Two To The Fifth (2 page)

There was something in her tone, but it seemed a fair question. “Yes, Hannah Barbarian.”

“Just how old are you, cyborg?”

“As much as two years.”

“Two years! You look grown!”

“I am grown. I was delivered as a grown-man kit, in a small cat-shaped box, with some assembly required. I understand that effort drove both my parents to distraction, but in the course of the following year they managed to assemble me, and here I am.”

She gazed at him assessingly. “So are you grown, or a baby? Are you familiar with the Adult Conspiracy?”

“Yes, of course. It is in my data bank. It concerns the things that children must be shielded from, such as bad words and stork summoning. Naturally I honor it to the letter; it's in my programming.”

“Have you ever seen a bare woman?”

“Oh, yes, there are pictures in my data bank.”

“A real one.”

“No. But I'm sure I know the description.”

She shook her head as if bemused. “This way.” She walked to the pond.

He followed, “Actually my data indicates that strangers do not readily show their bodies in public, so perhaps I should wait in the tent until you are through.”

“Stay.”

“But then—” He paused, for she had hauled off her shirt. She was somewhat leaner than the picture in his data bank, but it was clear that she was female. “I see.”

“I'll bet. Strip, Cyrus.”

“As you wish.” Carefully he removed his shoes, shirt, and trousers.

“Well, you look mostly human,” she said.

“I am nevertheless a composite, as I said. My bones may be iron, but my flesh is alive. I am remarkably strong, but my vessels do bleed when punctured, and I feel pain.”

“Look at me.”

He had not looked since she removed her skirt, for some reason. Now he did as directed. Her lower half was also lean but definitely female, according to his stored images. That gave him an odd urge, but he was unable to define it, “I am looking.”

“And not reacting. You definitely have had no experience.” She waded into the pond.

“This is true.” He followed her. Soon they were standing chest deep (or whatever) in the water. Her chest was rather more curvaceous than his. He felt slightly guilty for being intrigued.

She stood beside him, eyeing him sidelong. Her glance angled off his shoulder and chest before striking the water beyond, raising an amused ripple. “You won't short out in the water or anything?”

“No, I'm proof against short-circuiting. I don't have wires as such. Thank you for your concern.”

“That was irony, pun intended, not concern.”

Now he was almost certain she was teasing him, but he didn't know how to react, so he didn't. “Thank you.”

Tess shook her head. “You are a wonder! Come on, I'll wash your back.” Before he could figure out how to respond, she came up behind him and splashed cool water across his neck and shoulders. Then her hands rubbed against his shoulder blades, and traveled down his back, under the water. “How's that feel?”

Actually it felt good. The flesh of his back was tight from traveling, and her touch made it relax. “Satisfactory.”

“That so? How about this?” Her hands moved down and squeezed his bottom.

“That feels good in a different way,” he said, surprised.

“Really?” She seemed to be stifling laughter. “Now it's your turn. Do me.” She turned around.

He turned to face her back. He stroked her shoulders as she had stroked his, then moved down her back, and finally squeezed her bottom. It was considerably plumper than his, despite her general leanness. There was something really evocative about it. “You have a—a nice—posterior,” he said haltingly.

Tess shook her head. “You really, truly, don't know,” she said.

A bulb flashed over his head. “Does this relate to what every man wants?”

“Oh, yes, Cyrus.”

“Please, won't you tell me? This is making me feel strange.”

She sighed, “I thought you were just another man on the make. I see you are truly innocent. You have the information in your memory, but you don't know how to apply it to the real world. You haven't existed long enough. You are adult mainly in body, not experience.”

“That seems to be true.”

“And I've been teasing you, trying to make you reveal your real nature, I shouldn't have.”

“Oh, I am sure you are without fault.”

“Thank you.” She considered half a moment more, then made a decision. “Since I teased you, I will untease you. I will show you what you need to know.”

“I would really appreciate that.”

“What men want is to seduce young women.”

“Seduce?”

“Persuade them to assist in signaling the stork.”

Cyrus was amazed. “But only married people do that.”

