Complete Short Fiction, page 419
Dan Thaler interjected stridently, “I think that was a very important slip. Now, I’m beginning to see this whole picture. There’s another woman.”
Peter I sighed. “All right, so it came out. But that didn’t happen until much later. I swear it.”
It was the moment Dan Thaler had been waiting for; what he believed might be the psychologically locked mental door in Peter could probably be opened by the exact right emotion.
He stood up and said in a venomous tone, “I don’t want to listen to any more of this rat talk.”
Peter said, “For heaven’s sake, Dan, be reasonable. You’re a scientist. Surely I’ve presented a logical case.”
Dan hissed, “Where did you get these special androids? I’ve seen people with one—but you’ve got two!”
He saw that Peter’s face had on it a sheepish smile.
“Each one of these,” said Peter, “cost me eighteen thousand dollars. Boy, I had to be sincere. I tell you, Dan, it was a real problem.”
“But who sells them?”
“Oh, some outfit. An android salesman comes to your office. You think it’s a human being until he reveals the truth. I could hardly believe it at first.”
“But how do they know you’re in the market? Nobody’s ever come to sell me one.”
“Oh!” Peter was silent, frowning. “Well, I really can’t answer that. There he was one morning, and did I ever welcome him. I think he did say something about it being illegal. I suppose you being a government physicist puts you off bounds for him.”
“But what about the second one?” Dan asked. “Did the salesman just drop by?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Checking, he said.”
“And he arrived when you were contemplating buying another one?”
“That’s right.”
“Had you let some hint drop?”
“Don’t be a nut. To whom?”
Abruptly Dan realized that that was Peter’s full information.
“Never mind all this!” he snapped. “Don’t think you can get around my feelings by changing the subject.”
“But it was you who changed it!” Peter protested.
Dan snarled, “I’m going to talk to my sister. That rotten hide of yours is safe until then.”
With that, he stalked out of the room, feeling pleased with his handling of the key questions.
Officer Sutter subsequently added to his account: “I remained behind and discussed with Peter the possible danger to him of these threats. He would not take them seriously, and he also refused to comment on the other woman in his life, saying only that he didn’t love her and that therefore she didn’t count.”
During the two days that Dan waited for word from or about his sister, he dismantled and studied the “dead” android, then put it back together again and replaced it in the box in Peter’s house.
Before leaving, he concealed a camera overlooking the box and set to operate automatically if someone came into its range.
On the morning of the third day, he was told that his sister had been discharged. Outraged, Dan demanded to be put in touch with Anita’s psychiatrist.
“Just a moment,” said the woman’s voice. A pause. Finally, “I’m sorry. Dr Schneiter does not feel that a communication with you would serve any useful purpose.”
“Schneiter-Schweiter!” snarled Dan. “You tell Dr Schneiter that I’m coming up there for a quart of his blood for letting that girl out on the street without consulting me.”
He smashed the receiver down on the phone.
Immediately after this bit of acting, he called Officer Sutter, and was put through to that individual, who, on the phone screen, was revealed as being in his police cruiser somewhere over the city.
Dan said, “Am I right in thinking that everybody has to show a change of address immediately, and that when an apartment or room is leased anywhere in the zone the name of the new occupant is recorded in a police computer? And if so, can you get it for me?”
It was a purely rhetorical question. Dan was perfectly aware that such a record system existed, and—given time—he could undoubtedly get the information through his own agency. But he preferred to appear unofficial. Anita was the hottest lead he’d had so far on this assignment.
As he had expected, Sutter admitted that the system existed, and that under the circumstances he could probably secure the information, given a little time.
During the twenty-four hours that passed before Inspector Ingrath bent his long-necked head over a desk and signed the address release authorization for Sutter, Dan Thaler sought his sister in department stores and other haunts of hers—in vain. And when he finally had the address, she was not there. The room receptionist at the building said, “She’s seldom in—there’s a bar down the street that I think she goes to.” She had a round face, on which was shown her disapproval.
Anita was nervously sipping at a tall green drink when Dan sank onto the stool beside her. At first she did not see him, and when she finally became aware that someone had taken the adjoining seat, she said without glancing around, “Did you do that on purpose—sit next to me?”
Her voice was tense; she had a flushed look; she was visibly under a strain and probably had drunk too much. And she did not seem to realize who it was she was talking to.
Dan Thaler nodded; he could not trust himself to speak. All in a flash, his acceptance of what Peter had said—for he had believed Peter—yielded to his first real emotional pity for his sister.
Still without looking at him, Anita said, “Did you come over to pick me up? You want a woman? All right—any time you’re ready.”
Dan gasped, “Anita!”
At that she turned and looked at him. Her eyes widened. Then she flung her arms around him.
“Oh, my God, Dan!” she sobbed. “I needed you so. Where have you been?”
After a little, Dan gently disengaged himself. Her words had unfortunately reminded him of one of Peter’s complaints: that in the course of a sentence or two Anita always turned blame away from herself.
