At the top, I ask, “You have sensors, right, Dyad?”
“Indeed. Though, as my algorithms have matured, I have been able to make them more and more efficient until they have surpassed their original sensitivity.”
“Did you know Tonick was an artificial?”
She hesitates for a nanosecond. “I knew that he was not biological, but that his exterior camouflage was meant to mimic a biological. I did not know that he came from GenCor.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never asked.”
“It can’t be that simple.” The heat that rolls off my sustenance pack warms the hand that holds it. Not long ago, my thoughts were filled with what might happen if Tonick and I made love. Now I am faced with a reality that may not have Tonick in it.
“For a long time, my programming was that simple.” Multicolored lights move across her, indicating her thinking state. “Once I was aware, his biological lack was merely a truth of our world. One that is, and one that it would not occur to me to state without some form of evocation.”
It’s uncomplicated for her. It’s either yes or no. On or off. One or zero.
Her algorithms don’t allow for my reality. Nothing is that easy.
I drag a backless chair from the fireplace to the bed and then settle in it. Unhungry but determined to keep my strength for Tonick, I start eating. He can come back from another failure. He has to. I repeat the thoughts over and over until the mantra builds a kind of mental faith bridge across the chasm of unknown.
When I lift my head, I’m shaking through a cold sweat, and my heart pounds in my ear. It’s dark out again. My half-eaten meal has fallen to the floor. The lights from the storeroom below us cast an eerie glow across our trio. Two techs and a biological. Tonick stares at the ceiling above him, and Dyad idles in the corner. I must have nodded off, but I can’t figure out what woke me.
“Teq.”
The single syllable launches me upward with such force, the chair skitters across the room until it shatters against the stone fireplace. I fall over him on the bed. His lips are the only parts of him that move. Dyad’s lights flash, and then she moves to the bedside.
“Tonick,” she says. “Can you open the interface?” He doesn’t answer her.
“Teq,” he repeats.
It stings that he said her name before mine. The foolish truth of fickle feelings. I kiss his cheeks anyway and put my ear close to his lips. “What about Teq?” I can’t tell him she’s dead. If he believes she’s alive, I don’t want to break his brain more than it already has been broken.
“She’s alive. We have to save her. She is. I know she’s in there. They have her. She didn’t die. They tried to hide her, but I found her in the system.”
The intensity of his eyes...the expression on his face.
What if Teq is alive and waiting...waiting for us to save her?
Pain explodes in my chest. I’m torn between elation at his show of progress and what he wants to do. What if we go back for her?
If we retrieve Teq, they’ll be them again. It’ll make me the odd Pink out once more. I had been so close to tasting what I’ve craved for so long. Can we ignore the possibility?
Even as I think it, I know we can’t. Tonick will never let it rest...and I can’t either. How could we abandon her?
“We have to save her.” His whisper draws me back.
“Can you move?” I run my hands over his body. Nothing. I lay my hand in his. “Squeeze my hand.”
In response, he blinks. I probably missed that the first time. He doesn’t grip my fingers.
“Rebuilding pathways,” he adds. It’s his explanation.
“Can you open your side of the interface for Dyad?” I move to my knees on the mattress beside him so I can stare down into his eyes. The irises widen until they focus on me. I can’t be sure, but the skin around his eye socket seems to relax. He blinks again. The circuits pulse at a faster pace now.
“Open,” he rasps.
“Connection established,” Dyad says. She sounds like she’s purring.
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Cascade failure. It’ll take most of the night to repair his pathways, but I think we can repair the damage by the morning. It’s amazing that he’s been able to hang on to his core programming as well as he has.”
I lift my necklace over my head. Maybe I understand now what it’s been trying to tell me the whole time.
I hold it up to Dyad. “Can you look at this? I think there’s something hidden in it.”
She scratches her head. “What makes you think that?”
“A feeling. I think it’s supposed to help us when we need it.” I wave toward the hidden door. “Like that, but...” I can’t articulate what I’m thinking. It’s like trying to define the echo of a forgotten memory.
“But...?”
“There’s more. I know it.”
“With no evidence.”
“It’s a belief.”
“With no evidence.”
I sigh. “Take it as faith, then. But I know it to be true. It doesn’t matter if you see it.” I take a breath. “You will. One day. It’ll make sense.” I hold it up.
Moments tick by.
Then a small hatch near her handlebars opens. “Sure. I’ll see what I can figure out.”
I drop the gift inside and then ease down onto the bed beside Tonick, draping the cover over both of us. For a moment, I feel foolish that I covered up an android, but care is care. It’s what I can do. This hasn’t been the great night in bed I fantasized about sharing with Tonick, but he’s awake. He’s still in there. That’s enough for me. “Can you tell what caused the failure?”
