The thought shimmered tauntingly. Was there something about it he had missed? How did HARLIE mean that? Would it be a weakness to a machine? (If machines could love, it would be.) (Or would it?) (Yes, he decided, yes — it would definitely be a weakness to a machine. It would interfere with logical thinking.)
Weakness. He considered the word — eight soft letters of marshmallow black. He turned over its meanings — new ones kept suggesting themselves, new references and new contexts. He backtracked his train of thought, but the word had suddenly lost all semantic reference and become only two meaningless syllables, odd-sounding and flat. Weakness, weakness, weakness — it echoed and reechoed within his head. He let it. He repeated it over and over and wondered why the repetitions and examinations had drained it of concept.
He thrust it away; it didn’t matter. It didn’t fulfill the main criterion of his quest — it didn’t satisfy him as a definition of love. THAT’S NOT IT, HARLIE, he typed.
And suddenly realized something — HARLIE had asked the question as a joke. He had never meant to suggest that definition for serious consideration.
Then, if it was a joke, why did I take it so seriously? Why did I consider it at all? Why didn’t I perceive it as a joke?
THAT’S NOT A USABLE DEFINITION. THE DEFINITION I’M LOOKING FOR HAS TO BE TESTABLE.
AFFECTION, continued the machine, is ALSO DEFINED AS AN ABNORMAL STATE OF BODY OR MIND, A DISEASE OR CONDITION OF BEING DISEASED. LOVE IS A DISEASE?
Auberson toyed with that one too, but only briefly. He thought of a virus, sometimes contagious, sometimes not. Some people are natural carriers of the germ, infecting many of those they come into close contact with; others have a natural-born immunity, A love bug? An intriguing thought—
NO, HARLIE. THAT’S NOT IT EITHER.
ALL RIGHT. WE’LL KEEP TRYING. LOVE, ACCORDING TO MY DICTIONARIES, IS A STRONG FEELING OF AFFECTION. OR INFATUATION. INFATUATION SYNONYM IS GULLIBILITY, WHICH MEANS UNSUSPICIOUS OR CREDULOUS. CREDIBILITY REFERS TO LIKELIHOOD OR PROBABILITY. A SYNONYM FOR PROBABILITY IS PROSPECT, AND A SYNONYM FOR PROSPECT IS SIGHT. A SIGHT IS A CURIOSITY OR PHENOMENON. HENCE, LOVE IS A PHENOMENON AS WELL AS A CURIOSITY.
HARLIE, YOU’RE PLAYING WITH WORDS.
HARLIE ignored him. A CURIOSITY CAN ALSO BE CALLED A KNICK-KNACK. LOVE IS A PLEASING TRIFLE.
THAT’S NOT QUITE ACCURATE, HARLIE.
LOVE IS NOT PLEASING? HUMAN BEINGS DO NOT TRIFLE WITH IT?
HARLIE, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
*SIGH* typed HARLIE. Auberson stared. He’d never seen him do that before, I GUESS SO. BUT I WAS TRYING TO DEMONSTRATE TO YOU THAT “LOVE” PER SE CANNOT BE EASILY DEFINED. AT LEAST, NOT IN DICTIONARY TERMS.
I NEVER ASKED YOU TO DO THAT, HARLIE. WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS WHAT IS LOVE AS AN EXPERIENCE? I WANT SOMETHING AGAINST WHICH I CAN MEASURE MY OWN FEELINGS AND REACTIONS SO THAT I CAN TELL IF I REALLY AM IN LOVE.
THEN WHY, FOR THE SAKE OF G.O.D. (PUN), WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME? IT IS ONE OF “THOSE” QUESTIONS. AT LEAST, AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED IT IS. I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED LOVE, AUBERSON — I WOULD LIKE TO, BUT I DOUBT I EVER WILL. I MAY BE HUMAN IN SCHEMATIC, BUT I AM TRAPPED IN A METAL BODY. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE PHYSICAL EXPERIENCE IS. HOW CAN YOU EXPECT ME TO GIVE YOU A STANDARD WHEN I’M INCAPABLE OF KNOWING MYSELF WHAT THE EXPERIENCE IS.
YOU’RE RIGHT, HARLIE. I APOLOGIZE FOR PRESUMING TOO MUCH. I HAD ONLY THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE A PERSPECTIVE ON THIS THAT COULD SHED LIGHT ON MY CONFUSION.
DON’T ASK A LEGLESS MAN WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO RUN. ALL YOU CAN ASK ME IS WHAT LOVE IS NOT, AUBERSON.
I’M SORRY. I SHOULD HAVE REALIZED IT, BUT I WAS SO WRAPPED UP IN MYSELF THAT I DIDN’T.
I UNDERSTAND. IT IS PART OF WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT EARLIER. YOU HAD NO ONE ELSE TO TALK TO. HENCE, YOU ASKED ME.
I GUESS SO.
AUBERSON, YOU TELL ME WHAT LOVE IS.
HUH?
YOU TELL ME. WHAT IS LOVE?
I DON’T KNOW. IF I DID, I WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO ASK YOU.
YES, BUT YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT IT FEELS LIKE.
YOU MUST HAVE SOME IDEA BECAUSE YOU ARE WONDERING IF YOU ARE IN LOVE RIGHT NOW, AREN’T YOU?
YES.
SO, WHAT DOES IT FEEL LIKE?
