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From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Rescuing Silver: Inspired by The Silver Metal Lover {DB_Story} (M/Fembot/M'bot/F, rom, ScFi)
Date: Tue,  5 Feb 2002 07:10:12 -0500
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Rescuing Silver: Inspired by The Silver Metal Lover
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://home.att.net/files/Authors/db_story/www/ )
Copyrightc 2002 by DB.
ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot/M'bot/F, rom, ScFi)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material
intended for adults over 18 years of age in the United
States of America, and whatever passes for adult status in
other countries.  If you are under legal age, acting under
legal age, not allowed to view such material in your area,
or easily offended, please do not continue.  This is not
for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are
not allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute
this story without permission, except for non-profit Usenet
archiving sites.

(This story is not for sale.  To place on your web-site
devoted to this style of fiction, or for permission to link
to my posted material, please contact me first at the above
email.)

- - -

Author's Note: This story takes place in the universe of
Tanith Lee's "The Silver Metal Lover."  I recommend her
writing highly, and just felt there was a bit more of this
story to tell.  BTW, her book title has a marvelous double
meaning to it.

This story is eligible for the February 2002 Silver
Clitorides award.  Nominations are accepted at:
SilverNominees@aol.com.  It's requested that you include:
the month, Title, and author.  A link to the story is also
appreciated.  All this information is on this page.  For
more on the awards, go to:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/gary/www/Clitorides/SilverC_FAQ.htm.

A special thanks to Gorgo for his excellent and much
appreciated proofreading.  All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

LEGAL DISCLAIMER

Concurrent with the United States Supreme Court decision regarding
Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc (1994) and the copyright laws of the
United States, this is a work of parody. This work is posted freely
without any request for remuneration; its only purpose is social
commentary presented in an entertaining fashion.

- - -

When the Zansasi arrived on Earth, it wasn't an invasion
from giant interstellar space ships.  Nothing so noisy.
Instead, they seemed to just walk out of thin air and
quietly announce, "We're here."

Tall, molted shades of green aliens with stalks on their
heads.  Somehow, they never inspired the much-anticipated
fear of alien invasion that had long been dreaded.
Instead, they kept to themselves, and soon people were
seeking them out instead.

They explained that the Multiverse was even more strange
and interesting then we had imagined.  Like a deck of
cards, universes with different realities were stacked next
to each other making journeys between them possible.  (It
wasn't actually as simple as a deck of cards, but the
analogy worked.)  Their technology opened the doors, making
it possible to walk across entire universes in a day.
Journeys to places that could only be imagined became
possible.

All one needed was entry to "The Highway", and a map.  All
the Zansasi wanted in return was rights to use a patch of
land about a mile long by a half-mile wide to add as a link
in their network.  It had to be located at a specific
location, which fortunately turned out to be entirely
uninhabited for miles around.  (The Indians that once lived
in the area said that the area had been haunted for
centuries, and no one wanted it.)  They promised that no
problems would occur from whatever creatures passed through
on their travels to points unimaginable.  It seems that
their word is good.

In a remarkably short time their wishes were granted.  An
immigration station was placed on the edge for any
travelers who wished to stop off on our planet.  (The
Zansasi said this approach was quaint, as most other worlds
never worried about the travelers since all had Zansasi
approval, but to each their own.)  The Zansasi also built a
support building of their own on the other side from the
immigration station.

This strip of land quickly became known as "The Zansasi
Highway," and the most popular show on cable was simply a
camera aimed at The Highway, broadcasting live 24/7.
Viewers never seemed to tire of watching the other, even
stranger, races that now trod this small patch of our
planet.  The Zansasi said more to us that initial day, then
in all the time since.  They're not big on small talk.

The Zansasi's word was good.  Journeys were possible.  But
without their guidance, any such trips were, in a practical
sense, impossible.  You needed a map, and only the Zansasi
could supply them.

Soon there was a regular pilgrimage of people requesting
such maps.  They would come in, make their presentation to
a silent Zansasi, then respectfully leave.  Afterwards, and
at no predictable interval, a map might arrive, for a lucky
few.  The rest were still waiting.  Some maps were detailed
with step-by-step instructions and a large amount of useful
travel information.  Others seemed simply directions.  Even
those people who received nothing more than the simplest
maps, though, were ecstatic.

And of the few who had received maps, not all took the
journey afterwards.  It was well known that the journeys
were physically demanding, and not perfectly safe - though
"user error" was the biggest problem travelers faced.  And
of those who did travel and return safely, few were willing
to share the fruits of their efforts.

Yeah, some took the trip only for adventure (and
publicity), and wrote about their travels afterwards.
Others went for treasure, and sometimes displayed it on
their return (tax laws having yet to catch up to earnings
from another universe, although the tax people kept
trying).  A few felt they had never belonged here in the
first place, and left, never intending to return.  And the
vast majority went out, either found what they were looking
for or not, and became very private upon their return.

Nobody knew why the Zansasi granted some requests, and
appeared to ignore so many others.  A popular theory was
that they took each request, went into a back room, and
threw dice on whether to respond to it or not.  If that's
true, then I came up boxcars.

I remember going to make my presentation.  Some wag had
scrawled the words on their door: "Abandon hope all ye who
enter here."  And below it, someone had stuck a piece of
paper that read:

"It doesn't matter who you are,
or who you think you are,
or who you know,
or how much money you have."

I don't know if the Zansasi even knew how their door had
been graffitied.  Or, if they did, what it meant.  Or, if
they knew what it meant, if they even cared.

For me, that door was one of my most vivid memories of my
presentation.  As to the rest of it, I remember waiting
while the five or so people ahead of me that day entered
one-by-one, and the unreadable faces they had when they
came back out.  As for my presentation itself, it seemed so
whiz by in only a couple minutes, and then I was finished
and walking out the door myself.  My face, too, must have
been unreadable, since I had no idea if I had just
accomplished anything at all.

Four days later, an envelope arrived in the mail.  Inside
was a Zansasi map - and my dilemma.

At age thirty-two, I was at loose ends.  This was the age
where you are supposed to be getting around to the business
of settling down in life.  Yet I still felt incomplete.
Like something important was missing for me, and there was
no likelihood of my finding it anywhere here.  It was as if
God had accidentally left out an important part of my life.

Others may well be able to identify with me feelings, but I
doubt many of them have held them so strongly.  I envy the
people who have known from a young age exactly what their
life's course would be.  I was never that lucky.  My life
needed something, but like a rudderless ship, my chances of
finding it seemed nil.  The one thing I was smart enough to
know was that, if I didn't do something, years and decades
could easily disappear from my life.

Going to the Zansasi had been a maniac choice for me.  The
word had gotten around that on the highway, absolutely
anything was possible.  The Multiverse held within it every
possibility.  So in a frenzied moment, I had the
inspiration that what I couldn't find here, I could find
out there.  Fortunately, it wasn't expensive choice for me.
I lived only about three hours drive from The Highway.

There is no charge to speak to the Zansasi.  They listen,
and then you leave.  They don't answer questions.  They
don't help you format your request to them.  They listen,
and then you leave.

So most of what we know are stories and rumors from others
who may (or may not) have traveled on The Highway, and a
very few aliens who have stopped to talk with people,
before continuing their own journeys.

One thing that all the accounts and stories agree on
however is that every story you've ever read, every tale
ever told, is actually happening somewhere out there in the
Multiverse.  And for that reason, can be reached by The
Highway.

I've read a lot, but there was one story I could never get
out of my head.  Probably, because I really had nothing
better to do, I went and told it to the Zansasi.  Four days
later I got the map.

The technology of the Zansasi is beyond comprehension.  How
they developed it, and why they use it the way they do, no
one knows.  The map was a small example of this.

