The others indicated agreement. Havoc realized that the machines didn't care what the tourists said, knowing that any dialogue would most likely reinforce the grim alternatives. All of them were in the same situation. The tourists did not have to like the choices, just recognize them.
The floater moved rapidly across the landscape, and soon came to a magnificent mountain featuring a grand bright waterfall. White vapor wafted up from its base and passed them in warm clouds. It smelled faintly sweet. "This is named Mating Falls," a speaker on the floater rail said. "There are chambers behind it where couples can pause for a time. The fumes bear assorted facilitating pheromones."
The machines weren't even being subtle. They were using the sexual element to soften up their targets.
"Let's do it, Ikon," Weft said enthusiastically.
"Needless," Havoc said. "We don't want to interrupt the tour."
But it seemed that the other tourists were all couples, and were affected by the fumes. They elected to accept the pause. Havoc felt the urge, but had to pretend he didn't, because it would not have affected a robot. No—he had to emulate a robot emulating a living man, so should after all act turned on. The true Ikon liked sex as well as any living man, as his session with Gale, Monochrome, and Shee had demonstrated. So Havoc patted Weft's pert bottom, giving the lie to his demurral.
The floater moved behind the falling sheet of water and nudged to a landing slot. The tourists walked off and sought separate chambers. Weft dragged Havoc to one. As a Glamor she could have resisted the impact of the pheromones, but as a woman who had loved him desperately all her life she regarded this as an opportunity.
It turned out to be a well appointed room, with a lockable door, bed, toilet annex, and a display of assorted foods: vegetables, roots, seeds, hay, pine needles, and lumps of mottled odoriferous substance. "I wonder what creature eats that?" Havoc remarked. As a robot he would not need to eat, so he did not try it himself.
Weft picked up a chunk and nibbled. "Oops—it's an arousal aid. Really turns me on." She dropped it and came to embrace him. "Let's get it on, Ikon." She began to work on his clothing. "Iolo, why don't you diffuse and guard our privacy?"
The ifrit started to vaporize.
I'm not the expletive robot! Havoc reminded her.
The machines don't know that. They know that Weft and Ikon are having an affair.
"That's just enhanced protein," Havoc said aloud.
"As if I need a pretext." She got his shirt off and started on the trousers. "Now show some interest, or I might get the notion your programming has been corrupted."
She was teasing him cruelly. If she bared his member and it wasn't erect, the spying machines would know something was amiss, and investigate.
Meanwhile Iolo was sublimating, and was practically gone as a solid creature. His vapor was spreading throughout the chamber and leaking out beyond it.
And you're not Weft, Havoc thought. You're the Red Glamor impersonating her.
Oh, you promised not to tell! She loosened his trousers and reached in to make sure he would be erect before showing his member. Her hand grasped it and kneaded it expertly, forcing a swift response.
"You make a persuasive case," he said as his trousers and undershorts dropped and he stood with a resplendent erection. "I have desired you from the moment of my manufacture."
"Well, I'm a desirable creature, and you do strongly resemble dad. That is of course why I'm attracted to you, as the obscenity machines knew." Her own clothing seemed to vaporize. It was a thing a Glamor could do.
She drew him down on the bed with her. "Make wild mechanical love to me!" Simultaneously she sent a wicked thought: How does it feel to fuck your daughter, Havoc?
"My love is not mechanical," Havoc said primly, defending his assumed identity. But the fact was she did perfectly resemble his daughter in every physical respect, and in most of her manners and expressions. That put him in a dilemma. Verbal gamesmanship aside, he had never done anything with Weft, Flame, or Voila that was not strictly paternal. Yet Weft had come on to him almost since infancy, and she had become possibly the most beautiful young woman of Charm. As a woman, she was highly desirable.
Also, he had to acknowledge, as a daughter. Even when she was thirteen, freshly developed, and he was bidding her a good night's sleep. She had arranged to flash him with her body on occasion, breasts as she reached down to pick up something from the floor, thighs as she sat down, smoldering glances. And with her passionate mind, sending him feelings of utter abandon heavily tinged with eroticism. Herself floating amidst vapors, her clothing evaporating, her legs spreading to show her genital region in preternatural detail, opening like a blooming flower. He had gotten erections which he hoped she never realized, while pretending indifference. He was after all her father, alert to her childish games. Yet a buried part of him knew that she did realize, and felt a muted victory. She knew she couldn't have him physically or emotionally, but she could make him react despite his resistance. It had gotten worse as she advanced through her teens and learned the arts of seduction. He was the only man of any age she had not been able to seduce at will.
And if the two of you had been caught in a vortex leading inevitably to Void, with no escape, what would you have done with her? Red demanded mischievously.
I'd have clasped her, he admitted.
And she would have given you the wildest physical and emotional sex you could ever have, buttressed by her pure love for you.
Sometimes he had wondered whether it would be feasible to do what Gale suggested, and take Weft no fault to some private place for an hour, a day, or a month of abandonment, exhausting their suppressed mutual attraction in an unfettered inferno. To get it behind them, so that Weft could go on and find her own man, her illicit passion exhausted. It would have been fun—extraordinary fun—and might be effective.
This is new to me, Red thought. Why didn't you?
Several reasons. If he had done it with Weft, Flame and Voila could have been jealous. They did not advertise them, but they had passions too. They might then make their claims, which would be difficult to deny. It was not actual sex they wanted, but equivalent attention. There was also the publicity: news would have gotten out, and he would have been branded a perpetrator of incest. And, worse, it was possible that if he yielded once to Weft's temptation, it wouldn't burn itself out, and he would find himself truly in love with her. That was a love he could not afford, for she was possessive, and would act to restrict his other associations. She was a stronger Glamor than he was, and her will would govern. Sex with her would be dangerous because of the chance of its leading to the sheer disaster of love.
Understanding, Red thought. Now I must agree. You can't touch Weft. It could cost you Gale and your mistresses, and be completely unfair to them. They love you unpossessively, and are all outstandingly worthy women.
He gazed at her, for the moment seeing the Red Glamor in the shell of Weft. As the Glamor of Human Beings she had a thorough understanding of human nature, and centuries of experience. The two of them had had sex many times, and she was another wonderfully responsive and unpossessive woman. She was the first one he had revealed his most private thoughts to, and her endorsement of his conclusion gratified him. "Appreciation," he said aloud.