George Martin - Down And Dirty

Travnicek walked from the parapet to the iron base of the tower, then jumped six feet and clung to the side of the tower with hands and feet. He walked deliberately to its pointed crown and crouched, looking at the city.

"The world's my oyster," he said. "You're gonna open it for me."

The warm June night had gone cold. Croyd kicked and gave a yell. Modular Man picked him up and flew into the night, heading for the clinic.

A trumpet-flower laugh followed his silent ascent.

Travnicek, dressed in new custom-made clothing, stood with a woman on the observation deck of Aces High. Her hair was blond and curly, her dress light and low-cut and very nearly transparent. She wore white plastic boots. Travnicek leaned toward her, blue tongues lapping from his organ-lei, making wet tracks on her face. She shuddered and turned away.

"Fuck this, man. You're not paying me enough." Travnicek reached into a pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. "How much enough do you want?" He held up a hundred-dollar bill.

The blond woman hesitated. Her face set into lines of determination. "A lot more."

Hiram wandered past like a ghost, his eyes tracking over the restaurant but seeing nothing.

"Jesus.". A customer's voice drifted over the sound of the crowd. "Hiram never used to allow that kind of thing." Modular Man winced and turned away. His seat near the window of the restaurant, within listening distance of the platform, gave him a far better view of Travnicek than he wanted.

There were some experiences he could not bring himself to cherish.

Kate looked over her shoulder at the twosome and lit a cigarette. "Quite an approach."

"It seems to work quite well."

She looked at him. "I detect a certain edge in your comment. Do you know the guy?"

"I have made his acquaintance."

"Okay. I won't ask."

Travnicek, laughing, handed the woman a roll of bills. His tongues, or whatever they were, continued to explore the woman. There were sounds of disgust from the bar.

Ignoring the fuss, the red-haired waitress stepped to the table. "Dessert?" she asked.

"Yes," said the android. "The crostata, the orange tart, and the chocolate sabayon pie."

"Yes, sir. And anything for the lady?"

Kate looked at Modular Man and stuck out her tongue. "Not for me. I'm counting calories."

"Very well. Coffee?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Kate tapped cigarette ash into an ashtray. She was a small woman, with straying brown hair and warm Jeanne Moreau eyes.

"I'm not sure even Epicurus would approve of all this gorging," she said.

"My days are numbered. I want to try everything." He smiled. "Besides, I don't gain calories."

"Just amps. I know, She reached out and squeezed his hand. 'Are you all right? Now that you've fallen from Olympus and are living among the mortals?"

"I think I'm getting used to it. I'm still not certain I like it, though."

"And your creator?"

"His genius is gone."

"So you're on your own."

"No. I'm still compelled to obey him. Also to fight enemies of society in my spare time." And break into safes, he thought, though he didn't say it. Wearing a disguise, so no one recognizes me.

She looked troubled. "I wish there was something we could do."

"There appears not to be."

"Still." She took a drag on her cigarette. "You could learn physics. Metallurgy. That sort of thing. It could keep you going."

"Yes. I could enroll in night school."

"Why not full time?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

Kate laughed. "They can bar a person from the classroom for not paying tuition. I don't know about a machine."

"Maybe I'll find out."

The android looked at his partner. "Thank you. You've helped me get things in perspective."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Anytime."

Someone's head appeared above the observation deck balcony. Wall Walker's. The android started, remembering Mr. Gravemold. Why would someone disguise himself as a joker?

The young ace stepped over the balcony and entered the bar.

The waitress brought the dessert tray and a pot of coffee. Kate, looking balefully at the desserts, pushed back her chair. "Time for a bathroom check. And then,"-she sighed-"I've got to get back to Statius and company."

The waitress moved the dessert tray to allow a customer to pass. The android recognized the nondescript brownheaded man who had been in the restaurant the day he'd spoken to Wall Walker. He nodded at the man but spoke to Kate.

"Thank you for joining me," he said."I kept expecting an emergency of some sort to interrupt the dinner. An alien invasion, an ape escape, something."

Kate looked surprised. "Oh. You hadn't heard about the ape?"

The android's heart began to sink. "No. I hadn't."

"He's not an ape anymore. He-"

Modular Man raised a hand. "Spare me."

The lanky brown-haired customer looked at them. "In fact," he said, "I'm the ape."

The android looked at him. The man held out a hand. "Jeremiah Strauss," he said. "Pleased to meet you."

The android allowed his hand to be shaken. "Hi," he said. " I don't do the ape anymore." Jeremiah Strauss seemed eager for company. "But I can still do Bogart. Watch this!" The ex-ape began to concentrate. His features slowly began to rearrange themselves. "I'm not gonna play the sap for you, sweetheart," he lisped. His face looked like Bogart's must have looked in his coffin.

"Very good," Modular Man said, appalled. "You wanna see Cagney?"

He looked at Kate, saw her glassy stare. "Maybe some other time."

Strauss seemed stricken. "Too eager, huh?" he said. "Sorry. I just haven't caught up yet. You think it was bad being dead for a year, man, trying being a giant ape for twenty. Jesus, last I heard, Ronald Reagan was an actor."

"Bathroom," Kate said. She looked at Strauss. "Nice to meet you."

She fled. Modular Man shook Strauss's hand and said good-bye.

The waitress pushed the cart back to the table and handed him his desserts. "We had a message for you a couple days ago," she said. She gave him a wink. "A call from California. I thought maybe it would be a bad idea to give it to you when you were with another lady, though." She reached into a pocket and gave the android a pink message slip. A longdistance number was written at the top.

Welcome back. New phone number. Call soon. Love, Cyndi. P.S. Got your heart on?

Modular Man memorized the number, smiled, crumpled the paper.

Cherish, he thought.

"Thank you," he said. "If the lady should call again, tell her the answer is yes."

He reached for his desserts.

New experiences were everywhere.

Blood Ties

If the situation hadn't been so deadly, it could have been funny. Modular Man vanishing over the rooftops with Croyd in his arms, and the joker squad and Tachyon gaping stupidly after him. Troll had cleared his throat, an explosion of sound like a road grader moving gravel. He offered the Takisian the limp figure of Bill Lockwood like a man presenting his prize catch.

"Well, at least we've got this one," he said timidly. "Bloody lot of good it does us! Well, I suppose I must treat him," Tach had muttered pettishly, and they had all returned to the clinic.

A few hours later and the mystery man's body temperature was returned to near normal. He lay blinking groggily in the hospital bed confined by restraints. Tachyon drew up a chair and stared into the handsome, insipid face.

"You've given us a devil of a time, you know that. Why on earth did you protect Croyd so desperately? You're directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of innocent people!"

To Tachyon's chagrin the young man's face screwed up, and he began to cry. "I was just lookin' out for Croyd," he blubbered while Tach mopped at the tears with his handkerchief. "He's the only person who's ever been good to me. He gave me his doughnuts. He made me an ace."