Illusions

by
N.C. Weber

    Siryn leaned back into the deck chair on the balcony of her motel room and sighed.  She was bored.  What was worse, she was alone.  Well, not quite.  There was the tall, metallic green android who kept her constant company.  Even so, Mars was a machine, not a flesh and blood companion no matter how closely she resembled one.  The other band members had gone out to enjoy themselves at a club.  Siryn, however, was not in the mood to hang out with the boys again.  She needed time with members of her own gender.  She felt starved of contact with other females, to talk with other women about the things that women deem important.  Siryn issued another sigh which failed to truly express her misery.

    While staring up into a cloudless sky, Siryn heard a short cry coming from the bedroom.  She immediately panicked since she had never heard Mars utter any kind of distress before.  Siryn clambered out of the deck chair, turning it over in her haste and tripping over the threshold of the sliding glass doors.  She managed to regain her balance and ran for the bedroom.  There, standing in front of the vanity, was Mars looking at herself in the mirror.  She looked remarkably unharmed in any way.

    "Hey, you okay in here?" asked Siryn with much concern.

    Mars turned to Siryn.  "Yes, of course.  I am fine."

    Siryn breathed out in relief.  "Then what was the cry of distress all about?"

    "I've discovered something...surprising," said Mars turning back to the mirror.  "Come look at this.  Assuming I can get it to do it again."

    "Do what again?" asked Siryn as she stepped closer to the vanity.  That was when she heard the sound of tiny motors running.  Small square sections of Mars' skin on her legs and arms began to push outward as if moved by tiny hydraulic lifts.  On her chest plate, where the chassis formed the suggestion of female breasts, a seam appeared where there had been none before.  The breast section also pushed out a short distance.

    "What's going on?" asked Siryn.

    Mars shook her head.  "I'm not sure.  I thought maybe they were maintenance hatches, but the openings are much too small for anyone to stick a hand or even a good sized tool into."

    Siryn was slightly bemused.  "Maybe they're for ventilation."

    "I doubt it," replied Mars.  "I already have a sufficient liquid cooling system.  I dispel heat through my hair."

    "That explains why you have so much of it, I guess," said Siryn.

    Mars turned toward Siryn and nodded.  "More surface area exposed to the air means more efficient cooling."

    "It's too bad you didn't come with a set of instructions," said Siryn with a smile.

    Mars seemed to be lost in thought.  "Maybe I did."

    "I'm sorry?"

    "There's this section of my brain that I've never bothered to use," explained Mars.  "It has a small software block on it, but it's an embarrassingly simple encryption."

    Siryn grinned.  "I'll take your word for it.  So, you think instructions might be in that section of your brain?"

    Mars nodded.  She seemed to be lost in thought again.  "Oh dear," she uttered in a defeated tone.

    "What's wrong?" asked Siryn.  Her sense of misgiving was increasing again.

    "It requires a voice encoded passcode," said Mars.  "Guess whose voice."

    "Max," growled Siryn.  "You know, I'm really starting to get tired of that stubborn jackass."

    "Please, Siryn," said Mars sadly.

    "I'm sorry," said Siryn regaining her composure.  "I know what he means to you, but it still burns me up.  He doesn't even care how you feel."

    "He doesn't believe I can feel," amended Mars.

    "Right, right," sighed Siryn exasperatedly.  Life with Max Wren was indeed complex if nothing else.

    "Sometimes...," started Mars, but she stopped speaking.

    "Sometimes?" prompted Siryn.

    Mars looked at Siryn as if measuring whether she could tell her how she felt.  Finally, she said, "Sometimes, I wish I could look like you."

    Just then, an aura of light began pouring out of the openings in Mars' skin.  "What the hell...?" began a startled Siryn.  The light began to dim once more, but there standing in front of Siryn wasn't the green metal android that she had grown to love over the past three months, but herself.

    "What in the world...?  Mars?  Is that you?" stammered Siryn.

    A quizzical look crossed the duplicate Siryn's face.  "Of course it's me.  Who else would I be?"

    Siryn indicated the mirror behind her copy.  "How about...me?"

    Mars-Siryn turned around and audibly gasped.  "What happened?  I look like you!"

    "Well," said Siryn closely studying her duplicate, "offhand, I'd say we've discovered what all those holes are for."

    Mars turned to look at Siryn.  "It's a holographic system," said Mars-Siryn excitedly.

    "Do you mind...not being me anymore," said Siryn.  "It's really weirding me out."

