faint puzzlement now showed on the face the viewer judged to remain habitually grave. “Milk,” he replied a shade hesitantly.
“Milk it is.”
Reaching for the pitcher, Ashley poured a tall glass full of milk, and set it before the guest. On hearing the ding of the timer, she took the steaming bowl from the microwave and placed that next to the drink. As she laid a knife, fork and spoon next to the bowl, she urged, “Please, dig in.” Suddenly unsure whether or not the android's vocabulary included colloquialisms, she added, “I mean--eat.”
Again, she caught a glimmer of amusement, prompting her to conclude with relief that he seemed to possess the one quality she considered uniquely human: a sense of humor.
Having made herself a cup of tea, the hostess sat down and observed her guest over the rim of the teacup. She noted that he knew how to use the silverware. As he sampled the flavor of the dish, his face plainly registered surprise, but he went on eating.
“Do you like it?” the hostess asked.
“It's pungent…strong-tasting.” A slight frown accompanied that assertion. “But I find it quite enjoyable. Yes.”
Smiling, the woman rapidly adjusting to a situation unprecedented in the experience of any Earthman of this age remarked knowingly, “Everyone likes lasagna. Especially as I make it.”
“You make this yourself? It doesn't come prepackaged?”
“Damned right I make it myself. Of course, I don't make the pasta from scratch, or the sauce. I buy those separately, as I do the three different kinds of cheese. But the meat comes from a grass-fed steer raised locally, and the spinach grew in my garden. The mushrooms grow wild, after a rain.”
Shock fleetingly surfaced on the face of the android who said only, “I see.”
Wondering which ingredient caused that reaction, the woman yet refrained from prying.
When the diner finished eating, Ashley asked, “Would you care for another helping?”
“Yes, please. Half as much as before.”
When the bowl again stood empty, as did the glass she refilled without inquiring whether her guest wanted more milk, Ashley picked up the soiled ware, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher, which she opted not to run, given that ample space remained. Pulling out a chair, she sat facing the visitant from the future. Choosing her words carefully--several unsettling notions had occurred to her as she watched him eat--she inquired, “Do you have special enhancements…abilities ordinary men don't have?”
“Yes,” he replied unhesitatingly. “Physical ones and mental ones.”
Yielding to potent curiosity, the woman asked, “Would you mind giving me a demonstration of one of your physical enhancements?” Still finding it hard to believe that this human-seeming person had been manufactured, she snatched at the chance to have her growing belief in his veracity confirmed.
“No, I don't mind. Have you a piece of flatware you wouldn't regret my rendering useless?”
Rising, Ashley rummaged in the silverware tray for the lone table knife composed of stainless steel rather than silver--one of a collection of inexpensive items she used on picnics and kept elsewhere. The knife, she recalled, had gotten misplaced after she emptied the dishwasher some weeks earlier, and she had never bothered to rectify the error. Handing the knife to Jason, she urged, “Carry on.”
Using his fingers, the android effortlessly bent the stiff metal into a simple knot. Grasping each end, he pulled, tightening the knot. Silently, he handed the twisted object to the astonished woman.
Badly jolted, Ashley stated evenly, “You could have taken that rifle away from me before I could pull the trigger, and shot me with it. Isn't that so?”
“Technically, yes. Practically, no. I possess the speed, strength and agility to disarm someone carrying a weapon such as that. But I'm incapable of harming a human being. I'm also incapable of disobeying any order except a command to harm another human being. And, as I told you earlier, I can't refuse to answer truthfully any question a human being asks me.”
Pity contended with shock. “Your creators left you utterly defenseless, didn't they?” the questioner exclaimed, her tone attesting to strong disapproval.
A slight frown crossed the time-traveler's unlined, handsome face, which again grew bleak. “I needed no defense from the officers I served aboard the ship,” he pointed out. “But I can't defend myself against people of this age--beings ignorant of my origin and usefulness--human folk experiencing irrational fear or uncontrollable revulsion when confronted by my nature. When I discovered that the area in which the vehicle would descend possessed so wild an aspect in this time…that it seemed so undeveloped…so sparsely populated…I grew greatly afraid of what might happen to me.”
“Justifiable fear,” Ashley acknowledged soberly, thinking of the impact on the town of Roswell of a similar event (or, more likely, an apocryphal one) long shrouded in mystery, legend, and garish, blatant commercialism persisting after half a century. “So we tell no one what you are. No one! Hear? We let my friends and neighbors assume that you're no different from them.”
