Pygmalion Ch. 05

The next morning, Eliza awoke and sauntered out of the bedroom to find Henry Higgins asleep at his workbench. The lab coat he had peeled back and let fall over the back of his chair along with his jacket. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up past his elbows.

She carefully took his lab coat and jacket and hung the first upon the hook near the door, and the second she brushed carefully and hung up on one of the hangers in Henry's closet.

She found a pair of slippers on the closet floor, and she decided to take them into the lab.

Carefully, she removed the professor's worn old Cordova and slipped the slippers on in their place.

Just as she finished, a soft buzzer sounded. She recognized it and ran to press the button for the downstairs door.

She dashed toward the laboratory door quickly, remembering quickly to look down at herself. Yes, she had indeed remembered to put on her pajamas the night before. Therefore she was suitably dressed to receive whatever delivery person was undoubtedly dropping off some new piece of equipment Henry had ordered over the internet.

She heard footsteps outside the door, and when they stopped before it, she turned the latch and opened it before the person could knock.

"Oh!" A young woman with orange-red hair blinked in surprise. She wore a dark green cardigan over a pressed blouse of bumblebee yellow. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a matching green hair ribbon. A set of rimless ovular spectacles and a smattering of delectably Irish freckles decorated her face.

"Hello," Eliza said. "Dropping off or picking up?"

"I- Er- I beg your pardon?"

"Are you dropping something off or picking something up?" Eliza said, looking around behind the girl for a dolly or a package on the floor.

"Erm, is this Professor Henry Higgin's Residence?" Her accent was Northern Irish, possibly Derry.

"It is," Eliza said. "You aren't a delivery person, are you?"

The girl had a bag over one shoulder. She wore flats and white stockings under a green woolen skirt.

"Do I look like one?" She asked.

"No," Eliza said. "It just Henry doesn't have many visitors, Miss."

"Professor," she corrected. "Professor G. Bernice Shaw, Trinity College, Dublin."

"Top o' the mornin'," Eliza said.

"It's half past 1 in the afternoon," the girlish professor corrected, taking in Eliza's flannel pajamas and bare feet.

Eliza did a quick analysis. This woman was young for a professor - could hardly have been past 26.

"Is Professor Higgins in?"

"He is," Eliza said. "However, I think you're catching him after he spent something close to 28 hours working solid." She opened the door wide to allow the young woman in. Together they both watched as Henry Higgins let out a soft snoring grunt from where his head was nestled on a stack of digital readouts that were growing damp from a small puddle of drool.

"I see," she said. "And you would be his... assistant?"

"He's my father," Eliza offered. "Eliza Higgins. Well, since your here. Can I offer you tea? Coffee? I was about to brew some coffee for Henry- I mean Dad. He's a terrible ogre if he's been up all night without coffee."

"I'd love some," Professor Shaw said, closing the door and setting her back on the bench by the door. She seemed to be taking in the lab. "My word," she said. "He must be very close to building one, mustn't he?"

"Building one?" Eliza said, moving to the kitchen and pouring water into the electric kettle.

"Oh," Shaw said, coming to join her at the kitchen counter. "I've read all of their work," she said. "His and Professor Dolittle's treatise on Artificial intelligence and nano-robotics. I've written him quite a few letters since I began studying the subject myself as a young girl in Derry."

"Knew it," Eliza smiled, putting the kettle on and moving to get the coffee beans out of the refrigerator. She scooped a liberal amount into the electric grinder, and then, holding up a finger, she smiled. "Prepare yourself, Ms. Shaw. The Kracken awakes."

Eliza pressed down on the grinder, and it whirred resoundingly to life. With a start and a stumble, so did Professor Henry Higgins. After a moment of disorientation, he steadied and turned, his finger coming up as if to begin a tirade of blue profanity.

"Dad," Eliza cooed. "We have company."

Higgins took in the young woman sitting at his kitchen counter. He looked down at his rumpled vest and trousers and the slippers on his feet. "I could have sworn I was wearing shoes at some point," he said.

"Professor Higgins?" Ms. Shaw said, standing and presenting her hand for a shake. "Such a pleasure to meet you at last! I'm a great admirer of your work."

Henry shook the young woman's hand. "Why, thank you. And you are?"

"Professor Galatea Bernice Shaw," Eliza sang out. "Professor of theoretical cybernetics at Trinity College Dublin. M.D., dual PhDs in Mechanical and Biochemical Engineering. Single, owns a Pyrenean Mastiff named George."