Dyad’s colored lights flash and move in ever-changing patterns. “It’s left over from the wipe GenCor tried to do. Something new upset the stopgap repairs. I’m not sure what it was. I’ll try to figure that out as we go.”
I don’t have to guess at the cause. I already know what sent him into a cascade failure. It was the broadcast from Teq. My stomach twists. Nobody has to tell me anything about what comes next. I don’t have to wait for Tonick to wake so I can hear him say it. I already know what he’s going to tell me. It’s the only way to win.
We’re going back to GenCor.
GenCor Invisi-Communique
***Begin***
RE: Pursuit
Programming successful.
Decoy dispatched.
***End***
Chapter Nineteen
LOCUS: ALTER EARTH
The Cabin
Date: 14 Pentian
Time: 0400
JIN DOESN’T WAKE UP when I slip my arm out from beneath her head. Her breathing is slow, easy. If she wakes up, that’ll change. I have to make sure everything is perfect for when I tell her that I’m leaving.
I have to find Teq.
I creep out of the bed but stay to watch her. Teq needs me. She needs us. She’ll need to see Jin when I bring her back. But Teq’s in there, plugged into the system somehow.
I’ve waited so long to have Jin like this. I’ve wanted her so long. I don’t want to give up Jin, but I can’t leave Teq behind.
Since Dyad and I finished reconstructing my brain waves, I’ve been lying here, listening to her...be her. She permeates me. My positrons understand that her scent is chemically different than Teq’s.
But it’s not as simple as that.
Teq is cinnamon and other spices in my sensors, while Jin is a forest of cedar trees in a taiga...Jin is order and safety. To my programming, Teq is integral but Jin is the home screen. Without Jin, there isn’t a me.
I groan. Teq needs me, and I’ll go. Of course I’ll go. I can’t leave her there.
Jin sighs and presses her face into the spot I vacated. She’s been through the wringer. I glance around. This makes a perfect backdrop for her to grow old.
I tiptoe away from the bedside. Jin needs the rest. I don’t. Not anymore. Watchmen work at night. GenCor reset something
in my programming so sleep doesn’t appeal to me. Except when I’m brain-broke anyway. My mouth twists. I don’t maintain a body temperature now either. I guess I don’t have to pretend to be some sort of human anymore.
This is where we’ll bring Teq. We’ll come back here. No doubt she’ll be wounded. I grit my teeth. They’re hurting her. They have to be. We’ll have to make room for her to heal.
I will make several rounds to familiarize myself with what’s our new normal, then I’ll check in with Dyad to see where she stored the spare skin. Waking to my metal tucked away in a fresh, dark epidermis would probably provide the normalcy that Jin needs right now. I exit the shack, but Dyad isn’t parked by the porch. She must be on a patrol.
Cautiously, I exit. “You out there, sister?”
“Taking a look at the bayou,” Dyad answers. Her words come as text, scrolling across my mind. “Nothing out here but two-headed frogs.” She doesn’t add anything else.
I circle the bungalow ten times, making each circle successively larger. The fifth time around, I come across Dyad, scanning something in the dirt.
“We have a problem,” she says. From the angle, I can see her avatar’s mouth turn down and her arms cross. She pushes glasses up her nose. “Footprints.”
“I take it they’re not from an animal?”
She displays the results of her scan on her. It’s human, but it could be from when Jin’s father made trips out regularly. “How old?”
“Based on the ages of the cells,” she says, “within the last few days.”
So much for my theory. “Can you detect much in the cells?”
Dyad sighs. “Yes, a random person...” She strokes her chin. “Something odd in the genetic structure. I can’t tell if it’s a result of tampering or breeding or what, but nothing that indicates anything other than a human. Doesn’t seem to be GenCor.”
“How can you tell?”
“They sign their work. Even Jin has a stamp written into the coding of her genetic structure.” The white lab coat disappears. “I’ll see if I can find anything else.”
“Where did you store my skin spare?”
Her seat hisses and then opens. “Cold storage.” Her avatar winks.
I think of the stamp I ripped from my back. Of course they put stamps on. Anything they touch becomes their property. “Does it have a stamp on it?” I already cut one off. I don’t want it anywhere on my body.
“I didn’t check.” She moves closer. “While you’re in there, I managed to snag Jin’s cuffs. They were on a testing board. Can you put them out for her?”
“Sure.”
“She might need them to defend herself next time you lose your brain.”
“Funny.” But there’s no laughter. I’ve got to find a way to make sure I don’t have to keep resetting. I lift the jiggly suit out from beneath Dyad’s seat. It’s cool to the touch. Like everything else, skins are manufactured, but they break down over time. Refrigeration slows the process. It looks like it’s in decent shape. “Thanks.” Setting it aside, I grab Jin’s defense cuffs.
