Piers Anthony - Out of Phaze

Agape walked out of the water processing section, following directions, and to the air shuttle station. This was a busy place, with serfs and machines hurrying to and fro. There were shuttles going to Anidom and Gob-dom and Moudom and Gnodom; she found the one for Hardom and walked up the ramp and took the first vacant seat she found. She had only used such a conveyance once before, and felt uneasy.

Other serfs entered, some with tattoos showing their employing Citizen. The seats filled. A young woman plumped down beside Agape. “Hey, who you with?” she asked.

“I am Sander, to become the employee of Citizen Kumin,” Agape said carefully.

“Oh? I’m Lula, and I work for him too. Had to hand-carry a message, now going back. So you’re new on Proton ?”

“New, yes,” Agape agreed.

“So you don’t know the ropes.”

“Yes.” Agape was not at all comfortable with this.

“Well, we might as well get friendly, since we’re going to the same place.” Lula, seated to Agape’s left, put her right hand on Agape’s left leg, stroking it. “You’re human, aren’t you?”

Agape became aware of two things. Lula was not human, she was android; the forwardness of her manner suggested that. And she assumed that Agape was human, and male, and proposed—what?

“Oh, come on now,” Lula said, evidently taking Agape’s silence for timidity. “This is Proton. We’re serfs. Nobody cares what we do.” Her hand moved, becoming considerably more familiar. “Get it up, and I’ll sit on your lap, and when the takeoff boost comes—hoo!”

“No!” Agape said, blocking the further progress of the hand. “I can’t—“

“Oh, so you figure you’re too good for an android!” Lula exclaimed, her anger flaring readily. “You think just because you’re human, you don’t have to mingle!”

“You misunderstand,” Agape protested. “I’m not—“

But she could not go on, because she did not want to reveal her true nature until she was safely in Hardom, away from any possible interception by Citizen Purple.

“Then show it!” Lula said, reaching again.

“Not from this planet,” Agape said, intercepting the hand again. “Where I come from, it is not this way.”

“Well, brother, you are not where you come from.”

“Oh, leave him alone, android,” another serf said. “He doesn’t have to play with you.”

Lula turned to the other. “You going to play instead, robot?”

The man smiled. “You think I can’t? Come sit on me, android.”

Lula leaped to the challenge, joining him. In a moment the vacated seat was filled by a new boarder, this one male. Agape relaxed.

Belts snaked out and secured the passengers to the seats. Without further ceremony, the shuttle took off. Its nose was hauled up to a forty-five-degree angle, and it was catapulted out through the forcefield that was the city-dome and into the harsh thin atmosphere of Proton. Wings sprang out from its sides, and a jet of fire propelled it onward.

In moments the craft was cruising over the Purple Mountains, proceeding north. Agape stared out the port, fascinated. She realized that a mispronunciation of her name would describe it: she was agape. On her prior shuttle flight she had not crossed the mountain range; it had been from the main spaceport to Hardom, and she had been distracted by the newness of the entire situation. Now she could focus on the geography, and wonder whether she could spot the particular mountain on which she and Bane had hidden from the Citizen’s minions.

Bane. The machines had read her appendage, and verified to their satisfaction that she loved him. But would she ever see him again? The question filled her with melancholy.

“Something wrong, man?” her new companion inquired.

She was crying, and it was human but not masculine to cry. She was guilty of a social impropriety. “I am new to this planet,” Agape said.

“Must be,” the man said, and averted his eyes. The mountains passed all too rapidly, and the shuttle began its drift downward, economizing on fuel by losing altitude. Then, approaching Hardom, it nosed up until it stalled, then dropped precipitously, leveling out just before reaching the dome. It plunged through the force-field and was caught by another field that netted it and brought it to the dock with a thunk. The ride was over. The belts retracted and the passengers filed out. Lula passed, glancing briefly down at Agape; evidently she had had her satisfaction of the robot. Contrary to what the android might suppose, Agape did have a notion how that could be.

She got up and joined the file. She emerged into the station, and ducked away before the android could remember she was supposed to be going to the same place. She went to a sanitary facility, entered a male booth, and changed to her normal female human form. What a relief.

She stepped out—and a passing male serf stared at her. Too late she realized that this was a segregated facility, and she was in the male one. Yet what could she have done, in her male guise—entered the female one?

She hurried out and along the passages, eager to get to the security of Citizen Blue’s estate. She kept thinking that some minion of Citizen Purple’s would leap out and capture her, nullifying her entire effort of escape and putting Mach or Bane into jeopardy again.

But she arrived without event; apparently the self-willed machines had spirited her out without notice. She approached the office marked Blue.

There was a secretary in the office. This was a woman of early middle age, a serf whose body remained well formed but whose light brown hair was beginning to turn gray. This surprised Agape, for hair color was easy to control, and desk-girls were normally young.

“May I help you?” the woman inquired, lifting her gaze to meet Agape’s. Her eyes were green and clear.

“I—have important news for Citizen Blue,” Agape said.

The woman smiled. “I am in touch with him. What is your name?”

“Agape.”

“He will see you immediately.” The woman stood. “Please come this way.”

Agape followed her through a door-panel into the Citizen’s office. Evidently Citizen Blue was ready for her, though Agape had been aware of no message to him. He stood facing her, smiling.

The Citizen was an unusually small man, shorter than Agape herself, and of no great girth. He was garbed in a simple blue robe. But his features were unmistakably related to those of Mach.

“Agape has arrived,” the secretary said.

“Thank you, Sheen,” the Citizen said. He focused or Agape. “You love my son, Mach?”

“No, sir,” Agape said, taken aback.

“Who, then?”

“Bane, sir. His other self from Phaze.”

“You believe it was Bane?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can tell the difference?”

“Yes, sir.”

Blue gestured. A panel opened, and a figure entered.

Agape turned to look at it. And froze. It was Mach!

Or was it? Realizing that this was a test, she went to him, and put her arms around him. The man responded. Agape put her lips up to be kissed, and the man kissed her.

She pulled away. “This is neither,” she said.

“I told you she would know,” Sheen said.

Suddenly Agape made a connection. “Sheen! Mach’s mother!”

“Of course,” Sheen agreed. “But you are a robot. How can you have aged?”

“Cosmetics can do wonders,” Sheen said.

“And you are serving a menial task! But you are married to a Citizen!”

“I am a serf,” Sheen said simply. Agape remembered her mission. “I must tell you— both of you—Citizen Purple has Mach captive. You must free him!”

“He remains intact?” Sheen asked.

“Yes. They don’t dare hurt him, because he represents their only contact with Phaze. But—“