Key to Survival

Chapter 7 Ennui

Shee looked at Ennui. "I do not wish to be a burden. I can inactivate myself for a set period so that you don't need to interrupt your activities. I know your work is important."

Ennui shook her head. "Havoc has spoken. Nothing is more important than attending to you."

"But you essentially run the planet."

"I won't be missed." Ennui pressed a button on her desk. In a moment another woman entered the office. She looked exactly like Ennui: in her sixties, with graying hair, and a set expression. "Take over."

The woman sat at the desk and started processing papers exactly where Ennui had left off.

"You have a double!" Shee said, as they left the office.

"Several. I briefed her mentally. She's competent."

"You are telepathic."

"Affirmation. You aren't? Your mind is opaque to me."

"I am a machine. I can communicate mentally with machines, but am on a different wavelength from living things. I could be adjusted, if warranted."

They entered another room. Two beautiful woman stood expectantly. "Queen Gale of Charm," Ennui said.

"Mistress of Mistresses Monochrome of Earth. This is Shee Robot, emissary of the machines, assigned to be Havoc's second mistress."

"We are of course aware," Gale said. "We worked Havoc over before sending him to her."

"You have two advantages over me," Shee said. "Telepathy and awareness of the near future."

"And you are a prime nexus," Gale said.

"My mission is to persuade him to save your culture by sending your daughter Voila to join the machines. This lends me importance that is not inherent."

Both women laughed. "You underestimate your significance by magnitudes," Monochrome said.

"Question?"

"If you renounced your mission this instant, you would remain vitally important," Gale said. "You can't turn off a nexus by design; it is a concurrence of forces that operate regardless of personal will."

"This is not apparent to me."

"Do you suppose Havoc would assign his most trusted oath friend to you merely to ascertain whether you are a satisfactory sexual partner? He has much more in mind for you."

Shee was confused. It was not a comfortable feeling. "I love him. Does this relate?"

"Minor," Monochrome said. "We all love Havoc, from the queen down to the simplest village girl. It may even be a quality of being female."

"Request: explain my importance to me."

"You are a nexus," Gale repeated. "But that requires substantial interpretation. We need to fathom it as soon as we can. That is why Monochrome will join you."

"I mean Havoc no harm. I am designed only to please him. My loyalty is to him rather than to the machines that made me. I bear malice to none of you. I do not know how I can be a nexus. I am not even alive."

"I have an urgent mission on Earth," Monochrome said. "The near paths indicate that you can help."

"I will do what I can," Shee agreed. She had felt competent when dealing with Havoc, but her programming related less well to these other Glamors. She was not easy with the way they accepted her and proposed to use her.

They should have been extremely wary of such a sophisticated machine among them.

"First we must verify with Idyll," Monochrome said. She took Ennui's hand, then also Shee's hand.

And they were on another planet, in a lovely glade in a forest. Shee knew of the Glamor powers, of course, but this was her first such actual experience. "Counter Charm," she said, recognizing it from her programmed information.

"And Idyll Ifrit," a voice said as mists swirled before them.

"This is Shee, the robot emissary of the machine culture," Ennui said.

"And a potent nexus," the voice agreed. The mist was coalescing into the form of a lovely young human woman.

Evidently they all could see it. That near future perception surely related. Shee herself could see some of the far future, but her own case was fuzzy, perhaps because her present actions kept changing it.

"Havoc asked me to get to know her," Ennui said. "She is to be his second mistress."

"And more," Idyll's figure said. "Much more."

Shee was not reassured. The Glamors evidently understood things about her that went beyond her mission or her assignment as Havoc's second mistress. She was out of her depth. If the machines had thought to set these living folk back by showing them a sophisticated humanoid robot, they seemed to have failed at the outset. She knew they were not being wishful or deluded; they had powers no machine did.

"We are going to Earth," Ennui said, "to see about a problem there Shee might help with."

"Take Iolo. He relates."

"Gladly."

Shee searched her memory, but did not find the name. That did not mean the person was inconsequential, just that none of the fifths gathering data had encountered him.

Then a six legged dog came bounding into the glade. Ennui dropped to her knees and hugged him. "Iolo! We need you."

The tail wagged.

Iolo was a dog! No wonder he wasn't in her people data.

"Iolo, this is Shee, from the machines," Ennui said.