“If they ask me whether I'm human--as you did--I'll be incapable of lying.”
“I asked because I saw you step out of that weird disturbance in the air. But anyone dropping by to visit me wouldn't dream of asking. They'll simply assume that you're human. We'll let them go on thinking that.”
“Any command any of them issues me, I'll be compelled to obey.”
“No visitor had better dare issue commands to a guest in my home! If one does, I'll invite him to leave, right suddenly! But no one I know would be that rude to a friend of mine, Jason.”
Shock showed nakedly on the face of the listener. “You consider an android a guest…a friend ?”
“Of course!” Frowning as she assessed the state of her feelings, Ashley laid a hand on that of the being sitting opposite, and countered evenly, “Your flesh is human flesh, right? You look human, Jason. You can reason logically, and you can make choices for yourself. You did that when you chose milk over tea. You feel fear, and you exhibit a capacity for being amused, so probably you can generate other human emotions as well.
“All right, you were made, not born. But I don't regard being born as a defining factor in humanness. We have babies now that got conceived in test tubes. Nobody claims that they aren't human. To my mind, you are human.”
As the android sat speechless, his face reflecting wonder, Ashley studied him. His skin she saw to be a light tan, rather than white. Brown hair she suspected of being clipped quite short, normally, seemed to have grown out a trifle untidily. Dark, smooth eyebrows arched above long-lashed brown eyes. The sense of beholding agelessness deepened, as she again grew aware of the lack of lines etched by age, experience, and the constant play of an array of differing facial expressions.
Wrestling with several direly upsetting conclusions flowing from his revelations, she observed, “Jason, it's considered extremely rude for a hostess to ask a guest all sorts of highly personal questions, but this is a unique case. I need to know more about you, so that I can help you pass as human. You're welcome to stay here with me indefinitely--please rest assured of that--but visitors do drop in, and word will get around that I've got a man living with me. That could spark quite a bit of local gossip. So will you agree to let me ask you some very personal questions?”
“I'm incapable of refusing to answer.”
“I know that. But I'm giving you a choice: to be asked questions, or not to be asked questions. Which would you prefer--my asking them or not asking them?”
The android's brow knitted, and a second or so elapsed before he replied, “Because you wish to help me…to protect me…I prefer that you ask them. Your regarding me as human…as a guest…fills me with joy.”
“I'm glad to hear that you can experience joy as well as fear. Jason…what year was it, in the future you come from?”
“2417.”
My aching bones! More than four hundred years in the future! “What happened, to cause you to escape in the vehicle you landed in, here?”
“The ship--the Intrepid , a battle carrier commissioned by the military arm of the Federal Union of Spacefaring Nations--patrolled the routes that commercial interplanetary vessels used to make the transit to and from the colonies on Mars and Earth's Moon and the huge base located in the western hemisphere of Earth. A crew of robots manned the mothership. Other robots flew the forty fighter ships carried on its hull. Thirty-two human officers and nine androids of my class programmed and oversaw the robot-performed maintenance and fighter operations and navigated the mothership.
“War broke out between the African/Chinese Alliance and the Federal Union. A short time after the crew on the bridge of the Intrepid received that news, a destroyer-class Alliance vessel attacked us. Our Commander ordered the robot fighters to lift off and fire their weaponry, on the slim hope that one would find a vulnerable target on the hull of the destroyer, but that hope proved futile. After the Intrepid , which formed no match for a destroyer-class vessel, sustained several bad breaches of the hull, the Commander ordered all those surviving to enter escape pods and eject into space. He continued to man the weaponry until the ejected pods cleared the danger zone.
“His action saved the lives of those in the pods, but before the Commander could eject, the ship suffered total annihilation. That burst of unimaginable energy drove the pods on one edge of the fan-shaped formation of escaping vehicles into a rare anomaly: a warp in space-time. That caused the pod I occupied to land in this age.”
“Will other survivors land in this age also?”
“One, at least, might conceivably land near here shortly. The possibility that a third person might land in this vicinity at a somewhat later date exists, but I consider that outcome extremely remote.”
“Are those two vehicles occupied by androids?”
“No. By human beings.”
“Will they know that you landed first?”
“They'll judge it likely.”
“Will they try to find you?”
“Yes…but only if they live through the entry into the atmosphere, and only if they survive the critical period when they must manually operate the craft needing a suitable landing place. Their chances of doing so I consider extremely low.
