[story] your woman
Jul. 1st, 2008 10:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ib_archiveauthor: shinju yuri (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shinju_yuri)
Walter closed the door, leaned against it, and then said, "Is there any reason why there's a large man who looks very angry in the parlor?"
"No," said Frederick promptly, "but you might not want to mention the words 'contractual obligation' in front of him."
"Rochester," said Walter.
"He tried to cheat you out of your patent dividends!" said Frederick.
Walter considered this for a second. "How so?" Frederick looked at him blankly. "I mean," he said, "Did he actually try to cheat me or did I agree to do it for him and you absentmindedly forgot to tell me you'd put in a patent for it, or..."
"Oh," said Frederick. "Actually tried to cheat you. He's one of the investors in Silas Place."
"Oh," said Walter, and then, "Oh." Silas Place had been advertised as the next big thing in urban housing, a Utopia of low-and-mid-priced housing and shops in the center of the city. Frederick had declined, with sincere thanks, to be part of it, a decision that had turned out to be amply justified. The least of the builders' and investors' sins had been to take an invention of Walter's (which he actually hadn't minded that much) and install it, badly, and create a safety hazard (which he very much did). Frederick had promised rather ominously to do something about it. "Are you going to want me to loom behind you with a ratchet?"
"No," said Frederick, "but you might want to go past the door carrying a heavy load of pipes or something."
"Fine with me," said Walter agreeably.
"And there's a young chap coming to see me later," said Frederick, rising to his feet and flicking an imaginary piece of dust off his jacket. "He wants your advice and my money."
"All right," said Walter. Frederick brushed by him and Walter caught his hand, bending his head down to kiss his temple, where Frederick's dark hair was just beginning to softly gray. "Call if there's trouble," he said.
Frederick wrinkled his nose scornfully. "In this house?" he said.
There was no trouble, apparently. There was never trouble when Frederick put his mind to it. When Walter had first met him, years and years ago, he had disliked trouble and messes, and he had grown more and more to dislike them as the years passed. Now trouble and messes just sort of apologetically resolved around him. When Frederick's voice, slightly distorted by the speaking tube, said, "Jennings, our guest is here," Walter looked up and realized it was nearly dusk.
He gave a screw a last turn and, pressing the button on the tube, replied, "I'll be just a minute."
When he entered the parlor, his hands still wet from washing and his hair roughly combed back and water-slick, he saw Frederick sitting in his pet armchair and a young man sitting beside a young lady. The young man rose politely to his feet.
"Jennings, this is Mr Charles Hollins," said Frederick. He was staring at the young woman, whose face was slightly turned away and shaded by a bonnet. Walter shook hands with Hollins and wondered why Frederick, with his exquisite manners, had not introduced the young lady.
Then the lady turned her head toward Walter, and Walter took a step back in surprise.
"It's my invention," said Hollins. "I call it a --"
The thing's head turned toward him as he spoke. It had no facial markings, just a smooth, metal surface with a single opening in the center of what would be the forehead, two curves on the side of its head in the approximate locations of human ears, and a slit near where the mouth should be. Its hands were covered in kid gloves. It wore a smoothly fitted dress with a high, boned collar.
"I am. An automaton. Created by. Mr Hollins," said the thing, in a fair copy of a female voice.
"What is it called?" said Frederick.
"It doesn't have a name," said Hollins. "It's a machine I've been working on." He had a very thin, nervous sort of face; white with lack of sun. The automaton turned its head toward him when he spoke. "It's clockwork. Are you familiar with analytical engines, Sir Jennings?"
"Yes," said Walter.
"This machine is a very advanced version of one," said Hollins, lifting one of his hands half toward it. "It runs on several different sets of clockwork and a computational system that processes new information."
"I've seen things like that before," said Walter politely. A clock struck the hour, and a little thing on wheels trundled in, paused when it observed people in the room, and turned away to go into another room. Hollins' automaton turned its head to observe it, and then turned back to watch Hollins. The inventor didn't seem to notice it or the other little machine, watching Frederick and Walter with almost frightening eyes.