Shee held down her hand for the animal to sniff. He did so, and snorted, surprised. "Yes, I am a machine," she said. "No living odor."

"Appreciation," Monochrome said to Idyll. Then she took the hands of Ennui and Shee, and Ennui put her free hand on Iolo's head.

And they were on another planet. This, Shee knew, was Earth, the world of origin of the human culture. Her information about it was limited, because it had not yet been infiltrated by fifths.

They were in a subterranean station. Iolo led the way along a passage until they came to an administration building. They entered, traversed other passages, and came to a closed metal door. Monochrome lifted one hand and knocked on it.

In a moment a panel slid aside and a pretty face peered out. "Mistress!" The door swung open.

"Greeting, Mistress Mascot," Monochrome said, and the two women hugged. "May we see Caveat?"

"He is on his way, Mistress."

Shee knew that the Mistresses governed Earth. The lesser Mistresses bore about the same relation to Monochrome as an ikon on Charm did to a Glamor: they gathered and transmitted magic power to the dominant figure. They could, however, be touched by Glamors in a manner ikons could not be. The conjecture was that there were so many of them that this effect was diluted to a thousandth. All the Mistresses were lovely women, and they were reputed to bestow their sexual favors freely, using them to manage men.

A handsome, fit man entered the room. Monochrome went to him, and they embraced. "Welcome, Mistress," he said. "We need you."

"Introduction," Monochrome said. "Shee Robot. Shee, this is Caveat, Prime Minister of Earth." She did not introduce Ennui or the dog; they already knew each other.

Shee shook Caveat's hand, and was immediately aware that he was not affected by her beauty. He was not a woman's man. Her information confirmed this: he was Voila's close friend, and loved her, but they were not and would never be lovers.

Caveat turned back to Monochrome. "Mistress, the matter is urgent."

"Tell Shee. The paths suggest she can help."

Caveat returned to Shee, this time focusing on her. "Please accompany me."

They went with him into a capsule that traveled rapidly through what Shee now sensed was a mountain of frozen water: ice. Earth's capital was at its southern continent, frozen over, and the buildings were all under the ice.

She sat beside Caveat as he explained. "We are dredging and filling to build a new complex beside a nether lake.

It will be a water park, a refuge for rare cold-water creatures. The work is slow, because it is important not to disturb the main ice cover or to make leaks in the lake. A programming error has caused a dredge to turn rogue, and it is out of control, threatening to breach the ice wall and flood a residential section. We are unable to shut it down because of the error; radio control no longer connects. We are trying to move blocks into its path to stop it, but it is moving erratically and may miss them. The situation is desperate."

"I can handle it."

"Question?"

"I will need to enter that machine. Put me in its path."

"Doubt. I fear you do not understand. The dredge is large. You would be crushed."

"I need only to touch it."

Caveat glanced at Monochrome. "Is this advisable?"

"Negation. But with Iolo's help, she can prevail."

He shook his head. "It is not a risk I care to take. Havoc would be seriously annoyed if his new mistress was taken out. But the need us urgent." Ennui spoke to Shee. "Iolo can see the near future paths, as Glamors do. It is not a mortal talent, but he has an imprint from Idyll. Accept his guidance."

A dog. But the matter seemed harmless. "Acquiescence."

"There are only tunnels in the vicinity," Caveat said. "Some are small. If you suffer from claustrophobia—"

"Negation."

The shuttle halted. They got out into an ice tunnel. The ifrit dog ran down it. Shee ran after him, leaving the others behind. She was glad for the chance to be useful; it would impress Havoc favorably.

The dog dodged into a side crevice. Shee followed. This was much tighter, and not level; she had to scramble up and down jagged slopes.

Then it got too tight for her. She lifted her right hand, about to heat it so she could melt a wider aperture.

The dog paused, looking back. "Negation."

She froze. Had the beast talked?

"Dangerous to melt there," Iolo said. "I will diffuse and find a better route."

"Acquiescence," she said faintly. Now she realized that the ifrits, whose natural form was diffuse clouds, could assume any physical form they chose. Iolo was not a dog but an ifrit.

Iolo diffused into vapor and drifted away. He was looking for a better route, surely exploring all the crevices simultaneously. She waited.

His head reformed. "Retreat ten paces. Take the ceiling crevices. No melting."

She followed his instructions, and found the crevice. She jumped up and hauled herself into it.

