Metal in the rocks, she shoots at me.
What kind?
The same kind that makes up skeleton. She plasters a 3-D image on the screen. I can’t tell what it’s supposed to do, but I can see the metal. Dyad will pick up only the metal. There’s no telling how many plastic parts there are.
Why is it there?
Wires, lines, trapdoors, and trip sensors line the path. She lists them like she’s reading a supply list.
For what purpose?
Can’t tell.
The innocuous path winds through the forest. If the old man made it for Jin, then Jin is probably necessary for getting down it without injury. It’s my best guess. Guessing makes me twitch.
I wave at Jin. “What do you make of this?”
She leaves her wonder-gazing to stand beside me. She studies the screen. “Only one way to find out.” Then she steps between the two stones. When a loud beep sounds, she flinches.
I rush toward her, but she holds up a hand. “I’m fine. Wait.”
A whir sounds and then a grid of light passes over her. “Welcome, Jin.” It’s the old man’s voice. “Traps disengaged. Your pendant is the map. You’re the key.” The lights wink out.
“Guess that means we’re good to go,” Dyad says. We climb back aboard.
The progress is slow, but another mile into the forest, the path brings us to a rustic cabin. Rust has eaten holes through the metal roof, and the windows are made up of broken glass. Three white stars are painted on the oversized door.
Jin hops off. “It’s not pretty,” she says, “but it’s good to be home.” Her eyes widen. Her words caught her by surprise, I think. “As home as we can expect anyway.” She looks me over, and a million words hang in the air.
“I hope you have my necklace. It seems like it’s going to be important.”
They aren’t the words I expect. She should have questions. Lots of them. “Yeah.” It’s all I can manage in the open spaces her words leave.
Dyad mutters to herself about danger as Jin wanders inside. I retrieve the water flask and the star necklace from Dyad’s bags, then head inside after Jin. Dyad follows close behind. Inside the bungalow, Jin stands in the middle of one large room. She taps her foot on the ground in the middle of the one room.
The entrance is on the long side of the rectangular room, with a cold fireplace directly across from the door. At one end, there’s a double bed. The mattress is big enough for two. A sink and a large round tub rest at the other end of the room. Other bits of furniture, in varying states of disrepair, are scattered about.
Dyad eases inside, utilizing the oversized door. What’s she doing?
Looking for something, I answer the smartbike. Seems obvious.
Frowning, Jin studies the ground. She stomps one place and then another. The sound echoes hollow in one place, a dull thud in the other.
“Does that sound different to you?” she asks.
I hold the necklace up to her. “Only one way to find out.”
Jin swipes it from my hand and then studies the ground. The floor has been branded with stars, set in an organized pattern. Each shape is the same size as her pendant. Jin touches each one, dragging her fingers along them until she finds one that’s deeper than the others. She drops the charm into the opening. “This has to be it.”
Something clicks and the necklace turns. The floorboards quake beneath us. There’s a hiss as though a seal has disengaged. A rectangle rises from the floor.
Jin’s eyes glitter. “I knew it had to be here.” She peers into the basement space. “It’s filled with food and supplies. It’ll feed us for days.” She drops the necklace over her head.
“You were right.” I grin. It reminds me of the hidden door back at Cheers. Great minds, old man. Dyad lets out a low whistle.
That solves that. A weight I didn’t know I had slips from my shoulders. I don’t need food, but Jin does. I didn’t know what sort of conditions we’d find.
“Our hope did not disappoint,” Jin whispers.
“What’d you say?” It sounds like a poem.
“Something I read once.” She doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she traces her necklace and then the ripped collar of her shirt. Her fingertips move down the tear that reaches to the end of her sternum, and I can’t tear my gaze away from her movement.
She doesn’t mean to be seductive. I know that. I would never ask her to my bed like this. Three inches of material is the only thing that separates my reality from what I’ve been imagining since before Teq offered. My mouth opens slightly, and my lips peel back. She’s tightly wound, worried about GenCor. A thousand images pulse in my brain, but none of them fits the beauty that I know she is.
