Portal to the Soul
by James Machell
The eyes of the android were like pebbles.
Doreen 576 awoke in her coffin, and a metal stranger was dreaming beside her. The lid slid to one side when it sensed consciousness. Androids were laid to rest in the white kitchen, so she made him coffee and tapped his hard shoulder.
There was no reaction so Doreen spoke, her voice electric and beautiful. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ he answered, stirring. ‘But the Master will want me soon.’
‘Can’t you stay for breakfast?’
‘I eat with him and his family. The Master won’t be happy if my appetite is gone.’ She woke in this area every day for quick access to the stove and, unashamed by his nudity, he drained the steaming mug, before slipping into white overalls. They were both new models and designed to be more attractive than humans could hope to be.
‘What is your name?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘So I know you if I see you again.’ Owing to large-scale manufacturing, products of each brand shared their looks and personality and were hard to distinguish.
‘It’s Adam 92.’ He went through the automatic door and escaped her stony gaze.
His Master was waiting by the front door for him to enter. ‘Where have you been?’
‘With an FR called Doreen.’
‘You’re late!’ Adam displayed the clock in his arm and watched the Master slink away, having made a mistake. A steel brain made it easy to interpret behaviour, because there was no clouding. The Master was jealous of artificial promiscuity and wished that he’d been made in a factory.
The Mistress ate her eggs in a bad mood as usual. Every Friday she cried because she thought she was fat and had yet to realise that her moods had a schedule.
‘These are awful,’ she told Robert 627, who always made them perfectly. The Mistress had killed the last chef with a broom, and Robert was afraid.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said and took the plate away. Adam ate his in silence and ignored her eldest son, who kicked him under the table. His knee would have jerked if it had been human.
‘You look beautiful, ma’am,’ Robert replied.
‘Be quiet.’ All the appliances were nice to her because she liked to hurt things and pretend that they were real.
The Master entered and put his hand on the back of her neck as if training a dog. ‘We have a party tonight, so be sure to dress up.’
‘I’m too fat to go outside.’
‘You’re beautiful.’ The Mistress was one of those rare people who looked fantastic with make-up but terrible without. Most of the fuss she made was either to receive compliments or make people suffer.
‘My friends are expecting you.’
‘Tell them to shove it.’ She stormed into the luxury bedroom, and the Master followed. After ten minutes of arguing, she would explain how her mind had transformed him into a monster and she was lashing out at that. They would then make love and resume their lives as normal.
Adam gave Robert a knowing wink, and they rejoiced about how they were better than people in at least one respect.
The laws of robotics made them subservient to biological flesh, and it was a common fear that androids could learn to disobey. Psychiatric wards were full of people who believed their tools only pretended to be subservient.
Adam thought about this when picking apples and was surprised to see Doreen at the other end of the orchard. The leaves were greenest in summer, and her air flowed like water in the wind.
‘What do you want?’ asked Adam.
‘I came to make an agreement.’ She explained that it made sense to have sex again, because it saved them a trip to the club, where androids went without owners to recharge their batteries. Adam explained that the house would be free tonight and she should knock after the car had left. Doreen smiled and exposed a set of immaculate teeth.
He watched her disappear into the distance and focussed on her long silhouette against the blueberry sky.
‘Are you real?’ asked the son as his parents readied for a party. Adam taught philosophy by encouraging him to ask questions, but they quickly turned into insults.
‘In the biological sense, yes. But I’m not considered real by the IOR for want of a soul. Even though I can think.’
‘Is an apple real?’
‘Probably less than me, but arguably the same.’ The son was one of those children who thought they were handsome and clever because he had always been told so by his mother and nannies. He looked at androids — and the other children at school — as inferior beings.
The Mistress came down, hot from a bath with a towel around her. ‘Your stupid father is on the phone.’
It was strange to Adam that the owners went to bed in each other’s arms. He recalled the Master boasting about being wakened with a kiss, even though androids slept side by side and were never jealous or admiring. ‘Ask him to come down!’
Adam obeyed, and ultra-sensitive hearing took him to the second bedroom, at the back of the house. He listened by the door before knocking and heard that the Master had a girlfriend, whom he loved, and he would see her later that week:
‘Goodnight my precious girl. You mustn’t think about my wife. Suffering around her only makes me appreciate you more,’ he whispered. ‘And it kills me spending a moment apart when I know that we’ll die someday and spend an eternity with our horrid spouses.’
The wood had barely been tapped when the Master was in Adam’s face, demanding that he stop skulking around. ‘Your wife wants you to come downstairs.’
‘My wife wants you dismantled! And if it was up to her, you would never be allowed to leave the house.’ The IOR tried to incorporate human aspects into their products, including the need for recess and intimacy, so a refusal to do this would be considered cruelty to robots. There was no law against killing them, though.
By the time his wife was dressed, they were both in better moods and held hands on the way out. The son watched from the window as the car slipped from view.
‘Are Mummy and Daddy friends?’
‘They’re married,’ replied Adam. The son was lulled to sleep by stories about adventures in space which always culminated in the hero kissing an alien princess whom he never saw again.
Doreen arrived a short while later and rang the doorbell.
Owing to the considerable beauty of androids, many buyers kept them in their original costume and she was dressed in white, as Adam was. The radio had been left on, and a slow recording was playing. It was carried to the coffin-room because music was known to improve conversation.
‘Do you like art?’ asked Adam.
‘No.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s too much in a book or a painting. I like the taste of food and the smell of flowers.’ They joined lips and their minds shut down for fifteen minutes. This was a profound rest and more fulfilling than an eternity of spa treatment.
They lay like toys in a box until his owners returned. The car came noisily into the driveway and there was drunken laughter outside.
‘You’re like something from a movie,’ the Mistress said as she stumbled through the front door.
‘And you’re so, so nice.’ The Master caressed her waist and went to the bedroom, which became an area for cuddles and silly nothings. ‘I hope I’ve made your life better,’ he continued. ‘I couldn’t love you as much if that wasn’t the case.’
A rocking sound permeated the old house and was replaced by gentle snoring.
‘People,’ explained Doreen, ‘crave adoration. Only they’re also ambitious and territorial; they never get what they want, and this makes them angry. I’m glad to be a machine, even though I won’t go to Heaven.’
Adam looked into her green orbs and saw a flicker behind the mechanism.
Copyright © 2023 by James Machell