"That's..." Professor Shaw blinked as the freshly brown coffee was poured into a large press. The kettle was boiling. The girl behind the kitchen island poured the hot water over the grounds and then went to fetch milk from the refrigerator while replacing the bag of beans. "How does she know all that?"

"She's... Very intuitive," Henry said, glaring still groggily at Eliza. "Um, yes, of course, I've heard of you, Professor Galatea Shaw. You've written numerous letters."

"Few to which you ever responded," she scolded. "I prefer my middle name. Bernice is fine."

"I don't recall responding to any of your letters, Bernice," he said. "Although I did read them. Every one."

"Well, your wife was kind enough to respond to me at the outset of my research," she said. "I figured you weren't ignoring me. You were simply a man too busy to respond. I'm here in person because I've been offered the chance to spend the upcoming summer lecturing in your department. Also, to inform you of my discovery."

"Discovery?"

"Yes! I've been going over everything you and Professor Dolittle worked on, and I think a fully functional artificially intelligent humanoid is achievable in our time. I've brought some schematics of what I think a functional positronic neural matrix might look like." She reached into her bag and brought out a large notepad.

Eliza pushed the plunger down on the press and took three cups from the cupboard, and placed them on saucers on a tray.

A schematic appeared, folded neatly from the young woman's notebook and spread across the granite countertop. "You see," the young woman said, "I've designed a few microprocessors that could be used here, here, here, and here." She'd produced a pencil from somewhere and was pointing at various points across the map of circuitry. "The sheer programming of such a complex unit would take years, even decades normally, but with these shortcuts, programming could be reduced to a matter of weeks."

"Even days," Henry said, accepting a cup from the tray and looking cautiously at Eliza.

Eliza looked at the schematics. In the lower right-hand corner, she noticed a name. "Robby," she smiled. "That's cute."

"What can I say? Thank you." Ms. Shaw accepted a cup of coffee and added a dollop of creme. I love 50s Sci-Fi movies."

Eliza smirked at Henry. "Morbius, something is approaching from the southwest."

"Um, if you'll excuse me, Professor Shaw. I need to have a word with my daughter in private." Henry grabbed Eliza's hand and pulled her toward the bedroom.

"Certainly," the young woman said. "I'll wait here. This coffee is wonderful, by the way, Eliza, was it?"

"Yes."

*****

"Why did you let her in?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Eliza said. "I thought she was UPS delivering something or other. You never get visitors. Especially not ones who are so attractive."

Henry's finger came up. "No! You stop that thought right there."

"One of these days, Henry Higgins, you're going to wag that finger in my face, and I'm going to bite it just to spite you."

The finger went down. "I've grown accustomed to my solitude, Eliza. But for a few classes and graduate thesis students, I am content to live my life up here in my lab on my own terms."

"You'd like her, Henry. I'm reading everything she's ever published. She's smart and spunky, and you can tell she's already got a bit of a crush on you."

"Now, stop."

"Your finger again."

He put his finger back down. "She's here for one cup of coffee, and then you're helping me find some way to get rid of her."

"Aye, Aye, Skipper!" Eliza saluted.

Henry moved past her back out into the lab. Professor Shaw had moved from the kitchen to Henry's workbench, where she was craning her neck to take in some of the read-outs.

"E-hem, Professor?" he said, clearing his throat.

"Sorry," she said, nearly spilling her coffee as she put it down on the workbench. "I wasn't trying to be naughty. It just, I see you've already come up with some of my solutions on your own."

"Some," Henry smiled. "But not all of them."

"You see, that's in part what I'm here to propose. I was thinking you, and I could form an alliance. Trinity College has been reluctant to fund my research to the extent that would facilitate the building of such a unique specimen. And I know that you've been reluctant to publish anything since..."

Henry Higgins posture stiffened at the second reference to his wife in as many minutes.

This time Professor Shaw noticed. "I mean, your papers have been few and far between in recent years. I notice you still teach your regular classes, but you don't attend conferences or give lecture tours."

"I value my privacy," he said.

"He's a regular hermit," Eliza said. She had taken the opportunity to change out of her pajamas into a pair of jeans and an orange jumper. On her feet, she wore a pair of clean white trainers and ankle socks.

"I'm afraid it is true," Henry said. "And as such, I am quite impressed with your work, Professor. Perhaps a polite and professional correspondence?"

