Moonlight and Robots

Thad Morgan looked around his little room. The two deactivated robots and the framework that suspended the limp suit hardly left room for him to move around. At the moment he felt mildly disgusted with this whole convention.

He asked himself why engagements and marriages had to be surrounded with tradition and ridiculous games. But, of course, he had to go through with it. Myrna seemed to have been filled with excitement when they were discussing the final plans for the ceremony. He might as well get started. He glanced at the clock; it was almost eight. He picked up the book of rules and looked at it again.

He re-read the instructions for operating the mechanism. First, it said, inspect the facsimile and see that it is well-groomed and entirely in order. He looked at the two lifeless twins of himself. Yes, they looked all right. He decided which one he would use tonight. Then, he read, he was to get into the suit (the book called it a harness), activate the selected facsimile, and set the controls. It went on to say that every movement he made would be duplicated by the robot. Everything the facsimile experienced would be transmitted to the harness becoming his experiences. Well, he had practiced all that since renting the thing three days ago. He turned towards the marriage game rules.

The rules dictated seven situations. That would mean, in his case, seven evenings for Myrna and him to decide whether they were meeting each other's robots or their real selves.

The book pointed out that the primary or real body had to be used at least once in the first five situations. The first contestant to correctly identify the other's real body won the game and the contest was over. The winner received commendation and was supposed to be the dominant spouse. Of course, the last was mere convention. However, the most important, the most rigid, and to Thad the most fantastic, rule in the whole contest was that if the girl won, the couple was required to wait a year before completing the marriage ceremony. That seemed a weightier matter to Morgan. He read on. The first contestant who correctly identified the other as a facsimile won a point. If he failed, the other contestant had the opportunity to make an identification. The situation ended when one contestant made a correct identification or when both failed. Laying the book down, he decided he'd better get started because it was getting late.

He climbed into the harness and hung in mid-air suspended by his belt. He activated one of his facsimiles and turned his head so he could see himself through the robot's eyes. Thumbing his nose, he watched the creature hanging in the harness do likewise. It gave him an eerie feeling. Even though he knew he was walking in thin air and getting nowhere, it really seemed as if he could feel the floor under his feet and see the room move around him in a very ordinary fashion. As soon as his facsimile left the room, his mind made the adjustment and it was as if it were really he strolling nonchalantly down the corridor.

He drove to a florist's shop and started to purchase a corsage. Abashed, he caught himself. He rushed out of the shop and went home to put a wallet and handkerchief into his pockets. He would have to be more careful, he realized. Slips like that might cost him the contest.

With corsage box in hand, he pressed the door bell and waited. He hoped his plastic flesh was moulded perfectly. It looked all right to him, but you never could tell what someone else might notice. Myrna opened the door.

She was lovely and he took her in his arms. Drawing back, he looked at her dubiously. At least, he thought it was she. His family, her family, and two or three others, acting as judges and referees in the contest, stood in the living room watching them. They began to laugh as they saw his questioning look. It really was rather funny, he decided. Myrna led him into the room and introduced him to the few he didn't know.

He watched her closely as she opened the box. He thought her fingers were fumbling a bit. Everyone in the room watched the two of them intently. They didn't know whether the couple were real or robot either. At any moment, she might suddenly try to identify him. Maybe he should take the first chance. She might be fumbling from nervousness, he realized. If it were really she and he called her a robot, she might be offended. Girls were like that, but of course, he would have to take that chance.

"You're a robot," he announced suddenly.

Myrna looked surprised. "Oh, how did you know?" She was crestfallen. He was congratulated as they all trooped upstairs to help Myrna out of her harness. Later it was nice to know for sure that it was really her living flesh in his arms. Then he felt guilty as he realized she was not in his living arms. He excused himself hurriedly and returned home.

The next evening he was invited to Myrna's home for dinner. He thought of actually going himself because he knew the food would be good. The apparatus could transmit heat, cold, and pressure, but it didn't do much when it came to taste and it couldn't make any sensation in one's interior.