"I see," said Frederick slowly. "What are you planning to do with it?"
"I thought," said Hollins, diffidently, "I thought I could sell it to people who need an automatic control for their systems." His face lit with eagerness. "We could free so much time! Time to do things!"
"Yes," said Walter, "we could." He suddenly pictured that strange, still machine curled in the center of a greater machine, not speaking, not moving, controlling the movements of the greater whole without comment or complaint. Like a girl, sleeping within an egg. He cleared his throat. "What was your question?"
"I heard you'd built a similar machine," said Hollins. "I was hoping to get a look at your papers, or something, anything, to help me over the last bit of work." He gestured again to the machine. "Sometimes the logic doesn't work the way I expect it to."
"Genesis chapter one, verse twenty-seven," murmured Frederick, not unkindly.
"I beg your pardon?" said Hollins.
Frederick shook his head.
"I know," said Hollins, looking down again, "that it is asking a lot to look at any of your research, but if I could just see one of your machines, any of them."
"See them?" said Walter.
Frederick began to laugh. "Mr Hollins," he said. "You're in one of them."
"I'm sorry?" said Mr Hollins, his brows drawing together in quick suspicion. The machine made a movement toward him and then paused.
"This entire. building is. A machine. Am I. Correct?" it said.
"Quite so," said Frederick. Hollins' eyes went wide and he looked around the room eagerly, as if he thought he would see the gears and pipes that made up the inner workings of the house. He seemed almost disappointed that it still looked like an ordinary brownstone house.
Walter caught Frederick's eye and they looked at each other for a minute. Walter shrugged almost imperceptibly and Frederick tilted his head very slightly toward the machine. Walter spread one hand out. What were they supposed to do? Frederick nodded.
"I believe," said Walter slowly, "that I can offer some slight assistance in giving you copies of some of my early published notes." He looked at Frederick.
"And I think I may be able to oblige you with a small grant," said Frederick. "In return..." He hesitated.
"Yes?" said Hollins, eagerly.
"I wish you would tell me why you picked that shape for your machine," said Frederick.
Hollins looked blank. "Well, of course it offered a lot of work in getting the mechanics to act properly. For the arms and legs and torso," he said. "And I thought it would be easier to transport if it didn't look like a machine so much."
"In that case," said Frederick, gently, "Why did you shape it like a woman? Why not a dog, or something like that?"
"I --" began Hollins.
"It seems from. What I have. Entered into my. Memory," said the machine, "That the human. Species. Often makes things. In their own. Image. Is that. What you are. Referring to? Mr Rochester."
Frederick said, "Is there anything lacking in your own programming or design that you have noticed?"
The machine considered this, unnaturally still. "Human beings. Are fond of. Faces. I would like. To have. A face."
the end
shinju_yuri)Walter closed the door, leaned against it, and then said, "Is there any reason why there's a large man who looks very angry in the parlor?"
"No," said Frederick promptly, "but you might not want to mention the words 'contractual obligation' in front of him."
"Rochester," said Walter.
"He tried to cheat you out of your patent dividends!" said Frederick.
Walter considered this for a second. "How so?" Frederick looked at him blankly. "I mean," he said, "Did he actually try to cheat me or did I agree to do it for him and you absentmindedly forgot to tell me you'd put in a patent for it, or..."
"Oh," said Frederick. "Actually tried to cheat you. He's one of the investors in Silas Place."
"Oh," said Walter, and then, "Oh." Silas Place had been advertised as the next big thing in urban housing, a Utopia of low-and-mid-priced housing and shops in the center of the city. Frederick had declined, with sincere thanks, to be part of it, a decision that had turned out to be amply justified. The least of the builders' and investors' sins had been to take an invention of Walter's (which he actually hadn't minded that much) and install it, badly, and create a safety hazard (which he very much did). Frederick had promised rather ominously to do something about it. "Are you going to want me to loom behind you with a ratchet?"
"No," said Frederick, "but you might want to go past the door carrying a heavy load of pipes or something."
