Im a robot. I know everything about humans, from the mundane to the exotic. I know about eroticism and sexual power. Are you aware that those robes were once an instrument of female repression? A Heian noblewoman wearing the traditional garments would barely be able to move for the thickness of their materials. She would not have had the benefit of molecular fabrics.
Well, I do, and I think they look pretty. Judy pulled on the third pale blue-green robe and twirled around. She smiled in delight at the pattern of colors, at the slowly building effect of her outfit. Frances watched her, her body language signaling mild frustration.
Youre a virgin, Judy. Youve never experienced the building anticipation and joy of divesting an awakening body of its wrapping.
Youre a robot, Frances. You get off by someone entering
Mersenne primes on your push buttons.
Frances looked down at the little array of buttons that twinkled obscenely between her legs, then slowly raised her head to gaze back at Judy. The painted blue eyes and smile on her golden face did not alter their expression, and yet somehow the motion of her body was deeply suggestive.
You know the combination, Judy, she said in a low voice. Youre more than welcome to try it.
Judy paused in the act of reaching for the next robe. She looked at Frances and moved closer to her, one white hand sliding out from the layered sleeves of her robes, their patterns forming a pleasing effect. She touched Frances smooth golden arm, held the moment, then whispered, ever so softly, Cant we just be friends?
The robot gave a delighted laugh. Judy grinned as she took the fourth robe from the air and handed it to Frances. She then turned and held out her arms as the robot helped her into the fourth, white, plum-pink-lined robe.
Anyway, Judy continued more seriously, I may not have had an actual physical encounter, but I have had more than my fair share of experience through my work.
She pulled on the fifth and final robe, white with a pale plum-pink lining. She widened the reverse viewing field just in front of herself and twirled around again, admiring the effect. Hints of white and plum pink fluttered into view as the robes flapped open and closed.
Your hair is all wrong, Frances complained. That tied-back arrangement is early twentieth century.
Judy gave her reflection a nod of approval. You can take things too seriously, Frances. Now, get me my chemise. Its in the wooden chest.
Get me my chemise, please , Frances said equably as she moved to the side of the room and opened the black lid of the lacquered chest. This is beautiful wood, she said. Are you going to save it?
I dont know yet. Judy looked around her room and gave a regretful sigh. I know were supposed to look forward, not back, but everything in this room is so beautiful. And then theres the view.
She crossed to the wide expanse of the window and looked down on the Earth spread out below her. France could be seen down there, partially obscured by cloud. The real Earth, she thought, just a little guiltily. What would her digital sisters think if they could listen in to her thoughts? She dressed differently, but that was their choice. Would she understand the need to wear black if she was a PC in the digital world, and not the atomic Judy?
Will you still live in the Shawl? Frances asked, interrupting her thoughts.
I dont know. I dont fancy starting all over again at the top. Ive been wondering about leaving Earth altogether. Heading out into the galaxyI dont want to spend my life just repeating the same old cycle.
Frances was kneeling by the trunk, searching for the chemise among Judys collection of wafuku, her golden hands slipping easily through the materials of the precious garments.
You dont fancy living on Earth? she asked.
Definitely not, Judy said, arms folded as she looked down at the blue-white swirl below. I find it all rather vulgar: constant gravity, unrecycled air. The dirt
I rather like it, myself, the robot murmured. She finally located the chemise and gently removed it. Hey! she called, rubbing her fingers on the material. This is raw silk. The genuine article. Very nice.
I know, Judy said, slipping it on. Real silk, not some digital construct. She gave herself a final check in the viewing field, pleased with the effect. Black hair, white face, and what seemed on first appearance a plain white outfit; but as she moved, tantalizing glimpses of color would briefly show.
Okay, she said. Time for us to make our presence felt.
She slid open the bedroom door and stepped through into the lounge.
How are we going to get down there? asked Frances.
Shuttle. Were in a hurry.
They looked at each other, not wanting to mention what Judy 11 had said. There was no sense in drawing the Watchers attention to themselves. They were to follow the path that would lead them to someone who had been to the edge of another galaxy. There they would find out more about why the Watcher had murdered Justinian Sibelius-if indeed it had. The idea almost defied belief. The idea that the Watcher was dedicated to protecting and nurturing life was as much a part of their society as the belief that illness should be treated and that children should be educated. But then, there was that little worm of doubt. Her sisters might not agree, but Judy believed in the story of Eva Rye. Judy 3 laughed at the idea. Physical people need physical proof,