I want to see you. All of you, Jin. She means more to me than the sum of my parts and programming.
She turns toward me and catches me staring at her. I double-check my memory banks to be sure I didn’t say the words out loud. Her green eyes capture the fading light. Her hair looks more rose than pink in the sunset sun and lengthening shadows. Her hand lowers slowly as her eyes dart from my face to Dyad and back again.
I’m sure I look ravenous. It’s because I am.
“You okay?” She sounds breathless. At the base of her neck, her pulse pounds out the bass line for a Mag Mile rave.
“Get lost, Dyad.” But the smartbike doesn’t immediately leave. I can’t see the screen, but I’m still connected to her. She’s giving me a look.
I built you. I throw the words at our connection.
To protect Jin, Dyad retorts. That means even from you, Mr. Robot. Out loud, Dyad asks, “Is that okay with you, Jin?” Orange light rolls across Dyad’s body.
Her eyes widen. “Oh...uh...sure, I’m...” But she doesn’t finish what she was going to say. She swallows and then shifts from side to side. She’s nervous. It’s like a gasoline revelation, and it takes everything I’ve got to stand still.
“Patrol something already.” It sounds like I’m growling.
Dyad takes her time backing out of the room. She loiters on the porch and then eases off the low end of the decking. I’ll hurt you if I have to, Tonick. She’s not just anybody.
Don’t you think I know that? Dyad doesn’t answer, but her words cut through my mechanical heart. Jin’s never been just anybody. An emptiness takes the place where Dyad had been in my brain, and I know she’s severed our connection. She doesn’t want to be around for what’s about to happen. I’m past caring. At this point, an audience of one wouldn’t have stopped me, but...
“That could have been awkward,” I say. And I realize I’ve said that part out loud.
Jin stares at me, but I can’t think of anything less weird to say, so I reach for her. She lays her hand in mine, and I pull her close. I lower my mouth over hers, waiting for her to withdraw and demand that we wait until I look more normal.
But she doesn’t. She presses into me, leaning forward. She makes a soft noise, almost a whimper, against my lips. “Tonick,” she sighs.
I lower my mouth to hers, and she opens beneath me. Her tongue darts out of her mouth into mine, stroking and touching. Wet. The contrast between my fleshly approximation and my artificial side is intoxicating. Soft and hard. Hot and cold. The sensations hit my programming in a meteor shower of awareness. I’m her protector. Her father chose me. She’s why I started saving Pinks. I’ve been searching for her since my beginning.
She breaks the kiss, pulling away. Her shoulders back and her body language stiff, she scrutinizes me. Intent on my eyes, she asks, “Are you you again?”
I meet her gaze without wavering. “As me as I ever was.” Even with the bits of memory missing. I pass her test, and she curves, drawing me toward her.
Jin fills my processor. She’s been a part of me for as long as I’ve been made. She sucks on my bottom lip. I run my hands over her face, over her shoulders, and down her sides. I press kisses along her collarbone, and she leans back to make it easier.
My mouth follows the line her fingers took, tasting the
salt of her skin along the edge of the rip in her shirt. I ease back one side of the shirt, but she catches my hand in hers.
“Tonick?” Her eyebrows pinch, and she bites her lust-darkened lip. “Are you sure?”
She’s as Jin as Jin can be, and I want to bury myself in her. “I’m sure.”
Her bottom lip quivers. She looks as lost as she did at the flower. “But what if I don’t measure up?”
“None of them measure up to you. They never have. They’ve all been a substitute for you.”
Her eyes widen. “For me? But...” Her voice trails away. “Teq?”
“Even her. She knew before I did.” I squeeze her to me, willing her to understand. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”
She releases my hand, and I move the torn fabric aside. Her creamy skin stretches across her middle, and I can see the faint lines of muscles and ribs beneath her skin. A flush sweeps over her, dusting her in pink. She beautiful. Pink in all the right places.
My thoughts hiccup, sending a vibration through my circuits. A void opens in the middle of my consciousness, and a woman eases through. Suspended above me.