"Fine with me," said Walter agreeably.
"And there's a young chap coming to see me later," said Frederick, rising to his feet and flicking an imaginary piece of dust off his jacket. "He wants your advice and my money."
"All right," said Walter. Frederick brushed by him and Walter caught his hand, bending his head down to kiss his temple, where Frederick's dark hair was just beginning to softly gray. "Call if there's trouble," he said.
Frederick wrinkled his nose scornfully. "In this house?" he said.
There was no trouble, apparently. There was never trouble when Frederick put his mind to it. When Walter had first met him, years and years ago, he had disliked trouble and messes, and he had grown more and more to dislike them as the years passed. Now trouble and messes just sort of apologetically resolved around him. When Frederick's voice, slightly distorted by the speaking tube, said, "Jennings, our guest is here," Walter looked up and realized it was nearly dusk.
He gave a screw a last turn and, pressing the button on the tube, replied, "I'll be just a minute."
When he entered the parlor, his hands still wet from washing and his hair roughly combed back and water-slick, he saw Frederick sitting in his pet armchair and a young man sitting beside a young lady. The young man rose politely to his feet.
"Jennings, this is Mr Charles Hollins," said Frederick. He was staring at the young woman, whose face was slightly turned away and shaded by a bonnet. Walter shook hands with Hollins and wondered why Frederick, with his exquisite manners, had not introduced the young lady.
Then the lady turned her head toward Walter, and Walter took a step back in surprise.
"It's my invention," said Hollins. "I call it a --"
The thing's head turned toward him as he spoke. It had no facial markings, just a smooth, metal surface with a single opening in the center of what would be the forehead, two curves on the side of its head in the approximate locations of human ears, and a slit near where the mouth should be. Its hands were covered in kid gloves. It wore a smoothly fitted dress with a high, boned collar.
"I am. An automaton. Created by. Mr Hollins," said the thing, in a fair copy of a female voice.
"What is it called?" said Frederick.
"It doesn't have a name," said Hollins. "It's a machine I've been working on." He had a very thin, nervous sort of face; white with lack of sun. The automaton turned its head toward him when he spoke. "It's clockwork. Are you familiar with analytical engines, Sir Jennings?"
"Yes," said Walter.
"This machine is a very advanced version of one," said Hollins, lifting one of his hands half toward it. "It runs on several different sets of clockwork and a computational system that processes new information."
"I've seen things like that before," said Walter politely. A clock struck the hour, and a little thing on wheels trundled in, paused when it observed people in the room, and turned away to go into another room. Hollins' automaton turned its head to observe it, and then turned back to watch Hollins. The inventor didn't seem to notice it or the other little machine, watching Frederick and Walter with almost frightening eyes.
"I see," said Frederick slowly. "What are you planning to do with it?"
"I thought," said Hollins, diffidently, "I thought I could sell it to people who need an automatic control for their systems." His face lit with eagerness. "We could free so much time! Time to do things!"
"Yes," said Walter, "we could." He suddenly pictured that strange, still machine curled in the center of a greater machine, not speaking, not moving, controlling the movements of the greater whole without comment or complaint. Like a girl, sleeping within an egg. He cleared his throat. "What was your question?"
"I heard you'd built a similar machine," said Hollins. "I was hoping to get a look at your papers, or something, anything, to help me over the last bit of work." He gestured again to the machine. "Sometimes the logic doesn't work the way I expect it to."
"Genesis chapter one, verse twenty-seven," murmured Frederick, not unkindly.
"I beg your pardon?" said Hollins.
Frederick shook his head.
"I know," said Hollins, looking down again, "that it is asking a lot to look at any of your research, but if I could just see one of your machines, any of them."
"See them?" said Walter.
Frederick began to laugh. "Mr Hollins," he said. "You're in one of them."
"I'm sorry?" said Mr Hollins, his brows drawing together in quick suspicion. The machine made a movement toward him and then paused.
"This entire. building is. A machine. Am I. Correct?" it said.