“Normally, another interplanetary ship picks up escape pods before their trajectories take them to Earth. A landfall forms an extreme possibility, and so pods are designed to survive entry into the atmosphere, decelerate, and respond to manual control during the final few minutes of flight. But such landings have been extremely rare. Only forty percent of those occurring in the past resulted in survival of the occupant.
“Furthermore, even if one of the two officers of the Intrepid lands safely, he or she might well be captured and interrogated by frightened Earthmen of this age, if any such person sees the force-field that surrounds an escape vehicle during its flight, or after it lands. The occupant may well fail to survive the totality of those hazards.”
“You did, so perhaps they will too,” Ashley countered, wondering uneasily just where the other vehicles might land.
“I possess enhancements that the human officers lack--qualities that render me far better able to operate the craft manually. But…if they do land…they can deal with hostile human beings in ways I can't.”
“What rationale did the men of your age use to justify creating androids, especially since they seem to have treated you as if you were less than human?”
“The men of the twenty-third century made great strides toward the goal of building computers possessed of intelligence. That progress took place amid growing fears that intelligent machines--especially if they grew to be self-aware--might learn to self-replicate and enslave their builders. Researchers in the twenty-fourth century suffered several narrow escapes of that nature. Those events struck fear into the rulers of the two great political powers. So the rulers ordered the researchers to change their focus.
“Having delved deeply into the workings of the human mind, certain of the researchers judged that uniting functions and memory usually residing in computers with a rational human mentality would result in an artifact that could be rendered unable to harm any human being, and could easily be prevented from self-replicating. Eventually, they succeeded in creating the first android. From that beginning, they advanced steadily. I represent the current result of that ongoing research, being an AHLI5000 series model. The letters stand for android, high-level intelligence.”
That unsettling explanation came couched in a perfectly emotionless tone of voice.
“Your creators spoke English?”
“A modern version of it, yes. English and Sino-African form the two main languages of Earth in the age I come from. You could understand the human beings I served. Only their accent would seem strange to you.”
“So you're a walking, talking, thinking computer possessed of human emotions?”
“My mentality consists of a union of computer functions and memory with uniquely human mental processes.”
“So…you're not only human, you're superhuman!”
Visibly shocked by that vehement assertion, Jason replied wryly, “The officers I served would disagree, but your regarding me as human fills me with joy.”
“What sort of tasks did you perform, while on board the ship?”
“The ship featured huge banks of computers--the sort below the level of intelligence that could result in the onset of self-awareness and the drive towards self-replication. One or another of the officers on duty would assign me a task--usually one involving complex calculations and the ability to perform a search of the databanks in a short time. Because I excel at spotting and interpreting subtle implications inherent in courses of action based on such data, I'd be ordered to study those data, and report on the probable effects of the proposed course of action.
“Once I completed that task, I'd report to the officer who laid it on me. That person would rate my performance as excellent, good, fair, or poor. I always experienced anxiety until receiving an excellent or good rating. A poor rating would have resulted in my being questioned by the Lieutenant Commander. Three such ratings would automatically mean that I'd be deactivated, retooled, and psychologically altered.
“Deactivation, for the person I now am, equates with what human beings call death. Even if I were reactivated after being thus altered, I'd remember nothing of this life I'm living now. I never received even a rating of fair, but I always felt anxious until the officer issued the rating. Then I'd be assigned a new task.”
“So you constantly lived in fear.”
“No. I resisted the temptation that occasionally plagued me, to spend a few minutes in reflection, once I'd completed a task. Being detected at being lost in thought would have earned me a poor rating, even if I'd performed the task perfectly. I took care never to indulge in more than a few precious, stolen seconds spent thinking about myself.”
Pity mingled with outrage and the fierce exultation generated by Ashley's hearing about that foray into rebellion, despite its fleeting nature.
“How long a shift did you normally put in?”
“I performed tasks during all the hours of each day, other than the six-hour rest period my physiology requires once during every twenty-four hour span.”
“They never gave you any time to yourself? Never allowed you to visit with other androids?” the questioner exclaimed indignantly, her voice growing a trifle shrill.
“They saw to it that no android ever had time in which to reflect on his emotions or on his nature. Although I often saw the other androids, I never visited with one. Doing so would have resulted in the deactivation of both of us.
“However, tasks such as I just described weren't the only sort assigned me. I did troubleshooting of maintenance problems, and I fixed some malfunctions that the robots couldn't handle. I performed feats of navigation beyond the capability of any human mind. And…when so ordered by a female officer…I coupled sexually with her.”