But he decided it would be too risky. If she identified his facsimile she would win a point to be sure, but if she identified his real self, well, that would end the contest and he would have to wait a year to get married.

He would have to be careful of the food though. She might try to trick him with something that looked good but tasted terrible, and his facsimile would eat it just the same.

That night before sending his proxy to Myrna's dinner party, he had his facsimile stick himself with a pin. The sharp pain made him wince. He wondered about the mechanics of the machine. He supposed that his pain was caused by a tiny electrical shock that stimulated a pain nerve. He realized that the more he could find out about his equipment the better his chances were of winning.

That evening Myrna was very watchful and very cool. He wondered if she suspected that she had been loved by a robot the evening before. He had hardly seated himself at the table when she called him a robot. The families seemed uproariously amused. He wondered how she had known. He congratulated her politely and she was allowed to go unidentified since it was her round.

When his facsimile was brought back to the room, Thad climbed wearily out of his harness and made himself a cold, uninteresting supper. He felt lonely. Was Myrna really sore at him? Damn this whole business! He wished he didn't have to go through all of this.

The next evening he had a plan worked out. He went himself and greeted her at the door, slammed it shut, and bent towards her to listen. It would take a moment for the reverberation to reach her room. If she were a robot, the sound would come through the primary microphone in the sender and he might be able to hear the faint echo from her lips. He did, and he immediately announced her as a facsimile. Her congratulations were hardly more than civil.

He left with no great feeling of triumph.

The next three evenings, she was very distant. He understood why she didn't meet him at the door anymore, but he couldn't tell why the rest of her behavior was so cold. She was very lucky, too. She identified him correctly as a robot each time before he even had time to greet the rest of the family. The day went very slowly. Thad left the office early in his uneasiness. Tonight was the seventh and last situation. He hoped it also wouldn't be their last evening together. At this point, he hardly knew what to do. If she won the contest, it would be a whole long year before they could marry. He knew that quite often that spelled the finish to a romance. On the other hand, if he won, it might estrange them immediately. She had such pride. What to do?

He decided to forget the robots and go as his real self again. Points were in her favor anyway. He realized that if she were present by facsimile, he couldn't possibly win. He might as well be the first one to guess and be done with it. It wasn't the contest that mattered anyhow; it was Myrna and what she was feeling.

When he rang the doorbell that evening, the corsage box under his arm contained orchids. Unexpectedly, it was Myrna that opened the door.

"Hello, real Myrna."

She hesitated for a moment. "Good evening, Thad. Please come in."

He followed her in and greeted the family. She opened the box and for a moment she seemed impressed. Then she regained her composure. He accepted her formal thanks as the families milled around admiring the gift. Everyone seemed slightly restrained. Thad finally phrased the question that they were all thinking.

"Are you real?"

"Perhaps you could tell if you kissed me," she said with mocking sweetness.

"Myrna, I'm sorry about that first evening, but I forgot that I wasn't really there." He wished the family wasn't there so close. All of them watching and listening made him feel an even greater uneasiness. Oh, he thought, the hell with this contest!

"Myrna, honey, look, I don't care if it's really you or not. Well, that is, I mean—"

His voice faded out. He realized he was getting more confused. Someone snickered. Myrna was watching him with a contemptuous smile curving her lips. The whole thing suddenly made him mad.

"O.K.! I don't care who wins the contest! I don't care if we do have to wait a year. I don't even care at the moment if there's going to be a wedding or not."

He started out of the room dimly aware that he was angrier than he realized. Myrna caught him in the vestibule.

"Thad! Thad! Wait! Please, I know I was being spiteful. You won the contest, I'm really me. Please don't go like this. I'd never forgive myself."

She looked up at him tearfully. He felt himself relenting finally and smiled. She threw her arms around his neck and he drew her close.

After a very long kiss, she looked up at him and said softly, "Thad, let's be sure the robots are all sent back to the agency before our honeymoon."