He sat there, remembering her refusal to see him at the hospital, her departure from the hospital without notifying him, her disappearance, his subsequent attempts to find her—and now these words making him totally responsible for his failure to comfort her, when, as a matter of fact, she had behaved like a maniac throughout.
There was a time—before Peter’s story—when he might not have considered the significance of what she had done so swiftly; would simply have tucked it away with the scores of other times when she had somehow irritated or enraged him.
Now he felt a heated sensation rising up from some choleric depth. But, remembering, he restrained himself—remembering that Anita, his only sister, had proved herself an easy pickup. For any man. Absolutely any.
He recalled how she hadn’t even glanced at him, had herself made all the moves; had shown no interest in who the man was or what he looked like.
The bloodcurdling recollection of her manner and approach had an abrupt, subduing effect on him.
“Anita, you need help.”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Don’t be a stupe!” he said with a brother’s privileged rudeness. “You ought to see a psychiatrist.”
“I’ve already seen one,” said Anita. “Dr Schneiter. He’s a cute little man. He thinks Peter is a rat, too.”
The picture, her words evoked of the doctor confirmed Dan’s previous low opinion. By agreeing with her, the psychiatrist had barred her from the need to question her own madness.
So it was up to him. So he would have to drum some sense into her. So be it.
Sitting there, he told her Peter’s complaints. He was aware of her blue eyes staring at him. When he had finished, tears suddenly misted the blue: her eyes took on a dark, mottled look.
She said with a sob, “So you’re on his side? You’ve turned against me, too.”
Dan was impatiently convinced that she had not heard most of what he had said.
“Look,” he argued, “let’s just take one item of Peter’s complaint: is it true that you phoned him twelve or more times a day at his office?”
“I never phoned him at all.” Her tone was angry. The tears had dried, and her eyes flashed with blue sparks. “I hate him. why would I phone a man I hate?”
“You didn’t hate him then,” Dan pointed out.
“I’ve always hated him. I never liked him.”
Dan looked into her eyes. They were sky blue again, but staring. He thought: There’s nobody home.
He remembered an android at college physics class that had been deliberately damaged. It’s basic stability gone, it began to answer questions with partially associated answers only. Anita’s response resembled that.
Dan had half-turned away as he had these disturbing thoughts. Before he could face her again, or deduce her intention, she was gone. He saw her hurrying among the tables. Then she was at the table of a man who had come in moments before; Dan recalled observing his entrance with an idle glance.
As he watched in dismay, Anita tried to pick up the man. But the man shook his head. She argued with him and tried to sit in his lap. As he continued to resist, abruptly she left him, made a wide turn around the far end of the room, and a moment later settled back beside Dan.
And, as if the interlude had not occurred, said, “There’s another woman, isn’t there?”
Since Dan felt no obligation to Peter, he answered without thinking, “Yes.”
“I thought so,” she said. A vindictive look came into her face. “So that’s it.”
“Just a minute,” said Dan in a groping tone.
He made a vague gesture with his hand. And then he sat there, stunned. He thought: The truth is, I believe Peter, that the woman came later. What struck him was that now the whole thing would be twisted even more in Anita’s mind.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he said hoarsely. “That isn’t it. That isn’t it at all.”
He saw that she was not listening. The vindictive look was still on her face.
He said, “What about these men you’ve been picking up?”
“Oh, that!” she said. A shrug of her slender shoulder dismissed his question. She added, “What a woman does, doesn’t count. Women are just objects.”
The vindictive look had complete possession of her face as she uttered these words.
Dan gulped, and decided that this was the moment for the real questions he wanted to ask.
“Maybe we can find out who this woman is,” he said. “Listen, when you were with that android who played Peter—”
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
“—Did you ever go with him anyplace that struck you as unusual?”
The question seemed to penetrate. “Just once,” said Anita. “It was the street with those queer places.”
“What queer places?” said Dan, who suspected that that was key information and that his idiot sister was going to spoil things by not remembering.
“You know!” said Anita, waving vaguely. “I was there once before to a meeting.”
“With whom? What kind of a meeting?”
“Ohhh!” she said, and yawned.
Whereupon she put her arms on the bar, lowered her head onto them, and went to sleep.
The barkeeper came over. “You’ll have to get her out of here,” he said. “We can’t have anybody as drunk as her in here.”
Dan said, “Give me a hand.”
The man promptly helped him carry her into a seat in the cabin of his combo-cruiser. Dan landed on the roof of her apartment building and took her down to her room on a dolly that he had.
Then, thoughtful, he departed.
At three o’clock in the morning, Dan’s phone rang.
He grabbed it, and after a little made out from what the man was saying that Anita was being held at the police station.
“For what?” he yelled into the mouthpiece.
“For trying to destroy an android with a hammer.”
“I’ll be over in a few minutes!” Dan yelled.
And he was.
Anita and the handsome duplicate android of Peter were brought into the anteroom where Dan waited. It took a little while to get the story.
It seemed the android had turned Anita in for trying to damage someone else’s property: himself.
