Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #223 (16 page)

Button-4-Circle-Peach was tending to the roses when word came: Thomas had fallen silent. “I will assist,” he said. With efficiency and care he cleaned the dirt from his trowel, put it away, then rose to his feet and went to go find his charge.

Thomas was resting on the stone bench by the pond, as was his habit at this time of morning. Ducks milled about the white-haired man clamoring in disappointment, for he had stopped throwing crumbs of bread for them. The remainder of the loaf lay by his side, one hand perched lightly upon it. He had a far-away look set upon his face and did nothing. Button-4-Circle-Peach knelt beside the bench in the grass and clover. “Thomas,” he said, as gently as he could, reaching out to touch the man's shoulder in sympathy. “We have been friends for a very many years. Will you talk to me, and recite to me some of your poetry? I have been working on a modest poem of my own and had greatly anticipated getting your impressions of it."

But Thomas would not answer. It was just as he had been told: silence had overtaken the man.

He picked up what was left of the bread and put it away in his compartment beside the trowel. The sun was bright above, nearly overhead now with no clouds to obscure it, but he checked his instruments as a precaution and was glad of it. “It's going to rain tomorrow so we should try to find time today to finish off this old loaf. The ducks will surely be grateful, and it would be for the best if you try to maintain your routines until this spell you have fallen under passes."

The silence stretched for several long minutes. Thomas was not going to be so easily roused from his lassitude; none of the others had been either. “You must be getting hungry,” Button-4-Circle-Peach said at last. “Eating will help you get your strength back. This afternoon I could show you the new roses I have been cultivating, if you'd like. But first, I do think lunch is in order."

He stood carefully, brushing bits of grass from his legs with the tips of his fingers, careful not to scratch or dull his surface. “Let me help you up,” he said, and bent down and picked up his charge, cradling him against his chest. The faint breeze that had kept him company while he had been tending the roses was picking up, and in consideration of his charge's comfort he raised his own body temperature to provide additional warmth.

The red wood-plank bridge that arched over the narrow end of the pond cast a glorious reflection across the water, broken only by the small ripples of waterbugs and the multitudes of amphibian eyes that regarded them with a wary and unblinking disinterest. On the far shore Button-4-Circle-Peach spied Thomas's friend Lorelei, assisted by Yellow-Square-Q-Forest, enjoying a favorite book beneath the shade of a tall maple. He waved to the pair, and Yellow-Square-Q-Forest waved back.

"Lorelei looks very nice today. That dress suits her, don't you think?” he commented to Thomas after they had passed.

Still, the man would not be drawn out.
I hope I haven't somehow offended him
, Button-4-Circle-Peach thought.
Could it be that I talk too much?
He recalled a conversation with Ecru-8-Bee-Scooter, who had tried matching Paolo's silence with silence in return in hopes of drawing him out through boredom. It had not worked, or at least not yet, and Ecru-8-Bee-Scooter was in no small amount of despair over it. So far, none of the caretakers had found an answer to the malady that was overtaking the residents one by one; Paolo had been the first, Thomas now the latest and the last.

Still, Button-4-Circle-Peach was determined not to let himself become so easily discouraged. Perhaps the secret was to talk so much that Thomas would speak just to get a word in. In either case, it was Button-4-Circle-Peach's opinion that the sociality of conversation, so enjoyed by the residents amongst themselves normally, could only be good for them. “It occurs to me, since it will rain tomorrow, that today may be a good day to share a picnic with Deirdre. She and you have been intimates for a long time and I imagine her company will cheer you. And yours her as well! Since we are already on our way to eat, why don't I invite her to join us?"

He was about to take another step when he spied something of concern. “My apologies,” he said. “I need to address this immediately, if you do not mind.” He set Thomas down very gently on a cushion of grass and club moss, and set his cane within reach on the ground beside him. Then he knelt down on the dirt of the path and lowered his head to the ground. Zooming in with his eyes for a closer look he studied the tiny tendril of vine creeping across the way that had caught his eye. A delicate thing, it would surely be crushed by feet less careful than his own. Gingerly he extended the smallest of his grasping fingers and worked it up from the soil, taking care not to snap any of the hair-fine roots, and then he laid it back down parallel to the edge of the path where it could flourish in safety.