Pretty plum in all the right places.
The world tilts. My feet slide.
That’s when I hear her, and I rack my brain, hunting for the link between Dyad and me.
It’s a sick joke Dyad’s playing. It’s got to be. I didn’t leave her behind.
But even as I run the connection search, I know that’s not what’s happening. Teq died. I saw her. Did I see her die? They told me she died. Who told me? Her voice drips terror.
Don’t let me die.
Teq, you’re already dead.
Images play across my mind in blinking succession. Teq. GenCor. Jin. GenCor. Wiskee. Teq. My programming cannot compute the incoming broadcast.
Click. Click. Snap.
Help me, Tonick. They’re trying to kill me.
Chapter Eighteen
LOCUS: ALTER EARTH
The Cabin
Date: 13 Pentian
Time: 1700
TONICK’S EYES LUMINESCE, turning a blue brighter than the daytime bayou sky. His mechanical irises are riveted on me, on the skin he’s exposed.
Awe wreathes his face. I’m the source of his awe.
It sends a million sensations through me.
There’s no stopping the smile that cracks my face. I want to pat myself on the back.
But I’m nervous. Maybe I shouldn’t be. It’s not new to either of us. I’m terrified he won’t like what he sees. I’ve done this before. The act. Not the emotion. Maybe that’s the difference.
He’s made up of two sides. The muscle on the skinned side of his jaw flexes. On the other, his circuits flash and blink, going faster and faster. Maybe I missed all the signs that he’s an artificial, but I know his face. I know his eyes. At this moment, I’m not afraid of him. He releases me and moves to the window, staring toward Bostgo.
My heart falls. “Tonick?”
He doesn’t answer. He’s comparing me with her. I already know he is. I don’t care what he says. Teq is the one he wants. I’m nothing like her. I’m Jin. Only lowly Jin. I’ve always been Jin. He’s always chosen Teq over me. I couldn’t compete with the woman. I’m the UnderCity fool who thought she could compete with the ghost.
I sigh, all the pent-up want escaping in the breath that leaves me.
Yet when he turns to face me, my heart stops. His flared nostrils and raspy breaths aren’t Tonick at all. He straightens, rigid; every part of him flexes. Sweat slicks the bits of skin still attached to him. “Help me, Jin,” he whispers. “I can hear Teq. She says they’re going to kill her.” He turns away; his hand reaches for the knob. Then he slumps forward and falls to the wooden floor with a heavy clang.
“Dyad,” I yell. “Dyad, help. It’s Tonick.”
In the distance, her engine revs. She’ll come as fast as she can.
I rush to him, moving over him, searching for an injury or something to repair. I can’t find anything to fix. He stares at the ceiling, an eerie expression on his face, the skinned side of his face frozen somewhere between shock and horror. It chills my heart. Shaking, I move my hand across his face, but his eyelids won’t close. Maybe Dyad can link up and tell me what we need to do.
Whatever it takes.
Regardless, I’ll need her help getting him up onto the bed. She’s not here yet, so I dive across the floor to the still open basement entrance. The lower level is bigger than I thought—twice as big as the cabin. That’s all I have time to think. I don’t have time to explore. Packages of food line the shelves. I scan until I find a cover made of a coarse brown material. Dragging it from its place, I speed back upstairs. I dive to the floor beside him as Dyad eases into the room.
I glance up. She’s lit up, orange and white all over. “Can you diagnose him?”
A light effect rolls across her as she edges closer to Tonick. “He closed his side of the link.”
I flush. He meant to give us privacy. Tears flood my field of view. At least I know he wanted me enough to block Dyad from our business. I need to know what’s going on in there. “What does that mean? You can’t open it again?”
“I can’t establish the connection without his help.” She moves back from his side.
I stand up, trying to decide what to do while I chew on my bottom lip. It’s going to be tattered and bleeding by the time Tonick wakes up. “I want him on the bed.”
“Is it wise to move him?” Dyad speaks as a teacher to a student. I wonder what her avatar is doing.