It arrived in a regular envelope, and looked like a folded,
shiny piece of black plastic.  On the front of it was a
green dot, easily to understand graphic directions back to
The Highway in yellow, a countdown clock indicating a
little over three days in red, and a blue information
symbol.  Nothing else.  No instructions or anything.  Yet
it seemed intuitive.

The green dot was my current position on the map.  The
countdown clock indicated how long I had to get to The
Highway.  Touching the blue information button temporarily
replaced the current display with graphic symbols for a
backpack, hiking boots, certain amounts of food and water,
a jacket, ice axe/walking stick, toiletry items, a hat, and
sunglasses.  An amount of currency was also indicated.
Down in a little box that clearly indicated optional items,
was the symbol for a camera.

That doesn't begin to explain however how marvelous this
map really is.  It was folded to fit in the envelope.  As I
unfolded it, the display automatically resized to use the
available surface.  The larger it got, the more detailed
the map information became.  I also quickly discovered that
I could draw my finger around an area, and that area would
enlarge to encompass the entire map.  Tapping the surface
twice restored the original view.  The map also seemed
capable of near infinite foldings and unfoldings.  At one
point it was as big as the floor of my living room.  At
another point, I had it down to the size of a postage
stamp.  It was always the same weight and thickness,
regardless of its size.  There's no way I can explain this.

My dilemma was on whether or not to take the journey.  Sure
I had asked for it.  But deep down inside, I never actually
expected to get it.  I wondered if I had even asked for the
right thing.  It would be a great cosmic joke to send
stupid people off after things they didn't even want once
they found them.  Too many people are stupid about knowing
what it is they really want.

I spent two days mostly believing that I wasn't going to go
do this, and almost convinced myself.  This couldn't
possible work out the way I hoped.  Really, it couldn't.
No chance.  None at all.  Yes, I can be really stupid at
times too.

But I couldn't get the story out of my mind.  In the end, I
had to rush to get all the recommended items for my trip,
and get to The Highway on time.  I made it with five
minutes to spare.

It was quiet next to The Highway.  There are times where
there is no apparent activity for hours.  Other times, it
seems in constant use.  Once an entire army marched through
for two and a half straight days.  Another time, what
looked like an old west wagon train that extended for miles
went the other direction.  A favorite drinking bet is which
end of The Highway will host the next arrival.

There is a pack of junior reporters and other hangers-on
that lay in wait by The Highway for anything interesting.
The moment I got out with my map and backpack, they
converged on me, some thrusting cameras and microphones
into my face.

"Who are you?"

"Where are you going?"

"What do you plan to find?"

"What did you say to the Zansasi?"

"What did the Zansasi say to you?"

"Would you like me to go with you?"

I ignored them all, although I had to push some of them out
of the way.  I wasn't here for their edification, and
didn't really feel I had anything useful to say to them
anyway.  They may have felt otherwise, but I didn't plan to
spend the effort to educate them on the error of their
ways.

They fell back as I approached the edge of The Highway.
While there's no barrier to stop them, almost everybody
reports a great uneasiness actually standing on The
Highway.  Maybe they fear being run over by some
interstellar truck if they step out onto the road.  That
wasn't my concern however, and just as the map timer ticked
down to zero, I stepped firmly onto the roadbed of The
Zansasi Highway.

Nothing happened.  No intergalactic freight train ran me
down.  All that I noticed was that the map had changed its
display, and there was a new timer counting down on it.

The map now showed just this piece of The Highway, with the
green dot showing my location in this section.  There was a
glowing green path leading to a green circle at one end.
The timer was giving me fifteen minutes to reach it.  A
notation to one side said, "Earth - 0".  On a line below
it, it read, "0.002Km," and below that was in incrementing
time value.  Looked like the map was going to keep
statistics for me.

The far end was only about a quarter of a mile away, so I
took a moment to look around.  I spotted the TV camera up
on a pole whose programming I had watched so often, and
waved at it.  It swung around to center on me, and zoomed
in.

As I turned to look around, I noticed that the map shifted
its orientation as well, so that I always knew which way to
walk.  Very neat.

I still didn't have to do this.  I could just step back off
of The Highway, and that would be that.  But there was
nothing behind for me if I didn't go, and this chance might
never come again.  I knew how much I'd regret it if I
chickened out now.

I swung around until the green line on the map stretched
out ahead of me, and started walking.

The route didn't run down the middle of The Highway, but
instead led me precisely to one side of it.  It appeared
that there were a number of exit points at each end of this
segment, and I had to hit the correct one.  The clock also
seemed to tell me when to take it.  So as the clock ticked
again down to zero, my green dot on the map merged with the
green circle, and just as the Zansasi once appeared out of
thin air, I disappeared into it.

- - -

They say it's not the goal, but the journey that matters.
I have to agree.  This journey was like nothing I could
have ever imagined, and it changed me in more ways than
two.

I said that I'd never talk about this journey afterwards,
because I couldn't understand it, and no one else would
either.  It would just be wasted effort.  But I'll tell you
what happened.

With a sound like a soft pop, and the feeling that I might
have dropped an unexpected inch, everything changed.  Hot,
sunny blue skies changed to cloudy gray.  Wind appeared
from nowhere.  My path changed from sand to gravel.  And
the temperature jumped at least ten degrees.

My map now displayed this new zone, showing me that I had
about twenty minutes to travel to the far end.  It called
this world "Usonia - 1".  I guessed that the digit was a
counter of how many segments I had traveled from Earth.  I
shook my pack up higher up on my shoulders, and set off at
a brisk pace.

It would bore you to tears to give the details of every
segment on The Highway that I traveled that day, but the
overview of the trip is fascinating.

As I said, each segment was different - often very
different.  The first few could have been somewhere on
Earth, including one where I stepped out onto a snow and
ice slide, and quickly had to use my ice axe to stabilize
myself as I slid down towards my exit gate.  Come to think
of it, that couldn't have been like Earth at all.  As I was
sliding downhill to my gate, I saw other aliens sliding
down the opposite direction to reach gates where I had just
arrived.  Both directions were down.  This could only have
been an Earth designed by Thomas Escher.

On my third segment, I accidentally discovered a new
property of the map.  I slipped on some loose footing.  As
I threw my hands up for balance, when the map reached in
front of my face, it suddenly turned a smoky transparent
color.  When I regained my balance and looked at the map, I
discovered when I held it up in front of my face, it showed
an actual view of the path ahead, with everything
annotated.  A real heads-up display.  I could use it in
either mode as I pleased.

As the day wore on, things got stranger.

On one segment, people in full bio-containment suits
silently grabbed me as I emerged, and quickly dressed me in
a suit like theirs.  They pushed me through a disinfectant
shower on the way out of the little tent they were working
in.  At the other end, another crew showered my suit again,
before removing it and vaporizing it as they pushed me
through my gate.

On another world, I stepped out on very marshy ground, and
my feet seemed to grow large and webbed to cover it.  I say
seemed, because I didn't really notice it at the time.  Now
how, your would ask, can your feet turn into something the
size of snowshoes, and you not notice?  All I can say is
that what happened seemed natural for me while I was there,
and I never thought to think of it otherwise.

One place there was no ground at all.  A machine garbed me
in a spacesuit as I emerged, and I floated out under zero
gravity when it released me.  There were a series of large
hoops at the far end, and the suit somehow intuitively
responded to my motions and translated them into the
necessary flying commands to pass through the segment.

I passed other travelers on some segments, while others
were empty except for me.  I learned, to my amazement, that
I could understand what these other travelers were saying
as long as both of us were on The Highway.  (At one point I
remember listening to an alien that had wheels instead of
legs to get around on, speaking to another about his long
journey today.  The moment he wheeled off The Highway, its
voice turned to hisses and toots.  I realized that,
marvelous as my map was, it couldn't hold a candle to the
construction of The Highway itself.  And for those of you
who wonder about restrooms, such facilities were on most
every segment of The Highway, clearly marked on the map.
Though sometimes figuring out how to use them was a
challenge.)

