Leo Tolstoy - Android Karenina

“But, Anna,” said Vronsky, renewing his grip and putting steel into his voice, “we simply must, anyway, tell him, and then be guided by the line he takes.”

“And what, run away?”

“And why not run away?” he shouted desperately. “I don’t see how we can keep on like this. And not for my sake-I see that you suffer!”

A fierce wind blew from the terrible depths of the demonic spiral; one of Anna’s shoes slipped from her feet and was sucked into the vortex. Vronsky redoubled his efforts to pull her free, nearly dislodging Anna’s arm from the socket. He stared over her shoulder at the space-hole still hovering in the air behind her, glowing like the malevolent eye of a hungry beast. One of Anna’s hands came loose from his, and she made no effort to let him grab it again. Her body was virtually slack, and he felt she had given up, in her body and her mind, and was ready to be consumed.

“Anna,” he pleaded, “do not quit!”

“Yes,” she muttered, almost talking to herself. “Run away, become your mistress, and complete the ruin of…”

And she would have said “my son,” but she could not utter those words-whether because she could not bear to, or because the force on her body was squeezing the very air from her lungs, Vronsky could not say.

Anna thought of her son, pictured his innocent body hovering before the unfathomable grey void behind her, imagined him caught in such a trap. It came to her that she had set a trap for him, by falling in love; she thought of his future attitude toward his mother, who had abandoned his father, and she felt such terror at what she had done that she could not face it. She cried out and writhed, and Vronsky lost his grip. The godmouth widened, like a snake mouth opening to accommodate a rabbit or possum.

It was then that Android Karenina broke the Iron Law of obedience.

Dismissing the earlier command to let go, she grabbed Anna by the waist, and with furious mechanical strength pulled her to safety. Together, mistress and robot landed with a thud on the stones of the fountain, and Anna watched with shaded eyes as the queer dimensional portal whooshed shut and disappeared.

For a long moment, Anna stared into the pale purple gleam of Android Karenina’s faceplate-and then mouthed the words thank you. Android Karenina, as ever, said nothing, only straightened up and motored respectfully away, as Vronsky rushed to his lover’s side and placed her head lovingly in his lap.

“I beg you, I entreat you,” Anna said, turning her head away from Vronsky’s eyes. “Never speak to me of that!”

“To the contrary!” Vronsky began. “I shall not rest until I discover what cell, what madman, would dare to launch such an attack on you-and why-”

“No,” said Anna, shaking her head with impatience. “Never speak to me of my becoming your mistress. Of my ruin, and that of…”

“But, Anna…”

“Never. Leave it to me. I know all the baseness, all the horror of my position; but it’s not so easy to arrange as you think. And leave it to me, and do what I say. Never speak to me of it. Do you promise me?… No, no, promise!”

“I promise everything, but I can’t be at peace, especially after what you have told me. I can’t be at peace, when you can’t be at peace…”

“I?” she repeated. “Yes, I am worried sometimes; but that will pass, if you will never talk about this. When you talk about it-it’s only then it worries me.”

“I don’t understand-” he said.

“I know,” she interrupted him, “how hard it is for your truthful nature to lie, and I grieve for you. I often think that you have ruined your whole life for me.”

“I was just thinking the very same thing,” he said. “How could you sacrifice everything for my sake? I can’t forgive myself that you’re unhappy!”

“I unhappy?” she said, coming closer to him, and looking at him with an ecstatic smile of love. “I am like a hungry man who has been given food. He may be cold, and dressed in rags, and ashamed, but he is not unhappy. I unhappy? No, this is my unhappiness…”

She could hear the sound of her son’s voice coming toward them, and glancing swiftly round the terrace, she got up impulsively. Her eyes glowed with the fire he knew so well; with a rapid movement she raised her lovely hands, covered with rings, took his head, looked a long moment into his face, and, raising her face with smiling, parted lips, swiftly kissed his mouth while Android Karenina kept her gaze discretely averted, then pushed him away. She would have gone, but he held her back.

“When?” he murmured in a whisper, gazing in ecstasy at her.

“Tonight, at one o’clock,” she whispered, and, with a heavy sigh, she walked with her light, swift step to meet her son.

Vronsky, looking at his watch, went away hurriedly, plagued by questions about the encounter: Why would UnConSciya plant such a trap here? Was it meant for Anna… or for him?

And was it UnConSciya at all?

WHEN VRONSKY LOOKED at his watch, he was so greatly agitated and lost in his thoughts that he saw the figures on the watch’s face, but could not take in what time it was. He came out onto the highroad and walked, picking his way carefully through the mud, to his carriage, detaching and reattaching the electrodes to his chest and forehead as he went. He was so completely absorbed in his confusion about the godmouth that he did not even think what o’clock it was. But the excitement of the approaching Cull gained upon Vronsky as he drove further and further into the atmosphere of the arena, overtaking carriages driving up from the summer villas or out of Petersburg.

He arrived to find Frou-Frou standing in the silo, torso door hanging open, at the ready. They were just going to lead her out.

“I’m not too late?”

“It’s all right! It’s all right!” said the Englishman, looking nervously at his I/Physiolographer/99. “For Heaven’s sakes, don’t upset yourself!”

Vronsky once more took in, in one glance, the exquisite lines of his Exterior, which was oscillating all over, quivering with excitement up and down its sleek lines. He surveyed the rows of pavilion seating, quickly scanning the crowd before climbing inside his death-suit to begin combat.

“Oh, there’s Karenin!” said an acquaintance from his regiment. “He’s looking for his wife, and she’s in the middle of the pavilion. Didn’t you see her?”

“No,” answered Vronsky, and without even glancing round toward the pavilion where his friend was pointing out Madame Karenina, he went up to his Exterior.

In a moment, the cry was heard: “Entrez!”

Vronsky climbed inside Frou-Frou’s groznium torso door and with a series of deft movements attached himself to her contact board. He then slipped his forefinger and index fingers under the palm-sized steering disc, which was his secondary means of control, and pressed its small central button firmly, once, with his thumb. Instantly the war-machine reared back, tilted her head upward, and fired a massive jolt of electricity into the sky. Vronsky smiled: She is ready.

Outside the beast, the Englishman puckered up his lips, leaned against the torso door, and shouted in:

“Good luck, your Excellency.” And then, in English, added his traditional final word of support: “Survive.”

Vronsky peered into the long-tube, a periscope-like exterior sensor, to gain a last look at his rivals. Once the match began, they would in the grand tradition of the Cull no longer be his beloved fellow Border Officers, but targets. One Exterior, belonging to a drinking companion of his, Oposhenko, was in the shape of a massive arachnid, with glittering golden “eyes” that Vronsky knew could exert a powerful magnetic force, to draw enemies into the Exterior’s “web.” A second battle-suit was a modified sledge, with engines attached to the back, allowing it to function as a kind of battering ram, simple but effective. Galtsin, a friend of Vronsky’s and one of his more formidable rivals, had an Exterior patriotically fashioned in the shape of a massive sickle, such as that used in the time of the Tsars by traditional peasants in their fields; she could roll with deadly speed along the periphery of the conflict, and then dart in to slice through heavy armor plating with her sharpened edge.