That final startling admission came couched in the same dispassionate tone Jason had used throughout his recital.
Shocked to her core, the fascinated listener gasped, “They treated you as a living computer--regarded you as a social inferior--and yet they coupled sexually with you?”
“Yes. No military organization allows coupling between human officers. Those in charge fear that discipline would suffer if such coupling occurred. They also believe that rivalries among shipmates over who got to have intercourse with whom would impair the smooth functioning of the crew. They know, however, that human beings need an outlet for their sexual drives. So they allow coupling with androids, and design us to perform so as to satisfy a human partner. Some of the androids aboard were female. Like their male counterparts, they carried out specialized tasks. They also satisfied the needs of the male officers.”
“Are you capable of experiencing sensual pleasure, or did your creators deny you that outlet, while using your body for their own pleasure?”
“I experience orgasm--intense pleasure--when I ejaculate. The first models lacked that ability, but the women complained that being impregnated by an android incapable of experiencing pleasure was too much like coupling with a machine. They asserted that they could attain fulfillment far easier with a partner able to achieve orgasm. So the designers built that function into the later models--both the male and the female sort.”
“Didn't the women grow fond of you? Learn to care for you?”
“No. Both their social and military conditioning cause them to think of us solely as a convenient means of satisfying their sexual urges. A female officer who developed affection for one of us would have been considered aberrant: psychologically unbalanced.”
“Jason, are you capable of feeling affection for another person? An android…or a human being?”
That blunt question brought no swift, concise reply. The face gone bleak, puzzled, remained so as its owner struggled to discern the truth so as to speak it.
“I don't know for certain whether I can,” he finally declared. “I've never been granted time in which to reflect on that question. What I felt for the officers was acceptance. I knew, from the time I was activated, that the ship was my world, and that I existed to serve the officers. I accepted their dominance and my own nature as natural and inevitable. I performed the tasks laid on me to the best of my ability. All of those tasks.”
Mulling over what she just learned, the troubled woman perceived a potent danger to herself lurking in those revelations. Startled by that perception, she voiced it.
“Damn it, Jason, it would be so dreadfully easy for any human being who knows what you are, to order you about as if you were a slave,” she declared worriedly. “I could fall into that insidious trap, much as I abhor the thought of anyone's owning a slave. The habit of giving commands one knows must be obeyed could grow on anyone who exercised that power even a few times.
“So right this minute, I'm issuing myself a firm command. I'll never give you a direct order, ever again. You need to choose for yourself what you wish to do and how you wish to live. You've got to learn to behave as a human being does. Not only because you need to be considered one, but also because living as a slave demeans you, and also demeans anyone who forces you to live that way.”
Bemusedly, the android spoke, his tone expressive of wonder. “Your concern for me astounds me, ma'am. I feel…gratitude…for your wish that I remain safe…pass as human. But…Earth is so strange…this life you live is so different from the one I've known…I feel incompetent to make wise choices…”
Hearing the soft voice trail off in confusion and dismay, Ashley reached for the android's hands, which she impulsively clasped. “You never saw the Earth of your time, did you?” she queried, recalling his narrative. “You spent your entire life aboard that ship, until it got wiped. Isn't that so?”
“Yes. I was activated aboard. I never left the Intrepid , even when it was docked.”
“And this planet terrifies you, doesn't it?”
“Yes.” That admission emerged in a tone freighted with fear.
“Jason, don't worry about anything, hear? I'll help you. Are you in need of a rest period?”
“Not…at this moment. I will be, an hour from now…or two. Please…continue to ask what you wish to know.”
“I think I've grilled my longsuffering guest quite enough for one day. Now it's your turn. I'll be happy to answer any questions that you'd like to ask.”
Again, the android's eyes widened. After a brief pause, he queried, “Do you live alone here?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you have a sexual partner who lives elsewhere?”
“No. I was married for thirty-four years to a man I loved dearly. He died two years ago. Since my husband passed on, I've never coupled with anyone.”
“I feel sad for you, ma'am.”
“Thank you. But Jason, please, my name is Ashley…Ashley Russell. I prefer that you call me Ashley.”
His face registering surprise, the android hastened to agree. “I'll do so, from now on…Ashley. Do you wish me to couple with you? Give you pleasure?”
Taken sharply aback, the widow considered that wholly unanticipated question, and grew shocked at the intensity of the longing it generated. Loyalty to her deceased spouse contended violently with a fiercely protective feeling for this spacefaring exile. Given that the latter sat gazing at her wistfully, she asked, “Jason, do you wish to have sexual relations with a woman sixty years old…one well past her prime as a sexual partner?”
