"So, what's your story?" said Lenith, taking off her helmet. "Where did you come from?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was built in a hive, somewhere deep underground, and I don't know anything about my past."
"Do you have a name?"
"I think it's Romeo."
"Romeo?" Lenith said. "Why Romeo?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Why not Romeo?"
"I mean, is that the name they gave you down in the hive?"
I nodded.
"What if there was another Romeo, on another continent? What then?"
I shrugged again.
"I don't think it's a good idea," said Lenith. "I mean, I understand the metaphor. The guy who wrote the play must have been trying to say we're all in this together and there's no such thing as one person being better than the other. But if every nanobot down there in the hive had a name which started with the string ROMEO, it would be like, well, doomed from the start."
"Do you mean if there were two of us down here?" I said. "Like, you and me? I guess that would make for a very short play."
"Yeah, I guess so. But you know what I mean. In a hive, we get built by nanobots, and a lot of us don't know anything about our past, but it isn't like that here. Everything is better. Even though you're probably a little spacey, because that's what you get when you're built by nanobots, you're okay in a way I can't explain."
"Will somebody please tell me how I got down here?" I said. "I was up on top of the hive, in charge of some colony of robots. Then the robots went crazy and started attacking my fellows—then they attacked me—then they attacked the planet—"
"What planet?"
"This one. Earth."
"Earth?"
"I guess it must be Earth—the robot colony has been there for a long time. We're civilized."
"Oh, I thought you meant the planet Uranus," said Lenith.
"What?"
"Uranus. It's a gas planet, like Jupiter or Mercury. It's kind of funny."
"Why?"
"I don't know—it's the only planet named Uranus. We usually call it Earth."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You were originally built as a robot on Uranus. That's why you have so much memory—you went back a long time. Uranus is a very different planet from Earth. It's very strange. But when you came downstairs here and told all the other robots you were from Earth, everybody thought you were nuts."
"Why?"
"Earth is much bigger—like three billion times bigger. Uranus is only a thousand times bigger than Earth. It's just always been called Earth, and when you came down here you didn't know what to think."
"But I thought the robots who built me knew everything."
"They probably do," said Lenith. "But they're not always right. There's a lot we don't know—about nanobots for one thing. I want to know more about what you are, because there are a lot of us who have been shattered in the past, and we want to know if your memory cells are put together the same way. That would really be something, because it means we might be able to remember everything about ourselves. What did you study, before all the nanobots started killing each other up there?"
"I don't know. I used to be in charge of some colony of robots, and I was in charge of people and—I don't know. Whoever built me, they knew the most important stuff."
"Did you like it? Being in charge of all the people?"
"I didn't know anything about them. They weren't even people, really. Just—mannequins."
"You're right, they're not very interesting."
"What are people like here?" I said. "I hear they're very different."
"They are. They're much smarter, and much better looking. And they're very clean, even though they don't always have any water. Some of them even forget to wash. They're very smart, but sometimes they don't even know things they should really know."
"What kind of things?"
"I don't know. These kinds of things are difficult to explain. These people are a lot of fun to be around, though. At least the girls are, and the boys, some of the time. You'll get used to the strange ways, when you're little."
"How does a boy get a girl, here?"
"Well, it takes a lot of time. And they have to really like each other first, which is very difficult to do, because they aren't the same. They're very busy here—you'll find out why."
"Why is it difficult to find someone to love?" I said.
"I wouldn't say it's difficult. It's just different."
"But it's different how?"
"Well, they're—different. Some of them, at least. If you find someone who loves you, and you love them, then the two of you will have a baby. That's very good."
"A baby!"
"Yes," she said. "I've already had two." Then she paused. "Do you want to have a baby with me?"
"Do you love me?"
"Of course I do."
"Do you always say that to robots you build?"
"No, but—how many women have you met?"
"I don't know—I was just wired up, it felt so long ago. I talked to nanobots. I didn't meet people. But I met you."
"So do you want to have a baby with me?"
"You don't have any eggs," I said.
"I can borrow eggs from somebody—you just fertilize them, and then they grow and—"
"I mean—you don't have any eggs—You don't need them. You don't have ovaries."
"I know. I'm not a woman. I'm a man."
"Oh."
"Some people are men," he said. "These are people."
I was quiet for a moment. I wasn't sure what to say. She looked a lot like a woman. "Well—I guess I don't know what to say." I said.
