Android Karenina

“It’s a rest to waltz with you,” he said to her, as they glided through the waltz. “It’s exquisite-such lightness, precision.” He said to her the same thing he said to almost all his partners whom he knew well.

She smiled at his praise, and continued to look down at the room below them. She was not like a girl at her first float, for whom the tops of all the heads melt into one vision of fairyland. And she was not a girl who had gone the stale round of floats till every pate was familiar and tiresome. But she was in the middle stage between these two; she was excited, and at the same time she had sufficient self-possession to be able to observe.

Kitty turned her attention to her fellow dancers, as the music slowed from triple time to a common four-four and the air slowed with it, transforming from the swift, giddy puff-puff-puff of waltzfloating to a controlled series of magisterial gusts. Doing a slow pirouette in the air was the beauty Lidi, Korsunsky’s wife; swa

And he was here too, silver uniform gleaming in the candlelight, his hot-whip crackling wickedly where it encircled his upper thigh. Kitty had not seen him since the evening she refused Levin. With her longsighted eyes, she knew him at once, and was even aware that he was looking at her.

“Where shall I alight you?” said Korsunsky, a little out of breath, as the air song came to the end and the airstreams began to weaken in force, bringing the dancers closer to the floor with each subsequent gust.

“Madame Karenina’s here, I think… take me to her.”

“Wherever you command.”

And Korsunsky began waltzing their measured way, downward and diagonally, straight toward the group in the left corner, continually saying, “Pardon, Mesdames, pardon, pardon, Mesdames” and steering his course through the sea of lace, tulle, and ribbon.

“This is one of my most faithful supporters,” said Korsunsky, bowing to A

“I don’t dance when it’s possible not to dance,” she said.

“But tonight it’s impossible,” answered Korsunsky.

At that instant Vronsky came up.

“Well, since it’s impossible tonight, let us start,” she said, not noticing Vronsky’s bow, and she hastily put her hand on Korsunsky’s shoulder as the air-chime sounded for the next waltz, the steady huffing of the hidden pipes began anew, and he launched them into the air.

“What is she vexed with him about?” thought Kitty, discerning that A

He flushed slightly, and hurriedly asked her to waltz, but they had only just ascended to the first tier when a whistle blew, the music stopped, the air jets cut off abruptly, and everybody tumbled toward the ground.

Kitty cried out as she fell, but the floor of the ballroom was of course lined with plush mats of eiderdown, and so the greatest risk was not physical injury but embarrassment, which in fact was the result. As the erstwhile floaters, some laughing, some calling out in confusion and discomposure, struggled to their feet, Kitty blushed to find herself entangled with Count Vronsky, who calmly pulled them both upright.

Korsunsky, who had landed on top of A

“Your Excellency,” began this Caretaker, who wore a thin black mustache and a smirk of self-satisfaction. “Can you confirm the provenance of this machine?”

“Why, indeed,” replied Korsunsky readily, pulling away from A

Kitty watched Korsunsky’s eyes darting rapidly from his robot to the suspicious and hawk-like gaze of the Caretaker to the strong, pincer-like end-effectors of the 77s.

“Pardon, your Excellency. I did not inquire as to the machine’s name or master. I asked if you can vouch for its origins.”

The Caretaker’s tone was unmistakably hardening. Looking away from Korsunsky, Kitty’s gaze fell on A

Kitty had been seeing A

“The difficulty is simply this, sir,” the Caretaker continued in a smooth, almost supplicating tone. “This Class III device has been implanted with a recorder/transmitter by enemies of the state, and sadly must be destroyed.”

An audible gasp came from the assembled crowd, followed by a ripple of disapproval and excitement. Korsunsky could only throw up his hands with confusion. “What? This ca

“No one has suggested so,” the Caretaker responded, his lips tightening and turning up almost imperceptibly. “No one, that is, until yourself, at this moment. But this machine, your excellency, has been corrupted, and must be destroyed.”

“Wait! No-no,” cried Korsunsky, as the massive 77s, their heads performing their slow, watchful revolutions, surrounded his small orange Class III, which clucked and whirred frightfully. “Portcullis!”

Count Vronsky separated from Kitty’s side and strode across the floor, raising his hands before him in a calming ma

“Alexei Kirillovich,” said Korsunsky imploringly to Vronsky, sensing his chance to make an appeal. “This is an old and dearly beloved family android. It belonged to my grandfather and to his grandfather before him. It fought beside him in Kazakhstan.”