Benny and the Jetsons

Sometimes I lie awake on my side of the stateroom and I think that the day will come when they'll decide I'm too old to be their Boy any more. They'll cut me loose, and what will happen to me then? Sometimes that fear leaks into my dreams, an existential fear of being too small in a vast universe I cannot control. Being in space doesn't help because... well, the universe really is vast, and most of it really does lie outside a person's control. Besides, I have never liked the feeling of hurtling through the void, between layers of reality, sliding along at speeds faster than light thanks to inverted leptons.

Yes, I know all about FTL theory. I'm more than just a pretty face. I explained the physics of superluminal travel to Magnus the night before we left, and the way he looked at me... I thought he'd be proud. But he had another expression, another thought behind his eyes. I think he doesn't like to remember that I have a degree in engineering, that I actually did minor in higher mathematics in school. It reminds him that I'm over thirty terrestrial years of age.

Magnus and Arad paid for me to have the refinements that keep me looking 24 years young, and I won't visible age for a long, long time; those same refinements keep me energetic and alert. But I worry sometimes that they'll get bored with me, or that some day - in six years, in thirty-six years... I will age out of my role as their Boy, refinements notwithstanding, and they'll cut me loose.

And I'll drift. I mean, it's not like I know what to do with my life so far, and in a way I guess that's why I cling to them. I sometimes entertain vague notions of striking off on my own - becoming an ice hauler, or going back to school to study exo-archaeology or xenobotany or something. When I experience this profound dread of the future, of the thought that some day my life with them will end, I try to turn things around and look at them through an optimistic lens. The universe is a big place, full of possibilities.

Of course, reality has a way of plucking the rose-colored visor right off. The universe... the galaxy, I mean, civilized space... might contain plenty of potential, but it's also a cold and competitive place, and while it's easy to imagine there are limitless opportunities out there, it's hard to keep hold of such illusions when you look at the unemployment stats or read about the masses of people on various colony worlds who are dying because of famine, or plague, or environmental toxicity, or civil war - or whatever. When we're not busy killing ourselves we have to worry that the Jaddek might have another go at us, or that the Erelos... that mighty and mysterious race, so godlike and so lacking in pity... that they might simply sweep us aside in pursuit of some unimaginable project of their own. They've been known to eradicate entire planets for reasons that seem trivial to us. But what's trivial when you have the power to vaporize a planet or dematerialize a star?

Power. That, in a way, is the crux of the issue. Magnus and Arad have all the power in this relationship. Magnus has the money; he and Arad seem to have a democratic way of sharing decision making, and I don't think Arad would ever toss me out, mostly because he doesn't have the same frailties as human beings do. Magnus might get tired of me sexually, or stop finding me physically attractive, but Arad, as is typical of the Srolta, cares much less about skin-deep beauty. I try to believe that's true of Magnus, too, but I also know what it's like to be human. For two weeks every galactic standard year I get a vacation, with no strings attached; they give me a stipend, a round trip ticket to anyplace I get to and back within the time allotted, and permission to do as I please with anyone I fancy. I am free to run wild and play. It's a window into how the other .00000001 percent live. Freedom to be in a place of my choosing, with anyone I want to share my time and my body with... and free to walk away at a moment's notice. I can't help but glory in the sense of absolute control and liberty I have during those two weeks. When I remember to, I try to be generous and kind toward my lovers and playmates - but I admit it gives me a thrill to be able to drop them as and when I please.

At the same time, there's always a sense of disappointment lurking around the edges. I usually find myself hooked up with someone special for much of my time away - a tall man with a neon grin, say, or a muscular fellow with dynamic pigment tattoos, someone both sweet and a little rough - but it always ends the same: With that specialness draining away after a few days. The fascinating stranger becomes another tiresome bother, his touch irritating and his voice a drone. By the time our parting dinner arrives, with me leaving in the morning, I don't even want a valedictory fuck. I settle for a final kiss after dessert, stolen or parceled out at the door of the restaurant, after which I go back to my room alone, finish packing, and realize that I can't wait to get home.

Yes, I am young - at least, as compared to Magnus, who I think is in is seventies or eighties, though with the kind of refinements he can afford you would never know it. He's older and less impatient and more mature, and so it might take longer to happen, but I have always felt it to be a certainty that some day Magnus will tire of me just as I tire of all my playmates.

