"You should know where we’re going," Coren said, just when Alina thought per had fallen asleep. "In case we get separated or something."
"Separated how?" Alina asked.
Coren ignored the question. "Follow the old I-80 into Pennsylvania to Scranton. From there, south to Schuylkill. My community’s there, living underground in an old coal mine. We still mine the coal, trade it for food down south where they still get some summer. The boss there, he’s the one I got you for. He talked about you, how he always wanted to meet you, but he figured you were dead in the Freeze and never would ask anyone to go north for you. I wanted to prove I could do it. That I could get you for him." Alina didn’t like how Coren’s words were slurring. Slurring was a sign of hypothermia, and the bitter, bitter air wasn’t going to get warmer anytime soon. She contemplated several decision trees. More than one path led her to prioritize Coren’s survival. She said, "I believe I should consume some food and generate heat for you."
"Ain’t you curious?" Coren asked, per eyes closed. "Who wanted to meet you?"
"When you’re warmer, I will be curious."
She crawled out from under the blankets to the supplies they’d dragged inside, switched on the lantern, and started eating the hard biscuits, salted jerky, cold stew, uncooked rice, and canned meat and vegetables. She ate as fast her as her throat could pass the food. Two thousand and seven hundred calories total. Her womb stayed steady at ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit as she began to raise her shell temperature. Back in the blanket nest, she put her hand flat against Coren’s face. Coren moaned a little but didn’t wake fully. Alina took off her coat and blouse and put them on the pile of blankets.
"I have to remove your clothes now," Alina announced.
Working carefully, she got Coren nearly naked and sidled close to per. Coren moved instinctively toward the warmth of Alina’s skin. Alina could feel all the details of per’s curves and weight. Coren’s breasts, soft and round, pressed against Alina’s chest. Coren’s penis, also soft, lay between them without a twitch. Alina didn’t doze off but she did channel more energy into heat than cognition, and was startled some time later when Coren said, "What the hell?" and pushed her away.
It was still dark out, the wind shrieking and flapping the sides of the tent. Coren sat upright and fumbled with the lantern. The flash of light made per wince, and the icy air had per quickly wrapping perself in the blankets.
"Are you feeling better?" Alina asked.
"What are you doing? Molesting me in my sleep?" Coren demanded.
"You were hypothermic. I am generating heat for you."
"You’re generating…" Coren looked bewildered. Then per saw the discarded debris of Alina’s dinner. "You ate everything?"
"You needed heat," Alina said.
"You stupid…" Coren rubbed the side of per head. "Damn it, it’s too cold to argue with you."
Per abruptly crawled back down into the blankets and pressed against Alina, seeking out every inch of warmth. Miserably per said, "You’re too good to pass up. I haven’t been this warm in months."
"There is no shame in needing heat," Alina replied, her chin atop Coren’s head. "I’m only a machine."
"But it’s gross," Coren muttered. ‘You could have at least kept your shirt on. Or my shirt on. What’d you have to take everything off for?"
"More effective heat transfer. Are you anxious because I am now aware of your physiology? You obviously have an XXY or XXYY chromosome arrangement."
Coren sighed. "I don’t care what you think of my chromosomes. It’s gross because you’re topless and those are your naked breasts I’m up against and my full name is Coren Crowther and you’re my damned grandmother, how’s that?"
"I’m not your grandmother," Alina said the next morning, as they packed up the tent under the clear blue sky. A thin layer of ice covered everything, but the storm was well past. "I’m a toaster oven who happened to carry your father’s fetus to full term."
Coren was back in per own clothes, disgruntled because there was no food left for breakfast. "You keep saying that. But my dad, he’s the one who calls you his robot mom. He told us about you for the first time last year, on his birthday. Who would have guessed it?"
"He runs the community you live in," Alina surmised. "In the coal mine."
"The Crowthers made their money in coal," Coren replied. Per tied down the last strap on the sled. "If the weather’s okay, we should be there in about five or six days. Is the baby going to be okay if you don’t get any food? You ate everything we had." Alina had already calculated her nutrient levels. "It is not optimal, but I can sustain Con Leche, yes."
"I might not be in such good shape. You might be dragging me on this sled by the time we get there. But it’ll be worth it just to see my dad’s face."
"Is his gratitude important to you?"
"It’s not about gratitude." Coren took up the sled straps. "I’ve got three older brothers. Big macho men. Everyone looks up to them, all the girls want to—well, you know. Me? Not so much. No one expects me to be as strong or fast or smart. So this way, I could prove myself. I could do something no one else did."
Alina nodded. "I don’t have wishes, but if I did, I would wish to see your father. To help you prove your worth, regardless of the size of your testicles or breasts."
Coren winced. "We don’t have to talk about that, okay?" Then per face clouded up. "What do you mean, you would wish it?"
"1721 Peach Tree Lane," Alina said. "I must find Con Leche’s parents."
"But you—" Coren started. "You can’t make it to Georgia on your own. That’s weeks away in this terrain and weather. The baby won’t last."
"I will find food," Alina told per. "I can trade or barter, I can perform sexual acts with strangers, I can dig up frozen corpses—"
Coren held up both hands. "Stop talking!"
Alina went silent. Coren took a deep breath and said, "The mine is a sure thing. We’ve got food and we can figure out a way to get your womb open; we’ve got some men who used to know a lot about computers—"
"Good luck to you, Coren, and thank you for rescuing me." Alina started walking across the snow.
Coren caught up to her and snagged her sleeve. "No, wait! I’m serious. You can’t just wander around looking for two men who probably died a long time ago."
"I’m aware there is risk," Alina said. "But I can’t change my programming. I must seek the parents and deliver their child."
She resumed walking. The fresh snow was thick and wet, hard on her snowshoes. The icy air made the slightest sound carry clear and wide. She was one tenth of a mile along the road before she heard Coren come after her with the sled. Alina stopped and waited.
"No digging up corpses," Coren said firmly. "No more naked in the middle of the night. If I say run, you say how far. And after the baby’s done, you come back to the mine with me. Agree to all that, and I’ll go with you. Stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ll go with you."
Alina smiled. "Thank you. Together we can make Dan and Mark very happy."
"We’ll see about that," Coren said, not sounding entirely hopeful, and together they trudged toward the blinding white horizon.
(2012)
I AM CRYING ALL INSIDE
Clifford D. Simak
Clifford Donald Simak was born in Millville, Wisconsin in 1904. He wrote more than two dozen novels, several nonfiction science books and hundreds of short stories during a 37-year career as reporter, news editor and science editor for The Minneapolis Star and The Minneapolis Tribune. He received three Hugo awards, three Nebula Awards, and the Horror Writers Association made him one of three inaugural winners of the Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement. In novels like City (1952) and Way Station (1963), Simak transported the Midwestern farmers he knew as a boy to imaginary planets while plaguing them with familiar, earthbound dilemmas. Robots feature prominently in his stories, likeable at first, but often morphing in surprising ways. Simak’s favourite recreation was fishing ("the lazy way, lying in a boat and letting them come to me"). He died in Minneapolis in 1988.