Heart Of Gold

Ever since losing her virginity to a spotty maths geek in the back seat of a Packard after the high school dance, Amy Goldstone had devoted her life to the pursuit of the perfect male. Being a headstrong and resourceful woman, she was able to indulge her quest far beyond the bounds of normal decency – so much so that, thirty years, five husbands and scores of gigolos later, she found herself nursing a benign frustration in the Harley Street consulting room of Doctor Bogdan Radu, where she had been sent by her glamorous and knowing friend Diana. “I’d never heard of him, my dear, he’s very mysterious, from the east somewhere, but I think you’ll find he has something very interesting to offer you.”

“An android, doc?” Mrs Goldstone repeated. “Are you kidding?”

“No indeed.” The doctor adjusted his spectacles. “It is a programme I have been developing for the last twelve years.”

“My dear man, you’re asking me to cough up half a million bucks just so you can cobble together some bits of wire?”

The money is for the materials, Mrs, er, Godstone, not the time. “ He explained that by treating gold with certain chemicals, he had discovered how to produce a functional, mechanical heart, what he called the ‘life spark’. This, when electro-fused to the correct formulation of DNA molecules – But Mrs Goldstone waved him down.

“I don’t need to know what goes on under the hood. Are you saying that you can produce a machine that thinks and acts like a human being?”

“In every respect.”

“I’ll do a deal with you, doc. You can have the dough on one condition. That you make up the first prototype to my specifications.”

“By all means,” said the doctor deferentially. “If you would be good enough to leave a list of your preferred measurements…”

She returned a month later, and Doctor Radu made the introductions. The android certainly was a fine specimen – tall, handsome, deep of chest, dark of suntan, with twinkling Latin eyes and bright white teeth. (Enameltron,” the doctor murmured as they toasted the union in champagne. “The molars alone cost over £2,000 each.”) The android grinned. Mrs Goldstone grinned back a rich, generous, American smile that promised the earth and vowed bloody vengeance if crossed. They went to dinner for an hour, then to a nightclub, and then up to Mrs Goldstone’s gold-draped bedroom. They didn’t emerge for four days.

“What are you going to call him?” Diana asked when next she was over for lunch.

“Bloody marvellous,” said Mrs Goldstone.

“As good as that Can he really do everything a man can do?”

“Not only can he do it, he can do it better, harder, and longer.”

It was true. Thumper – as Mrs Goldstone insisted on christening him – rapidly became a celebrity in the glittering social circles in which she moved. His ready smile and daring wit endeared him to all the best hostesses, and more than once Mrs Goldstone had to prise him away from some over-zealous gaggle of debutantes before his easy-going nature could be compromised.

“You better learn to say no, honey,” she scolded him one night as they drove home. “You belong to me, bought and paid for, and don’t you forget it.”

“Body and soul, my angel,” he grinned.

“Body and soul my ass. You don’t have a soul, you’re just bits of tin and rubber fused round a Fort Knox doorknob.”

It was Diana who learnt the true state of affairs one weekend. Mrs Goldstone was away on charity business, and her best friend had finally availed herself of the opportunity to put Thumper through his paces in Mrs Goldstone’s own four-poster. She was lying back staring ecstatically at the ceiling when Thumper said, “Well, what do you think?”

“I think,” said Diana, “that you and that lousy horse doctor of yours should both get an Oscar.”

“I don’t quite follow.”

“You’re no more an android than my left tit. This was not my first rodeo, lover-boy, and you were definitely not my first robot.”

Thumper held her eye for a moment, then rested his head comfortably on his hand beside her and said simply, “Busted.”

“So what’s going on and whose idea was it?”

“You’re right. Radu hired me when he realised he wouldn’t have enough time to finish the model Amy required. Her demands were somewhat – exigent.”

“You mean that little Romanian fink conned Amy out of half a million dollars just so you could fill your belly?”

“Not exactly. He is building an android. In fact I believe it’s finished now, But take my word for it, it looks nothing like me.” Diana wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Then thumper gave her his most engaging smile. “Not that I’m complaining.” His hand stole warmly up her thigh.

“You sneaky bastard.” She couldn’t help grinning back. “Well, you’re certainly the most expensive man I’ve ever had.”

And it was the subsequent scene that Mrs Goldstone, returning early from her business trip, happened to walk in on.

Fury seized her. She flung Diana’s clothes after her down the stairwell and, ignoring her protestations, shooed her out naked into the street at the end of a poker. Then she returned to the bedroom and confronted Thumper, who was struggling with his trousers. Sighing at the iniquities of the technological age, she landed a single fearful blow on the back of his neck with the poker. Then she hauled him down to the boiler room, stoked up the huge black furnace and hefted the body in.

The doorbell was ringing by the time she had finished.

“Your friend just phoned me,” said Doctor Radu from the step. “I must take the android back, a few minor adjustments – ”

“You blew it, doc.”

“But Mrs Goldstone – ”

“Don’t try and kid me, buster. You think I couldn’t tell the difference? He was nice enough while he lasted but now I want my money back, every last cent.”

“But we don’t have it, Mrs Goldstone.”

“We?”

“Surely your friend told you? Doctor Radu couldn’t build a perfect man, but he was able to create one from the only model he had available.”

“But you’re Radu – ”

The empty eyes held hers unflinchingly for a moment, with laser-like intensity, then one arm began to rise. The poker was still in her hands. With crushing force, Mrs Goldstone brought it down on the skull of the figure in the doorway. And, even knowing what she did, she screamed at what came out.

1978