That look he gave me when I started explaining FTL physics to him... that thought I felt rumbling behind his gaze, a thought of "Who is this man? Is this my sweet Boy?"... that's a look I catch all too often lately. It makes me anxious. That anxiety must be why I keep having this dream lately; an anxiety dream about of drifting through space all alone, spinning through pitch darkness, with only the pinpoint stars to keep me company...

Shortly after the cruise liner came out of FTL, on the periphery of the Purnaean system, Magnus and Arad had asked me to give them some privacy for a while. I had ventured out of the cabin and was loitering in the corridor, in an observation nook. I was staring out at those pinpoint stars, thinking about those anxious dreams, imagining variations on my possible futures, when a handsome, smiling man came up the corridor. Catching sight of me, he stopped to chat. He wasn't a stranger, exactly; I'd caught his eye several times during the voyage. I know when guys are attracted to me, and I certainly sensed that spark from him. I liked him, too; I've always liked older men, their self-assurance and the idea that they are more rooted into their communities. I like a slightly care-worn face, and I like the idea of a man who commands some respect, who is something of a village elder.

This guy had that self-assurance, but he also had a youthful enthusiasm I liked. I've played with guys like that before; they're different from my usual vacation hookups. They usually get bored with me even quicker than I would get bored of them. I didn't really think much of it when I saw him giving me appraising looks in the banquet room, or in the ship's arboretum, or at the Olympic-sized swimming pool where Magnus and Arad and I would go skinning dipping every afternoon - Magnus, because swimming is his preferred form of exercise, and Arad because the Srolta are amphibious and need frequent immersion. As for me, I just like being naked. I like my body, with all its expensive refinements; I like the feeling of strength and youth I have enjoyed for so long. I want to enjoy it while I can because once I lose this gig... when the day comes that my Daddies tell me to go grow up... I'll never be able to pay for my upkeep and this extended youthfulness will fade away.

The handsome man was smiling more broadly at me than usual as he walked up the corridor toward me - probably because this was the first time we'd crossed each others' paths when I had not been in the company of Magnus and Arad. It's pretty obvious they are my Daddies and I am their Boy, and anyone in the gay demimonde would know that you don't cruise a Boy in front of his Daddies. If anything - depending on whether you have the nerve for it - you approach the Daddies and you cut a deal. Magnus had never loaned me out, and I doubted he ever would; when I am not on vacation for those two weeks I am working, and I am working for him. Magnus wants me there to smile for him, talk to him, rub his feet, offer him sexual attentions, draw his bath, receive his tutelage on any number of subjects, and do anything else he might want.

But - naughty smiling man - here he came all the same, making a beeline for me, maybe wondering whether he could induce me to step quickly into some cranny of the ship where he could pull a fast one with me. I decided I would be nice but firm in turning him down. After all, who am I to think less of a guy for asking?

But he surprised me. He didn't act at all secretive or sleazy. Instead, he seemed intent on having a real conversation.

His name, he told me, was Raf. I gave him my name in return: Holben. "People call me Benny," I said.

"Do you have a surname?" he asked.

"Garnett," I told him.

"Ah, old fashioned," he smiled. "I don't have any other name... just Raf."

"Magnus and Arad are the same," I said. "Only one name. Though Magnus likes to make a joke and say that we're Benny and the Jetsons."

"I beg your pardon?" Raf asked.

"He sings this little song... 'Benny and the Jetsons.' I think it's from some old cartoon. A comedy about a family named Jetson."

Raf considered this briefly, then shrugged. His smile came back. "Well, I'm just Raf, anyway," he said. "Short for Raphael. Is this your first time to Purnaeus, Benny?"

I said that yes, it was.

"Will you be there long?" he asked.

I said my Daddies were planning to be there for four months local time, maybe longer.

"Ah, sure," Raf said. "The fertility season. Lots of food, lots of sex."

I smiled. He was right, that was why we were there - that was why lots of tourists went to Purnaeus that time of the local year - but I didn't want to encourage any attempt at seduction by segueing into a discussion about the locals and their elaborate fertility celebrations.

But again he surprised me.

"You know," he said, "the Purnaeans are a complicated and contradictory people. They create very beautiful art, but its their unparalleled skill at manufacturing precision instruments that drives their economy. And they are socially extremely liberal - but in legal matters, they are incredibly literal and technical."