"I understand. And a correspondence would be wonderful, so long as you promise to write back," she smiled.

"Of course," Henry said. "You have my word on that. If you have finished your coffee?"

"Oh, yes. It was quite good, thank you."

"Care for some company on your way out?" Eliza asked. "I was off for a walk myself."

"I... I suppose that would be alright," Ms. Shaw said, moving to gather up her schematics and stuff everything back into her bag. "Um, I am sorry to have intruded, Professor Higgins."

"No problem," Henry nodded. "Good to finally put a face to a name, Professor Shaw."

"Likewise."

Eliza watched the two of them shake hands. It was clear from Professor Shaw's body language that she was disappointed to be leaving so soon.

"Goodbye, Professor Higgins."

"Goodbye, Professor Shaw."

"Don't wait up, Dad," Eliza said, opening the door and letting Bernice pass through.

"Behave yourself, Eliza."

*****

"He's not what I expected," Bernice Shaw said, walking down the street at Eliza's side.

"He's just not a morning person," Eliza offered. "Especially in the afternoon, if that makes sense?"

"Forgive me," Bernice smiled. "But I wouldn't have thought Professor Higgins old enough to have a daughter your age. What is he, 39? 40?"

"He's 38, actually."

"His published works never mention a family. I know that he and Professor Dolittle were... Was she your mother? She must have had you very young."

"So you're lecturing here for the semester," Eliza said. "Do you know anybody in town?"

"Um, no. I had hoped Professor Higgins and I might strike up a professional friendship, but..."

"Oh, he'll warm to you," Eliza said, throwing a soft elbow into her new friend's arm. "Especially if I keep bring you back home with me."

Bernice laughed. "Do you always make friends this easily?"

"I haven't had any trouble so far."

"What's your secret?"

"Well, I have found it best to be open, friendly, honest, sympathetic, and..." Eliza paused.

"And?"

Eliza leaned in and whispered. "I put out."

Bernice Shaw laughed. "Witty," she said. "I suppose you're a student here?"

Eliza considered. "No, but I should look into that, I expect. And you? Where are you staying while you're here with us?"

"They found me a rooming house not far from campus. It's a pleasant walk through the park, actually. I finished my research queue at Trinity early, and my supervising professor released me from my teaching duties so I could come up and get acquainted with the facilities. When you make the jump to Oxford at 28, they seem to be highly receptive."

"Girl genius, are you?"

"I was born humble," she smiled. "It's not yet worn off. Let's just say I got the hang of things quicker than most. And I don't like wasting time."

"Well, allow me to escort you home, then? Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Of course."

"Why don't you like your first name? Galatea sounds charming, very musical."

Bernice shrugged. "I supposed I never much felt the name suited me. Bernice is calm, polite, bookish. I feel it fits me better."

Eliza looped her arm through the young professors. "Well, I think you should reconsider."

"Lizzy?"

The voice came from over Eliza's left shoulder. She recognized it before turning back to find Freddie running up, an American style football under his arm.

"Ah, the poet laureate of Tishomingo, Oklahoma!"

Freddie nodded a hello toward Professor Shaw and then smiled at Eliza. "Look, I wanted to apologize," he began. "I mean, I was going to apologize to you yesterday, but by the time I was done in the shower..." He paused, looking to the professor. "That's not what it sounds like. Um, she and I, we're not. I mean, we didn't..."

Bernice Shaw held up a hand. "Say no more, slugger. Eliza, coffee tomorrow morning? My place?"

Eliza nodded, accepting a card that the professor produced from her cardigan pocket. It was freshly painted with the address of her rooming house. "Good luck with your apology," Bernice said to Freddie, turning to walk off in the direction of the park.

"Who was that?" Freddie asked.

"A friend," Eliza said. "You think she's pretty?"

Freddie took the football from under his arm and spun it a few times. "If you go for redheads," he shrugged. "I've heard they have terrible tempers."

"And I've read that Americans are unapologetically smug, quick to renege on promises, and shoot first and ask questions later."

"I'm not going to catch a break with you, am I? Look, Lizzy-"

"Eliza."

"What?"

"My name is Eliza," she said. "I'm not an early 20th Century Automobile produced by the Ford Motor Company."

"Noted. Well, Eliza, I promised myself if ever I ran across you again that I'd apologize for talking down to you about things that were none of my business."

"Apology accepted." She grabbed the football in mid-air. "Go long."

