Chapter Text

PART V

Monday, 14 February 2163; 1715 hrs

"A coffee mug?" Princess said, staring at the item on the makeshift altar. It sat, solid and prosaic, on the silk scarf Princess had draped over the coffee table, next to some leftover pilfered contents of Mark's hairbrush.

"What could be more personal?" Fran asked. "He has it with him every day!"

"I guess," Princess said. "Oh, well. Let's get started." She lit some incense. "Hear us, all you powers of love!"



"Tea, sir?" Jones stood in the doorway of Anderson's study, carrying two cups and saucers.

"Wish you'd learn to make coffee." Anderson looked up from his book. "Aren't you off duty?"

"I just wanted to check on you before I went home," Jones said. She crossed the room and walked around the desk.

"Al, you worry too much," Anderson said. He took one of the cups from her.

"It's my job," Jones said.

Anderson looked up at his security coordinator. "Didn't I order you to lighten up about a month ago?" he recalled.

"I'm working on it, sir," Jones said, unconvincingly.



Floating in the air above the sofa in Anderson's study, Eros drew a golden arrow. He nocked it and lined up the shot. "This," he said, "is going to be good. Watch this," he said over his shoulder to Aphrodite. "I can get the both of 'em with one arrow. Eight ball in the corner pocket..." He took aim and loosed the arrow.

The glittering projectile hit Jones in the back, passed clean through her on its downward angled trajectory, and lodged in Anderson's chest.

"Bullseye!" Eros declared. He high-fived Aphrodite.



Jones blinked. So did Anderson.

"Where there any reports of seismic activity, today, sir?" Jones asked, steadying herself against the desk with one hand.

"I didn't check," Anderson said, "but it makes sense. A couple of books fell off the shelf, earlier. Most likely it's just a few minor shocks."

"What an odd day it's been," Jones said.



Aphrodite took one of the golden arrows from Eros' quiver. "These things haven't reached their 'best before' date or anything, have they?" she asked, examining the arrow.

"Give it time," Eros protested, grabbing at the arrow.

"It's supposed to be instantaneous, if I remember correctly," Aphrodite said, glaring at the small, winged god.

"Okay," Eros said, "no more Mister Nice God. Where's that grenade launcher?"



Fran cut a piece of ribbon with a pair of scissors. "We cut the ties that bind. We release all things bound by the spell," she intoned.

"As above, so below," Princess said.



"A cancellation?" Eros said, and lowered the grenade launcher.

Aphrodite sighed. "Mortals."

"Yeah," Eros said. "Although it could have been interesting to play this one through to the end."

Aphrodite put her hands on her hips. "That arrow worked. I felt it work. Why are they just sitting there, talking?"

Eros tapped one side of his head with one finger. "Hard cases," he said. "I guess the arrows only work if you actually have a heart."

"Maybe you should have shot them in the head," Aphrodite said.

They faded from the scene.



Jones finished her tea. "Well, I'm off," she said. "How do you feel, sir?"

"Actually," Anderson said, "I feel... normal."

"No more sudden attacks of sentiment, then?"

Anderson allowed himself a brief moment of introspection. "I don't think so."

"That's a relief."

"For both of us, believe me."

"I don't think I could get used to you being nice to people all the time, sir."

"You rather I was grouchy and bad tempered?"

"Let's just say that it's more you, sir."

Anderson raised his teacup in mock salute. "Well, I'm back to my nasty, grumpy self. Happy Valentine's Day, Al."

"Same to you, sir." Jones headed for the door. "Good night."

"See you tomorrow."



Mark ambled across the parking lot to where his red convertible was waiting for him.



"There he goes," Eros observed. "I feel like a complete failure." He folded his arms. "Hey," he said, "just because Princess and Fran chickened out on the spell doesn't mean we can't do a little freelance work."

"You mean, go on with it anyway?" Aphrodite inferred.

"Sure, just like the old days. We never used to wait to be invoked in the old days."

"True," Aphrodite said. "You were always running around firing off those darned arrows. Personally, I think it says something about your mindset."

"Save the psychoanalysis for someone who cares," Eros said. "Are you in, or are you out? All I need is for him to see Princess when I hit him with the arrow."

Aphrodite smiled. "I'm in," she said. She waved a careless hand and assumed the appearance of a slender green-eyed young woman with dark hair the colour of a raven's wing. "How do I look?"