This line of discussion was utterly different than I might have anticipated, but I found it intriguing.

"What sorts of instruments do they create?" I asked him. "Gravimetric instruments? Mineral scanners? Mining implements?"

"Every sort of thing," he replied. "Anything you might need in the areas of science, industry, medicine..." He smiled at me. "Why do you ask about mining? Is that what your Daddies do?"

So, yes, I reflected. Yes, he had us pegged. Maybe he was trying to catch me off guard. Maybe he would try to seduce me later.

"My Daddy Magnus - "

"The human one," Raf said.

"Yes. He made his money in anthrocidium."

Raf looked baffled. "Who uses coal any more? Not even the poorest colonies burn fossil fuels."

It took me a moment to understand what he was saying. When I put it together I burst out laughing. "Not anthracite," I told him. "Anthrocidium. It's a kind of transphasic metal. It's used in high-end AIs."

"You mean Siliconians?" Raf asked.

"Right."

"The self-aware kind?" he asked.

"Yes, exactly. It's a lot harder to make sentient machines using first-level elements. But if you use transphasic elements you can create quantum processors that are a lot smaller and more efficient. It's old technology," I added. "But anthrocidium is the best transphasic metal for sentient AIs. It's pretty rare, so it's only used in the most expensive models. Genius models, they call them. AIs that do the really hard engineering work. There are even a few anthrocidium AIs that are famous for their work in the arts."

"Oh," Raf said. "Like Gharnu. The novelist."

"Right," I said.

Arad stepped into the corridor just then. His liquid black eyes took in the sight of Raf.

"Hi," Raf said, sticking his hand out. Then he looked self-conscious and withdrew his hand once more. Only the most provincial humans would assume that non-terrestrials - human or alien - would want to shake hands. I could tell Arad was amused. Rad recovered swiftly, with perfect ease. "I was just chatting with your Boy," he said. "I hope that's okay."

"We don't restrict his social interactions," Arad said pleasantly. "He can talk with whomever he pleases. He's really more a member of the family than a servant. But," he said, turning to me, "there are some who seem unclear on this principle."

I didn't know what he meant, but I didn't have a chance to ask.

"I thought that might be the case," Raf said. "In fact, that's why I came to your quarters... the interview process has begun and I thought I would make myself handy in case you require my services."

Now I was really intrigued. What were they talking about?

"Ah," Arad said. "You're the lawyer who sent the blip card to us over the ship's intranet."

Lawyer? Blip card?

"Benny, I need you to come into the suite," Arad said. "And Mr. Raf, if you would come in also... I think perhaps your offer was prescient."

Offer? Of what? Legal counsel? I was growing more curious by the moment and a little alarmed.

In our suite, Magnus was talking to an official of the Purnaeus port authority via tele.

"Does he have any refinements?" the port officer was asking as we entered the parlor. His image hung in the air before Magnus; the port officer had a sharp, spare face surmounted by a bulky grey hat. His voice and expression were neutral but even across the tele he emanated an air of disdain. I got the notion that despite the legendary hospitality of common Purnaeans, their government functionaries were as contemptuous of outsides as the functionaries of any other government. Probably they were as contemptuous of their own citizens, as well.

Magnus either didn't understand the port officer's question, or he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "Refinements?" he echoed.

"Cybernetic upgrades? Gene edits? Biome enhancements?"

"He's received some quite good anti-aging refinements."

"But nothing practical?" the port officer persisted. "No intelligence upgrades? No strength or organ enhancement?"

"Only the standard mitochondrial and telomere refreshes," Magnus replied.

"So nothing industrial grade," the port officer pressed. "No chimerical therapy, no gene edits, no major supernments?"

"No, nothing," Magnus said. I could tell from his voice that he found this repetitive and tiresome, and he was getting irritated. "Benny has received refresh therapy but he hasn't been altered in any way. He is pure homo sapiens."

Wait, they were talking about me? I glanced at Arad, who emitted a low, soft purr in order to reassure me. I turned back in to Magnus' discussion with the port officer, trying to pick up the thread. Standard refresh, Magnus had said... that was true enough. In fact, it had been a condition of my initial employment, and remained written into my contract.