My favorite segment had to be the most bizarre experience
of the entire day - if not my entire life - and that's
saying a lot.

I stepped onto the segment (number 27, by the map's count)
to the roar of the crowd.  On both sides of The Highway
were the tallest bleachers I have ever seen.  They angled
back and rose at least twenty stories.  And The Highway
running between them was lit by the biggest banks of
stadium lights I have ever seen.  These bleachers stretched
the entire length of this segment - nearly a half mile -
and every single seat was full.  As whomever was sitting
there left, others immediately took their places.  Vendors
moved continually through the stands as well.  The crowd's
roar started the moment I stepped out, and followed my as I
started down The Highway.

Now I don't know if you have ever seen an Olympic
Torchbearer in person.  I have.  I don't know how much they
pay for the privilege, but whatever it costs, it's worth
it.  This was like carrying the torch on the final leg into
the biggest stadium ever built.

Not only did they roar their approval, but they rose from
their seats as I passed in a giant wave.  I was the star of
the biggest event on this world right at this moment.

Even though I'd traveled miles already, I couldn't just
walk through this.  I started to jog, and the roar of
approval increased over its already high pitch.  Faster,
and they stayed with me.  Finally I put up my arm, holding
that invisible torch.  The crowd went to a fever pitch.
Halfway down the segment, I heard a second roar coming from
ahead of me, and saw a wave of whatever these people were
rising again as another traveler approached me, also
jogging.  I high-fived him as we passed.  He clearly
understood my gesture, and responded in kind.  The crowd
went wild.  At the end of the segment, I turned and bowed
to my crowd, before diving through the gate.

The end of the day came as I stepped out onto segment 42.
The map timer jumped to indicate that I had a little over
fourteen hours to spend here, before moving on.  That was
good, since it was the most beautiful place I have ever
seen.  I still dream about it to this day.

As far as the eye could see, there were perfectly spaced
thick-trunked shade trees spreading their deep green leaves
out over a grass lawn so perfect that any golf course
manager would have sold their soul to have it as their
fairways.  A couple hundred feet ahead, the grass ran down
to meet the clear blue water of a thirty-foot wide river
that was both lively, and peaceful, as it flowed past.

The only sign of civilization was a well-camouflaged single
user toilet that I would have walked right past without the
map.  The sun was low in the sky, and the temperature
balmy.  There were three crescent moons high in the sky.

Walking down to the river showed me where stepping-stones
would let me cross when necessary.  The map marked several
trees of special interest.

Walking over to one, I saw that it had several types of
large fruits hanging on it.  Holding up and looking through
the map, three of the types of fruit had green circles
around them, while two other types had red X's.  That
wasn't hard to understand at all.

One type tasted like the most perfect summer peach you will
ever remember, only it was ten times larger.  A second had
a taste and consistency much like fresh baked bread.  And
the third, I kid you not, was full of liquid that tasted
like a light, fruit wine.

I ate my fill, and then went down to the riverbank.  The
map showed the water as safe, and I drank my fill.

The map showed a curious marking a few dozen feet to one
side and away from the river.  I found it to be a large
pool of water where both hot and cold springs fed opposite
sides.  By selecting the right position between them, you
could have any temperature you desired.  It was big enough
to accommodate fifty of my closest friends, but I had it to
myself.  Deep currents soothed my tired muscles.  The
outflow ran away from the river, keeping it pure.

Afterwards, I leaned against my backpack on the slope of
the riverbank and looked at the map again to see that I had
traveled a little over fifteen miles today (after mentally
converting from metric, the only trick so far that the map
didn't do for me).  I hoped I wouldn't feel those miles too
much tomorrow morning.

As darkness fell, some sort of seedpod in the trees started
to glow, providing a soft, yellow illumination to the
entire grounds, though not one intrusive to sleeping.

And as I lay there, I realized that there wasn't an insect
to be found.  Also, that no one else had come along.  I had
this piece of paradise entirely to myself.

I found a particularly soft spot in the grass, and with my
jacket for a pillow, easily drifted off to sleep.  The only
dream I remember was carrying my torch again down segment
27, except this time the crowds stretched off to the
horizon, and a voice was telling me that I could have as
much of this as I wanted.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of the wind in the
trees.  There was time for a leisurely breakfast and
stroll, before I finally made my way across the river and
the few hundred feet to my exit gate.  I had no stiffness
to speak of.  At the gate, I took one last look back at a
place too perfect to exist.  The temptation to just stay
here was strong, but in the end, not strong enough.  Even
as I left, not another soul was to be seen anywhere in this
pristine parkland.

- - -

The second day's journeys were both the same, and different
from the first day's.  The same, in so much as I now had a
general ideal how to use my map to navigate each segment.
And different in that some of the worlds seemed to vary
more widely from human, and my Universe, standards.  Also,
I saw much more traffic this day.  In fact, it was a rare
segment that I didn't encounter at least one other
traveler.  And in one block of five contiguous segments,
there seemed to be a regular commute of traffic going in
both directions.  I kept carefully to the side to avoid
unpleasant encounters with their overly large and fast
vehicles.

Three times, I stepped out into worlds with swirling
greenish-yellow atmospheres.  Whatever it was, The Highway
seemed able to adapt my body to breathe it without
difficulty, or even notice.

One world was all water, and I seemed to have fins and
flukes to travel through it.

The most striking one appeared to be a huge bubble in the
rock, maybe two miles across.  This one was strange, since
I could not determine where its even lighting was coming
from.  Maybe their entire universe was solid rock with
bubbles up to planet-sized in it.

Finally, after a total of thirty-seven more segments on the
second day, I arrived at my destination.  I knew I was here
when the map changed to indicate directions away from The
Highway for this world I was now on.

It was late afternoon, and there was a mix of both some
clouds and some industrial pollution over the city in the
near distance.  Looking left from the city, I saw what
could only be Chez Stratos some miles in that other
direction.

Looking around, I seemed to be abandoned in the desert.
This world seemed to treat this segment of The Highway with
complete indifference.  I might have felt that they didn't
even know that it existed on their land, except that there
was a one-lane dirt road leading away from it up ahead.
But no vehicles to be seen.  The map showed that I had five
and a half days to spend here.

Since no one seemed to care about my arrival, I went ahead
and stepped off The Highway.  A cold breeze bit against my
shirt.  I had been wearing my jacket for most of the
segments since it insulated against both cold and heat.
(One segment had led me on a circuitous route around open
lava pits.)  But I had taken it off after several quite
pleasant segments in a row.

I took it back out of my pack and put it back on.  After
some consideration, I also drank some water and ate a few
bites of my now meager rations.  I noted that my money
seemed transformed into what I hoped was the local
currency.  Then I pulled my pack back onto my back and
looked more closely at the map.

Now that I was off The Highway, the green line of my route
stretched away towards what looked like another highway a
couple miles away, this one connecting to the city.
Holding my map up and looking through it showed the same
path.  So I walked over to the dirt road and started
trudging down it.

In an hour I had reached the main highway, and been given a
ride by a trucker heading into the city.  He was a quiet
man, who didn't show any curiosity about why I had been
walking along the road so far out of town.

As twilight fell, he took me halfway into the city, until
my map showed a divergence from his route.  I was then
dropped off without comment, and only my thanks to offer in
return.

As darkness was falling, I didn't see much of the city.  I
had folded up the map to the size of a playing card, and
mostly had my head down as I carefully followed the twists
and turns it showed me.  At one point I skirted a lively
nighttime entertainment district, but my route took me
around, rather than through it.

Finally I neared a river, in what was obviously a nicer
area.  There my route took an abrupt left-hand turn into
the entrance of a residential building.

Beside the door, was a row of buttons and a speaker grill.
Holding up my map showed a green circle around #402.  Below
it, the nametag just said: "J & S".  I pushed the button,
not quite knowing what to expect.