    "Uhm...I'm not sure how I came to look like you in the first place," said Mars a little sheepishly.

    Siryn paused in thought.  Suddenly, she snapped her fingers.  "You have to want to look like yourself.  Remember?  You said that sometimes you wished you could look like me.  Then, this happened."

    Mars brightened and nodded.  She turned to the mirror once more.  "I want to be myself," said Mars.  Immediately, the image of Siryn that had surrounded her faded into nothing.  Mars was, once again, a tall, green sentient robot.  "What an intriguing discovery."

    "So basically, you can become anyone you want," mused Siryn.  "Makes sense.  You'd attract a lot less attention looking like a human being than you would looking like...uhm..."

    "A psychedelic Oscar award?" supplied Mars.

    Siryn's eyes narrowed.  "Where'd you hear that from."

    "Wreck."

    Siryn shook her head.  "That figures.  I don't want him teaching you bad habits."

    Mars smiled.  "He's harmless.  Besides, he's the only other person who talks to me like a human being."

    Siryn blinked and stared hard at Mars.  Then, very slowly, a manic grin began to develop on Siryn's face.

    "Are...you okay, Siryn?  You look like you just ate a sour pickle."

    "I just had a wicked idea..." she said with demonic glee.

* * *

    Wreck leaned against the bar and sipped his lager.  Now, if only they wouldn't refrigerate it, thought Wreck, it'd be perfect.

    Most of the patrons of the dance club were out on the floor gyrating to the staccato beat of the band that was currently playing.  Max had wanted to come here to get a bead on their competition.  In Wreck's opinion, the Black Byrds had nothing to worry about.  As he cast a glance about the dimly lit room, he caught sight of Siryn, the Black Byrds' keyboardist and backup vocalist.  She was with another woman who was slightly taller but copper complected like Siryn was.  Her hair was also fuller and longer than Siryn's.  Wreck waved to the two women.  He had expected Siryn's look of recognition, but was surprised when the other woman smiled as if she knew him.  Wreck figured she was just very friendly.

    At least, I certainly 'ope she is, thought Wreck admiring her curvy frame.

    As Siryn and her companion reached the bar, Wreck engaged in his usual genial banter.  "So, decided to join the party after all, eh?"

    "I found someone to hang out with," said Siryn.

    "So, I see," said Wreck as he sidled up to the young woman.  "I believe introductions are in order."

    The two women looked at one another.  "Do you think we should tell him?" asked the woman.

    "I don't think he'd forgive us if we kept him in the dark," agreed Siryn.

    Wreck looked from one to the other as this by play went on.  "Tell me what?" he asked slightly bemused,  He took a long draw on his lager.

    "Wreck, I'd like you to meet my friend, Mars," said Siryn.

    Caught off guard, Wreck involuntarily inhaled some of his lager and went into a paroxysm of coughing, spattering lager all over the floor.

    "Oh my goodness," cried Mars in alarm.  She patted Wreck on the back to aid him in clearing his lungs.  After a while, Wreck was able to breathe once more, but not with clearing his throat at regular intervals.

    "Are you serious?"  He looked at the tall East Indian woman.  "That's Mars?"

    Mars smiled.  She twirled in front of Wreck as if showing off a new dress.  "What do you think?"

    "Un-friggin'-believable!  How'd you do it?"

    "Holograms," put in Siryn.

    "This is just awesome," enthused Wreck.  "This means you don't have to hide out all the time like some kind of vampire."

    Mars laughed.  "Yes, it does feel good to be out and about with people for a change."

    "In that case," said Wreck, "care to dance?"

    "I'd love to," said Mars, "but I'm here with Siryn."

    "Oh, go on, you two," said Siryn.  "Just remember who you came in with."

    Siryn smiled as she watched Wreck escort Mars out onto the dance floor.  She couldn't deny Mars the chance to truly enjoy herself for the first time in her life.  She watched as Mars tried to get the hang of modern dancing.  Wreck was patiently showing her a few of his dance moves.

    "Hey, Siryn's here," called a booming voice.

    Siryn looked up and saw Thrash bearing down upon her like a runaway locomotive.  He scooped her up, as was his usual habit when he was slightly tipsy, and gave her a big bear hub.

    "Oomph!" breathed Siryn as the air was forcefully expelled from her lungs.

    "Alright, Thrash, put her down before you suffocate her," said Max with a slight smile.

