Time Was by Steve Perry Page B

them, and yet you meet another person who you know for only a few weeks and . . . and . . .”
    â€œâ€™Tisn’t at all strange,” said Killaine.
    â€œHow so?”
    She smiled at him. “Sometimes you see the soul and just fall in love and can’t do anything about it.”
    He stared at her.
    For several long, silent moments.
    It began to make her nervous.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked.
    â€œJust odd to hear you mention the soul. That’s something none of us have ever spoken about.”
    â€œAnd for good reason.”
    â€œWhat reason is that?”
    â€œItazura. You don’t want to broach the subject with him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause he becomes a different being when he speaks of the soul and—and you’re deliberately changing the subject. I’ll not have it, Zachary Robillard.”
    A slight grin. “You won’t, eh?”
    â€œNo.”
    He took both her hands in his. “Do you know how lovely you are, Killaine?”
    â€œI’m aware that I’ve a certain appeal, yes.”
    â€œDo you know why that is?”
    She hesitated a moment. “I’m not sure I—”
    Zac released her hands, then crossed to his dresser, opening a drawer.
    He removed an old, small shoebox, then lifted its lid and rooted around the contents until he found a photograph.
    â€œLook at this,” he said.
    Killaine joined him and looked at the photo of Jean Severn.
    She was one of the most beautiful women Killaine had ever seen—not just outwardly, but from within, as well. Her inner beauty shone in her eyes, in the curve of her smile, in the sharpness of her cheek and—
    â€”and why did she suddenly seem so familiar?
    â€œShe was,” said Zac, “for me, the embodiment of what true beauty is: Time’s gift of perfect humility.”
    â€œI know her,” said Killaine. “I’ve—and I don’t mean to sound like I’ve blown a fuse, Zachary, but I’ve seen her. Recently.”
    He took the photo back. “Or maybe someone who looks a bit like her?”
    â€œYes!”
    He put the photo back in the shoebox, replaced the lid, and returned his tattered treasure chest to its secret place. “That’s because you see some of her face every time you look in a mirror. Or at Radiant.”
    Killaine was too stunned to speak.
    â€œHave you ever noticed, Killaine, how I sometimes have trouble looking directly at you and Radiant?”
    â€œ. . . yes . . .”
    â€œPsy–4 is under the impression that he is the eldest I-Bot, but if the truth were to be told—and I expect this to be our little secret—he’s the second oldest.”
    â€œWho is the oldest, then?”
    â€œLaraine.”
    â€œWho?”
    Zac returned to his chair and stared down at Cemetery Ridge, now made all the more dispirited by the incoming rain. “Laraine was the first I-Bot I designed when I was at WorldTech. I was still grieving for Jean, and without realizing it I fashioned Laraine’s face after hers. When I realized what I had done, I redesigned Laraine’s face into yours . . . and Radiant’s. So I guess that, technically, you’re the eldest.” He looked at her and tried to smile, didn’t quite make it. “But don’t tell Psy–4. Let him have his little delusion, all right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThat’s why, sometimes, I can’t look at you and Radiant. Both of you have some part of Jean’s face, and it . . . it hurts to see you. You’re both so beautiful, so much like Jean. So please don’t be offended at those times when—”
    He couldn’t finish.
    Tears again.
    He turned toward the window.
    Killaine stood behind him, ran a hand through his hair, then leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “You’re a fine man, Zachary, the best I’ve ever known. And I