He looked at me, his witness, and I nodded to confirm the truth of what he said.
‘And then there are things called syntecs,’ he said, ‘which resemble human beings in every way and are even covered with a layer of real flesh. Is that not so also, Kyrios?’
‘More or less,’ I mumbled, hoping he would get off the subject.
‘Yes, it is so,’ said a seller of farm implements who was also staying in the taverna. ‘Up at Kania they found one that looked like a man, with flesh that really bled. They managed to kill it though.’
‘Yes, a good job,’ said the village baker, ‘because, after all, what is it that animates these monsters? It certainly can’t be a God-given soul, so what else can it be but a demon from Hell that these atheists and scientists have summoned up with their wickedness?’
‘God save us!’ murmured the proprietress. ‘Demons that live and walk, wandering our roads. What have we done to deserve this affliction?’
‘But the Lord will destroy that city like Sodom one day,’ the baker said. ‘In his own time He will surely deliver us, just as he once delivered us from the Turk.’
‘But there is worse,’ said Nikos. ‘They have female syntecs too for the use of men. ASPUs they are called, demons in the likeness of lovely girls with hair and breasts and – forgive me Kyria – real female parts between their legs…’
There was a silence while each of the assembled men considered the horror of this, but also speculated, guiltily and secretly, about what it would be like to play with a beautiful woman’s body without the worry and complication of its having a soul.
‘My God!’ cried the proprietress. ‘Such wickedness! How can people think of such things? It’s a wonder the Lord doesn’t destroy us all!’
‘I know,’ said Nikos, his eyes shining. ‘But what I’m telling you is true. You see them everywhere, walking about the streets, with their hair uncovered and their legs bare… Is that not so, Kyrios?’
He glared at me, as if warning me not to challenge his embroidery of the truth. Nowhere in Illyria did ASPUs walk the streets, though I half-wondered whether a genuine confusion existed in Nikos’ mind between ASPUs and real Illyrian girls.
‘Such things exist, certainly,’ I said reluctantly.
‘And now I will tell you all a story,’ Nikos announced, ‘a true story that I learned in the City about another Greek who lived there.’
45
‘His name was Giorghios. He was a Cretan. He worked as a carpenter and lived in a little apartment in the Greek quarter with his wife and his two sons. He was a decent God-fearing man too, they say. We were not allowed churches in the City so the priests had to dress in ordinary clothes and cut off their beards and work among ordinary men. But Giorghios allowed his little flat to be used for services. He prayed daily to God and Mary and he brought up his boys in the traditions of our Holy Greek church.’
The proprietress topped up his raki glass. Nikos paused and looked round dramatically at his listeners. The rain drummed on the glass shopfront of the taverna.
‘But listen! One day poor Giorghios saw a beautiful girl. She had dark hair, dark eyes, shapely breasts…’ (Nikos resorted here to gestures to describe the girl’s breasts, her wide hips, her narrow waist…) ‘He saw her passing him in the street and suddenly it was as if he had been possessed. All at once he wanted her more than anything he had ever seen. He tried to put her out of his mind and turn his thoughts back to his wife, his sons, his religion, but he could think of nothing else but that girl and her beauty. He longed for nothing else but to see her again.’
The young ex-guestworker drained his glass with a small shudder. Thunder boomed over the mountains.
‘And finally,’ he went on, ‘just as the girl was at last mercifully beginning to fade from his mind, he did see her again. He was working on a building site on the outskirts of the City when she walked past. He stood up and watched her until she disappeared and then he turned to his friend. “May God forgive me!” he said, “I want that woman more than anything else on Earth. When I see her I forget my wife and my sons and I forget God. I would give anything to possess her, even my own soul!”
‘His friend laughed. “You fool, Giorghios,” he said, “That wasn’t a real woman! That was a syntec, a machine. She is called Clara. You could possess her for thirty dollars! Never mind your soul.”
‘And he told Giorghios where she could normally be found.
‘Well, the carpenter laughed and felt ashamed. “You’re right, Andreas,” he said to his friend, “I am a fool. But I’m glad that you told me that because now I can put her out of my mind. I’m not interested in making love to a machine!”
‘And he went home to his wife and his sons feeling at peace with himself once more and thinking that this was the end of the whole business. But no. That night he lay awake thinking of Clara and her beauty – and thinking how easily he could possess her. And he lay awake the next night and the next, until eventually one night he told himself: “Well, I will go to her just once. Perhaps when my curiosity is satisfied, I can put her out of my mind.”
‘So the next day he sought out Clara, gave her money and then took her to a quiet place and possessed her. Afterwards he felt ashamed. It was horrible to think he’d betrayed his wife and sons. Even more horrible to think that he’d done it with something that wasn’t even alive. And he promised himself and God most fervently that he’d never do it again. But this promise he did not keep. The demon had got under his skin. He burned for her constantly until eventually he threw aside honour and religion and went to her again.’
Nikos paused. The proprietress came over with more raki.
‘After that,’ he continued, ‘it was as if a dam had broken and the flood could no longer be contained. Giorghios went back again and again to the beautiful Clara. He spent all the savings that he had, lying to his wife that he had sent the money for safe keeping to his father in Crete. He borrowed more money. He even began to steal, just so as to be able to keep on going back to this mechanical doll and enjoying the delights of its flesh. He was like a man addicted to raki or opium but ten times worse. He sacrificed everything to feed this sinful hunger of his, even though he knew it was wrong, even though he despised and hated himself for it, even though it made him wretched with shame and despair.
‘“It must end,” he told himself, “it must end before I destroy myself and my family with me.” And he knew there was only one way this could be done…’
Again the young man paused for dramatic effect, downing another glass of raki and looking round at his audience with reddened, shiny eyes.
‘Listen. This is what happened. One night Giorghios took a chisel from his toolbag and sharpened it to a point. Then he went and found the syntec and took her to a dark place where they would not be disturbed. She lay down for him and she looked so beautiful that he could not bring himself to do what he had set out to do. “I will have her just this one last time!” he told himself, and he took her in his arms. But afterwards, when his desire was spent, the anger rose up in him because of the way that she had enslaved him, and then he took the chisel, just as he had planned, and drove it into her chest…’
Nikos looked round at the enthralled faces.
‘You see,’ he explained, ‘the computer that controls an android is in its chest, in the place where a human being has a heart. Is that not so, Kyrios?’
I nodded weakly.
‘But now listen!’ said the young guestworker, ‘for this is the saddest part of the story. When Giorghios stabbed her, the blood began to flow from Clara’s body – and it was not the little trickle of blood you might expect from a syntec’s human skin. No, it was real thick blood that gushed out in a torrent from deep within. “You have killed me!” whispered Clara, “Of all the men who use me, you alone I could have loved. And you have killed me!”