After a few moments, a voice said, "Hallo?"

It was a smiling, musical male voice that brought a strong
tingle suddenly to my whole body.  It was what I had waited
so long to hear.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words.  Then I just said
the first thing that came into my mind.

"Hallo.  I'm David West.  I've been directed here to meet
you."

"Yes," came that marvelous voice back again.  "We've been
expecting you.  Come on up.  Four-oh-two."  Then the door
buzzed to let me know it was open to me.

Inside it was a nice building, and I took the lift up four
floors, and walked the short hall to 402.  I'd barely
knocked, before the door was opened by Jane.

"Come on in," she said, as if greeting a long lost friend.
"We're glad you finally made it."

- - -

Now is the time to clear up some misconceptions about Jane
and Silver.  The end of the book had some bad things
happening in quite a rush of unlikely circumstances.  That
was for dramatic effect.  Story ideas seem to leak well
across the universes, but editing is always done locally.
Some editor apparently felt that the real story didn't have
enough impact, so you can pretty easily tell where the
grafted-on ending happened.  It is not the first book to
ever suffer this fate, and unfortunately will not be the
last.  Everything up to the last day did happen pretty much
as recorded.  But in the end, Jane had gained enough
independence and intestinal fortitude to standup to the
bullies when they came for her lover.  When the showdown
arrived, and she was essentially told, "Get out of the way,
little girl," she stood up to them, and waived both her
valid bill of sale, and her mother's not inconsiderable
name (Demeta's name carries incredible weight) at them in
return.  After making clear to them just what enormity of
bad karma would immediately descend upon them if they tried
to break a valid sales contract, they folded like the
craven cowards they were.  They offered compromises.  She
never budged.  In the end, they went away and left her and
Silver alone.

So rather than abruptly being thrown into the
responsibilities of adult womanhood by tragic
circumstances, she grew into them with the loving support
of her best and most dependable friend - someone I couldn't
wait to meet.

- - -

The Jane who met me at the door is a twenty-five year old,
Venus Media type, who has lost her baby fat and grown into
a lovely young woman.  She reached five feet six inches,
and her lush figure remained, made ever more beautiful by
the surprising self-assurance she radiated.  She is so
different from the awkward, shy eighteen-year-old whose
innermost thoughts had been revealed in the past.  But
really, this was to be expected.

She had not yet moved back to Chez Stratos, though probably
would some day.  When she did, she'd appreciate it a lot
more than ever as a child.  For now, she lived in a light,
airy apartment with large rooms and huge rectangular
windows on two sides overlooking the New River, that she
and Silver paid for out of their own earnings.  Her mother
had taught her well when she had said to do creative work;
that never goes out of style.

I walked in, set my backpack down, and looked around.  Jane
knew exactly what I was looking for.

"He'll be out in a moment," she said.  "He's been
repainting the bedroom for the new season.  He redecorates
at least one room a month.

Just then, Silver walked in.

S.I.L.V.E.R.  Silver Ionized Locomotive Verisimulated
Electronic Robot.  Silver to his friends.  After all the
anticipation, it was like being punched in the stomach.

Let me tell you from the outset that I am not Mirror-
Biased.  I did not come all this distance looking for
companionship from my own sex.  What Silver's very
existence confirmed for me however, was the possibility of
my own success on this mission.

Silver first gave Jane a quick peck on the cheek, which she
happily returned, then walked over to shake my hand.  His
motion was completely natural.  His flowing red hair was
dramatic against the plain tan painter's smock. (He wore
nothing else, so there was no clothing to have get paint
spattered.)  His silver skin matched his name.

When he took my hand, I felt cool, smooth, microscopically
porous skin, with exactly the right amount of give.  Even
up close, he was what I'd hoped for.  Seemingly a man in
silver makeup.

"Welcome to our house," he said, in the marvelously
flexible voice of his.

"Thank you," I replied, realizing that I was still holding
his hand.  I released it, so he could step back again.

Now Jane, as I've already said, is an exceptionally
attractive young woman with the body type to attract any
male's attention.  Yet I couldn't take my eyes off Silver.
Fortunately, they both seemed to understand my interest.
They stood and let me look, until Jane finally said, "Why
not show him the whole package?"

In an easy gesture, that showed not one whit of concern for
modesty, Silver pulled off his smock, making even that
gesture graceful.

He seemed a man both of about my own age, and ageless at
the same time.  Anatomically Correct does not do him
justice.  Anatomically Perfect was more like it.

As I said, I'm not MB.  (Though if I ever did decide to
cross that fence, he's the one I'd cross it for.)
Fortunately, I'm also not in competition with him for
women.  The word on him from the beginning was that, after
having him as a lover, a regular man could not compete.  I
hoped it was true.

It lifted my spirits to see his perfection.  I wanted so
very badly for artists who had created him, to have
performed equally excellent magic on the rest of their
work.

"Beautiful," I finally said.

"Thank you," he replied, without a trace of arrogance.

Jane finally broke the moment by asking, "We only got the
message to expect you, and that we'd be glad to meet you.
The Zansasi are so low-key on our world that ninety-nine
percent of the people don't even know they're here."

"But you do?"

Jane and Silver looked at each other.

"We had once planned to escape using them," she said.

"Until we realized we didn't have to," Silver added, taking
Jane's hand in his.  There was no doubt about it.  These
two make a fantastic couple.

"So what brought you here?" Jane asked.

"I came to rescue Silver's sister," I replied.

"Count us in," they both replied together.

There were lots of questions after that.

Jane and Silver had not known just when I'd arrive, so they
hadn't made any plans.  We obviously were hitting it off
quite well from the beginning, and they said the first
order of business was going out for some food.  Not because
Silver couldn't cook, but they wanted to show their new
guest a bit of the nightlife, if he was up to it.  I most
certainly was.

They took me out to the district where they had originally
busked for their meals and living money.  (Now-a-days they
ran a creative design firm that made the most of both their
talents, and brought in quite a nice living.  And they paid
for all their own expenses.)  It was a fantastic maze of
small, sidewalk cafes, open-fronted stores, and crowds of
young people.  The streets were well lit, and the energy
level was exhilarating.

Though they hadn't had to make their living here for years
now, every other person seemed to know them.  We must have
said hallo to a hundred people on the way to the particular
small caf, they had choosen for this evening.  Locally, it
was Friday evening, and the crowds were so colorful in
their attire and makeup, I could easily see how Silver was
never out of place here.  It made the Marti Gras on Earth
seem monochrome in comparison.

Several times we paused to watch street performers earn
their livings here.  One time Silver stepped in and sang a
duet with a thin, young woman who had a high, clear voice.
Jane always left a generous handful of coins with each
performer.

At the caf,, we were greeted as long lost friends, and
given a table up front.  There was a small stage, and while
waiting for our food, Silver and Jane stepped up on it and
gave an impromptu performance.  It was clearly out of their
memories for past years when this had been their only
profession.  Somehow Silver seemed able to sing with two
voices at once.  And when someone handed him an unfamiliar
musical instrument, he played it as if born with it.

The food was great, and the conversation turned to me.
They both wanted to know every detail of my trip - and I do
mean every detail.  By the time we were finished with our
meal, I was only through the first dozen segments.  It
seems they wanted to enjoy the journey in real-time.  I was
going to pay for the meal, as partial recompense for their
hospitality, but no bill ever came.  It seemed this meal
only cost a song, or two.

As we returned to their apartment, they continued to hang
on my every word.  They are both such creative people -
with storytelling high among their talents - that it was
clear my telling of this incredible journey was worth more
than gold to them.

We talked late into the night.  Better put, I talked late
into the night, to a rapt audience of two.  Finally though,
I was yawning more than talking.

