Android Karenina

“A

“Yes, the Countess and I have been talking all the time, I of my son and she of hers,” said Madame Karenina, and again a smile lighted up her face, a caressing smile intended for him.

“I am afraid that you must have been dreadfully bored,” he said, promptly catching the ball of coquetry she had flung him. He thrust one leg forward in an offhandedly dashing pose, displaying the hot-whip that flickered in its transparent sheath along the outer curve of his leg. But apparently she did not care to pursue the conversation in that strain, and she turned to the old countess.

“Thank you so much. The time has passed so quickly. Good-bye, Countess.”

“Good-bye, my love,” answered the countess. “Let me kiss your pretty face. I speak plainly, at my age, and I tell you simply that I’ve lost my heart to you.”

Clichéd as the phrase was, Madame Karenina obviously believed it and was delighted by it. She flushed, bent down slightly, and put her cheek to the countess’s lips, drew herself up again, and with the same smile fluttering between her lips and her eyes, she gave her hand to Vronsky. He pressed the little hand she gave him, and was delighted, as though at something special, by the energetic squeeze with which she freely and vigorously shook his hand.

Just as she did, a great BOOM echoed through the Grav station. All present silenced their conversation and paused in their activity-even the industrious II/Porter/7e62s stopped short on their stubby legs and wheeled in small circles, aural sensors pulsing. This BOOM, despite its tremendous power, came from no evident source; it was as if a crack had opened in the sky, through which had come the sound of God pounding his fist upon a table. And though others would later deny it, even scoff at the notion, many present later swore that the sky, at the moment of the blast, flickered an unca

Vronsky hastened to calm his mother, patting her hand and saying soothingly, “Koschei, Madame. The 77s captured one and detonated it in the station. Likely this was another.” Vronsky was aware, of course, that this was a well-meaning but preposterous falsehood: the BOOM had sounded nothing like that of the koschei being junkered in the rubbish bin-indeed it sounded like no explosion he had heard in his life, and he had heard many.

A

“Very charming,” said the countess.

That was just what her son was thinking. Vronsky’s eyes followed her till her graceful figure was out of sight, and then the smile remained on his face. Vronsky saw out of the window how this remarkable woman went up to her brother, put her arm in his, and began telling him something eagerly, obviously something that had nothing to do with him, Vronsky, and at that he felt a

“Well, Mamma, are you perfectly well?” he said, and gave his mother his arm. But just as they were getting out of the carriage, a small fleet of Class II/StationMaster/44s buzzed officiously past, their alarm lights flashing an urgent red. Obviously something unusual had happened. The crowd who had left the Grav were ru

A cold feeling crept over Vronsky, as he caught a whiff of some terrible burning rising off the tracks.

“What?… What?… Where?… Burned?… Crushed! was heard among the crowd. Stepan Arkadyich, with his sister on his arm, turned back. They too looked scared, and stopped at the carriage door to avoid the crowd. Vronsky interposed himself between Madame Karenina and the platform edge, instinctively desiring to block from her vision whatever gruesome scene lay on the magnet bed below.

It was a battered corpse, evidently first fallen on the magnet bed then crushed by the rushing force of the oncoming Grav. The rumor making its way rapidly through the agitated crowd said the dead man had been a stowaway, riding the Grav without a ticket, when he was discovered by a troop of 77s. The heavy-booted machine-men had brought the anonymous rider to their Caretaker, who had demanded his name and occupation. The stowaway had refused to answer and the gold-uniformed Caretaker had dutifully declared him a Janus, a hateful enemy of Mother Russia, and ordered him thrown in front of an arriving Grav.

But Vronsky, who knew that such stories were often mere concoctions to shield the public from some unpalatable truth, retained an agitated feeling about this accident. He averted his eyes from the wrapped, smoldering corpse as the 77s with their strong pipe-like arms tossed it unceremoniously into the back of a carriage.

Before Vronsky and Oblonsky came back, the ladies had heard the tale from other onlookers. Oblonsky was evidently upset. He frowned and seemed ready to cry.

“Ah, how awful! Ah, A

Madame Karenina walked with her brother, Small Stiva and Android Karenina walking a few paces behind. A

Madame Karenina seated herself in his carriage, and Stepan Arkadyich saw with surprise that her lips were quivering, and she was with difficulty restraining her tears.

“What is it, A

“This death, it touches me somehow,” she said. “I ca

“What nonsense!” said Stepan Arkadyich, his genial nature reasserting itself against the mess and unpleasantness of death. “Our 77s have discovered a traitor, and acted swiftly and appropriately! Bravo, and praise God for our tireless protectors! You’ve come, that’s the chief thing. You can’t conceive how I’m resting my hopes on you.”

“Have you known Vronsky long?” she asked, trying to match her brother’s easy calm. She glanced at Android Karenina, who bathed her in reassuring silence and a gentle lavender glow. Unusual for a Class III robot, Android Karenina never spoke, only buttressed by her constant reassuring presence A

“Yes,” Stiva answered cheerily. “You know we’re hoping he will marry Kitty.”

“Yes?” said A

“Yes, all my hopes are in you,” said Stepan Arkadyich.

“Well, tell me all about it.”