"So you are bringing an unrefined manumissive to our planet and you want us to excuse him from quarantine?"

Manumissive? What the hell was the port officer talking about? Now I was starting to get angry right along with Magnus. Bad enough they were talking about me like this, with me right there in the room, but the port officer's attitude seemed to be that I was nothing more than an animal or some form of property.

"Why does he need to be quarantined? We're not being quarantined, and we're not 'refined,' " Magnus snapped. Even the port officer could no doubt tell that he was growing incensed.

But the port officer remained unflappable and relentless. "You meet the criteria for Purnaean citizenship," he said over the tele link. "Your manumissive does not. You and your husband will be will be accorded honorary citizenship during your stay here, but under our ownership laws your manumissive -- "

"His name is Benny."

" -- has got the legal status of livestock," the port officer continued without a pause. "He'll have to be quarantined."

I had been dead on correct about the port officer's assessment of me. Ownership laws, was it? No wonder the Purnaeans wanted to quarantine me like an animal.

"This is an insult and an outrage!" Magnus said, his voice now rising and taking on a harsh tone. Though he had not acknowledged us coming into the room, he now shot a glance at Raf. Clearly he already knew who Raf was, or had surmised it. Just as clearly, Raf had seen this situation coming when he realized our relationship, and that was why he'd put himself and his services forward. "We must have some legal options."

"If he's an employee -- that is, if you pay him a set amount in wages plus benefits, in order to conduct specified and scheduled services -- then you can apply for a personal valet exemption," the port officer said. "It's basically a revision of the service animal laws, but it's not a sure thing -- those laws are subsets of the ownership laws, since employees are legally the property of their employers."

"Is that really all we can do?"

"The one other legal remedy would be to adopt him. But I have to warn you -- if his service to you include any sexual ministrations, those would have to be suspended or else you open yourself up to liability under Purnaean incest statutes."

"Incest statutes?" Magnus barked in outrage. Now he was really getting heated.

"You sex tourists may not credit us for this," the port officer said coolly, "but we Purnaeans are not, despite our enthusiastic appreciation of the erotic elements of the divine, a bunch of rutting sluts."

Magnus looked ready to call the post officer worse than that. A lot worse.

By chance or calculation, Raf chose this moment to intercede. "Excuse me," he said. The port officer's eyes shifted a little; clearly, he was scrutinizing Raf at his end of the tele link. "I'm the... lawyer?" His voice trailed off as he glanced from Magnus to Arad. Magnus nodded. "The lawyer for this family," Raf resumed, his voice now strong and ringing. "May I request that we resume this customs interview tomorrow morning? I'd like the opportunity to consult with my clients about their options."

The customs agent's expression, cold to begin with, narrowed at this. But all he said was, "I will contact you again at zero-nine-hundred hours local time tomorrow morning." The tele image broke up, leaving only clear, empty air.
Magnus turned to us. His face was red. Though he was always kind to me, he was always a little imperious, too; his sentiment was that he was not only my employer, but my social superior. I'd always accepted it from him, because he'd never seemed to regard me as his property. The wage he paid me was generous, and I was never treated unfairly or overworked. In fact, I was always pretty sure that Magnus had a great deal of affection for me, though he wasn't the sort to show it.

Angry as he was, Magnus' face took on a pained expression when he looked at me. "Benny, I'm sorry," he said. "I am so sorry you had to hear that."

"That guy," Raf said, "is an asshole. However," he added, before anyone could interject, "he is the local authority with whom we have to deal."

"Our options seem to be limited," Arad warbled in his deep, liquid voice. For a Srolta, he was pretty good at mimicking human speech.

"The law protects everyone equally," Raf said, looking from Magnus to Arad and then to me. He smiled. "And I do believe there is another solution."

***

The adults in the room - at least, that's how they referred to themselves when they invited me to go amuse myself elsewhere - sent me off to the ship's cinema, a fully immersive sense bay where three virt features were playing in repertory. The show beginning at 18:00 was called "Desert Sins," and took place on Trappist III. I knew about the Trappist system - an intriguing and compact system that had seven planets packed into a tight orbit around a red dwarf sun. Farther out, two more planets orbited on highly eccentric paths.