"Sorry?"

"Go long. I want to try this."

He backed away from her and jogged about thirty yards off before turning and holding up his hands. Eliza fired off the football with ease, sending it in a smooth spiraling arc right into his hands. "You could play for Kansas City," he said, returning the throw for her to catch.

Eliza turned, tossing the ball up in the air a few feet and walking on down the path.

In a moment, he ran to catch up. "So, what are you doing today?"

"I hadn't decided yet," she said. "Nobody's offered me money, drugs, or to make me popular. What's a skank to do?"

"You're not a skank," Freddie sighed. "And I thought I'd apologized, and you'd accepted?"

"You did, and I had. But I can still torture you, Freddie." She tossed the football sideways at him and he caught it. "If you ever plan on getting yourself a girlfriend, you should prepare yourself for constant humiliation and abuse."

"Really?" He tossed the football back. "Who says I haven't already got a girl back home?"

"You'd have brought it up yesterday," Eliza said, tossing the ball. "And you wouldn't have kissed me back the way you did."

"About that kiss..." he put the football back in the crook of his arm.

"About time you brought it up, Freddie."

"You brought it up."

"I know. If I hadn't we'd never get around to you asking me out."

"Now, hold on just a minute. Just because I bring up a kiss doesn't mean I want to ask you out."

"You didn't bring up the kiss. I did."

"Right!" He brought the football back out as if to toss but paused.

Eliza nodded, continuing to walk slowly along the path in silence, patiently waiting for Freddie to catch up.

"Wait, do you want to go out with me?"

"How brave of you to ask, Freddie. Yes, I'd love to. In fact, I'm free for dinner tonight. Would that work?"

Eliza turned to smile at the expression on his face. "I promise to have you home at a decent hour," she said, patting his shoulder.

"But... when I... you..."

She pulled the football out of his hands and fell against him, softly. His arms came up to catch her against. "Nice hands, Freddie. A regular Otis Taylor."

"You follow American football?"

"I have a cursory knowledge," she smiled.

"See, the thing about the kiss," he began.

"Which kiss? I'm confused. The one yesterday or one your thinking about giving me right now?"

"You know, where I come from, the men are supposed to get fresh with the women."

"You keep talking, Freddie. It's only charming up to a point."

He let his neck arch to bring his lips close to hers. Halting, he leaned in and kissed her, timidly at first but then...

The football fell to the ground. His hands gripped her hips as she pressed against him, coming up on the balls of her feet. She sucked at his lips, her hands pulling at the collar of his t-shirt. Eventually, he broke away.

"Sorry," he said. "I had to come up for air."

"I'll remember that," she smiled, pressing her forehead to his. "Until next time."

She pulled away, leaving him to pick up his football.

"Uh, where do you live?"

"Meet me here," she called. "About 7?"

"It's a... a date."

"Close your jaw, Freddie. You'll swallow a bug if you're not careful."

*****

"What's love, Henry?"

Higgins turned from his shaving mirror to find Eliza standing in the doorway of his bathroom.

"What prompts that question?"

"I'm a learning computer. Come on, Henry. Talk to me about love. Have you ever been? In love, I mean?"

"You know the answer to that question, don't you?"

"Do you love me?"

Higgins paused. His razor came away from his neck and met her gaze in the mirror. "Of course I do," he said. "You're the fruition of years and years of work."

"I mean, you loved 'her,' but you said yourself, I'm not the same as she was."

He took a towel and wiped the foam from his face, turning to lean against the sink. "What's brought all this on then?"

Eliza sighed. "Freddie," she said. "I have a date with him this evening. That is alright with you, isn't it?"

Henry smiled. "How kind of you to ask my permission after the fact."

Eliza came into the bath and sat on the lip of the old cast-iron tub. "I know you don't like to talk about it, Henry. But it would be helpful to me."

He walked over and sat beside her on the tub. "Do you want 'the first time we met' or 'the moment I first knew?'"

Eliza leaned against him, and his arm went around her shoulder. "The second option, please."

"Well, we'd met in America. She'd come up in the applied robotics department at MIT. She was the youngest professor at the University of Chicago when I was a visiting Lecturer in applied computer applications."

"This is the second option?"

Henry chuckled. "Well, that's the thing," he said. "The first time we met, we argued about the miniaturization of microchips to an atomic level. She thought you could never achieve the proper interconnectivity to replicate..."