Soon it opened into a larger passage. No melting was necessary.

Now the ice shuddered. Something was rocking it. That would be the rogue dredger.

"This thing is dangerously erratic," Iolo said. "Heed me closely."

"As you wish."

They reached the deep lake. The dark water lay directly below the ice, supporting it; there was no air pocket beyond the crevice. If the water were to drain out, the ice above would collapse. Shee appreciated the danger.

"We must swim to the dredger," Iolo said. "That is the most feasible approach. Follow me." He sank into the freezing water.

Shee hesitated. Did the ifrit really know what he was doing?

Iolo returned. "Window missed," he said. "Now it is harder. This way." He ran through a side crevice, just above the water level. She realized that by hesitating she had spoiled the first route. Time was part of the near future fabric, obviously. She would respond with greater alacrity hereafter.

There was no room for Shee to run. She dived through on her belly, sliding after him. The crevice descended to the level of the lake.

The shaking increased. The rogue dredger was coming this way. It felt monstrous.

"Into the water!" Iolo cried, splashing into it himself. Again, she followed. Suddenly the dredger was there. It was huge, a tracked machine with a round snout that sucked in water at a phenomenal rate. "To the side!" the ifrit called. "Now!"

When they were so close? A few more strokes and she would be able to touch it. But she obeyed. She had learned to respect his judgment.

And the water snout turned to orient on them, sucking the water around them into its belly. But they were just clear of it. Iolo had warned her just in time.

Because he was reading the near future paths. The actions of the dredger were random, but the magic could anticipate them in a way science could not. "Go to it," Iolo called.

Shee plunged toward the dredger. In moments she reached its side. She clapped a hand on its surface. She sent the kill signal. The machine died. The job was done.

They left it there and made their way back through ice and water to the others. Now there was time to sent a repair crew to see to the dredger; it would not break through the ice walls in the interim.

"Gratitude!" Caveat exclaimed. "You may have saved lives, and certainly expense."

"She did save lives," Monochrome said. She was looking farther along the future paths.

"Iolo showed me the route," Shee said. "He followed the paths, as I could not."

They reentered the travel capsule and returned to the administration building. "Earth is grateful," Caveat said.

"No publicity," Ennui said. "Shee is private."

"Then perhaps the two of you and the dog will accept a complimentary sight-seeing tour, Shee being a tourist from the colony."

He was smooth. Evidently Monochrome had further business to attend to on Earth, so they were parking the visitors long enough to get some working time.

"Appreciation," Ennui said. "We are tourists." She didn't want her position advertised either.

They joined a tourist group and boarded a rocket, which was a primitive machine used to transport people and cargo between continents. This was, after all, a sub type 1 culture, not using all the energy of its planet. They sat in padded seats and were strapped down in case of shaking during the takeoff. Iolo was allowed to settle on the floor between their two sets of feet. This was, as Shee understood it, irregular, but the pass Caveat had given them cleared it: Iolo was a guard dog, a protection allowed for pretty women who might receive unwanted attention, or for old ones who might be robbed. He was indeed a guard, but not of that nature.

"Regret to waste your time this way," Shee said to Ennui. "I know your business on Planet Charm is suffering during your absence."

"Negation. I have wanted to take a vacation for the past two decades, and to see Earth, but was never able to justify it. Now Havoc has done it for me."

"Surprise: you have not been to Earth before?"

"I have been to this system, but not to Earth itself." Ennui glanced at her sidelong. "Can you assure us privacy?"

"Affirmation." Shee extended a local interference field that enclosed the three of them. They could not be overheard verbally, or spied on electronically. Such a precaution was elementary, when dealing with a technologically primitive culture. "We are private."

"I know why Havoc has placed us together. He guards his mind, but I have known him very well for some time, and could fathom most of his thoughts even without telepathy."

Shee was wary. "Is this something I need to know? Remember my identity. I am not your friend."

"You will know it soon enough regardless. Because it concerns me, I prefer to acquaint you with it myself. Havoc knew I would do this; he checked with Voila and Idyll to verify the relevant near and intermediate future paths."

"Clarification. What is the duration of these paths? I can perceive only the far future, which commences a month hence, and not well, as it is not my specialty."

