The Makers (СИ)

"You don't have enough attention?" one of the twins was surprised.

"We are upset by this disunity," Robert shrugged. "From such a mood along all these fifteen hundred kilometers separating us from you, there is smelled sticky, nasty fear.

"People are afraid of permissiveness."

"People are afraid of their own limitations."

"Maybe it so. But only this your colorful expression won't enhance their fearlessness."

"Fearlessness can't ever be enhanced from outsides," Robert remarked, gesturing to his house. "Come on, I'll show you how we live."

Robert's house, the oldest on Alpha, was the largest. Outwardly it was similar to a large, shaggy, grayed caterpillar; inside it was almost an ideal suite of small but cozy and comfortable rooms. Frightened by the sudden visit of strangers, smelling of cold and metal, it trembled, its sides were vibrating.

"I have a house which is a big coward, it has a hare's soul," smiled Robert, stepping in and waved his hand to the right, toward the warm and soft reddish space. "Here, closer to the kitchen and the warmth, the babies live. They are twins, but one of them is the future Maker, the second one is not. You saw them there by the airlock."

The second of the twins ducked and cautiously followed Robert.

"There are on the Earth no hard feelings about you," he sighed, glancing incredulously at the soft, elastic walls with the thick interspersed receptors. "They just once again remembered your existence. And what's interesting is this was done as totally as it just possible."

"Yes, the Earth sometimes sins by forgetting the important," agreed Robert. "But it doesn't matter at all. We exist, regardless of whether they remember about us or not."

He went to the place where the house was poured with warm orange colors, took out from the kitchen shelf a transparent glassware strung on a yellow feelers and filled it with bubbling blue liquid:

"Don't be afraid, gentlemen: it's quite edible."

The house finally found the courage to sigh and, waving softly, it spread wide, forming a large orange living room around the guests...

***

By the evening it was decided the following: the division which was cultivated for centuries has no any purpose, and, consequently, has no any sense. It's far from the first generation of earthlings who not only knew about the nuthouse in orbit, but also took its existence for granted. Henceforth the Makers at last should have begun to change their image of being insane.

22. 2330th year. Benji.

The police patrol unit arrived at the scene and found Benji sitting on the footboard of the stolen flyer.

"Oh shit!" the elderly sergeant cursed, looking at Benji's scratched face and broken sensors. "It's a cyber! For the first time I see that the machine got into a trouble... What happened to you, kid?"

And Benji, who did not find any untruth or familiarity in such a treatment, re-announced both coordinates.

"So it's all because of the woman?!" the sergeant sitting at the desk at the local police station unwittingly whistled. The police station densely smelled of plywood and fresh paint. The sergeant filled out the registration questionnaire.

"This is a fine kettle of fish, I must say."

"You could say that," agreed Benji.

"I've never heard a human have any affairs with a cyber. As well as a cyber with the human."

"She's not a human, she's a Maker," the android said.

"Well... I dunno. As for me, the difference is not very big. Or rather, it's too great. Do you know what they like? "

"Who are they?" Benji didn't understand.

"Women, who else? They love emotions. They can't live without emotions."

"mi ba'e ji'a nelci loi za'u se cinmo*," Benji leaned over to the very face of the sergeant, winked at him and, screwing up his eyes, sensuously recited:

"Your evening's crumpled; it is here a third;

your heart is rushing in your chest like bird.

I'm here, I'm behind this foolish wall,

and I can't sleep without you at all."

"Eh..." the sergeant sighed and pressed "on" on the screen of the smartphone. "Well, do what you wish, guy..."

"It's Limerick, sergeant," the smartphone responded. "They found the downed aircraft. Two hours ago the Besancon cops towed it to the parking lot. The cabin is clean: no hair, no blood, so the PCR test for now is off."

"And how are you now? How's our Smith-O'Brien Avenue?"

"It's a funny place, sergeant. The concrete box, crammed with wires and equipment. Sure, there are no more people, but we pretty much rummaged around and did come up with some stuff."

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" the sergeant nodded and disconnected.

"Uh... eh..." Benji hesitated. "So what about me?"

"What about you?" the sergeant shrugged. "You have no money, you have no metric data, no genetic profile, like any normal person has. Your French will arrive for you. And when they'll arrive, they'll decide what to do with you.

The French had arrived in the morning, with some tricky electronic device and identification codes of the DII family. Benji - in good spirits and tightly charged - dutifully held out his hands and waited patiently until people make sure that he is he. Then there was a French consulate in Dublin, an interview with local television and the doing of a new chip.

And later in the evening the android was left on his own.

The first thing he did was to call Aia:

"di'ai calom to'o la dublin doi nixli*"

"Damn you, Benji," the black screen answered in Aia's voice. "You scared me so much."

"Sorry." Benji tapped the settings buttons, but the screen remained black. "What's the deal with your image?"

"Everything is fine with the image, worse with the face," there was a sigh on the other side, and the tear-stained girl's face appeared on the screen.

"You've been crying," Benji said. "Because of me. I hurt you, don't I?"

"Now everything is fine."

"I never meant to hurt you. Sorry."

"What are you talking about, Benji," Aia said gently, and her look melted slightly. "Why don't you take responsibility for the Gobi Desert - there is too dry there. Or for Antarctica - there is there too cold."

"Well, if you think it's really necessary..." Benji smiled. "I just want to note that in this situation, I'll immediately go into the category of irresponsible."

"It's possible," Aia nodded. "But don't worry: I can comfort you with the fact that in natural conditions in the wild nature responsibility doesn't grow at all."

"Yes, in natural conditions in the wild nature in this niche lives completely different ugliness," the android agreed and paused, softly looking at Aia's green eyes.

He was looking and thinking he could no longer honestly to say to himself that he didn't care.