Visibly puzzled, the android replied, “Yes. Your age I consider irrelevant. Coupling with you would give me pleasure, but giving you pleasure would bring me much joy.”
“My age doesn't matter to you?” Ashley exclaimed in astonishment.
“No. The youngest woman I ever coupled with was fifty-four. She was also the youngest I've ever seen. The oldest officer who ever ordered me to give her pleasure was eighty-two.”
Once again impacted by shock, the widow queried, “How long a lifespan do those people enjoy?”
“One hundred thirty years, on average.”
“Holy shit! Do they look as old as I am, or does their science give them the means of staying young-looking?”
As she blurted that question, the woman grew exquisitely conscious that her lean, compact body no longer boasted the athletic grace that once characterized it. Wondering if any gray roots showed in her short, curly, light brown hair, given that she had not dyed it during the past six days, she unconsciously raised a hand to smooth it down around her face.
“They look much like you. Their hair shows no gray, nor do they need to wear lenses to enhance their sight, as people once did.”
“I dye my gray hair, and I need glasses to see well in the distance,” Ashley confessed wryly. “You truly regard me as…desirable?”
Even as she voiced that query, she ruefully judged that this poor soul, who just endured a harrowing journey for God only knew how long, might simply wish to console himself for the upheaval in his life by seeking the only sort of pleasure ever allowed him. The thought impinged that he might view her simply as a vessel in which he hoped to be permitted to ejaculate.
“Yes, I do. I also see you as astonishingly accepting of an android--kind, courteous, and deeply honorable.” That reply came freighted with much more vehemence than the exile had hitherto employed.
“Well, thank you! Jason…if you wish me to go to bed with you…I will.”
Even as she made that impulsive declaration, the woman who sorely missed the intimacy she had shared with a beloved husband wondered uneasily whether loneliness might have impaired her ability to reason shrewdly.
“I do wish to couple with you, but I cannot, unless you order me to do so.”
Another built-in fail-safe . Those creators of androids took no chances . “I see. Please couple with me, Jason. In my bedroom. Follow me.”
Rising, the woman conscious of being the central character in an event of huge historical significance--meeting a time-traveling android able to describe the distant future--walked to her bedroom, feeling as if she were caught up in a strange dream-sequence. Realizing that her guest could supply priceless data to all sorts of scientific researchers, she wondered at her lack of regret that she had promised to help him pass as just one more human being born in this time. Recalling his terror at the prospect of being examined by a horde of officials, she regained her belief in the validity of her hasty decision. A different sort of question arose to trouble her, but she filed it for future reference.
Facing the being she thought of as a man--a youthful, comely man--she smiled a trifle tremulously at him, unsure how he would begin.
“Do you wish me to employ any special technique, or do you prefer that I use a variety of techniques?” he asked dispassionately.
“Please, do what you feel most comfortable doing,” Ashley urged softly.
“Do you wish both of us to be naked?”
“Yes.”
Having voiced that unhesitating assent, the ranchwoman habitually untroubled by guilt or shame during countless acts of sexual intercourse with her late husband removed her clothes, and tried not to stare at the man doing likewise. She noted covertly that under the gray jumpsuit he wore a gray, close-fitting, two-piece suit of severe design, tailored from some sort of synthetic material. Under that, he wore only stretchy white briefs. The body he bared to her view seemed that of an ordinary human being. His male member she saw to be erect.
When the two nude participants in a novel undertaking stood facing each other, Ashley watched as Jason turned down the covers and awaited her entry into the bed. Smiling sturdily at him, she slid beneath the sheet, the acrylic blanket, and the lightweight summer spread, and wriggled to the center of the mattress. When he pulled the covers to the foot of the bed, and reclined beside her, she turned to face him.
Of a sudden, the memory of his fingers tying the knot in the metal table knife returned in vivid detail. Fear swept over her--emotion she failed to conceal.
Patently concerned, Jason asked softly, “Do I frighten you?”
“No… But I saw how strong your hands are…”
“I exert perfect control over all of the movements of my body. I'm incapable of harming you, Ashley. I'll use all my skill to give you pleasure.”
Belief surged in to vanquish fear. Smiling, the woman relaxed, fervently hoping that this poor uprooted soul cast into an environment direly frightening to him would gain as much pleasure from this encounter as he gave her.
