Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

accessories. The quality of the skin measured up— its pale tone, texture, elasticity. Then there were the almond-shaped dark-lined deep-set periwinkle eyes, the arrowed brows, the perfect nose to complete his image of the perfect young male. Sam brushed back an unruly shining lock of hair at his brow and looked closely at the fine stitching, and then allowed the hair to settle back into its natural fall, the mane buoyant and springy.
    "Is something wrong, sir?"
    Sam stepped away. A mournful dread bore down on him, a punishing weight of iron settling inside his chest making it difficult to breathe. He worked to tamp down the feeling of unease.
    "You understand what will happen today, Bobby." Their creation was so perfect in practically every way. Well, really it was Oberon's creation; Sam's hand in it was cursory at best, executing Oberon's brilliant scheme.
    Bobby Robbins, the creation standing before him, was truly splendid. A year of living with him, knowing him, enjoying his companionship altered Sam's original understanding of where the this little intrigue was intended to lead.
    "Of course, sir," Bobby responded in an even tone, no real emotion suffusing his expression. But that was to be expected. After all, Bobby wasn't human– he was an automaton. A very well executed, detailed, top-of-the-line creation that could only have come from the brilliant mind of a man like Dr. Oberon Ophelian. The scientific researcher some called a mad man was now incarcerated at the experimental government bathypelagic internment facility at Mission Point, located just beyond the city limits.
    "Oberon, what sort of mess have you gotten me into this time?" he muttered to himself.
    Complications abounded, and black and white had merged to gray for Sam, which seemed to match the poisonous smog-filled sky that hung over Ragstown, as well as his current mood. Nothing was as clear as it had been at university, nor so simple. He again glanced at Bobby. He would miss his companionship. How is it one could become so attached to an automaton? It just didn't seem right and it was certainly unexpected. Could he really lay all of the blame at Oberon's feet? No. Sam could have pulled back, could have called a halt to the plan at any point. Yet here he was, about to commit that final act that would forever alienate him from a law-abiding society. And yet he couldn't see himself traveling any other path. Oberon always made his choices seem so sane. Perhaps that was the most frightening thought of all. He could rationalize even the most ludicrous theory. Had Sam become just as insane as Oberon?
    And perhaps that's why I love him so irrationally.
    "You understand you won't be coming back here," he said. The memory wheels and mechanisms inside Bobby's head seemed so intricate that Sam couldn't begin to understand how they all worked. A team of very special men had been involved in Bobby's creation. It was another acquaintance of Oberon's who had fashioned Bobby's brain from a mesh of human tissue and mechanisms that kept it running almost seamlessly perfect. So many people had a hand in Bobby's creation. But once "the project" was complete, it was up to Sam to "train" him and to give him the façade of humanity. Over the course of the last year, the immersion technique seemed to have taken hold. No one who did not know the full facts questioned whether Bobby was completely human. No one suspected the truth. Oberon would be pleased.
    "It's time to go," he said. He settled his brown wool cap upon his head. It was hard for him to look at Bobby now. Training him had evolved into something more than he'd expected. This whole mission was turning into something much more difficult than he could have anticipated.
    "Sir, would you like me to serve you first?"
    Sam curled his hand around the half-empty bottle of absinthe. He poured a measure into a glass then downed it straight up. His mood, his conscience, soon settled into a quiet, mellow, and faintly euphoric acceptance.
    Sam pivoted around and smiled at Bobby, who now appeared encircled by a faint shimmering brilliant green aura. So perfect, so ready to serve in any way. Sam's cock roused. Cleaning their rooms, serving dinner. Having sex. It was all the same to Bobby. He was so eager to learn and then to show how much he'd learned. Bobby's cock had proven more than serviceable over these many lonely nights. Sam sighed.
    "No, we have to be going or we'll miss the train." He still had yet to stop at the