The android, who identified himself as Peter II, said with dignity, “I was lying in my box and I felt this blow on my shoulder padding, I opened my eyes, and there was Anita with a hammer raised for a second blow. Naturally, I removed the destructive instrument from her hand and called the police at once.”
Quietly Dan bailed her out and took her off to his combo. As he headed, groundside, for the apartment building where she had her room, he was aware of Anita sprawled beside him, head back, eyes closed. Her body seemed limp and helpless; her hair and clothes were disheveled. It seemed useless to upbraid her in her present state.
“What happened?” he asked finally, glumly. What was all that about?”
After what must have been a minute, a tired voice answered him. “I followed him,” she said.
“Who?”
“Peter, of course.”
It still made no sense.
“Do you know who he’s living with?” Anita asked.
Dan’s mind grappled now with a developing feeling that the conversation was getting away from him. “Why would you follow an android?” he asked peevishly. “A robot under present law cannot be guilty of a crime, and it doesn’t matter who it lives with.”
Silence greeted his words. Dan took his eyes off the street to glance at her. He nearly went off the road at what he saw.
Her eyes were open. They were glaring at him with a blue rage. “Still my stupid little brother,” she hissed. “I’m talking about Peter. Who else?”
Her hand came up and slapped him in the face. It was like childhood days. Dan swung about and grabbed at her neck with both hands, and was choking her—when a grinding sound snapped him out of his passion.
He caught at the wheel. But it was unnecessary. The combo’s automatic control mechanism had brought the machine to a halt.
The bright deserted street was almost like day around them, as brother and sister sat there glaring at each other.
“All right, who is he living with?” Dan shouted.
“Me. An android that looks like me.”
The anger went out of Dan. He recalled what Sutter had told him, that Peter had said that he didn’t love the woman he was living with. And, of course, that was now obviously true.
Dan was patient. Now, look, Anita. You can’t be jealous of an android.”
She sat sullen, staring past him; the way the light fell on her eyes, they seemed slate blue.
“An android,” said Dan, “is—well”—he groped—“it’s an android, that’s all.”
Those perfect lips parted and spoke: “Then why does she have to resemble me? That’s degrading.”
For Dan, hers was an unhappy choice of words. He remembered her behavior at the bar.
“But just a minute,” he said. “Why take a hammer to Peter II because Peter I is living with Anita II?”
“Oh, you men!” said Anita. “Take me home.”
Her brother did so, silently.
Officer A. Sutter, while cruising on duty the following morning, wrote in his daybook: “Presumably, during the night, Peter I, II, and III Copeland, Peter I’s estranged wife, Anita Copeland, and his brother-in-law, Dan Thaler, continued their various reactions to each other. But I have no additional reports. It is a beautiful day this 1/23/2287.”
As Sutter finished his account, he grew aware that Inspector Ingrath’s face was forming on the screen in front of him. Seeing the man, Sutter wrote mentally, “On a small screen, he looks almost human.”
“Uh, Sutter.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Copeland matter.”
“Yes, Inspector.”
“I have two reports, uh, before me. The first states that Anita Copeland was in police custody during the night for attempting to, uh, destroy an android—with a hammer.”
Officer Sutter felt a strange guilt, as if he should have anticipated and prevented such an attack. He said, “Has the, uh, brother been informed, Inspector?”
Later he wrote: He’ll have me, uh, communicating that way, uh, soon.”
At the moment, Ingrath said, “Yes, uh, he obtained her release during the night. However, I have a feeling that you should contact Mr. Thaler now that another interview with the real Peter Copeland is indicated.”
“Very well, sir. Now, what is the second report?”
“It says here that Anita Copeland is again in custody.”
“Uh—” said Officer Sutter. “You mean, again.”
“Yes, uh!”
“What is the charge?”
“Attacking an android with a hammer.”
Officer Sutter’s face must have shown bewilderment, because Inspector Ingrath said hastily, “I think you and Mr. Thaler should straighten out this confusion, because I am not clear as to whether it’s the same android or another. Will you, uh, attend to the matter?”
“Of course, sir.”
As Sutter and Dan Thaler entered the police waiting room, Dan saw Anita sitting in a chair in a comer.
He hurried Over to her. “You nut!” he said rudely. “What’s the idea this time?”
The blue eyes gazed up at him, puzzled. “Do you know me, sir?”
Dan felt a chill.
“I—I—Anita, don’t be an idiot!” he stuttered.
Officer Sutter touched his arm. He had been studying a report. “Just a moment, Mr. Thaler. I think you’ve jumped to a false conclusion.
“Eh?”
Sutter addressed Anita. Will you describe the attack?”
The seated woman said, “Shall I stand up?”
“No, no.”
“Very well. Shortly after Peter left for work this morning, the doorbell rang. When I answered it, this woman with the hammer, in whose image I have apparently been constructed, rushed in and attacked me. Naturally, I took the instrument away from her and called the police.”
Dan Thaler was staring at the perfect duplicate of his sister. “You—you’re the other woman!”