"The near future is one second to one hour," Ennui said. "For most Glamors, it is one second to five minutes; only Voila can see the full hour. Idyll sees the intermediate future, one hour to one month." She glanced down. "Iolo, as an ifrit but not a Glamor, is specially enabled and trained to see the near future paths, as you know. These are approximate parameters; I understand situations vary, as do paths, with some too complicated to fathom far, and of course there are the nexii."

"Nexii," Shee repeated, recognizing a plural that was not in her data bank, evidently a colloquialism. "This is of interest to me, as I have been called a nexus. I understand this to mean that the paths associated with me are more important than most others, so warrant more attention."

"Confirmation. In Havoc's mind, you are one of the five most critical nexii. In our vernacular, a hot potato."

"Question?"

"Something that is too hot to readily handle with bare hands, so must be treated most carefully. This seems to be independent of your role as his mistress. For him, sex is pleasure, while the nexus is business."

"But why? My purpose is straightforward: to entertain him so that he will keep me close, and perhaps heed my petition respecting his daughter. There is no subtlety."

"I was mystified too, until I figured it out. Are you aware of the derivation of Havoc's name?"

"I studied him. He wrought havoc among those who opposed him. He is dangerous to try to thwart."

"The machines are trying to thwart him."

"Reversal: he is trying to thwart the machines. They sent me also as warning: I represent the level of technology he opposes. He can't seriously threaten them. Only the fact that he has influence that could help the machines acquire something they very much want, the willing service of Voila, causes them to even consider sparing humanity. He will be best advised to accept the deal they proffer. The survival of your culture depends on it."

"The machines underestimate Havoc."

"The machines underestimate nothing. They are methodical and wield overwhelming force. No culture in the galaxy has balked them more than briefly, and with every conquest they grow stronger. To apply an Earth-local analogy: a flea might as well try to halt a steamroller. It will be crushed."

"They have not before encountered Havoc."

"I love Havoc! It is crafted love, but it is genuine. I accept him utterly. But against the machines, he is a flea."

"You are a machine. You have to believe that. But Havoc has a saying: when the game is rigged, change the game. He is changing it."

"Doubt."

"This is where you come in. And me. And the reason for our association. Havoc wants me to carry your ikon."

"Question?"

"When a Glamor forms, there is a main part and a lesser part. The lesser part is the ikon. It lies in the home Chroma and gathers and transmits magic power to the Glamor. That is why the Glamor can have magic anywhere, independent of Chroma. For several years I carried Havoc's ikon."

"I have no ikon. I am a machine. There is no living tissue in me. I am an inanimate construct."

"You are not alive, but you are animate."

"A quibble over terminology."

"Are you conscious?" Ennui asked.

"Affirmation."

"Feeling?"

"Affirmation."

"Do you possess instincts, such as of survival?"

"Affirmation. But I am dead substance."

"The distinction between a living person and what you are seems immaterial."

Shee shrugged. "Accepting it as needless, what is your point?"

"Havoc means to make you a Glamor."

"Preposterous! Assuming it is possible, which I doubt, why?"

"What would a machine Glamor do to the configuration of the war between the machines and living cultures?"

Shee had to pause for consideration. The concept went beyond her ability to calculate, but was significant. "It would change the parameters."

"It would change the game," Ennui agreed.

Shee wrestled with the astonishing concept. "The game," she agreed reluctantly "Not necessarily the outcome."

"A machine Glamor on the side of life."

"It is beyond my capacity to fathom."

"Therefore probably also beyond the ability of the machine culture to fathom. It is like the ploy Havoc devised to conquer Earth: seeding its volcanoes with magic. Earthers did not believe in magic, so were unable to handle this. The machines do not understand Glamors. A robot Glamor would be virtually incomprehensible to them."

Shee's mind was uncomfortably disturbed. As a machine, she could not believe such a thing was possible. "A new game," she repeated. "If it could be done, then yes, the machines have underestimated Havoc. But it would be an unconscionably dangerous ploy for the human culture. My loyalty is to Havoc, but the machines can reclaim me at any time."

"Could they reclaim a Glamor robot? You are type 2.5 technology; as a Glamor, might you not be 2.75, beyond their capacity to control?"

"I do not know," Shee said. "The concept is overloading my circuits."

"Then we will address a simpler and more personal consequence. If you were to turn Glamor, you would divest an ikon. If I hold that ikon, I will control you to a significant extent. You would not be able to touch that ikon, literally, and if I removed it from its home chroma, your power would fade. That is why Havoc wants me to have it: I would control the key nexus."

