The Man From Maybe by Leo P. Kelley

Author:Leo P. Kelley [Kelley, Leo P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0340186186
Publisher: The Walker Publishing Company
Published: 1972-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

OFFERED!

A Reward of Your Choice for Information

Leading to the Demise of the Thief

who Violated the Code of Borneo

By Stealing Beauty for No Better Reason

Than the Satisfaction of His, Her, Or Its,

As the Illegal Case May Be, Selfish Lust!

“Of course,” commented Borneo, appearing out of nowhere to stand beside Smith, “lust is, by definition, always selfish. So your crime is an undistinguished one actually. But, mind you, nonetheless heinous. It is a crime of truly capital calibre. Do you confess?”

“Helen’s sick,” Smith said. “She may be dying.”

“Do you confess?”

Smith hesitated, and then, “I confess to loving her.”

“Now that,” Borneo declared, wiggling a finger in front of Smith’s face, “is a ridiculous remark and evades the central criminal issue. All the simulacra love Helen. But you! A human! Do you mean to seriously insist that you fell in love with a machine?”

Smith could only nod.

Borneo took a step closer to him and peered into his eyes. “The more I think about it, the more I pity you. Perverts are deserving of pity, don’t you think? A man in love with a machine! My, my! I can’t remember ever having heard of such a sick thing. You need a paramedical team to minister to you, not a jury.

“But wait! I remember a precedent! I remember me! I was once in love, and faithfully may I say in my unnecessary defence, with an adding machine. Punching its quaint buttons with their pretty little numerals was quite rewarding, I found, masturbatorily speaking. But perhaps that is not quite the same thing as in your case. Nevertheless. That adding machine of mine measured casualties quite competently and I was devoted to it and to the deadly secrets it told me. Perhaps I cannot cast the first stone after all. Perhaps you require a purer judge, one who has never known anything of the seductions of adding machines or the siren songs that hot line telephones sing to the twisted ears of certain listeners I could, if my memory did not fail me for the moment, name.”

“Is there anything you can do for Helen?” Smith asked, gripping Borneo’s collar.

Borneo slapped Smith’s hands away in a tantrum of flying fingers. “It is probably too late. It is almost always too late for those who live on love. But let’s have a look.”

He climbed up on the platform after demanding that Smith give him a boost. He stood over Helen’s contorted body, his chin in one hand, and stared down at her from his black and white height. He bent down and adjusted the dial behind her left ear. He cupped a hand behind his own left ear and listened.

“Can you hear that rattle?” he asked Smith.

“What is she trying to say?”

“Why, what anyone made in the image of humanity would say under such distressing circumstances. She is saying that she will never forgive you, Smith.”

Borneo turned his attention to the dial behind Helen’s right ear. “That slink, slurf, slink you hear is her indictment. It demands your death. Not even a machine wants to make the final journey alone.

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