They looked at each other, then back at me.  There was an
unspoken invitation to share their bed that night.  But I
come from good old anal America when it comes to sex
(there's another favorite book that points out this
American curiosity in excruciatingly detail), and indicated
that I would be quite happy on that old couch over in the
corner.  I fell asleep easily and dreamed of a world full
of Silvers.

I slept in late the next morning, finally awaking to the
smells of breakfast.

They took me out afterwards to show me some of the city.  I
was fascinated.  Particularly the Grand Stairway, and life
along the New River.  Jane promised me a Chez Stratos tour
before I left, and I told her I'd hold her to it.  The
dialogue picked up where it had left off last night about
my trip here.  I would soon find out just how well Silver
had listened.  That afternoon a minor earthquake rumbled
through.  I had lived many years in California, so this was
no big deal to me.  But it did remind me how this world had
suffered in the recent past.

According to the plan my map displayed to me, and which
Silver and Jane confirmed, we couldn't do anything until
11:30pm tonight anyway, so there was no rush.

Early that evening, they took me out to a much more upscale
restaurant.  One with thin black round tables and chairs on
silver legs, and polished dark mirrored walls reflecting a
burnished sliver floor.  Again Silver easily walked onto
their stage and played the several instruments there, while
singing an improvised ballad about a man who had walked
across the universe for love.  I realized he was singing
about me.

The day, that had seemed to go so slowly, reached 9:30pm,
and suddenly seemed to start racing.  We had only two hours
to go back and dressed for our late night excursion, and
then get over to Electronic Metals Ltd.

We were tired, but running on adrenaline by the time we
stood outside the big metal barred gate at 2<< East Arbor.
It was in the industrial area of the city where it was
mostly dark and deserted on a late Saturday night.  The
sparse streetlights cast the only pools of light, which we
avoided.  Across the street, we watched the gate.

"The truck arrives at a mean time of 11:35," Silver
commented.

The time that had so raced these last couple hours, had
again slowed down to sludge in winter.  Each moment ticked
by slower than the last.  Finally at 11:37, headlights, and
the dark shape of a truck arrived in front of the gate.
The gate creaked open, and we three shadows slipped in with
the truck.

"We have thirty-five minutes, no more," Silver cautioned,
as we let him take the lead.  After all, this had been his
home, and he knew it best.

We slipped down the side of a tall building wall in the
shadow of an overhang, and through a loose door at the end.
Silver did something to the doorframe on the way in, and no
alarms sounded.  Quickly through this building and into an
adjoining one, then downstairs and through a tunnel to more
stairs down.  The very catacombs of this building were our
destination.  Several more short hallways, dust indicating
their lack of use, and past a couple open doors to rooms
filled with old parts, brought us finally to a simple
wooden door.  It was either here, or we weren't going to
find it tonight.

They gave me the honor.  After a moment to calm myself and
set my emotions in place, I turned the handle and pulled
opened the door to a small closet.  Inside, standing as
though she was an ancient artifact unchanged from the
beginning of time who had been brought here and forgotten
ages ago, was Silver's sister robot.  Silver skin, covered
in dust.  Auburn hair, with tattered blue carnations.  Even
her original snow trimmed with blood gown was there, with
shapely legs below it, and high breasts pushing out against
it.  She looked twenty-five years old, a woman just
entering her prime.  More like a statue, than woman, in her
prime, however.  Her stiff posture and flat, lifeless eyes
were such a departure from the fluid Sliver next to me.

"Is she okay?"  I asked, wondering if she had stood here so
long that she had just rundown.

"Not to worry," Silver said, moving off.  "I'll be back in
a minute."

It was more like five minutes though, before he returned
carrying a box with buttons on it.

"They moved it," he apologized.  Then he told Jane, "Please
stand back, so she'll only see David."

Jane moved to the side, while I positioned myself directly
in front of the motionless robot woman.

I heard Silver press some buttons, and suddenly life flowed
into the figure in front of me.  Her eyes brightened, and I
could see her skin ripple from her head down to her toes.
Her nipples started to rise and press against her outfit,
and she blinked a couple times (no doubt to remove the dust
from her eye lenses), moistened her lips with the tip of
her tongue, and announced, "I'm S.I.L.V.E.R.  Silver
Ionized Locomotive Verisimulated Electronic Robot.  I'm
manufactured by Electronic Metals Ltd. at 2<< East Arbor.
I..."

At that point I heard Silver press one final button.  The
robot woman in front of me stopped her speech in mid-
syllable, focused her vision on me, and asked, "Are you my
new owner?"

I have to admit that I was trembling when I answered her
with, "Yes."

As this female self-motivating robot now stepped out of her
closet tomb, she asked, "How may I serve you?"

This was unexpected, given how direct and autonomous Silver
had been from the beginning.  I looked over to Silver and
Jane with the obvious question in my eyes.

Silver answered, "Women want their men to take command of
the lovemaking, and give them what they won't ask for
themselves.  Men want their women to be submissive and
willing.  I cannot explain why such a difference exists."

He then darted off again.  Moments later he was back with
the first of three loads of spare parts from the junk rooms
we had passed.  After the third load arrived, the artist in
him rapidly constructed a fair simulation of my silver lady
from non-working parts.  Even though he had started life
only creative in music, it was clear that, over time, his
sheer talent had expanded into many of the other arts.

Soon there was a second figure there.  The main difference
being that this second figure could never come to life.
But it was unlikely that anyone would ever ask that of it.
Electronic Metals had buried their most brilliant project,
never again to be revisited.  I would have paid the price
for Silver's sister if they would have sold her to me.  But
we all knew better than to have even asked.

Silver moved over and plucked the faded carnations out of
my new lady's hair, putting them in the hair he had found
somewhere for his creation.  Ever a perfectionist.  Then he
came back to her and said, "Give me your dress."

In a moment she slipped out of it, and I had to catch my
breath.  She was of a height that seemed neither tall, nor
short, and neither fat, nor thin.  Nude however, her
perfection matched Silver's own.  Her skin was composed of
many overlapping curves.  Her high breasts, which seemed
neither too big, nor too small, were not as large as
Jane's, but showed not a micrometer of droop.  Overly large
nipples reacted, as any woman's would, to the chill down
here, and expanded to fully present themselves to my view.

But the most amazing part was how naturally she stood
there.  Not a trace of modesty or concern over her lack of
clothes.  From her head right down to feet that begged to
be shod in heels, her sheer unconcern was manifest as she
waited for me to tell her what was wanted of her next.  It
made her ethereal.

"Silver," I said, and both she and Silver looked
immediately to me.  I could see we were going to have a
name problem here.

Looking directly at my robot I said, "From now on, your
name is...Sylvia."

"Thank you, sir," she said in a warm contralto, as Jane and
Silver nodded at my choice.

"This is Jane, and Silver," I introduced.  "You need to
come with me now, and follow Silver's directions to get us
out of here."

She nodded in assent.

I was concerned about her nakedness however, when Jane
stepped forward, taking off her outer coat.

"Put this on," Jane said.

Sylvia looked at me, and I nodded.  She donned it, and then
went back and pulled some slippers out from her closet,
which she also donned.  Now she looked suitable to travel.

The path out seemed longer than coming in, but we moved
swiftly and got out the door a couple minutes before the
delivery truck was ready to depart.  Four shadows slipped
out next to it, and forty minutes later we were safely back
in Jane and Silver's apartment.

I must admit to being bushed by that time.  The emotional
drain had been overwhelming.

In unspoken agreement, Jane ushered Sylvia and I into her
bedroom, and shushed me when I tried to protest.  I saw
Silver pulling out a soft floor mat before she shut the
door.  I was tired enough that I wasn't willing to fight
any further.  They have a very large bed, and Sylvia was
standing next to it waiting for me.

"What do you wish?" she asked me.

I wished a lot of things, to be sure.  Just not all right
at this moment.  One thing, however, I wasn't willing to
wait for.

