Aftermath - Ann Aguirre [54]
“Oh, Vel,” she murmured. “What have they done to you? Were you raised in a labor crèche in the far colonies? I’ve heard they don’t let those children play at all.”
I do not remember what I said—some noncommittal response—for I had only a rudimentary idea what she meant. Human young were noisy and undisciplined, messy and full of mischief. If there was a place raising them to be more sober and industrious, I could only consider that a good thing.
But in that moment, the damage was done. She decided to save me from myself. Despite my lack of hospitality, she stayed until I finished all my work for the day. She stayed until I locked up the store, and I did not know what to do with her. My room upstairs was small and sparse, and I had nothing to offer.
We stood gazing at each other across a counter strewn with electronic components and bits of wire. I raked them into a box, and said uneasily, “I do not know what you want.”
She laughed then. “I know you don’t. Come on.”
I looked at her outstretched hand for a moment. Then I did something for which I have no explanation. I took it.
Adele led me out of the shop, waited while I set the security code, then dragged me toward the marketplace. Despite the late hour, the sky held the same fire. Nothing changed, nothing except the faces. At that hour, a man juggled flaming rods in the center of the plaza. Musicians had come out to beg their livelihood with melodies haunting-sweet. I saw a man bend and dip his credit spike into the small wireless terminal set out for that purpose.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To eat. And talk. You’re alone too much,” she told me. “Smitty was right.”
After that night, she came for me often. I do not know why I acceded, but again and again, I let her lead me out, where she showed me what it is to be human. We ate in open-air stalls, food I never would have touched on my own. I grew adept at scanning the ingredients to make sure they would not send me into convulsions.
Once, she caught me at it, and I had to lie: “I have many allergies. I must be cautious.”
Sadly, she had such an honest soul that she accepted it without question.
This became our pattern once a week, then twice. I found myself seeing her nearly every night. I had no idea what she wanted with me. It was strange, but not unwelcome, to have a companion who knew the city. Unlike most, she had been born within the dome, and she knew the hidden ways, where old men sold songbirds from gilded cages, and old women sat in doorways smoking pipes that sent blue smoke curling up toward the sky.
It was not until Smitty made an offhand remark that I realized the significance.
“Good to see you found someone,” the old man wheezed. “You don’t want to end up like me, no sir. And you can’t do better than Adele. That girl has a heart of gold.”
“Do better for what?” It was another of my blunders. I could tell by the way Smitty’s white, bristling brows shot up.
“You mean . . .” He peered at me over the kitchen-mate I was repairing. The circuits were scrambled, so the orders placed came out wrong; it was my job to fix it, so we could sell it at a higher price than we paid for it. “I guess you believe in moving slow, don’t you, boy?”
It took me a moment to work out his implication. Humans often shared sexual contact for recreational purposes, but I knew nothing of that drive.
I tried to think of a response. “I have no reason to believe she would welcome such an overture,” I said at last.
Smitty laughed and shook his head. “Adele’s a good girl, not a saint. Grab her and kiss her, son. You’ll find out soon enough there’s a reason she spends all her free time with you.”
Pretending to heed his counsel, I went back to work. What he suggested, I would never do. Touch meant nothing to me, offered through two centimeters of camouflage. But I had come to enjoy her company, and I hoped she did not find mine burdensome.
Despite the old man’s interference, things continued as they were for