Tess stood before him, her hands on his upper arms, “This is one of the differences between what goes into proper data banks and what exists in the real world. People can signal the stork without being married. Elders may frown on it, but it happens.”

“I—didn't know.”

“Precisely. But I will persuade you.” She squeezed his arms, “Put your arms around me and bring me close to you. We will do it now.”

“But we're standing in the water!”

“Another myth. It can be done anywhere, any way up. Embrace me. Do it.”

He put his arms around her and drew her in until she was right up against him. She suddenly seemed twice as shapely as before, especially in front. “This is amazing.”

“Indeed. Now let's say that you have captured me, and want to go farther. A kiss would be persuasive.”

“It would?”

“Kiss me, idiot.”

Oh. He brought his face down to hers, and hesitated, “On the—?”

She jammed her mouth against his, kissing him avidly. He felt as if his head were floating off his neck. This was a level of experience he had never imagined.

She drew back a little, “Now stroke my bottom, as before, but more firmly.”

He obeyed. It was as though he were fondling a fine sculpture, evoking a strong yet loving reaction. “Oh, Tess, that makes me want to—” Again he ran out of concept.

“To summon the stork. Exactly as any man in this situation would. The next step is to—”

“BRA-A-AAY!”

They both jumped half out of the water, falling away from each other Don was there by the shore, having awakened from his snooze.

“You silly ass!” Tess exclaimed angrily.

“He's not silly, he's a smart ass,” Cyrus reminded her. “He told you.”

“I just wanted to remind you it's getting late,” the donkey said. “You need to get out of the water while you can still see your way.”

The woman shook herself, evidently annoyed about something. Then she made some kind of internal decision. “He's right. I think you have the idea now. When you get a woman like that, that's what you do. You understand what to do with her.”

“Yes, I do,” Cyrus agreed. He was almost disappointed that Don had not waited to interrupt them a few minutes later “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She seemed partly frustrated and partly relieved.

They emerged from the pool, dried off, and went to their separate beds. Cyrus's feelings were in turmoil, Tess was right: he did want what she had shown him. Yet he knew it was not customary on so brief an acquaintance. So surely it was best that the donkey had interrupted them.

“If you wish, I will join you on your bed,” Tess said from the nearby darkness. “To keep you warm.”

Cyrus knew that he would never be able to control himself if she did that. He did not want to antagonize hen. It really wasn't cool enough to warrant such help. So he demurred. “Thank you, but I am warm enough.”

“Okay.” She sounded vaguely disappointed. That was surely his imperfect imagination. Why would a woman want to keep a cyborg warm?

“Don't let the tics bite you.”

“The whats?”

“Bugs that hide in your bed and bite when you're asleep. Such as robot tics, that make you get all metal and jerky.”

“Oh, that would not affect me. I am already part metal, but not, I hope, a jerk.”

She laughed for some reason, “Or synthe tics, made of plastic and metal.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Or roman tics, bred in a love spring, that make you amorous.”

Cyrus suspected that one of those had already gotten him, but he didn't want to admit that. “Thank you. I'll be careful.”

That was all. Yet somehow he felt immensely frustrated. What was the matter with him? He had learned a lot, but realized that though he was indeed interested in summoning the stork, he still wasn't satisfied about the course of his life.

Well, tomorrow he would reach the Good Magician's Castle. The Good Magician would surely know. The GM knew everything.

Cyrus did not need a lot of sleep, but it was the human thing to do, so he lay still and turned his animation low.

In the morning they harvested fresh eggs from the eggplants, bread from the breadfruit tree, and grape and strawberry jellyfish from the pond. Tess showed him how to get fresh cups of hot tea from the T-Tree, It was very good.

It was time to resume traveling. “Thank you for your assistance,” Cyrus told Tess. “It has been nice being with you.”

“It could have been nicer.”

“I don't understand.”

She sighed. “Of course you don't. But next time you get bare with a woman, see that the donkey is nowhere near.”

“I will try to do that,” he agreed, perplexed.

“Let's get a move on,” Don said impatiently. “We don't have all day.”

“Which way are you going?” Tess asked.

“West, to the Good Magician's Castle.”

“I'm going east.”

“So we may not meet again.”