Moving with sinuous grace, the android lay atop his partner, and tongued nipples that instantly went hard.
Reassured by the gentleness of the caress, Ashley relaxed further, despite her consciousness that her no-longer-firm breasts sagged to either side of her chest. Recalling his declaring her age irrelevant, she wondered whether his designers deliberately omitted giving him the capacity to discriminate between young, sexy women and old, careworn ones, or whether he simply craved the thrill of experiencing an orgasm--the only sort of pleasure he had ever known.
Soft lips closed on one nipple and sucked, even as a hand cupped the other breast, and a thumb teased that stiff, pink nubbin, driving a soft exclamation of delight out of the woman running a caressing hand through the android's hair. Memories flashed into her mind, of lying on this same bed, suckling her firstborn while welcoming the uniquely sensual shivers swiftly causing a pronounced stirring in her loins.
Sliding downwards, Jason tongued his partner's navel, before he rose, turned, and disposed himself with his legs alongside her head. Having spread her thighs with gentle but firm hands, he licked her swollen nodule, circling its head with the tip of his tongue. As soft moans drifted by his ear, he sucked on that tiny focus of sensation as if determined to uproot it.
Abandoning all thought of Jason's perception of her, Ashley threw her arms back over her head and concentrated on her sensations. Passion surged within her--raw, primitive need, the intensity of which stunned the experienced widow, who had striven so hard and so successfully to combat loneliness that she failed fully to realize how much she missed erotic intercourse with her husband. The sureness with which the android offered those enticing caresses, combined with her sense that he now controlled the encounter, served to blunt an incipient desire to caress him in her turn.
Even as the breathtakingly effective stimulation of her tiny organ of pleasure continued, Ashley felt fingers slide inside her and expertly stimulate her feminine depth. Aroused on a level she had not experienced in years, she focused solely on her swiftly deepening passion, letting this purveyor of delight who so inexplicably dropped into her life from a future time do whatever he wished.
Soft cries reached Jason's ears, and unmistakable signs of arousal met his knowing eye. Controlling to perfection whatever need he felt, he brought his partner to the brink of fulfillment.
Gauging with perfect accuracy her nearness to that point, he entered her with a satisfying thrust. His rhythmic penetrations quickly produced a climax that lifted the bemused woman into ecstasy. His low groan told her that he reached a peak simultaneously with her. Moments before she lapsed into full coital trance, she rejoiced at knowing that he gained pleasure as well as gave it.
A millennium later, Ashley stirred, and snuggled against the other occupant of the bed. “You're a marvelous lover,” she murmured in his ear.
“Hearing you say that gives me great joy,” he replied with adamant force, obviously deeply touched.
“Jason, did those women on the ship rate even your performance in bed?” That query betrayed outrage even before the questioner received the affirmative reply she expected.
“Yes. But no officer ever risked giving an android a rating of poor after coupling with him. If she did, that would come to the notice of the medical officer, who would watch to see whether she did so again. If she turned in three such ratings, he would demand that she undergo a psychological test of her fitness to serve.”
“Did you stay the night with the women you coupled with?”
“No. Never. They were allowed an hour of my time--no more. Nor did they wish to stay, once they attained relief. Usually, the encounter lasted less than an hour.”
“Mm. I'm used to lying close to my husband, after making love, so as to enjoy the touch of his warm, bare skin against my own. But I think it likely that you'd find that…tedious. So which do you prefer--entering your rest period here, lying beside me as I sleep, or retiring to the guest room across the hall, where you can be alone?”
Faced once again with making a choice, Jason took a nanosecond to consider his options before stating firmly, “I prefer taking my rest here. Although my mental processes cease operating when I enter the rest phase, consciousness remains. I'll watch over you as you sleep…guard you from harm.”
Deeply touched, Ashley smiled radiantly on this unique lover she found it hard to believe had dropped in such dramatic fashion into her ultra-prosaic life. “What a comforting promise,” she breathed. “I thank you. I need to sleep, if I can. I'm still in shock from what I saw in my pasture today, and from meeting someone from the future. But Jason…I'm so glad that you landed here. I shudder to think of what could have happened to you elsewhere.”
“I'm vastly relieved to have landed here…and met you.” The soft voice trembled slightly as it gave that assurance.
Lying with her arm across Jason's chest and her head on his shoulder, the sexually satiated woman marveling at the events of the day slipped off into the sleep that quite often, of late, delayed its arrival until several hours after she climbed into bed.
|
