Open Writing

Zoë moved through the maze of corridors, elevators, atria and food-rooms in a daze. She didn't notice the deep-pile carpets that muffled her footsteps, their colour changing from grey to red to blue. Although people hurried past her on their way to work in the busy, smoke-filled offices, or hurried to meet lovers and friends for a few hours of fun before sleep, she didn’t see anyone. Formless, silver-framed pictures slid past her in a blur. The scent of fresh coffee percolating, the hot smells of chips frying and steaks grilling made no impression on her senses. She didn't hear the tuneless, background ‘musak’ or the chatter and clatter of life around her.

Unaware of everything but her numb emptiness, Zoë arrived at the door of her apartment. She pressed her palm to the panel beside the door. “One machine recognizing another,” she muttered as the door hushed open and closed behind her. She let out a sigh, which floated to the corners of the living-room, seeming to hang there before wafting away through the air-vents.

She wanted to collapse on her bed and give in to the storm of tears which she’d been holding back since Tom left her Outside, but the phone gave an imperious squeal, then another. Zoë crossed the golden carpet to the gleaming antique table where her phone sat, too modern for its surroundings, issuing its summons. She pushed a button on the phone. "Hallo," she said.

"Zoë, this is Tom... Zoë, I know I hurt you, I’m sorry. I love you even though you’re Android. No, I love you because you're an android. Please believe me...”

She couldn’t speak, could only wait in silence until he said, “Zoë, I have to see you, now. There’s no-one else who can help me. I need to talk to you. Zoë, are you there, can you hear me? You're the only one who will understand, who can help me. Please, Zoë?"

She stood, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her long hair fell like dark curtains on either side of her elfin face. Her heart pounded until she could feel it in her fingers and toes, throbbing in her temples. The iciness in her soul warmed a little, trembled. Tom loved her, needed her? He sounded frightened and confused. Whatever could be wrong?

"Zoë, can you hear me? I have to see you, but I can't leave my apartment. Please, can you come to me?"

At last she took a deep breath, and said softly, "Okay, Tom, I'll be there in a few minutes... Everything will be alright…”

Was she reassuring Tom, or herself? As she left her apartment, colour, light, voices, smells, all pressed in on her, tried to hold her back, as she hurried to Tom.

At the door to his apartment, she pressed a silver button, which lit the hand-activated panel next to the door. An electronic voice invited her, in a monotone, to "Place your palm on the pad." Zoë did as directed. Tom's door hissed open, then slid shut behind her. Tom wasn't in the living room. Breathless from her haste, she called his name, moving a few steps into the room.

His voice replied from the next room, sounding relieved. "Zoë, thank goodness you came, I'm here, in the bedroom, please come in... I’d rather not move..."

Zoë crossed the blue and grey carpet and entered the bedroom, where Tom lounged on the large bed, one leg on the floor, the other stretched in front of him. He was pale and sweating, his eyes wide and unblinking. Zoë noticed that his trouser-leg, the one on the bed, was torn. She moved closer, put her hand on his forehead. "Tom, what happened?"

"Zoë, I'm sorry I ran away from you Outside. It was unforgivable. I do love you, honest..."

Her heart singing, Zoë pushed her joy aside, to be delighted in later. "Never mind that now. What happened to you? You look awful.”

"I was careless, upset about what you'd told me. I was thinking about you, just about to turn back to you, when one of The Keepers, those cold, bloodless machines, saw me. He called all his friends, set the whole pack of them after me."

Zoë’s hand clenched for a moment, then relaxed. She, too, was a "cold, bloodless machine", an android. She had only discovered the truth of her existence a week ago. Earlier that evening, Tom had rejected her when she had told him.

He continued, "It was like being hunted by a pack of metallic hounds. The noise they made was cold, a hurried, clicking-clanking. It didn’t matter how fast I ran, they were there, right behind me. I could hear them all the time. I ran, I twisted and turned through parts of The Building I've never seen before. Eventually, I threw them off. I was in the basement. It's cold down there, no heating, no paint, no carpets, just bare concrete floors, walls and ceilings, with pipes and unprotected wiring snaking everywhere. I tripped over a rough patch in the floor and crashed down, tearing my leg on a jagged piece of wiring as I fell. The pain was ghastly, just like you said you felt when you hit your head. It was as if a wind was tearing through the insides of my leg. I looked down, expecting to see blood all over the place, but… Well, look for yourself..."

Horrified, frightened, Zoë forced her stiff fingers to pull the torn trouser-leg aside. Instead of torn flesh and blood, Zoë saw tiny wires, pulleys, electronic circuits and computer chips inside a gaping, metallic hole. A hole which was slowly repairing itself. Deep in the wound, tiny lights twinkled, and she heard a faint buzzing sound.

As Zoë and Tom watched, fascinated and terrified, a grey film grew over the hole, which in its turn was slowly covered by healthy, pink skin. Strong black hairs grew from the follicles. Within minutes, Tom’s leg was whole, normal, human...

Zoë and Tom looked at each other in awe. Tom's cheeks flushed above his dark beard. His blue eyes, in their deep forests of black lashes, burned into Zoë’s soft, hazel gaze, seemingly into her soul.

Zoë dropped her eyes. This sudden intimacy was painful. Her olive cheeks were brushed with a deep rose, her voice husky as she spoke.

"Tom, I think we should visit The Guardian. We need answers, and we need them fast." She nibbled nervously at a dainty finger-tip.

"Yes, I agree,” said Tom. He took a deep breath, then continued. “The Guardian is the only person who can give them to us." He paused then changed the subject. "Zoë, you have to believe me, I really didn't mean to hurt you when you told me about being Android. When I was running away from those - the Keepers, my mind kept saying to me, ‘so what if Zoë is an android? I love her, I need her in my life.’ Zoë, you're nothing like those robots. You're beautiful, fun to be with, sensitive, caring, kind, you're so much more than a robot, so very human. I was going to go back to you and tell you all that, when The Keepers spotted me and I had to run. I love you, Zoë. Even if you’re an android and I'm not." He stopped, rueful. "And it rather looks as if I’m an android, too… Zoë, what in Heaven's name is going on?"

Zoë put a gentle hand on his. She knew how Tom was feeling, the shock and horror of discovering he was an entity he’d been raised to despise. She’d had a week to come to terms with her ‘new’ identity.

"It’s okay, Tom. I love you too. We can talk about all this later, but now that your leg's healed itself, let's visit The Guardian and find out the truth. Before The Keepers break down the door and drag us off somewhere in chains."

They left Tom's apartment, holding hands…

**

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by Isabel Bradley