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A dwarf woman with blue skin stood at the river and wrung out her clothes. She stared at the sun. She liked to do her washing before the sun was high in the sky and burnt her skin. This morning she was up even earlier than usual, she had a busy day and wanted to get her smalls done and dusted, before the day began.
She flapped her threadbare underpants, held them up to the sun, and was just in the middle of wondering how much life was left in the crotch, when she heard a rustle: a nibble? Or was it sucking?
She stopped, looked down from her knickers and there inches from the crotch was a rat – the biggest metallic android she had ever seen – licking its paws like it had just tucked into a succulent something and was looking for more.
And before she could shout, scream, knock it down or indeed flap it senseless with her knickers, the rat (along with those knickers) disappeared with a magician-like snatch that had the dwarf woman breathless and cursing at the same time.
“Are you sure there are no other cities? Not even one?” said Woody.
Pete, scrolling through his latest-just-out-of-its-box H-Pad (Planet Hy Man’s iPad equivalent, with bells on) didn’t look up. Woody waffling on about how the rest of the planet could not possibly be empty was nothing new. The first time Woody asked such questions Pete was stumped, now he didn’t bat an eyelid.
“There really is no one else?” said Woody.
Pete, engrossed in photos of Earth’s street performers, said nothing.
“No other cities, or towns?”
Pete sighed, flicking onto pictures of male performers dressed as females.
“You can’t just be the only inhabitants? Not even a village shop?”
“There is no such thing as a village on planet Hy Man,” said Pete. “Nor a shop.”
“What about the market place?”
“That’s different,” said Pete. “The market is, well…” He stopped, lost for words.
Pete had been a PA robot for Mex, an ex-Man Spy, Planet Hy Man’s elite. All that changed when he landed on Earth and, well, virtually saved Planet Hy Man, before returning with his new best mate, Woody.
Woody a real live male dwarf from Earth had elevated Pete’s status to more than a robot. There had been no male babies for decades and decades on planet Hy Man and the only men left were tall, anorexic-lean, ancient, doddery retired footmen. They were so old they looked mummified, which made touching them as attractive as having your teeth pulled with no anaesthetic. Woody, a young man in his twenties, changed all that.
The women watching Earth on their H-pads, swooned like teenage girls when Woody appeared on their screens and almost fainted when he, along with Pete, ‘saved their planet’. And when his fresh wrinkle-free smile bounced onto the planet itself, the women were swept off their feet, proclaiming their undying gratitude to Pete for, ‘making such a gift possible’.
Woody had been brought up in a family that laughed at him, with a mother who talked about his chances of finding love being as small as his height. Yet here on Planet Hy Man he was a god. Women stopped to admire, watch him walk by. They hung on his every word, like he was the next Buddha. But Woody, unlike Pete, was embarrassed about the whole thing.
And now he was driving Pete insane with his ‘there must be others on the planet’ questions.
Woody had no plans to live on another planet, in fact he had no plans for anything and was as aimless as misspent sperm, dreaming his life away in coffee shops, pen poised. He dreamt of being Scotland’s Terry Pratchett, of his books flying off the shelves at Waterstones, of fans lining up for his signature. All he needed was to finish, well, start a book. Now on Planet Hy Man everything was in front of him, he only had to write down what he saw, but one thing niggled him: this planet…there just had to be more than one city, more than one race of women.
Of course they maintained they were the only ones, there was none but them living on the planet. They said their ancestors had landed, discovered and civilised the planet, albeit said ancestors killed all the four-legged creatures, all the water creatures, and just about everything that breathed. The women were so sure of this, they didn’t even have a name for the city, just called it ‘the city’ or ‘our place.’
But how could they truly know, thought Woody. When they didn’t even have a map, let alone a history of exploration.
“Still the market is a shop of sorts, it still sells things,” said Woody.
“It’s not a shop…and we would know if there was another.”
“How?” said Woody
“We just would.”
“What about the emporium, then?” said Woody.
“The emporium is but a mere memory.” Pete sighed again. He flicked onto pictures of burlesque performers. He couldn’t care less about other cities and people, he had enough on his plate, he had his fame to uphold.
Earth had changed Pete, made him all squidgy with human feelings, tough with ambition, addicted to attention, and sometimes a little jealous.
He loved to entertain the Planet Hy Man women with his Earth stories, such as his ‘Edinburgh Festival adventure’, what a flapjack tasted like, and the joys of patting a real dog, and Pete loved to do it dressed as an Earth woman. Dressing as a woman was how he blended in on earth and he hadn’t stopped since. He was addicted to the swish of nylon, the tightness of a bra and the clip of a heel. As for lipstick, he had a drawer full.
Pete could rustle up an outfits quicker than a robot could pant ‘where’s my lubricant?’, which was just as well because the other robots looked up to him. Within months of his arrival back from Earth they all wanted to look like him. Bras were soon all the rage and it wasn’t long before Pete’s spare time was spent giving advice on underwire. Spurred on by such success he acquired a small shed, filled it with robotic tailors and started his ‘finding the woman in robots’ venture: feminine outfits for robots of any shape, any size. They sold off-the-peg outfits at the market, and took measurements in a wobbly tent behind the stall for those of unusual shapes. Nothing was too much trouble for Pete and his tailors and soon he had a following. With good old- fashion marketing he doubled that following.
He wrote books on the subject, and held meetings, claiming that he liberated the robot to ‘almost woman status’ with a bra, a corset and a wig. And it wasn’t long before the city was full of metallic strutting androids done up like drag queens and cheering most women up, even the leader H2 and her sidekicks DBO and Vegas.
Thanks to Pete the city was now a colourful, prettier place – and Pete had more plans.
He wanted to retire from his official role of supporting the leadership team, retire from his work in the scientific shed ‘investigating things’, and devote all his time to his passion, the ‘finding the woman in robots’ venture. He wanted to elevate the dress code, create better outfits, dresses for every occasion, clothes befitting his status. To create the corset to end all corsets, maybe even create a troupe of performers and impress not just the robots but the women too.
“What do you think of this?” He shoved a picture of Dita Von Tease under Woody’s nose.
It silenced Woody for a least a few days.
The second time Woody asked, ...