"Grow along the path, not across it,” he instructed the vine. Done, he brushed his hands together to shake loose any remaining dirt, and then turned back to Thomas pleased with himself for having caught the problem before harm was done. “That's better,” he said. “With luck, it'll take my advice and stay to the side. Vines always do try to grow every which way when you aren't paying attention to them, though. It's their nature."

Lost in his thoughts, Thomas showed neither appreciation or disapproval. Button-4-Circle-Peach picked up the man again and cradled him in one arm. “I spoke with 2-16-Apple-Flower while I was assisting the vine and she expects that Deirdre would indeed enjoy a picnic with us. As she's already at the food replication facility, they will bring the repast and meet us at the gazebo in the small courtyard. The magnolias have finished blooming, but the irises are out at full strength and there are koi in the reflecting pool nearby.” Since his charge did not express a wish to do otherwise, he set off with him in that direction.

The flagstones of the small courtyard were laid in concentric circles around the gazebo in the center, luxurious mounds of Irish Moss creeping over their edges as if they were sinking in slow motion into an ocean of green. He walked the perimeter at a leisurely pace, pointing out the irises, daffodils, and the last few tulips, before helping Thomas to a seat at the table in the shelter of the ancient gazebo's roof. A silver bowl held fresh pears; he offered Thomas one, but the man had never been especially fond of pears so it was no great surprise when the gesture raised no sign of interest.

With a sigh, he bent his oversized frame into a seat beside the man and stretched out his legs beneath the table, colliding unexpectedly with something.

"Ow!” someone yelled, and his first thought was that the exclamation had come from Thomas. He stared at the man in equal parts alarm and excitement that he'd elicited even that brief response, but no, Thomas still sat impassive, disengaged from the world in the same manner as before. Button-4-Circle-Peach bent down—no easy feat, for the gazebo had not originally been designed with the size of the caretakers in mind—and peered beneath the table. Dark eyes, set in a filthy face smeared with pear juice, stared back at him from the shadows. It was a face with the still-unsettled features of someone intent on adulthood but not yet quite arrived, starkly incongruous in a place where everyone could, without fear of error, be considered elderly.

It was the face of a stranger.

"You aren't a resident,” he said.

"You kicked me,” the girl answered. “With your great big ugly robot feet."

"My apologies. I wasn't aware that you were there,” Button-4-Circle-Peach replied.

"That's because I was hiding!"

"Why? And from whom?"

"From you. Because I'm eating your pears."

Button-4-Circle-Peach blinked at her a couple of times. “You aren't a resident,” he said again. “Why are you here?"

"I was hungry, stupid."

The girl did look thin, at least in her face and around the eyes if not elsewhere. It occurred to him that, three decades since they had arrived here and the estate had been closed to the outside world, the novelty of a new face might be startling enough to rouse Thomas. “Why don't you remove yourself from under the table and sit with us?” he said. “My friend would surely enjoy some new company, and his friend Deirdre and her assistant should be arriving momentarily with lunch. I am certain we will have enough to share with you as well."

She peered at him, then nervously at Thomas's legs. “You won't hurt me, or throw me out?” she said.

"I'm a caretaker. It is against my nature to hurt things,” he said. “The residents will have to discuss your presence here and decide if you can be allowed to stay, but none here will harm you. In the meantime, my friends are almost here—won't you join us?"

"If you promise it's not a trick on me."

"I promise."

"Okay.” She slid herself back out from under the table as he straightened and sat up. Her fingers appeared on the far table edge, then the top of her head with a bewilderingly tangled knot of dirty-blonde hair upon it, then a frightened pair of blue eyes. Stopping there, the girl stared at him and Thomas. “He don't look so good,” she said.

"Sadly, he has recently been suffering from a disorder of silence,” Button-4-Circle-Peach said.

Her eyes grew wide. “He's not breathing!"

Button-4-Circle-Peach glanced at Thomas, and could not help but smile fondly at his friend. “I am sure he will resume breathing when he is feeling ready."