"Quite so," said Frederick. Hollins' eyes went wide and he looked around the room eagerly, as if he thought he would see the gears and pipes that made up the inner workings of the house. He seemed almost disappointed that it still looked like an ordinary brownstone house.
Walter caught Frederick's eye and they looked at each other for a minute. Walter shrugged almost imperceptibly and Frederick tilted his head very slightly toward the machine. Walter spread one hand out. What were they supposed to do? Frederick nodded.
"I believe," said Walter slowly, "that I can offer some slight assistance in giving you copies of some of my early published notes." He looked at Frederick.
"And I think I may be able to oblige you with a small grant," said Frederick. "In return..." He hesitated.
"Yes?" said Hollins, eagerly.
"I wish you would tell me why you picked that shape for your machine," said Frederick.
Hollins looked blank. "Well, of course it offered a lot of work in getting the mechanics to act properly. For the arms and legs and torso," he said. "And I thought it would be easier to transport if it didn't look like a machine so much."
"In that case," said Frederick, gently, "Why did you shape it like a woman? Why not a dog, or something like that?"
"I --" began Hollins.
"It seems from. What I have. Entered into my. Memory," said the machine, "That the human. Species. Often makes things. In their own. Image. Is that. What you are. Referring to? Mr Rochester."
Frederick said, "Is there anything lacking in your own programming or design that you have noticed?"
The machine considered this, unnaturally still. "Human beings. Are fond of. Faces. I would like. To have. A face."
the end
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-01 06:51 pm (UTC)Frederick had declined, with sincere thanks, to be part of it, a decision that had turned out to be amply justified. The least of the builders' and investors' sins had been to take an invention of Walter's (which he actually hadn't minded that much) and install it, badly, and create a safety hazard (which he very much did). Frederick had promised rather ominously to do something about it. "Are you going to want me to loom behind you with a ratchet?"
^-- I lol'd again.
"All right," said Walter. Frederick brushed by him and Walter caught his hand, bending his head down to kiss his temple, where Frederick's dark hair was just beginning to softly gray. "Call if there's trouble," he said.
^--- Cute. ♥
The introduction of Hollins' creation was really badass. ♥ I especially liked the description of the face and the way it spoke.
"It doesn't have a name," said Hollins. "It's a machine I've been working on." He had a very thin, nervous sort of face; white with lack of sun.
^-- This is really cool; I'm really fond of the last sentence.
"Yes," said Walter, "we could." He suddenly pictured that strange, still machine curled in the center of a greater machine, not speaking, not moving, controlling the movements of the greater whole without comment or complaint. Like a girl, sleeping within an egg. He cleared his throat. "What was your question?"
^-- I really liked Walter's description of the "girl, sleeping within an egg."
"Genesis chapter one, verse twenty-seven," murmured Frederick, not unkindly.
^-- Actually, I have no coherent comment, except that you are a BAMF.
The machine considered this, unnaturally still. "Human beings. Are fond of. Faces. I would like. To have. A face."
^-- You are a BAMFxinfinity.
♥ This was a really nice read.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 01:17 am (UTC)Are you going to want me to loom behind you with a ratchet?"
"No," said Frederick, "but you might want to go past the door carrying a heavy load of pipes or something."
Awww, they are so cute XD
Walter caught Frederick's eye and they looked at each other for a minute. Walter shrugged almost imperceptibly and Frederick tilted his head very slightly toward the machine. Walter spread one hand out. What were they supposed to do? Frederick nodded.
And again, they are so cute. Love the way they can practically read each other's minds.
The machine considered this, unnaturally still. "Human beings. Are fond of. Faces. I would like. To have. A face."
That one bit kinda breaks my heart into tiny little pieces. In a good way. But still ouchie. D=
no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 02:59 pm (UTC)The latter bits are kind of wonderfully unnerving - I think you really get across how uncomfortable Walter and Frederick are with the automaton. Also, no face. Creepy.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-02 04:57 pm (UTC)Exactly!
Heartssssssss.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-19 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-21 12:00 pm (UTC)