    Thrash obliged him and dropped Siryn like a stone.  Siryn was used to this routine and landed on her feet with little to no loss of balance.  "You really shouldn't let him drink," said Siryn.  "He's dangerous when he's all friendly like that."

    "Who's gonna stop him?" asked Max with a chuckle.  "Not me, that's for sure."

    Siryn studied Max for a moment.  "Well, you're in a good mood tonight.  What gives?"

    "Eh, this band is crap," he said thumbing over his shoulder at the musicians playing on stage.  "We've got nothing to worry about from them, for now.  When they get things together, though, we'll have to keep an eye on them."

    "They're not all that bad," said Thrash cheerfully.  "They've got a nice backbeat."

    "Hmm, typical percussionist commentary," said Siryn.

    "It's what I do," said Thrash with a shrug and a cheesy grin.

    "So, what made you change your mind about coming?" asked Max.  "I thought you were sick of us guys."

    "I met a new playmate," said Siryn.  "She dancing with Wreck."

    "Uh-oh, maybe she needs rescuing," said Thrash.  He scanned the undulating crowd of party goers.  "Ah, I see them.  Wow, she's a looker.  Is she related to you?"

    "Oh yes, Thrash," said Siryn with a giggle, "all us Indians are related."

    Thrash frowned a little.  "You know what I mean," said Thrash.  "I'm serious.  She looks almost like you."  He watched Wreck and the mystery woman dancing out on the floor.  "I think I'll cut in."

    Before Max or Siryn could stop him, Thrash lumbered out onto the floor without, by some miracle, colliding into anyone.  Wreck caught sight of Thrash before Mars did.

    "'Ey, look who's here," smiled Wreck.

    "Mind if I cut in?" asked Thrash.

    "Be my guest, mate," said Wreck.

    "Hi there.  I'm Thrash," introduced Thrash.  "What's yours?"

    "I'm Mar-," began Mars.

    "Marcie!" broke in Wreck suddenly.

    Mars looked at Wreck and blinked.  "Oh...yes...I'm Marcie.  Pleased to meet you."

    "Care to dance, Marcie?" asked Thrash.

    "I'd be delighted," said Mars.

    Wreck surreptitiously moved toward Max and Siryn.  As he reached the bar, Siryn leaned toward him and whispered, "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

    "As long as she doesn't step on 'is foot, she's golden," said Wreck dismissively.  "Mind you, the owners of this establishment are gonna be wonderin' what in the world put those big dents in their parquet.  Oh, and 'er name is Marcie, now."

    "Marcie?  Not a very Indian name, is it?" said Siryn.

    "Not my fault," shrugged Wreck.  "She almost blew it by introducing 'erself as Mars.  I 'ad to think quick."

    Siryn nodded.  "Not bad.  At least Thrash is having a good time."

    Wreck chuckled.  "Always 'as a good time when 'e's tanked, that one."

    "So, who's the girl?" asked Max.

    "Uhm, Marcie," said Siryn.  "She's only in town for the weekend.  I ran into her at the motel."  Strangely enough, this was all true.  The band was only in town for the weekend, and Siryn did first see Mars' new persona at the motel.

    "She seems like a nice girl," commented Max.  "Think she's okay out there dancing with the Inebriated Hulk?"

    "She'll be fine," said Wreck.  "She's a better dancer than she lets on.  I think she's just shy."

    Eventually, the band on stage was winding up its last set, and the crowd was beginning to thin.  When the last song ended, Thrash led Mars by the hand to join the other Black Byrds, who had found a table.  Thrash kissed Mars' knuckles before allowing her to sit.  Then, he found a seat next to Wreck.

    "You kids looked like you were 'aving fun out there," said Wreck with a smirk.

    "Oh yeah," sighed Thrash, "Marcie is an excellent dancer."

    "I was merely following your lead," said Mars.

    "And she's modest, too," said Thrash poking Wreck in the ribs with his elbow.

    Wreck raised a suspicious eyebrow at Thrash.  Siryn was looking from Thrash to Mars and back again.  Oh crap, thought Siryn to herself.  I think the big doof is falling for her.

    Wreck seemed to have come to the same conclusion.  He suddenly made a big show of stretching and yawning.  "Well, blokes, I'm knackered.  Seein' as 'ow they're closing up and everything, I say we turn in for the night."

    "Yeah, we can give Marcie a ride to the motel," enthused Thrash.

    Oh boy, thought Siryn, this could be tricky.