"A perfect double," Eros said. Having rid himself of the grenade launcher, he nocked a golden arrow. "Let's do it!"



Mark unlocked the door of the car. He glanced up when he thought he heard someone call his name, but the carpark was deserted. He frowned, puzzled, then shrugged, opened the door and tossed his flight bag onto the passenger seat.

He caught his breath as something bright seemed to catch him square in the chest.



"Yes!" Eros declared, and punched the air. "Got him!"



Mark blinked. Before him, a misty vision appeared: Princess, smiling, one hand outstretched, her luminous green eyes aglow with adoration.

A squadron of robot fighter jets screamed overhead, bringing him back to the present. He was alone in the car park. Mark shrugged and climbed in to the driver's seat. He started the engine, put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking space.



"What just happened?" Eros demanded as Aphrodite reappeared next to him.

"I don't know," Aphrodite observed, putting her hands on her hips. "I'm sure he saw me, but there was no reaction!" She shifted back to her own form.

"I got him right between the ventricles!" Eros protested. "These arrows can't be duds! They come with a five aeon warranty!"

"Strange," Aphrodite said. "Maybe we'd better follow him."



On the way into town, Mark pulled in and parked outside a florist's shop. He went inside and waited for the florist to serve several customers, most of them male, all of them looking harrassed, making last minute purchases.



"Delayed effects, maybe?" Aphrodite theorised as Mark and the florist exchanged a few words.

"Maybe it's a bad batch," Eros said, shrugging. He examined an arrow. "I'm going to have to speak with Hephaestos about this."



"Here we go," the florist said. "I've got your order right here. A dozen white roses."

"Thanks," Mark said, and paid the bill.

"That's one lucky girl," the florist said. "Not everyone orders their Valentine's Day flowers two weeks in advance!"

"I'm the lucky one," Mark said, and took the flowers.



Aphrodite and Eros watched in disbelief as Mark drove to the Snack J, parked the car, and pulled a card out of a pocket in his flight bag. He walked inside. The bells on the door tinkled as it shut behind him.

"Well, what do you know?" Eros said.

"No wonder the arrow didn't have an effect," Aphrodite said. "He was already in love with her."

"So we've just wasted a whole day?" Eros threw his hands in the air. "That does it. I'm going to find Bacchus and crash that toga party. You coming, or what?"

"Count me in," Aphrodite sighed. "We're certainly not needed here, and I could use a drink."



As the sun set over the Pacific Ocean, 7-Zark-7 activated the privacy block on his surveillance of the Snack J. Some things didn't need to be on the record. He tossed a wrench for 1-Rover-1 and ran a check of his other surveillance subjects: Jason was in his trailer, engrossed in one of his favourite detective novels; Tiny and Keyop were engaged in a video game battle at Tiny's shack by the harbour; and Chief Anderson was by himself in his study, doing paperwork.

The tele-comm warbled with an incoming message alert.

"Center Neptune Control, Seven Zark Seven," Zark answered.

"Hello, Zark," a breathless female voice said.

"Oh, hello, Susan," Zark said. "How are things at the Early Warning Station?"

"Everything's quiet up here," Susan recounted, "although someone did send me a Valentine's Day circuit board and a box of wing nuts. I thought I'd call and say thanks."

"Why, Susan," Zark said, "what makes you think it was me? A girl like you could have any number of admirers."

"But only you would send me a gift with a Center Neptune return address, Zark."

"Oh... of course. The mail room labels everything as a matter of course, doesn't it?" Zark shuffled his wheels back and forth in anthropomorphic embarrassment. "Well... I thought I'd see what all this Valentine's day stuff is all about, you know. I'm not sure why humans choose one day to make special gestures of affection to one another. Tell me, Susan... I know robots aren't supposed to have emotions, but has your disposition toward me been influenced by the arrival of a gift on this particular day?"

"Well, Zark," Susan said, "you know I've always been... favourably disposed toward you, but no. There's no change in my regard for you as an autonomous cybernetic device."

"Humans are a peculiar species," Zark said. "Surely if they care about each other, they care all year round?"

"You'd think so," Susan agreed, "but then, humans aren't always rational like us."

"I suppose not," Zark concluded. "When you think about it, it's really just another Monday."