But the surface of Trappist III did not have an oxygen atmosphere - it was almost all nitrogen, with traces of carbon dioxide, and there was no surface water. If the holographic poster were to be believed, the feature presented the planet as an Earth-like paradise, full of palm trees and great frond plants, though with a huge red sun in its sky. Maybe the poster was meant to portray an oasis - rolling dunes of golden sand were visible past all the greenery - but more likely it was pure eye candy, designed for marketing purposes. After all, the virt's title did use the word desert, which does describe Trappist III, even if the surface is mostly bare rock and there are no romantic, sweeping dunes.

I decided to skip that showing, go to the ship's gymnasium for a workout, and come back at 20:30 for a showing of "Aquavecious," which Arad had experienced the night before. He'd loved it.

I could see why. The virt was a tour of the subsurface ocean of Dione, a moon orbiting one of the gas giants of the Terran system. The big ringed planet, I forget if it's Jupiter or Saturn. I do know that Dione - unlike the other subsurface ocean-bearing moons orbiting Jupiter and Saturn, like Io, Callisto, and Europa - has native life forms. Its ecosystem is relatively poor in variation, but it's abundant; the virt was more a documentary than anything else, though there was a thin narrative drama about a group of explorers looking for evidence of rare minerals on the Dionian seabed. It was pretty hokey, but the focus was on Dionian biodiversity, everything from huge jellyfish-like creatures to tiny crustaceans to the moon's bioluminescent, twelve-armed cetacean arthropods, communities of which flash signals to rival (or allied) communities in such rapid, complex multi-colored patterns that exocetacean biologists are convinced they indicate a high degree of intelligence.

I stopped at a caf� briefly after the virt, since I hadn't bothered with supper earlier. It was after 23:00 when I got in. I was a little afraid that the legal meeting would still be going on; I didn't want to hear more talk about me being property. But Raf had left and Magnus was asleep in the master bedroom. At least, that was what Arad told me. He was still awake and puttering around; the Srolta sleep very little, and Arad always looks forward to his alone time while Magnus and I slumber. I was pretty well ready to head to bed myself, but then Arad requested that I rub him down with his medical emollient, a treatment he needed every few days to prevent histamine reactions that he would otherwise suffer thanks to us, his human companions.

The suite included a small study that Magnus had requested be outfitted as a massage studio. I took Arad into the massage studio and got him comfortable on the table, then poured some of his emollient into my cupped hand. I rubbed the emollient in my hands to warm it and then applied it to his body in a long stroke. I needed more, so I reached for the bottle again; Arad was already purring, a deep rumble in his chest that Magnus compared to the noise terrestrial cats evidently make when they are pleased. We didn't have cats back home; I grew up on Prosipus, a major anthrocidium planet, and that was where Magnus and Arad had been living when they hired me. When they decided to go into semi-retirement and start taking extended journeys, I was only too happy to go with them and see the stars.

The massage treatment took its course, with me working the emollient into Arad's supple skin. Arad had always said I am naturally gifted at massage; I enjoy the therapeutic aspect of our sessions, as well as the erotic opportunities. I offered to pay extra attention to Arad's erogenous nodes and his phallic appendages, but he declined. "I'd rather we chat a little," he said.
I felt myself growing tense even as I worked to dissolve the knots I could feel under his soft, firm skin and his thin layer of insulating blubber. "Okay," I said, trying to sound cheerful, but my voice was strained.

Arad reached out and wrapped his webbed, six-fingered paw around my hand for a moment. I paused, gave him a thankful squeeze, and went back to work.

"Benny, I know you worry sometimes. I'm not sure why. But we're not going to let the Purnaeans interfere with our life together."

I kept on with my work.

"I know you have doubts about how people view us," Arad continued. "Ever since your family members attacked you with their religious condemnations. And I do know that their objections had nothing to do with our polyamorous relationship. It was because of me - many humans don't like seeing others of their species intimately involved with non-humans. I've had to deal with that prejudice, also."

"From other Srolta?" I asked, shocked. Then I bit my lip - I didn't want to be presumptuous or insubordinate. "I'm sorry," I muttered quickly.

Arad reached over and stroked my groin. He wasn't being salacious; among the Srolta, this was a gesture of affection and reassurance.

"Relations with my own family are somewhat strained," he said, "because they view my relationship with Magnus - and with you - as being unnatural. I have not had any procreative partners since I've been with Magnus. I like to tell Magnus that the reason for this is I don't want him to be jealous, but of course - since he is not jealous in any case - the truth is simply that no one wants to procreate with me."