“We may not,” she agreed.

The exchange was somehow unsatisfactory, but Cyrus couldn't figure out how to correct it. He mounted Don and rode out of the campsite.

They almost collided with a slight man coming in, “Oops, my fault,” the man said. “I wasn't watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” Cyrus said. Then, for want of anything else to say, he introduced himself “I am Cyrus Cyborg, and this is Don Donkey, a robot ass.”

“I am Trojan. S Trojan, a meek man.”

Cyrus's memory bank whirred. That was the name Tess was looking for. “There is a woman you must meet.”

“Oh, I would be too shy. I am considered effeminate. Women aren't much interested in me.”

“This may be the exception. Come, I'll introduce you to her.” He jumped off the donkey and led the way back.

Tess was packing her things into her backpack, about to depart. “What the bleep is this?” she demanded irritably. Perhaps she had eaten another dislike-en.

“This is Trojan,” Cyrus said. “S Trojan.”

She looked stricken. It was almost as if she would have preferred to use less coarse language in this instance.

“I really didn't mean to bother you,” Trojan said apologetically, “I am on an unlikely quest to find my ideal Significant Other, assuming such a person exists.”

Tess recovered. “Come here, Trojan.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She strode forward, sweeping him up in a hearty embrace. “You are the one I have been looking for!”

“I don't understand. I'm just a nonentity.”

“Shut up or I'll kiss you.”

“You will what?”

She kissed him. “Never call my bluff.”

“I confess that is heady stuff. But what would a fine woman like you want with a nothing like me?”

“I think he's grimy from travel,” Cyrus said. “He'll need to wash up in the pond.”

She shot him a look of naughty gratitude. “Yes. I'll join him there.” She carried Trojan away.

Cyrus returned to the donkey, feeling elated. He had managed to do a good deed.

“I don't understand,” Don said.

“Naturally not,” Cyrus agreed smugly.

They had not gone far before they heard someone crying. It was a girl, staring wildly around. “Don't stop,” Don muttered, “We can't let silly females slow us down. That pushy Tess was bad enough.”

But Cyrus had another idea. “I'm trying to learn about women. I learned a lot last night, but I'm sure there's still more. Also, I have an empathy circuit that makes me want to help folk in need.”

“Suit yourself, sucker. Fortunately I lack that silly-ass circuit. Chances are you won't be able to help her anyway.”

They approached the girl. “May I help you?” Cyrus asked gallantly as he dismounted, still flush from his success with Tess.

“I don't think so,” the girl said. “I'm Xina, I can change my hair at will.” As she spoke her hair changed from short brown to flowing blond. “I'm supposed to join a play ensemble as an actress, but I can't find it.”

“A play group?”

“Fiends.”

Cyrus's data bank whirled. “Those are mainly organized by the Curse.”

“No, this is supposed to be right around here,” she insisted. “Only it isn't. I don't know what to do.”

Cyrus had no idea what to do. “Neither do I. Maybe you should ask the Good Magician.”

“I just came from him,” she flared, her hair turning fiery red. “I asked him what was my destiny, and he said to act in this ensemble that is forming here. Only there's nothing. I owe a year's service for this?” She broke down in tears again.

“I told you,” Don said.

“Oh, a talking mule!” Xina exclaimed.

“Ass.”

“What?” She looked as if she had heard a bad word.

“Donkey,” Cyrus said. “He is a robot.”

“I love horses,” Xina said, her grief evaporating. “He looks a lot like a small horse. May I pet him?”

Don eyed her assessingly. “Do you like asses?”

“Four-footed ones, yes. You're quite handsome, like your companion.”

“Then you may pet me.”

Xina did so. “You have such a nice metal mane.”

“Yours is pretty nice too.” Don was mellowing considerably, coincidentally.

“Could I ride you?”

“Hop on.”

Cyrus was unable to help with her problem. There had to be some mistake. Then he thought of something. “Don can stay with you until I return, as the castle is surely close by. I'll try to ascertain where the ensemble is really supposed to be. It is surely a clerical error.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, brightening.

Cyrus was doubtful, but couldn't say that. “All I can do is ask.”