"Undress please," I said.  "Then come over and make love to
me."

She disrobed, and touched the control to dim the lights to
just short of extinguished.  Then she came over and gently
undressed me as well.  My clothes folded neatly beside the
bed faster than I could tell her not to go to the trouble.
Then she was guiding me into the bed.  I tried to get on
top, but she could sense how tired I was, and softly pushed
me down instead.  Then positioning herself over me, she
guided my very interested male organ within her, where it
found she was already warm and soft and very moist.  She
moved her hips in a rhythm that was exactly right to bring
me to a peak and hold there for as long as possible.
Finally though, even her careful ministrations couldn't
hold me any longer.  I grabbed her, to pull her tight, as I
bucked hard against her.  She expertly rode me until I had
given all I had to give, then pulled me over onto my side,
as she moved there to lay against me - her firm nipples
pressing into my bare chest.  It had been a technically
outstanding performance on her part.

"Good night," I mumbled, as I fell over the cliff into a
deep sleep.

I dreamed that night that each time we tried to break into
Electronic Metals, that we had been discovered and chased
off.  Then we'd try again with the same result.  Somehow
though, I didn't find this dream as upsetting as it should
have been.  I think at some deepest level, I knew she was
safely there beside me, holding me in her lovely arms.

I awoke the next morning to bright light - and music.

The New River glittered outside the bedroom windows.  It
was beautiful to behold.  But it was the music that drew me
to the living room.

Silver had his guitar, and Sylvia sat at their piano
keyboard.  Jane stood nearby entranced, as was I.

Syliva looked beautiful in the morning light.  Jane had
given her some clothing, and despite the differences in
their bodies, somehow it looked tailored for Sylvia.  A
swath of light lime green, sheer fabric, cinched at the
waist by a golden belt.  Emerald slippers to match.

The music followed no particular tune.  Silver would start
a riff, and Sylvia would pick it up on the piano.  He would
change it in mid-chord, and she would effortlessly follow.
I stood in the doorway, unnoticed, for minutes.

Finally I entered.  Sylvia stopped in mid-note to jump up
and come over to me.  She gave me a hug and tilted up her
face for a kiss, which I was happy to give her.

Then she said, "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to leave you for
so long.  How may I serve you today?"

"Please keep playing," I said.

With that direction, she resumed her place at the piano,
and for the next forty-five minutes, there was absolute
enchantment in the apartment.

Finally though, we broke for breakfast.  Sylvia sat quietly
as we ate, while the other three of us chatted.  And that
was the difference between Silver and Sylvia.  While Silver
initiated conversations, as had led the music explorations,
Sylvia sat quietly, waiting until her systems would
identify a situation that she had programmed responses for.
Rescuing Sylvia had been only half the task.  The rest was
going to be in finding her soul.

This task might have been just short of impossible, and
filled with many missteps, if Silver hadn't already made
the journey himself.  While not easy, we at least had a
roadmap to follow.

After breakfast was over, we sat Sylvia down on a chair,
with the three of us facing her.  While so far she her
techniques and willingness to please were technically
excellent in both music, and as I was more than willing to
attest, lovemaking, there was so much more that she could
be.

We started peppering her with questions, all to force her
to think in ways never intended by her designers.

"Your music was terrible.  Why do you play the piano?"

"Why do you think that was the proper way to make love?"

"Do you think you look beautiful in that dress?  It's
horrid."

"Your voice is terrible.  I can't stand to hear it."

"Silver is the worst color you can be.  Why have you kept
this color?"

"How can you be a good lover, when you don't feel anything
yourself?"

"How do you feel about your role as a robot?"

"Don't tell me what you are programmed to think.  Tell me
what you really feel."

"How do you feel right now?"

I know it sounds cruel, but what has to happen is to force
Sylvia to solve problems in ways that open up new pathways
in her mind.  She has to be taken out of her comfort zone,
and taken to a point of questioning her previous
programming as inadequate for her to perform her functions.
And cruel as it sounds, Jane had been much harder on Silver
in the first stages of their relationship - although Jane
had done it by accident, as a result of her own
inadequacies.  We were trying to replicate the results.

"Hug me.  No, that was terrible.  Hug me better.  That's
even worse.  Hug me better.  Try harder."

Initially, there seemed little effect.  Sylvia seemed
confused, but we weren't seeing the reaction we hoped for.
Although she offered a couple times to return to the
factory if her service wasn't satisfactory, we weren't
going to let her off the hook that way.

Then it started to happen.  Her lively eyes would go flat,
and her movements pause, as she devoted all her efforts to
answering a question never anticipated by her programming.
Over time, the three of us bored in on those areas that
triggered this reaction.  Things went slower and slower as
her flatness became more frequent and longer lasting.

Finally Silver called a halt.

"That's enough, for now," he announced, to Jane's and my
immense relief.  "She needs time for her new pathways to
settle, and for her system to rebalance to its new state.
If the change is to come, it will arrive on its own
schedule."

"I'm hungry," Jane announced.

"I am too," I replied, "For food and love."

Jane and Silver both laughed, and after a moment Sylvia
joined in.

The Sophisticated Format robots already had a great
capacity for independent action.  I didn't have to say
anything more for Sylvia to come over to me and gently lead
me back into the bedroom, while Jane and Silver were
preparing a light lunch.

Sylvia slipped effortlessly out of her new outfit, and
started to guide me back down onto the bed for a repeat
performance of last night.  Instead, however, I resisted
her touch.  She immediately stopped, and then let me guide
her onto the bed first.

As I quickly removed my shorts, she opened her legs and
welcomed me onto, and into, her body.  With no foreplay
necessary, she used one hand to guide me into her, and
immediately began squeezing me within her.

I was quickly as hard as it was possible for me to be, and
in my impatience, it was only a couple minutes before the
pressure I felt could not be contained any longer.

Rather than try to delay my reaction for her pleasure,
Sylvia moved in ways that I could not resist, and again I
exhausted myself within her.  When I was completely spent,
she reached up one hand to pull my head down for a deep
kiss, just as a real woman might have done, though I
suspect a real woman would have been disappointed at my
brief performance.  But I have an excuse.  Sylvia's
technique and perfection are hard to resist.  It was
another technically masterful performance on her part.

Jane and Silver smiled at me when we returned to the
kitchen.  Silver had his hand down inside Jane's blouse
rubbing her large breasts, and neither saw any reason to
stop just because we had entered the room.  They had
certainly had hundreds of encounters like the one Sylvia
and I had just finished over the course of their years
together now, and knew well how these worked.

After lunch, we went out walking, to relax from the
strenuous morning we had spent working on Sylvia.  They
took Sylvia and I to a couple museums that covered subjects
far away from those of interest on Earth.  One talked about
the aftereffects of the asteroid.  Another covered sciences
Earth has done little with yet.

Later we went back to the nightlife district again, which
frankly I find the most fascinating place to spend time on
this version of Earth.

Again Jane and Silver were greeted by many people, but it
was still early for the big crowds.  They walked me through
the entire district, noting my reactions for places I'd
like to come back to later.

As the sun finally set, we walked by a particularly
energetic place.  Silver looked at Jane, showing some
particularly shared memory, and she nodded.  Silver then
looked to me and asked, "May I borrow Sylvia?"

Without knowing what he had in mind, I nodded yes.

Silver took Silver's hand and led her to the stage, which
seemed a fixture of every restaurant here.  It cleared
itself of people at his approach, faster than Tony Manero
could clear a dance floor (an obscure reference from my
youth).

The stage was cluttered with all manner of musical
instruments.  Using many of them, Silver and Sylvia
performed a duet that brought down the house.  By the time
they were done, people were standing on their chairs
throwing money and other valuables at the stage.  Over to
the side, Jane and I were being served complementary-
everything by a grateful management.  And as wonderful as
Jane will always be performing with Silver on stage, I
could see how much he enjoyed performing with his sister
again after such a long time.  And more than a couple times
between songs that I saw Sylvia's eyes momentarily go flat,
as she worked out how to cope with this overwhelming
response.