"No, you stupid robot. He's dead!” The girl stood up and backed away from the table until she bumped up against the railing of the gazebo. She was looking from him to Thomas and back again in some alarm.

"Does that matter? I'm not alive, yet I function."

"But you're a robot,” she said. “That's different."

"From what?” he asked.

"From live things. Oh!” She stamped her foot in frustration. “I'm all starved, and here I am arguing with you with a dead man sitting right there at the table! No wonder everyone is afraid of this place!"

The girl was making no sense at all and was clearly distraught; Button-4-Circle-Peach considered trying to take her hand and comfort her, but decided against it. “2-16-Apple-Flower will be arriving in a moment with Deirdre and our picnic lunch,” he said instead. “I do not understand your agitation; I have always found Thomas to be pleasant company and I am certain he will not object to sharing lunch with you."

"He's dead! How can he say anything about it? Oh, this is a bad crazy devil place after all!” And she burst into tears.

"Please,” he said, “no one here is hurting you. It is just a matter of the silence—it affects the residents sometimes, but we are caring well for them and they will surely self-repair very soon. Look, here comes 2-16-Apple-Flower and Deirdre with our lunch even now!"

"God overlook me,” the girl swore, and her face went a very colorless shade and she put a hand to her mouth. Then she turned and vomited over the gazebo rail into the pansies, climbed hastily and gracelessly over, and ran away.

Later, after Button-4-Circle-Peach had tucked Thomas into his bed, read to him from his favorite book of verse, and slipped in a small piece of his own to no reaction (at this, he felt disappointed and then embarrassed for the selfish act at a time when his concern should be solely on the well-being of his charge) he turned on his night eyes and went to go find the girl.

The mystery of how she had gotten into the garden in the first place was easily and more quickly solved; a tree had grown up against the stone wall that enclosed the garden and estate, and no one had taken the time to keep its branches pruned away. By no one, Button-4-Circle-Peach knew he really meant
someone
, but Ecru-8-Bee-Scooter had been occupied with Paolo's care for nearly a year now. The girl must have climbed over the wall unarmed; had she been bearing weapons, even rudimentary ones, the wall defenses would have kept her away. He considered switching to his pruning hands and solving the problem of the tree right then and there, but decided against it; there was no reason it could not wait until morning and he had other, more pressing matters to attend to. He made a note of the problem and continued his survey.

While the tree afforded a way in for someone determined to come over the wall, it did not provide a way back out. Once he had walked the perimeter of the entire wall and found no other incursions upon it, he was certain the girl must still remain confined within. Circling back to the gazebo, he discovered that the silver bowl was now empty of pears. “Nameless girl!” he called, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping residents. “Nameless girl, won't you please come out?"

There was no answer. He climbed up the stone steps to the observation tower, looked out over the sea that bordered one edge of the estate. The drop, onto rocks and pounding surf, would have been catastrophically damaging had someone fallen that way, so he was relieved to see no signs of the girl below. Then he turned and looked out over the estate house and the gardens, the duck pond and the reflecting pool, the gazebo and fountain, and his precious rose-beds, and switched his sight to infrared. He should have thought of it sooner, but lately the residents had become hard to find that way. A bright glow among the rhododendrons on the far side of the duck pond provided the answer he was seeking.

Button-4-Circle-Peach left the tower and walked toward the pond, over the bridge, and stopped a few feet away from the rhododendron bed. “Nameless girl,” he called out again. “Please come out."

A moment's silence, then from within the darkness of the foliage: “I got a name. Just because I didn't tell it to you don't mean I don't got one."

"My apologies,” he said.

He sat down in the grass and took several covered bowls out of his compartments. “I saved you some rice, chicken, and fresh snow peas from tonight's dinner,” he said. “You did mention you were hungry, and the food would have just gone to waste otherwise.” He set the bowls down on the grass in front of the bushes, and then waited.

She crawled out from beneath the rhododendrons and sat back on her heels, giving him a suspicious glare before she picked up the first of the bowls and pried the lid off. “Utensils,” he said, and held out a fork and spoon. She took them and stuffed several large mouthfuls into her face before she raised her eyes to look at him.