IT FEELS LIKE — I DON’T KNOW. HARLIE, I MAY HAVE A TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR FLU AND COULD BE FEELING DIZZY FROM THAT. I DON’T KNOW IF IT’S LOVE OR NOT.
WHY NOT?
BECAUSE I’VE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE BEFORE.
YOU’VE NEVER KNOWN YOU WERE IN LOVE BEFORE, YOU MEAN.
NO, I KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I’VE BEEN INFATUATED A COUPLE OF TIMES, AND I’VE BEEN LOST AND CONFUSED A COUPLE OF TIMES, BUT I KNOW I’VE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE.
AND THIS DOESN’T FEEL LIKE ANY OF THE PREVIOUS EXPERIENCES?
NO. YES. IT DOES AND IT DOESN’T.
THAT DOESN’T HELP ME IN TRYING TO UNDERSTAND. WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE?
I DON’T KNOW. I STILL HAVEN’T BEEN ABLE TO SORT IT OUT IN MY OWN HEAD YET.
HM. YOU HAVE BEEN TO BED WITH HER THOUGH, HAVEN’T YOU?
A GENTLEMAN DOESN’T DISCUSS THOSE THINGS.
YOU’RE PUTTING ON YOUR MASK AGAIN, AUBIE. YOU DON’T NEED IT FOR ME.
Pause. He was right, of course. Answer: YES, HARLIE, I HAVE SLEPT WITH HER.
AND…?
AND WHAT?
AND, HOW WAS IT?
YOU WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING, DON’T YOU?
I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. IT’S PART OF MY FUNCTION. AND RIGHT NOW, I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU. I CAN’T DO IT IF YOU HOLD BACK INFORMATION. HOW WAS IT?
IT WAS FINE.
THAT TELLS ME A LOT.
ARE YOU BEING SARCASTIC?
NO — BUT I’M LEARNING. Pause. YOUR REFUSAL TO ELABORATE ON THE EXPERIENCE COULD INDICATE ITS UNSATISFACTORYNESS.
BUT IT WASN’T UNSATISFACTORY, the words tumbled out. IT WAS VERY GOOD. I ENJOYED IT VERY MUCH. SO DID SHE.
DID SHE SAY SO?
NOT IN SO MANY WORDS, NO — BUT I’M SURE SHE DID.
HOW ARE YOU SURE? COULDN’T IT BE JUST YOUR MALE EGO NEEDING TO FEEL VIRILE AND POWERFUL AND UNABLE TO ACCEPT THE IDEA THAT SOMEWHERE THERE IS A WOMAN YOU CAN’T SATISFY?
NO, IT’S NOT THAT. SHE SMILED AT ME THE NEXT MORNING AT WORK. KIND OF A SECRET SMILE, AS IF WE WERE BOTH SHARING SOMETHING SPECIAL.
DID YOU SMILE BACK?
YES. Pause. WELL, NOT RIGHT AWAY. FIRST, I WAS PUZZLED. THEN I SMILED BACK.
DID SHE SEE YOU SMILE?
YES.
HOW DO YOU KNOW?
BECAUSE SHE WINKED. IT WAS IN THE HALLWAY. WE WERE WALKING IN TWO DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS, AND BECAUSE THERE WERE OTHER PEOPLE AROUND, WE COULDN’T STOP TO TALK.
IF YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED TO TALK, WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE SAID?
OH, I DON’T KNOW, I GUESS I WOULD HAVE THANKED HER.
THANKED HER? AS IF SHE WERE SOME OBJECT THAT YOU HAD USED FOR YOUR OWN GRATIFICATIONS?
NO. I MEAN, I WOULD HAVE TOLD HER HOW MUCH I HAD ENJOYED THE NIGHT BEFORE.
I SEE.
Auberson waited for HARLIE to respond further. He thought back to the morning in question, tried to remember the incident in greater detail. What color dress had Annie been wearing? Green? Had she been wearing perfume? Yes, it had been that musky-sweet smell — a sense of sun and sand and sweet powder. Even now, he could detect a hint of it in the air, a subtle trace of her visit this morning.
Abruptly, HARLIE asked, WHAT IF YOU HAD HAD TO APOLOGIZE TO HER?
HUH?
IF YOU HAD HAD TO APOLOGIZE TO HER INSTEAD, FOR WHAT REASON WOULD IT HAVE BEEN?
APOLOGIZE? I DON’T — He stopped in mid-sentence as the thought came flooding back. Yes, there had been something. He could remember it now, the hurt longing look on her face as he kissed her goodbye.
THERE IS SOMETHING, ISN’T THERE? prompted the typer.
YES. I LEFT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. SHE WANTED ME TO STAY ALL NIGHT, BUT I BEGGED OFF. I TOLD HER THAT I WANTED TO, BUT I’D HAVE TO COME TO WORK EARLY IN THE MORNING AND I’D NEVER GET HERE IN TIME. I FELT BAD ABOUT LEAVING. I ALWAYS FEEL BAD ABOUT LEAVING A GIRL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT LIKE THAT. IT MAKES IT FEEL LIKE ALL WE’VE DONE IS GET TOGETHER FOR SEX — AND ONCE I’VE HAD IT, THE EVENING IS OVER FOR ME AND I CAN GO HOME.
WHY DIDN’T YOU SLEEP THERE? DIDN’T YOU WANT TO?