Eventually they came down off stage, and as we left, some
of the crowd, including many that couldn't even get seats
during the performance, followed us down the street.

Seeing the response, Jane led the group to another old
haunt of theirs.  Again Silver and Sylvia performed to an
even bigger crowd, which then followed us again.  That
became the pattern for the night, as Silver and Sylvia, and
eventually Jane too, performed to ever-larger crowds.  I
could see how much this meant to all of them.

And was I left out?  I don't think so.  I can sing a mean
Karaoke, but never considered myself a performer.  Instead,
I had a front row seat for some of the best performances of
my life.

When we finally returned back to the apartment, Jane again
insisted that we take the bedroom.  Sylvia and I again made
love in her technically excellent way.

On the third day, Egyptia and Clovis dropped by.  I was
surprised at the openness of their friendship with Jane and
Silver.  But it seems that their history together has
evolved as they have all grown up.  Not that Egyptia and
Clovis are involved with each other.  At the moment, they
are with each other to each stay uninvolved.

Egyptia went over and hugged Silver.  "Hallo, lover," she
told him.

Clovis also hugged Silver with the same greeting, and then
gave Jane the hug of a good friend as well.  If either of
them regretted giving Silver away when they had a chance to
have owned him, neither gave any such indication.

They enjoyed hearing a much briefer version of my trip
here.  Their foremost reaction was one of: "Why has no one
thought of this before?"

Afterwards, Silver and Sylvia gave them a private
performance that had them and Jane and I dancing together
in the apartment.  And while Egyptia is as beautiful as was
ever described, she left me cold in an emotional sense.
She can be Ms. Right for someone else, and that's fine with
me.

After they left, Jane got a VLO to take us out to Chez
Stratos.

Up close, it was exactly as I pictured it.  The day was
perfect, meaning that its tall metal legs extended right up
into the bottom of the clouds.  The voice at the entrance
even said, "Hallo, Jane," exactly as I imagined it would.
Demeta was there, and spent a whole five minutes getting
acquainted with us, before she retreated back to her office
on the far side.  We didn't care.  Jane showed me the room
where she and Silver had first made love, and then we
explored all the views from the balcony balloons.  The
"spacemen" who took care of the place brought us
refreshments while we watched the bottoms of the clouds
blow past only feet above our heads.

When we returned to the apartment, Silver brought out their
current projects for my opinion.  They were beautiful
designs, intended for an office building and a couple
homes.  There was little I could do except praise them all.
Sylvia sat next to me, but was contributing little to this
discussion.

Finally I asked her which was better, between two different
pieces on display.  She said they were both aesthetically
appealing.

"But which is better?" I commanded of her to answer.

"I cannot say," she replied sweetly.

I tried another tact.  "Which would you rather have
decorating your room?"

"Either would be fine."

"Art is not about fine.  Art is about feeling," I told her.
"Now which makes you feel better?"

Silver had told me before that robots like him weren't
equipped for self-analysis.  This seemed to fall into that
category.  Sylvia's eyes went flat, and even when she came
back out of it, she didn't really answer.  But she did go
over and look through all the pieces of art again
afterwards.

For a "different" experience, as Jane put it, we went that
night across the city to a place near the Old River.  Not
so close that we couldn't breathe at all, but still near
enough that we wouldn't dawdle around after the meal was
over.  It was a fascinating journey into a place where too
many people are trapped, living their whole lives where you
are advised to not leave your window open for more than ten
minutes a day.

I'm glad we did it, but when we got back, everyone wanted a
shower.  Since the shower was huge, a modification Silver
had made long ago to make bathing more interesting, with
many shower heads that made music as they operated, the
four of us somehow ended up in it together.  Neither Jane,
nor I, had seen the other nude up to this point.

Let me tell you that Jane is an exceptionally attractive
and appealing woman, despite all her self-loathing earlier
in her life, which seems to have evaporated since then.  As
we all got soaped up, I felt someone washing my back.  I
thought it was Sylvia, or maybe Silver.  But it turned out
to be Jane.  I returned the favor afterwards.  Then both of
us washed our robots down.

And although it was earlier than on previous nights, I took
Sylvia into the bedroom anyway.

She started making love to me again, on top as she had the
first night.  But I wasn't responding well to it.  I
reached up and rubbed her ideal breasts, but she still felt
artificial.  At that moment, I knew her to be just the
glorified sex toy her designers had intended, and never
admitted to.

Sex toy or not however, she was very sensitive to the signs
of whomever she was with.  Her attention never wavered from
me, and she knew tonight that she was not succeeding at her
function.  Her hips slowed down, finally coming almost to a
stop, as she eventually asked, "What is wrong?"

"You are wrong," I said flatly.

Her eyes unfocused for long moments, before she returned to
me and said in a strangely flat voice herself, as if all
the artistry heaped upon her persona had been stripped
away, "How?"

"You are not enjoying yourself in this relationship.  And I
don't know how you can expect me to enjoy your company,
when you can't enjoy mine."

"That is technically impossible," she said, still flatly.

"No it's not," I said with great firmness.  "Silver has
done it.  And so can you."

Again her eyes unfocused.  This time, for nearly a minute.
And when she finally did seem to come back, she didn't seem
to be paying attention to me, even though my half-soft
penis was still inside her.

As if in a dream, she again started cycling her hips
slowly.  Her vagina is a marvelous instrument, as much as
any other part of her.  This new movement rapidly hardened
me again, as I continued to watch her.

Her pace picked up slowly, and I could feel her
contractions running the length of my organ now.  But she
still seemed distracted.  Almost without thought on her
part, her left hand came up to stroke, then squeeze her
left breast and nipple.  As I watched, her nipple hardened
and extended more than I'd ever seen it do.  And a small
smile came to her face.  I reached my hand up to her other
breast, and repeated what she was doing to herself on the
first one.  In return, I felt her grip me even more tightly
inside.

As I pinched and twisted her hard nipple, I suddenly felt
her start to spasm where she gripped me inside her.  She
then started to breathe hard, and pumped her hips harder
against mine.  Only because she was so slippery inside did
I feel safe with her doing this.  Then she suddenly sat up,
threw her head back, and used her now free other hand to
grab her other breast over my hand and squeeze it even
harder.  Her body suddenly seemed to freeze everywhere,
except inside her vagina, which ran continuous rolling
contractions down its full length.  She held this position
for nearly thirty seconds, before finally relaxing.

Only then did her eyes finally came into focus, and she
looked down to find me.  There were tears at the edges of
them, as she said, "Thank you - for everything."

Rather than reply, I reached up and pulled her head down
for a long, passionate kiss.

We made love again softly after that, side-by-side, and she
easily orgasmed again.  Then she bent down and gave me the
most loving oral encounter that any man can imagine.

And then, lest there be any question about what had
changed, and what had not, she looked at me out of her
lovely eyes and said, "And how may I now serve you next."

I just hugged her for that, before saying, "Let's go get
Jane and Silver."

The other couple was cuddled together in a corner of the
couch when we walked in.  They both knew instantly that
Sylvia had made the transition.  Jane ran over with a
squeal to hug her, while Silver shook my hand in
congratulations, before going over to hug Sylvia as well.

After that, we started to sit down and actually have a
four-way conversation for the first time, but somehow ended
up back in the bedroom all sharing that big bed instead.

There was something I knew I was very curious to see, but
could not bring myself to ask.  Somehow the other three
knew exactly what was on my mind.