"That is personal," Shee agreed. "I can appreciate why you would want to do it."

"I do not want to do it."

"Question?"

"You should be controlled, but I do not want to hold your ikon."

"Confusion."

"Ikons have effects on their bearers. When I held Havoc's ikon, I became physically young, healthy, shapely, winning, and had a high libido. It is the ikon's way of protecting itself, and thus its Glamor. Ikon holders are nice to be around, especially female ones in the company of males. The ikons are almost impossible to set aside. I do not want to go through that again."

"But what you describe—isn't this what most women desire? To be perpetually young and sexually appealing?"

"I am not most women. I am old and settled, and do not wish to become something I am not. Especially not a young siren. I already love Havoc; I would become another of his incidental mistresses. That is not my role in life."

"Is it possible that Havoc is also taken with you, and wants this as a way to make you amenable? You are after all his closest associate, the one he trusts most."

"Negation. He values me in my present capacity. When I carried his ikon I became openly hot for him, but he evaded the issue, for which I am duly grateful now. He wants me to have the ikon because I am the one he would most trust with it; he has not considered its supplementary effects, which he does not consider to be a liability."

"He wouldn't," Shee agreed. "He is a man."

Ennui smiled briefly, acknowledging the female camaraderie. "Unfortunately, neither of us is likely to have a choice in this matter. We are involuntarily linked, for good or ill. I just wanted to make that clear, privately."

"So it is to our interest to understand each other well," Shee said. "For good or ill."

"Affirmation. We may have a long and intimate association."

"Suggestion: you are the one who arranges the itineraries. Mark in another person to hold my ikon, should one come to exist. Havoc trusts other women, like Aura, the sorceress Ine, or Symbol. They have carried ikons before and I think do not object."

"Symbol!" Ennui exclaimed. "She wants an ikon! She hated giving up Voila's ikon five years ago. That deprived her of sexual immortality."

"Maybe Havoc will go along with the change. Then you will be free."

Ennui nodded. "I am coming to like you better."

Time had passed, and the rocket was descending toward its landing. Shee ended the privacy shielding, and Iolo stretched his limbs.

Soon they were admiring a Mayan pyramid, listening to the tour guide capsulize the ancient history of the region.

They found it interesting. So did Iolo, who sniffed everything, making it clear he was a dog. Other tourists were openly intrigued by his six legs, as Earth dogs had only four, and never suspected his real nature.

They spent the evening at a tourist banquet and entertainment show that featured dancing girls and standing comedians, and the night sharing a tourist hotel room. Shee did not need to rest or sleep, but Ennui was old, as she said, and did. So Shee put herself on standby and tuned out. Iolo diffused into his comfortable cloud state.

Next day they boarded the rocket, which was to take them to an island in the Pacific ocean and thence to an undersea city in one of the planet's deepest trenches. On the way they invoked privacy and talked again, while Iolo theoretically snoozed. This time Shee told about herself.

She had been part of one of the emulation projects that made robots that resembled the dominant creatures of cultures that were about to be reduced. Most living cultures were simply obliterated, and their resources processed for the benefit of the conquest effort. But a few had special things that the machines wanted to exploit. In such cases, robots were made to relate to those cultures, understanding them well enough to help acquire the targeted resources.

Because the machines planned well ahead, such projects had a generation or more to develop.

It wasn't feasible to construct a machine that perfectly emulated a living creature; there were too many subtle details that, in the manner of chaos theory, turned out to have unsubtle effects. So it was more economic to imitate the natural selection of life. The emulations were made small, and allowed to interact with each other, and run through training typical of the applicable cultures. They were replaced with gradually larger editions, not knowing this because they were turned off for the process. Only gradually did they learn that they were not what they seemed to be.

She met a new village boy at the school whom she thought was cute. He had curly yellow hair and nice blue eyes. His family had moved in recently from a neighboring village. She knew his name, but little else about him. So, with the boldness of a six year old child, she approached him.

"Say my name."

"Say mine," he replied.

"Stub toe."

"Shee."

It was a sufficient introduction, employing the mores of the culture they emulated; they had proved they recognized each other. He followed up according to the protocol, which indicated his interest. This was going well.

"How were you named?"

"How were you?"