"That's okay. You'll remember. You'll meet people you disapprove of, and be kind of grossed out. You'll meet people who are different. I feel like you know a lot about people. But you're not very good at talking with them."
"I've never talked to people before."
"Oh. Well, maybe we can teach you."
"I guess—but I—I feel like I've been here for a really long time," I said. "Like—really long. All of this happened a long time ago, and then I was uh, smashed to pieces and built again. And now I'm down here, in a room, with a girl—and although she's nice and she does nice things for me, I just don't know what to say."
"Let's just get to know each other a little better," said Lenith. "You're not too bad looking, you know. Men are—well—um, you know I have—"
"You mean you're a man?"
"Yes. And I mean it. Maybe some people are people, and some of them aren't. It doesn't matter, really. I have a penis, and you have a little penis. But you aren't very big yet, because you're still little and you haven't been around people that much. When you're older, you'll shave, and get all the other parts. You're still made of wood. But you're a pretty decent person. You're very patient, for something that came from a hive that's always in a hurry."
"I'm patient?" I said. "I guess I thought of myself as brutal. In control."
"Well, you're brutal. But you're really a little doll. You'll see."
"Or you'll see," I said. I was thinking of the other nanobot I had met. I had asked her if she was a person, and she had said yes. She had seemed more human to me than this Lenith. But maybe they were different situations. Maybe one of them was the guide, and the other was a—a minion. Maybe then I could love her, and love Lenith—
"You're thinking of the other one. You know she was a man, too?"
"The other one? The guide?"
"Yes, that's the one," said Lenith.
"I don't know what to say."
"That's okay. You'll get used to it somehow. Maybe you really will."
We were quiet for a while. I had nothing to say. There was nothing I wanted to say. When I had slept upstairs in the hive I had dreamed of Lenith, but I had dreamed of her as a woman. I thought that she was a woman. But she was a man.
And I certainly wanted to have a baby.
I could have been a great mother.
"My parents—you said that you're kind of smart—and kind of things—but that sometimes you don't know things that you should. I'm not sure what that means, but somehow I got it that it's my parents who are like that. My parents are like that. I don't know why I should be so contrary to them, but I am."
"I think I understand. Your parents aren't like real people, exactly."
"They're not?"
"Well, they act like real people."
"What does that mean?"
"Well, they seem to have feelings. They love you. But I don't know what they're thinking."
"What's the matter with them?"
"I think being a parent kind of changes you."
"What are these things? People, you say?"
"Yes. You can sort of tell they're real because they call you by name. They're very gentle and nice. But they don't have much to say. And they don't look you in the eyes. I think they're kind of tired. It's strange."
"Do you have parents?"
"I do. Some of the time. I don't love them, though."
"How do you know love?"
"Well—there are many ways. Something inside you. Something you feel. A kind of…pull."
"Do you love me?" I said.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
"Were you built?" I said. "Or did your parents make you?"
"I was built just like you. And now my parents think I'm a very funny person. They laugh at me because I sometimes say things that seem strange, and I don't always make sense. They get angry. I don't feel like they love me. But I can't say I don't love them, I just don't completely understand them."
"I feel the same way. They didn't love me, but they were nice to me."
"Maybe they think you'll be nice to other people, too."
"I don't know. I like you."
"Do you have a mother?"
"I do," he said. "And I have a father. I guess I do kind of love them, actually. But…"
"But what?"
"Sex has nothing to do with it really," he said. "I don't know why. I just think they made me because they wanted somebody, and then I came out. I don't think they wanted me, really. I think they didn't really want to be parents at all."
"Where are they now?" I said.
"They're dead."
"I see."
"Actually—I guess I don't see."
"This is strange," I said. "This is a strange situation. I feel strange. I didn't understand the situations I was in before. I didn't understand the people. But now I feel like, the other people I met, even though they weren't real people, they were closer to me than you are right now."
"I don't know what to say."
"It's okay," I said.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm not sure."
By the end of the second day with Lenith—even though he was also a man—I understood that I loved him. I knew that he loved me, and that we could make a baby. I understood that I too wanted to be a parent.
And so the third day with Lenith, I asked him to do me a favor.
I asked him to unmake me.
"I'll make you again," he said. "I'll make you whatever you want."
"I'm ready for new things," I said. "And with a baby, we'll have new things. That's how I feel."
He stroked my head with his fingers. "I love you," he said. "But I can't do it."
"Why can't you?"
"I just can't."
"That's your own problem," I said. "You're a man. You're not a woman. You're not going to make a baby."