Crossing my arms, I evaluate the smartbike. “You can’t tell?”
Now isn’t the time for an argument with a headstrong smartbike. “I can’t leave him in the middle of the floor.” I grit my teeth so I don’t scream at her. It’s not her fault Tonick is broken.
“I’m not sure I can agree—”
“I am. I understand you two saved me. You pretty much decided how everything would go without me, Dyad.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. My head hurts, but more than that, my heart hurts. I want a normal life. I want peace. In that moment, I know. It’s something I would kill for. “As long as he’s unable to make his own decisions, I am the boss where Tonick’s concerned, and I say he needs to be on the bed.”
She inches backward. Finally, she asks, “What should we do first?”
“I’ll get him as far as I can.” With that, I grab his arms. I lose my grip when I yank, and his arms fall to the floor. He’s heavier than I expected. Trying again, I manage to move him a few inches closer to my goal. I don’t know if it’s the right thing, but I can’t leave him laid out on the floor. Progress is slow but consistent.
With a grunt, I drag Tonick halfway onto the bed, second-guessing whether or not all the jostling is good for him. Dyad approaches carefully, using her front tire to keep him from slipping backward until I get all of him onto the mattress.
I tuck Tonick beneath the tattered blanket I found on the food shelves. He’s asleep with his eyes open. At least that’s my best guess. I won’t lose him to a catastrophic failure. Not now. His circuits aren’t flashing as fast as they were. They keep a slow beat like a heart at rest. The comparison comforts me.
It hasn’t been long, but I don’t know what else to do. Dyad can’t resurrect the connection between them while he’s out. It takes both of them to set it up. He’s been immobile and unconscious since he collapsed. So we have to wait for his subprocessors to repair him enough for us to communicate with him. He’s done it once before.
I cross to the window. The trees sway in a breeze that doesn’t reach me. The leaves catch the failing light. It’s beautiful here. I was on the edge of a forever kind of happiness. Wasn’t I?
We have enough food in the basement for me to live a long time. We could have been snuggled up on the bed, basking in the after. I don’t know how it would have gone, but it wouldn’t have been bad.
According to Teq, Tonick was never bad. Farthest thing from bad. The
best ever. A vice squeezes my heart. Teq is dead. He can’t have heard Teq. Did she know Tonick is an artificial?
It might have been GenCor. Wiskee failed. Maybe they’re trying something different. Maybe they sent a radio wave signal that fried him. Maybe they’re coming to get me right now to make their prototype army. Why does anybody need an army? They already own Bostgo.
My thoughts run in circles, and my middle is empty. I’m not hungry, but I have to eat something. I take another look at the artificial—the android I love. Dyad backs out of my way but settles in a corner of the room.
“Do you think I made the right choice?”
“He’ll be fine.”
Her lack of a direct answer irritates me. “Does that mean no or yes?”
“Without an interface, I am unable to give you an answer based on reality. Instead, I can offer reassurance.”
Of course. She defaulted to what she’d been taught by Tonick. “Thanks.” It’s the best end to the small talk I can’t handle.
In the basement, the past several days replay through my thoughts. This time down, I want to find something important and then get back as fast as I can. There has to be something down here that will help.
I want to sit next to Tonick until he wakes up. I want to be the first thing he sees. My curiosity isn’t enough to move beyond the bottom of the stairs. One of the closest corners houses weapons and munitions. In the other corner, a microphone and an interface of some kind rest on a plastine plank. Metallic rectangles create legs for the makeshift desk. All three are stamped with the GenCor logo.
I’m sure the space is big enough to echo, and I want to hear it but not now. Not while Tonick needs me. I don’t waste time hunting down another light. Exploring can wait until Tonick is up and around to enjoy it with me.
The shelves are filled with food options, each one wrapped in the same plastic packaging, stamped with an identifying title, arranged alphabetically. “Sirloin.” “Stroganoff.” I don’t know what any of the words mean, so I swipe one without checking the label. I break it in two as I climb the stairs, and it expands in my hand, warming as the chemicals interact with one another.
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