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| Picture taken by Patrick Denker, Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Roma-ponterotto01.jpg |
Sara spotted them next to the Ponte Rotto, two dark spots against the sheen of the Tiber. “I wish people wouldn’t dump their trash in the wa - “
Lieto, her retriever mix yanked the leash from her hand. He entered the water with a clumsy glee, leash trailing him like a balloon’s string.
“Bad puppy!” Sara called after him, “Lieto, come!”
Ignoring her, the dog paddled out to the debris. It wasn’t until Lieto turned towards her, a scrap of cloth in his mouth, that Sara realized it wasn’t trash. “Is that a baby?” The closer Lieto drew to the stone walkway, the more Sara was certain. It was an infant, swaddled in white cloth. Sara’s mouth ran dry with dread. There was no way that the baby was alive, it was too still, eyes closed, lips parted, hands unclenched. Sara flinched as Lieto sent a spray of water in her direction. When she looked again, the dog had gone, swimming towards the other dot bobbing on the silver strand of river.
Sara knelt, lifting the tiny body out of the Tiber. As the water sheeted off of it, its eyes flickered open with a click and a cord dangled from its abdomen. Sara sputtered a laugh, “It’s a robot.” Sagging with relief, she sat on the side of the river cradling the doll. Lieto paddled back to the bank, towing a second robot. Sara grasped the dog by his collar, pulling him over the lip of the raised walkway before retrieving the second doll. “Are these your babies, you silly pooch?” she held up the doll, letting Lieto lick its face. The doll let out a faint cry, and Sara shivered. The once peaceful view of the Ponte Rotto now seemed eerie, as if she were the last remaining human to note its brokenness.
Picking up Lieto’s sodden leash, Sara walked back the way she had come, towards cyclists, pedestrians, towards other people. She stopped near the Tempio di Portuno, circling the fluted columns until she spotted him. Davide was bent over his sketchbook, his drawing bearing little resemblance to the temple in front of him. ”Hey Davide,” Sara sidled up to him, ”Davide.” He stared at the bricks between the pillars. ”Davide?” Sara looked where he was looking, then sighed, ”Never mind.”
She was approaching the Foro Boario when her phone buzzed in her pocket. ”Yes, Davide?”
”Are those Cybot Aught Points?” Davide’s voice sounded distorted, ”How did you get them? They’re supposed to be illegal.”
”Lieto fished them out of the Tiber. I don't know what they are,” Sara could feel one of the dolls wiggle in her arms. She adjusted her grip on the phone, ”I’m going to take them to someone who knows about robots.”
”Who? I mean, I could look at them. All the Cybots have a serial on the back of their neck. Unless it's not made by Cybot. Then it could be a Robud or Botsoft. Those are rare though,” Davide paused, muffling the receiver with his hand while he adjusted it. ”Who,” his voice sounded staticy, ”who are you taking them to?”
Now that she had his full attention, she couldn’t help but tease him, ”Hmmm . . . I’m at the bus stop now. I’ll call you when I find out.”
”But we were - you said - Sara, just wait there, okay?”
There was a faint click, and she glanced at her phone. Davide had hung up. For a moment she considered taking the next bus, leaving her conflicting feelings waiting at the curb. She imagined Davide pulling up, the lack of recognition on his face as her feelings waved one hand in the air, beckoning him.
So deep in thought was she, that the putt-putt-putt of Davide’s scooter made her jump. ”You’re still here,” he shifted forward on his seat, ”Get on.”
”I have Lieto,” she patted the dog.
Davide whistled, tapping his loafer on the footboard. Lieto, tongue lolling with glee, squeezed his wet body between Davide’s legs.
“Is that really safe?” Sara tightened her grip on the leash.
“Lieto’s smart enough not to jump off while we’re moving,” Davide reached between his legs to unclip Lieto’s collar, “Get on, Sara.”
“I don’t have a helmet.”
Davide handed Sara his, “Wear mine.”
As soon as she pulled it over her head, Sara realized her mistake. It smelled like him, and if that wasn’t enough to make her legs quiver, she now had to mount the scooter behind him. Her mind buzzing with how the heat of his back would feel against her chest, Sara swung a leg over the seat, then stuffed the dolls in between them. She arranged her hands demurely on the seat itself, mumbling, “Ready,” with numb lips. “Maybe,” she thought, “I’m about to have a heart attack. Were numb lips and tingling limbs a sign of a heart attack? Or was that stroke?” Either way, she was sure she would die before Davide putted his way to where ever it was he was taking her. “Where are we going?” she yelled. Davide didn’t answer, the air blowing around them, engine thrumming underneath them as they wove their way through side-streets bumpy with cobbles.
The scooter finally stopped at the rear of a church, a building defined by absences. The stone was darker and rougher where something had connected to it, white pillars marking the walls like scars. A doorway arched on a ledge above them, steps connecting it to the patch of grass banking the alleyway.
Sara hesitated at the arch, “Isn’t the church against non-biological intelligence?”
“Not every church,” Davide’s expression was swallowed up by the dim light of the high windows.
They paused at the benetier, dipping their fingers to make the sign of the cross. There was only one parishioner kneeling in the rows of wooden pews, and Davide chose that row at which to genuflect. Sara followed behind him, dolls cradled in her arms, Lieto’s tail whisking her legs.
There was a creak as the hassock was lowered, then they knelt, facing the empty altar. “Forgive us, Lord,” Davide prayed aloud, ”We have Cybot Aught Points. Twins. They were in the river.”
“God have mercy on us all,” the stranger whispered, ”Lay down your burdens at the cross.”
Sara turned her head and peered at the man through the gap between Davide’s bowed head and folded hands. He was fatherly-looking, hair grey around the temples, bags beneath his eyes. ”Will you fix them? They’re just babies. It's not their fault they were made.”
”There are always women like you, drawing babes out of the water to their own detriment,” the man removed a rosary from his breast pocket, ”Go and be with your own kind.”
Sara rose to her feet, carrying the dolls to the crucifix in the chancel. She placed them near the votive candles, foundlings wrapped in thin blankets, too waterlogged to even wiggle.
It wasn’t until she stepped outside that her vision blurred and she wept.
“Sara,” Davide put his arms around her, “Don’t worry. Lorenzo will take good care of them.”
“That’s not why I’m crying,” her words were unintelligible, not that it mattered. Davide, after all, was just a robot.
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Cross post from my https://12shortstories.com/ submission.