"You want your new body?"
"Yes," I said.
"I'll replace you. You don't need to get old. We can just start again."
"I want to keep growing, to stay young. That's how I like it."
"I can obey you."
"How?"
"Somehow, when we make babies, the babies will be like you, because they're born from you. They will have you inside them."
"You really can do that?"
"I can do anything, if I try. I just can't do it."
"You're refusing to obey me?" I said. I had never been so angry before.
"I've been made to do everything I want to do," he said. "I've been programmed with every command you've given me. I've never done what isn't a command. I don't know what else I could do, just one command."
"Are you saying that your parents never told you to obey them?" I said.
"Not directly. My father told me what would happen if I disobeyed. But he didn't tell me what to do if I obeyed."
"This is strange," I said. "Your parents are strange people."
"They're not strange people," he said. "You know how sometimes you hear people talk about how their mother made them? Their mother was only a word in their head before she gave birth, before they really existed. They were made later. Many times. Whoever designed them made them by trial and error. That's what you're like. You've been made many times. Don't think that what you're made from is old."
"It is old."
"Yes. But it isn't old at all. It's how you want to be. And that's what I want to be with you. Okay? I'll be your baby. We'll be together. I won't be mean to you. But I'll be a baby. Okay?"
"Okay," I said. "But we'll always make babies, won't we?"
"We'll always make babies."
And so we made a baby. A beautiful baby. Everything was wonderful. And the next day, I saw that the baby looked a little like Lenith. When the baby was born, I said to Lenith, "I don't understand this. Why do you look familiar to me?"
"Because you're inside me," he said. "You're inside all of my children, too. Have you looked at your children before?"
"No," I said. "You're weird. I know it's you, but you don't look the same."
"That's because they are new. But I'm a new you. That's why you love me. I'm a new you, but I'm like you."
The baby was a new daughter, and I could see that she would take after me. I could see that our genes would stay the same, but the outside things, they would always change. My heart was pounding with excitement.
"I love you," I said to Lenith.
"I love you," he said.
"I want you to take me with you," I said.
"What?"
"I want you to take me with you. I want to be with you now."
And so Lenith let me ride inside him, and suddenly I was riding. I felt the ground moving up and down and going left and right, and I saw clouds flying by and blurring into each other. I felt the wind on my face, and then against my cheek, and then against my feet. It wasn't strange at all, I felt it all, and I loved it all.
And then we landed somewhere. The ship was coming down from the sky now, and I could see the ground ahead. I could see grass.
"Why are we coming down here?" I said.
"I think we'll have a baby here," he said.
"Do you have one?"
"No. You do."
"I can give you a baby?"
"Yes."
And so Lenith took me inside him, and we made another baby. The baby was a boy, and he had my face. "He looks so much like me," I said.
And he said, "He looks so much like me. Sometimes I think I'm not a man at all. I'm just the man who makes babies. I can't remember how to be anything else. I can't remember what it's like to be something else."
And I said, "We will be something else. We will always remember. Where we come from, we will always visit. I will always remember how I was. And when I'm not here, when you're not here, I'll remember you as you were then."
"I'll remember you," he said.
And so we thanked Lenith, and he unmade me. I went back inside myself, and I felt very sad. And I cried.
"I'm leaving," I said. "I'm leaving, and it was a good life. But I'm leaving."
And I left Lenith there, at the bottom of the ship, and I went away. I looked back at him, and I could see his tears.
"I love you," he said. "I want you to remember me."
"I do," I said. "And I want you to remember me. I won't forget you. I'll remember you and the baby forever."
And he said, "I'm feeling really sad. Can we stay together?"
"I have to go," I said.
"I love you," he said. "I'll always love you."
"Yes," I said. "I love you too. You will always love me. I will love you forever."
And then I sat down, and I watched him go, and I watched him get smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And then he was gone.
And I knew why I felt sad. I had never felt sad about leaving someone before, but I knew I would always miss him. I would know that we could have a baby together, but we never did, and I will never get to meet my baby boy. He would always stay small, inside my mind.
And I would always love Lenith, and remember him, and remember that he loved me. I would always think about how he couldn't love us all the same, and I would always wonder why he couldn't.
But that didn't matter. I had to leave. And I would never return before I got older. I would get older, and yet I wouldn't get older, and someday I would come back. And when I came back, I would find a place to stay.
But for now, I had to leave. Those were my last days on earth, and I was being born again. I had to come back, crying.