"I was going to pick up a block to play with, but I stumbled and kicked it instead, hurting my toe. All the other children laughed."

"Teacher asked me a question about a girl in a story, but I had water in my mouth. I tried to swallow and speak at the same time. I said 'She-e-e—' and the teacher said 'I didn't ask your name.' Everyone laughed."

"They made fun of you," Stub toe said. "The way they did me."

"Affir—affir—"

"Mation," he finished for her, smiling. "It's a tough word."

Then it was time for class. But another day she came across him alone, and took another step. "Play Tickle and peek?"

He jumped at the chance, for most girls avoided this game unless they really liked the boy. "Affirmation."

She lay on the ground and he knelt beside her. Then he tickled her on the ribs.

"Eeeek!" she cried enthusiastically, waving her arms and kicking up her legs.

Then it was her turn. "Did you see to here?" she asked, touching her own knee.

"Affirmation."

"To here?" She touched the midpoint of her thigh.

"Affirmation."

"To here?" She indicated the juncture of her legs.

He licked his lips. "Affirmation."

"Then show me yours."

"Reluctance."

Ha. "Are you reneging?"

"Negation. Just not right now."

"Yes, right now," she insisted gleefully. "You have to show me." For there had been a purpose in her deliberate exposure: she wanted to see what his crotch contained.

Embarrassed, he pulled off his shorts. His underpants were bulging.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It—when I saw yours, it got stiff."

"Oh, let me see it!"

"If I do, you have to show me yours."

She hesitated. This was beyond the game, but she was really curious. "Affirmation."

He drew down his undershorts. There was a little bag at his crotch, and a fleshy rod, like an extra thumb. "It just got stiff," he repeated. "Sometimes it does."

"Touch and Touch," she said.

"Affirmation."

She put her hands on the rod. It was warm. "Where to you pee?"

"From the end. When it's not stiff. It's a tube."

"You have a tube to pee through," she said, giggling.

"And you don't. It must be hard for you to pee."

She cupped the bag below the rod. It was soft, and seemed to contain two marbles. "What's it for?"

"Ignorance," he admitted. "But it hurts if it gets banged."

Then it was his turn to touch her bare cleft. It had become moist. She pointed out where she peed from, and confessed that she had to squat to do it, so as not to soil herself. He was especially interested in the hole at the base of her cleft, and cautiously poked his finger a little way in. The slipperiness allowed it to penetrate without discomfort.

When she did not protest, he pushed it in until it reached the end of the hole. She didn't care to confess it, but she rather liked the sensation of his finger being that deep within her.

Then awareness overtook them. Both embarrassed by their daring, they got dressed and agreed to tell no one else.

But Shee never forgot that private experience, and she was sure Stubtoe didn't either. They never did it again, but now when she saw a boy's clothed crotch she imagined the tube and bag within it, and suspected that he similarly imagined the cleft and hole that a girl had. Later there were classes on anatomy and they learned all about male and female genital regions, but somehow it wasn't nearly as interesting or exciting as that first mutual exploration had been.

They studied in school, and explored around the village, and grew. Each year they were larger, and knew more.

Stubtoe and Shee ventured into the neighboring Blue Chroma zone, where everything was shades of blue. They knew they weren't supposed to, but they were curious. They quickly discovered that the region was dangerous; plants flung nettles at them, or tried to writhe tendrils around their ankles. The plants were active in ways that nonChroma plants were not. They could see larger trees farther into the zone, some with hanging tentacles, and knew better than to get close to those.

There was another region that was barred to the children. It was separated by a high wooden fence with a sign: KEEP OUT. When Shee was ten she decided to explore it. Stubtoe wouldn't do it; he was afraid the adults would find out and he would get in trouble. So she did it alone, one day when school was out but she had an hour before she had to be home. She had found a place where a large tree root had warped part of the fence, so that there was a small clearance beneath it. She used a stone to dig carefully, excavating a hole large enough to scramble through. She would make sure to return well within the hour; no one should know.

She scrambled under, and came up on the other side. She was disappointed: it was just like her own side. A path wended its way through the forest, staying away from the Chroma zones. That would be going to the next village, though by a less direct route; maybe that was why it had been fenced off.