I'd know this, vaguely, but never asked about it. Procreation is hugely important to the Srolta, and not finding a new mate to produce fresh offspring every cycle reduces an individual's social status. Of course, Arad didn't live on his home planet, he lived with us. But all that meant was he didn't have to pick up on the disapproval of other Srolta. That didn't mean it wasn't there, and it didn't mean he was ignorant of it.

"What bothers you, Benny?" Arad asked. "Are you afraid that we don't truly value you?"

"I know you do," I told him. "But some day I'm going to get too old, even if I don't look it."

"Of course you are," Arad said, which startled me. I looked at him, looked at his black, inquisitive eyes. He stroked me again, this time on the chest. "Things won't always be exactly as they are now. But you will always be our Boy."

***

"Have you explored your options?" the port officer asked, his thin, sharp features just as expressionless as they had been the afternoon before.

Magnus, Arad, Raf, and I all looked back at the tele. Raf spoke for us.

"We have," he said.

"What option have you chosen?" the port officer asked.

"The one you didn't mention," Raf said.

"I mentioned all the ordinary channels of operation," the port officer said, his voice taking on a slight edge.

"Ordinary, maybe, but not all the legal ones," Raf shot back, his own voice containing some heat. "Was this a mere oversight or was it an exercise in illegal discrimination on your part?"

The port officer's thin mouth became an even thinner line.

"You regard this young man - " Raf gestured at me - "as a 'manumissive,' or as property, or even as some sort of pet, and you declare that the only way he will be granted citizenship-level guest status in your jurisdiction is if my clients adopt him. But you know full well they could marry him, and their citizenship would then apply to him, as well."

The port officer looked startled, and then seemed to muse on Raf's argument. "To be honest," he said at length, "I had not considered that."

"But you know about it," Raf said.

"No. Perhaps in theory I did; however - "

"However, most humans don't marry outside their species," Raf said. "And you didn't really want to think too closely about marriage in the context of this particular family... with its non-human member... now, did you?"

"All personal attacks aside," the port officer said coldly, "it remains true that I overlooked that point of law. You are correct in your observation. I formally extend my apologies, and if your clients wish to pursue that avenue, then of course we will honor their marriage - assuming none of the parties in question would violate the law by having more than three spouses?"

"No," Rag said, smiling. "They would be a fully cohabiting family unit of three matrimonial participants. There are no other spouses."

"Then there should be no problem," the port officer said. "However, the marriage should be formalized within the next sixteen hours, before the ship enters Purnaean territorial space. That will spare everyone additional paperwork."

Raf's smile only grew. "I think we can take care of that," he said.

The wedding was arranged and completed within five hours that very same day. The ship saw plenty of romance, and cruise liners typically have wedding planners and facilities that can put a ceremony together at extremely short notice. All Magnus had to do was select a price point and the ship's purser did the rest. The captain himself turned out to be available for the occasion, and he declared himself most please indeed to preside over a three-sentient wedding that not only included a longtime duo taking on a third member, but also involved a non-human spouse.

Magnus and Arad kept talking about how sweet and enlightened the captain was. But then again, the captain was Purnaean, and this was the season of his home world's fertility festival. He was in a romantic frame of mind.

***

After the ceremony my Daddies - I mean, my husbands - told me they had long wanted to make me a legal part of their family but had been unsure how to proceed. At the same time, they had seen me growing more mature and feared I would one day want to leave them and go off on my own.

"And what would we do then?" Arad asked in his lovely purling voice. "What would we do without our Benny?"

I admit I got a little choked up at that. But come on. Doesn't everybody cry at weddings?

Magnus took my hand and actually kissed my ring, gleaming gold and new on my finger. "And the solution was there all the time," he said. "Like that port officer, we just didn't see it."

Arad turned to talk with Raf; I half heard him asking the lawyer to send them an invoice for his services.

Raf just laughed. Then, giving me a look that was part shy and all mischief, he said, "We can take it out in trade. If you don't mind a guest on your wedding night?"

I knew it! I burst out laughing. That sly, horny Raf - he'd been angling for this all along. Well, he hadn't fooled me for a minute. I have a sense for such things.