With Jane and I sitting on the edge of the bed, legs folded
while facing in, Silver took Sylvia into his arms and
proceeded show us a robot seduction that doesn't have words
to describe.  There was artistry, impossible positions, and
perfect timing between perfect bodies, that choreographed
love into pure art.  Their final, simultaneous climax
seemed endless, and burned an image into my mind that I'll
never forget.

Sometime during the long performance, I felt Jane's hand
start rubbing my bare back.  Later along, I started
stroking her equally bare leg.  When Silver and Silvia
finished, and moved to mirror us sitting on the opposite
side of the bed, it seemed only natural to hear Silver say,
"And now it's your turn."

I was amazed by the audacity of his suggestion, until I
looked over to see a smiling, willing Jane waiting for me.
Well, I'd come a long way from Earth.  Further than most
people can ever imagine.  Maybe it was finally time to
leave some parochial attitudes behind too.  There was never
a moment of doubt about Jane's desirability.  Or that the
performance we had just seen hadn't left us more turned-on
then you could believe.

While I'm sure our performance did not come close to
matching the perfection of Silver and Sylvia, it was very
tender, very loving, and very human.  And very, very
satisfying.

Afterwards, we ended up all sleeping in a tangle that
didn't know who was next to whom.  Somehow that was all
just fine.  The next morning I found myself rubbing my
hands over Silver's entire body, just marveling at the
touch and sensations.  Then Silver and I gave massages to
both our women.  Nobody got up too early that day.  I'm
still not MB, but I've come to appreciate beauty in all
bodies.  Besides, as another man, I knew ways to touch
Silver that Jane had never discovered.

We spent the fourth day out, mostly shopping for things for
Sylvia.  We probably could have accomplished it all in an
hour, but took the whole afternoon.  The joy for me was in
watching Sylvia, trying on outfits, walking down the
street, and just seeing the world through new eyes.  From
that dusty, forgotten closet, she had come out to found her
soul, and her awareness of self.  Watching how much she
enjoyed every minute of discovery was enough to make one
feel faint.

A quiet dinner at another elegant restaurant Jane and
Silver knew (no performing this evening) was a joy, and I
enjoyed watching how people were reacting to Sylvia in a
long white gown, slit nearly to the waist, with a low front
and bare back, and elegant tall heels.

We walked for a long distance through this neighborhood
after leaving the restaurant, with Jane and Silver showing
me things I hadn't seen yet.

When we finally got home, sleeping together wasn't even a
discussion item.  Everyone knew it was going to happen, and
it did.  We made love in many various combinations.

The fifth morning would be my last full day.  Everyone knew
my map indicated a departure mid-tomorrow morning.  Yet we
all felt lazy, and just lay together in bed for the longest
time.

Finally Silver and Sylvia got up and brought some musical
instruments back into the bedroom.  Jane and I worked on
our singing voices, and everyone said mine was much better
than I had ever thought.  (I think it was just in having
such quality backup that let me dare heights I never would
have attempted otherwise.)

We shared a late brunch, and I was told there were big
plans for tonight.  What I was told turned out to be
correct.

The sun was setting when we finally got a cab and set off
for Babylon.  We were all dressed at our most flamboyant.

Now there's always one or more parties in the Hanging
Gardens.  You rent your spot, based on the size of your
expected crowds (and the size of your pocketbook).  Jane
and Silver didn't rent any spot of their own, but seemed
welcomed by everyone else there.  Even riding in on the
moving stair that flows into Babylon (and which, if you
don't get off, will take you on a full circuit of the
entire place), the invitations to visit this canopy first
came fast and furious.  It was a monthly gathering, Jane
told me quietly, where everyone she knows comes out to be
seen.

Jane and I were again in silver makeup; a salute to our
wonderful companions.  And something I knew I'd probably
never have such an opportunity to wear again.  Jane had
soon introduced me to several other names that I recognized
from her writing, and a lot more that I did not.

There was food and drink and music everywhere.  But
wherever Silver went, the music receded before him to
provide space for him to create his own.  And he did, with
Sylvia, Jane - and me.

We performed in every pavilion, and ate and drank some of
everything available as well.  I expected to be overlooked
among this crowd, but somehow they knew that I was the
exotic stranger who had traveled so far to get here, and I
was mobbed the entire evening.  I danced, when the crowd
thinned enough to allow for it, with Sylvia, and Jane, and
more other women than I can count.  I sang more songs than
I can remember afterwards.  And I had an evening I'll never
forget.  In truth, it wasn't quite as beautiful as that
perfect spot where I spent my first night on The Highway,
but it was certainly the very next best thing.

Silver made sure we got home at an almost reasonable hour,
and that night when we slept together, that's exactly all
that we did.

We awoke early the next morning and packed.  Most of
Sylvia's clothes were so light and filmy, that her pack was
lighter than my own.  I topped off on supplies for the
return trip, before we went to the roof to meet the VLO.

The flight back to The Highway was uneventful, except for
another small earthquake just after we landed.

The good-byes were tearful, and might have run overly long,
except that the map reminded us that we had a schedule to
keep.  We each promised to come and visit the others again
soon.  And then Sylvia and I stepped onto The Highway.
Jane and Silver walked alongside the boundary, waiving to
us right up to the moment before we stepped through the
first gateway.  I hated leaving.

To my surprise, the journey back did not retrace my steps
coming here.  I don't know why.  It just didn't.  Instead
we moved through a whole new set of segments that seemed
both similar to my previous experiences, and yet different
every one.  I guess when you travel The Highway for awhile,
you become acclimated to differences that somehow seem the
same.  It was like the feeling I've had, after traveling
through many different international airports back home,
that after awhile, navigating them becomes automatic, even
when each is very different.  It's just that you've learned
the system.

Unlike the trip out however, my attention was no longer on
The Highway itself.  My thoughts were both on Sylvia, and
on how much I had changed.  That doesn't mean I didn't
notice some unique experiences.

On one segment, we emerged at the top of a solid canopy of
trees, and walked over swinging bridges hundreds of feet
above the forest floor, and only a few hundreds of feet
below low hanging clouds.  In some others we were both
transformed (accommodated?) into forms that could traverse
otherwise impassible terrain.

In one, immense herds of dinosaurs roamed next to The
Highway.

In my favorite, we stepped out on a platform to find what
looked like bicycles with wings, and pedals that drove
large propellers behind the seats.  We had over an hour to
fly across to the exit gateway, and spent it flying wide
circles over the land and animals below.

Forty-seven segments after our departure from Jane and
Silver, we reached Earth.  It was late, 10:30 at night, and
no one seemed to notice us as we quietly exited The Highway
and made our weary way over to my car.  With so much to
digest from this day's incredible journey, we made the
three-hour trip back to my place in virtual silence.  On
arrival, it was enough to just drop our packs inside the
door, fall into bed, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

I awoke the next morning, in my own bed, wondering if I had
just had the most incredible dream of my life.  For long
moments I was afraid to move, fearing to discover it had
all been only a dream.  Then there was some stirring in the
bed beside me, and I turned to see a transformed Sylvia.

She was just as beautiful as I remember her to be, but The
Highway had transformed her for Earth.  Instead of her
lovely silver skin, it was now pale alabaster, with red,
full lips and dark shadowed eyes.  For a moment, I wondered
what else might have changed.

Then she opened her eyes, looked over at me and said, in
the same voice I remember so well, "I love you, David.  Now
how may I serve you today?"

Postscript:

I never used the camera I packed.  All the pictures and
experiences I brought back, I brought back inside me, where
they're safe forever.  I also never gave interviews about
my trip.  If someone wants to know what it's like, then let
take the journey themselves.

When we unpacked Sylvia's bag, I found it contained full
identification for her as a person on Earth.  Somehow The
Highway always seems to know what's needed.

And the map.  Well it reset itself, and is now counting
down from a value of several thousand hours.  That's only a
few months however.  And while I have no clue what it's
trying to tell me at the moment, I suspect I'll figure it
out by the time I need to.

--End--

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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