Disappointed, she crawled back under the fence, filled in the hole, and walked home. More time had passed than she had realized, and she just made it on time. She was dirty, too, so she cleaned up carefully and changed her clothing. It hadn't been much of an adventure, and she never went beyond the fence again. There was something about it that frightened her in retrospect.

When she was twelve they had a more thorough anatomy lesson, this time clarifying the nature of sexuality. Now they knew what fitted into what, and why, and what the occasion was for it. The girls were fitted with The Wire, an internal device that prevented pregnancy. They could have sex with boys if they wanted to, but it had to be voluntary.

Any boy who forced a girl would be dealt with severely. Boys and girls were expected to be familiar with sexual expression by the time they were eighteen, because then they had to marry.

When Shee was fourteen, came the bombshell. The word related to an ancient device back on Earth, where only Science Magic existed. It was a thing that exploded violently, hurting or killing anyone within its radius of destruction. This one was conceptual, yet it had similar effect. It changed everything.

Then class was limited to the girls. The boys had disappeared. "You are not what you seem," the teacher said.

"None of us is. We are robots made to emulate human beings as closely as is feasible. It will be the honor of one of you girls to go to the real Planet Charm to become the mistress of its leader, King Havoc."

The girls looked at each other, disbelieving. Of course they knew who Havoc was; he had been king as long as they had existed. He had many mistresses, and treated them well. All the girls had private crushes on him. It would be divine to be his mistress, even for a short time.

"But the wire," one girl asked. "If we are not alive, we can't get pregnant. Why the wire?"

"Because living girls use it," the teacher replied. "Your wire serves the same purpose, preventing conception. Your bodies are capable of incubating living babies. If Havoc wants a baby, you will enable it."

But the other thing still bothered them: they were not real? What nonsense was this? What was this business about robots? They had never heard the term before.

"A robot is a machine," the teacher continued. "A mechanical device powered by internal motors. Observe." She lifted her left arm, touched a place by her elbow, and lifted her forearm and hand away from the upper arm. "You can be similarly dismantled," she said. "But you are securely fastened together, because you are supposed to be close enough to deceive real flesh human beings. We have treated you like fleshly creatures throughout, so that your minds will conform to the human standard. You are able to eat, drink, and eliminate in the living manner. You can feel pain, and have human emotions. But you are emulations, not genuine people."

As time passed, they became satisfied that they were, indeed, machines. They looked like living human beings, and thought like them, but were not. They did not grow the way living creatures did; instead they were turned off and refurbished in larger sizes, having no memory of the process. Only their brains were sacrosanct, being transplanted into the new bodies.

There was reason for this. Living creatures had nuances the machines did not understand. It was not a matter of study but of evolution. Living things generated living young that varied from their parents somewhat, and those with superior qualities survived better than those without. The process could be understood physically, but the mental evolution was just as important, and that had aspects that were beyond the machines' capacity to duplicate. The far future paths indicated that only natural selection could generate the type of creature that could accomplish the mission.

So the robots were evolving, and the final process of selection would be stringent.

Now their education intensified. They learned about the machine culture, which was vast and powerful, crushing all in its path. It was systematically taking over the galaxy, eradicating the living species that squatted on usable resource planets. But some few had some merit, and it was these that were to be addressed by emulation emissaries.

The machines could fathom the far future, but there was a creature among the humans who could fathom the near future, and this was a very special ability. One of the robot girls would go to King Havoc, gain his attention sexually, and persuade him to cooperate with the machines.

The boys returned. The girls had to learn to catch and hold their sexual interest, and to oblige it when the boys were willing to concede the girls' dominance. Shee turned out to be good at this. She had an instinctive awareness of the signals that turned men on. Somehow she could elicit that extra bit of sexual interest that rendered them unable to turn her down. When she had successfully seduced every boy in the class, she became a finalist for the mission.

The others thought she had a better body, but all their bodies were similarly proportioned; only the details of hair and feature differed. Shee knew what it was: she was smarter. She had masked this from the time she discovered it, to seem just like the others, but she knew. They had all started with the same brain capacity, but there were variations in flavor. She attributed it to her curiosity, that had constantly led her to experience new things, and to fathom subtle aspects that did not interest the others. She had studied all the boys, and knew their own variations, and catered to them. This made them find her fascinating, predisposing them to be turned on by her sexual come-ons.

When she was sixteen, it was time for the final selection. Six girls were finalists; only one would achieve the mission. The runner-up would be saved in case of need. The others would be terminated.

