"James Patrick Kelly - Bernardo's House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

Bernardo's House
by James Patrick Kelly

Copyright (C)2003 by James Patrick Kelly

First Published in Asimov's, June 2003

Hugo Award Finalist

The house was lonely. She checked her gate cams constantly, hoping that Bernardo would come back to
her. She hadn't seen him in almost two yearsтАФhe had never been gone this long before. Something must
have happened to him. Or maybe he had just gotten tired of her. Although they had never talked about
where he went when he wasn't with her, she was pretty sure she wasn't his only house. A famous doctor
like Bernardo would have three houses like her. Four. She didn't like to think about him sleeping in
someone else's bed. Which he would have been doing for two years now. She had been feeling dowdy
recently. Could his tastes in houses have changed?

Maybe.

Probably.

Definitely.

She thought she might be too understated. Her hips were slim and her floors were pale Botticino marble.
There wasn't much loft to her Epping couch cushions. Her blueprint showed a roving, size-seven dancer's
bodyтАФBernardo had specified raven hair and green eyesтАФand just eight simple but elegant rooms. She
was a gourmet cook even though she wasn't designed to eat. Sure, back when he had first had her built
he had cupped her breasts and told her that he liked them small, but maybe now what he wanted was
wall-to-wall cable-knit carpet and swag drapery.

He had promised to bring her a new suite of wallscapes, which was good because there was only so
much of colliding galaxies and the Sistine Chapel a girl could take. For the past nine weeks she had been
cycling her walls through the sixteen million colors they could display. If she left each color up for two
seconds, it would take her just under a year to review the entire palette.

Each morning for his sake she wriggled her body into one of the slinky sexwear patterns he had brought
for her clothes processor. The binding bustier or the lace babydoll or the mesh camisole. She didn't much
like the way the leather-and-chain teddy stuck to her skin; Bernardo had spared no expense on her
tactiles. Even her couches could be aroused by the right touch. After she dressed, she polished her
Amadea brass-and-chrome bathroom fixtures or her Enchantress pattern sterling silver flatware or her
Cuprinox French copper cookware. Sometimes she dusted, although the reticulated polyfoam in her air
handlers screened particles larger than .03 microns. She missed Bernardo so. Sometimes masturbating
helped, but not much.

He had erased her memory of their last hours togetherтАФthe only time he had ever made her forget. All
she remembered now was that he'd said that she was finally perfect. That she must never change. He
came to her, he said, to leave the world behind. To escape into her beauty. Bernardo was so poetic.
That had been a comfort at first.
He had also locked her out of the infofeed. She couldn't get news or watch shows or play the latest sims.
Or call for help. Of course, she had the entire Norton entertainment archive to keep her company,