* * *

    The trip to the motel was uneventful.  No one had seemed to notice that Marcie hadn't eaten or drunk a thing the whole evening.  Siryn was really beginning to see just how risky it was for Mars to venture out into the public, even disguised as she was.  Everyone piled out of the van once Max had pulled the parking break and killed the engine.

    "Can I escort you to your room," offered Thrash.

    "Oh, I'm sorry, but I'm spending some time with Siryn tonight," said Mars.

    "Yeah, Thrash, you had her all evening," said Siryn.  "It's my turn."

    Thrash looked a bit crestfallen.  Mars couldn't help but feel sorry for him.  Without warning, she walked up to him, stood on her tiptoes and kiss Thrash on the cheek.

    "Thanks for a lovely evening, Thrash."  Then, she left with Siryn.

    Thrash stood there with a far away look in his eyes.  "Wow," was all he could utter.

    As Siryn led Mars upstairs to her motel room, she asked, "What that kiss really necessary?"

    "Well, it seemed appropriate at the time," said Mars.

    "I'll be honest with you," said Siryn with a sigh, "I think Thrash has fallen in love with you."

    Siryn felt a sudden jolt in her arm as Mars immediately out on brakes in the middle of the hallway.  "Was I really that convincing?" asked Mars.

    Siryn nodded.  "Apparently so."

    "What are we going to do about Thrash?"

    Siryn looked at Mars for a moment.  "Nothing," she eventually said.  "He'll get over you.  After all, it was just a night of dancing.  You'll just have to never wear that particular disguise again."

    Mars looked concerned.  "Are you sure?"

    "This isn't the first time something like this has happened to us, Mars," said Siryn.  "I afraid the rover's lifestyle that we lead isn't conducive to strong relationships."  She smiled.  "Com'on, we can talk more in our room."

    As they continued on, Mars had a revelation.  "Oh dear, I hope he doesn't make too much out of that kiss I gave him."

* * *

    Once more, the band was packing up their gear to head out on the lonely, open road.  Mars was already in the back of the van once the bill had been settled and everyone was ready to go.  Thrash seemed lost and forlorn.  Mars' heart went out to him, but she was afraid to say anything.

    "You alright, mate?" asked Wreck as he pulled the van door closed and made himself comfortable for the long trip.

    "I'm never going to see her again, am I?" said Thrash.

    Wreck sighed.  "Some things just aren't meant to be, mate."

    "I didn't even think to get her phone number," said Thrash with some anguish.

    "You sound heartbroken," said Mars quietly.

    Thrash glared at Mars.  "And what would you know about it?" he growled.  "What does a machine know about love?"

    Mars' eyes flared.  "For your information, Thrash, there is more to me than meets the eye."

    "Ease off, mate," said Wreck to Thrash.  "She didn't mean no 'arm by it."

    "Oh, is that so?" snarled Thrash completely ignoring Wreck's attempt at making peace.

    "Yes, that's so!" retorted Mars.  "Just because I'm made of metal and circuitry instead of flesh and blood doesn't mean I can't have the same kinds of feelings that you do!"

    "Yes it does!  You're a construct!  Constructs can't have feelings.  It's impossible.  Do you have any idea the kind of complexity it would require to create an artificial brain that could experience things the way humans do?"

    "It takes a positronic neural network with human engrams mapped into place," shouted Mars.

    "That's right it would take--," started Thrash. He stopped and blinked.  "Really?"

    "Yes, really," huffed Mars as she folded her arms and pouted.

    "Hey, back there," called Max, "am I gonna have to pull this van over?"

    Thrash studied Mars closely.  "So, you're saying, that you have a positronic neural net?"

    "Well, d'uh!" riposted Mars.  "How the hell do you think I've been walking and talking like this all the time?"

    Thrash looked at Wreck.  "Is it serious?"

    Wreck shrugged his shoulders.  "Don't look at me, mate.  You're both speakin' mumbo jumbo to me."

    Mars sighed and rubbed her brow, as if she were suffering from a stress related headache.  "I am tired.  Tired of being treated like a...a thing that you stick in your display case so people can gawk at me."

    Thrash was shocked when he saw the tears trickling down Mars' cheeks.  "Hey, you're...crying."

    "Just...leave me alone."  Mars turned her back on Thrash.

    Thrash looked as if the world had turned on its ear.  He looked at Wreck.  "She's crying."

    "Course," said Wreck emotionlessly.  "You 'urt 'er feelings, mate."  Then, with the weakest of smiles, he added, "And you just called 'it' a 'she'."

    The van was silent for the remainder of the trip.

T H E   E N D

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