They looked at each other. They might be machines, but their minds and bodies felt alive. None of them wanted to die. But three of them would have to.

The final test was simple: follow a marked path to the next village. But a warning: brigands lurked along it.

This was why it had been closed off. In the real Planet Charm girls did not travel alone; they went in groups, or with men who could protect them from the brigands. In return for protection they provided the men with sex. But on this occasion they would have to make it alone.

The path was the one beyond the fence. Now the fence came down. Each girl would take her turn. The one to reach the village most swiftly would win. So it behooved them not to dawdle. They might avoid the brigands by delaying, hiding from them, but would not win the mission.

"Choose your order of travel," the teacher said.

The six got together, but could not agree. Each wanted to go first, hoping to catch the brigands by surprise and get through. After the first, the brigands would know that more were coming, and certainly be ready for them.

Finally they agreed to draw lots. They made six threads, and one girl would hold them in her closed hand, only the ends projecting. That girl would have the one remaining after the others had chosen. No one wanted to hold them.

This was foolish, Shee realized. The order surely made no difference, as the brigands would be set up to give the same test to each girl. And each choice would be random, including the last one. "I'll hold them," she said.

She did. They drew, and she was left with the third longest thread. She would go third, right in the middle.

She did. She felt dread as she entered that forbidden path, without knowing why. She was hyper alert. She knew the brigands would catch her. How could she escape them?

Something opened in her mind, like a wall being breached, and she discovered a desperate strategy. It would require apt timing and nerve, and a vicious ploy, but it just might get her through. She remembered something Stubtoe had said in passing, years before. She hoped it was accurate.

And there they were: two rough men blocking the path ahead. She turned as if to flee the way she had come, but knew before she saw him that the third would be there to prevent her escape. She had walked into their trap.

She screamed.

The men laughed as they advanced on her. She tried to dodge around them, but the path was narrow here and the Chroma zones on either side prevented her. They caught her.

She screamed again as one brigand picked her up and somehow folded her over and pushed her head down against his belly. The second brigand pushed up her skirt and ripped off her panties. She kicked violently, but he just stepped in between her legs and poked his finger into her open cleft. "Nice slit," he said, jamming the finger into her vagina.

"Quit pussyfooting," the brigand who held her said. "Do her, and then hold her for me."

The second man dropped his trousers. Her head was upside down but in excellent position to see his huge standing member. He moved forward.

Now! She reached below and behind her head and found the holder's crotch. She worked the buttons on his fly opening it. He didn't notice. He was distracted by the sight of her open cleft with the other man's approach; men liked to watch as well as to do. It turned them on.

She reached in and found his penis. It was turgid. She pulled it out. Then he became aware. "Hey!"

She slid her other hand to the base of the member and found the scrotum. It remained flaccid.

She gasped it, centering the marbles within between her thumbs and fingers, and squeezed. Hard.

The brigand screamed and dropped her. She landed on her feet between the two men, falling back against the one who had been about to rape her. She dropped her head lower, reached between her own legs, and caught his exposed member. In a moment she had his scrotum too, and pulped it and its contents with her desperately clenching fist.

Then she lurched forward, low, between the spread legs of the first man, who was oblivious as he howled in pain. She jammed through, emerging behind him. She straightened up and ran, leaving the men tangled together. The third brigand yelled, but could not get by the other two in time to catch her; she had too big a lead, and was running for her life. Her seeming life.

She made it to the village. She was the fastest, and won the mission.

"Amazement," Ennui said.

"They put me in my final body, prettier than the ones I had had before," Shee said. "But my brain was untouched."

"Realization: that was why you asked Havoc to let you take the lead. To override the memory of the kind of sex the brigands practiced."

"Affirmation. He is a different kind of man." She glanced at the older woman, picking up the signs. "You have had experience."

"Affirmation. I once killed a man in a roughly similar maneuver, to save Havoc."

"I know you have reservations about me," Shee said. "And they are justified. But can we be friends? I don't mean by oath; just preference."

Ennui put her hand on Shee's hand. "Affirmation."

"I will be satisfied to have you carry my ikon, if it comes to that."

"I will be satisfied to carry it, if it comes to that. But I will try to have it given to Symbol."

They dropped the dialogue and oriented on the rocket as it descended toward the staging port for the undersea city.