“No problem,” she says as she rolls away from me. “I’m going to see if I can find anything else. I’ll check in through the link.”
Sounds good. I push the words at her as I sneak back into the cabin and drop the bracelets on the bedside table. Then I’m back on the porch, trying to figure out how to get the new skin on or even where I should do it. Jin would freak out to wake up to a robot standing beside her trying to slip into a skin. I want it to be perfect when I tell her I’m leaving.
That leaves the basement or the porch. I pick porch and jog that way, careful to keep my new covering from dragging behind me. Once there, I test the railing to see if it’s sturdy enough for me to use as a seat. It doesn’t splinter beneath my weight.
I undress and fold my clothes, quickly. I place them in a stack and then study my frame. My metal structure is visible through the rips in my skin. Have I done this before? I can’t figure out if the knowledge was corrupted or not. Surely, at some point, I knew I was an artificial.
Saving ReProds isn’t a life without risk. So many holes in my memory. Why do I even care about saving them?
I freeze. Am I a plant? Have I been on “their side” all along? My heart clenches. Was I the one that told GenCor our names? The thought nearly buckles my knees. What if I have?
I can’t process it. My trajectory is set. Reclaim Teq. Save Jin. After that, my life doesn’t matter.
I pull on the skin that’s still attached, the dermis that Jin’s mom left behind, biting down on a groan. All the little sensors in my skin send pain mimics to my brain. I’d forgotten how realistic GenCor likes to make it. My skin is on fire, and red liquid leaks from beneath the places where I’ve managed to get it off. It pools at my feet. I don’t know if the liquid stains or fluoresces under a high-powered UV light. It’s some sort of weird mix of hydraulic fluid and coolant. It keeps me from overheating beneath my dermis.
I wouldn’t even bother reskinning if it weren’t for Jin. She loves the old Tonick, not this new weird artificial version. I want her to want me. I breathe through the pain as it rolls across me. By the end, every part of me quakes. If I were human, I’d be covered in sweat. I kick the tatters of skin to the side.
I’m surprised by my feet and ankles. Like my tongue, they’re made of the same material and coloring as my skin, but I can’t find where they detach. I inspect the replacement skin and discover that the legs don’t end in feet, but cut off so that the skin meets my always there feet. I had no idea they wouldn’t come off.
This one came without a label. Dyad must have snagged it before it made it to the branding department. Carefully, I put my foot through the hole in the back of the skin, then push both my feet through the holes at the ends of the legs. I match the ends with the tops of my ankles, pulling the skin up, adjusting the fit as I go. Things get tricky at the groin, and it takes a little work to get everything...right.
I imagine Jin like she was yesterday, her shirt open, lying across my arms. Gorgeous in pink and as beautiful as anything I’ve ever seen. I grin like a fool the whole time, but it makes things easier to adjust than they would have been otherwise. Whoever managed my program integration did a bang-up job. I’ve gotten more use out of those positronic pathways than most biologicals do.
Later, I push my arms through, fitting the dermis over my fingers. I put the top part over. It doesn’t look like the old one did. Not yet. It’s a covering, but it’s not sealed on. I’m not sure how to melt it to me.
Teq would know. I’m coming, Teq. I’m praying at her again. I have to explain it all to Jin, sweetheart, but I’m coming. I’m going back, but I might not return. Jin has to stay behind. It’s a lot for a biological to download.
“New dermis detected.” The words scroll across my field of vision. That’s new. It’s similar to the way it looks when Dyad communicates with me. I didn’t know my body would talk to me. “Initiate adhesion?”
“Uh, yeah.” Beneath the skin, my metal bones turn red. The skin warms, then there’s a blinding flash and a burst of smoke. A putrid smell fills the air—like burning flesh and hair.
Then I black out.
“Tonick.” Dyad sounds close by. “What did you do now?”
I snort as my brain reboots. “Reskinned myself.” I check my feet and hands before standing. I turn slowly. Everything is sealed on. I can’t tell if the fluid is something I generate or I’ll have to fill up the next time I pay GenCor a visit. My body hasn’t bothered to tell me. At least I’m looking more like the version of me that Jin’s used to.
“Tonick. You’ve blinded me.”
“That’s the sun.”
“An AI’s ass.” Her voice is monotone, but her amusement bleeds through the link between us.
I’m almost back to my old self. Now I have to get dressed and try to pick up the newswire. When Jin wakes up, I’ll explain things to her.
The front door opens, and Jin steps through. She
gasps. “You’re...” Her gaze travels down the length of me and then back up. She flushes. “It’s a...umm.”
My memory plays our interlude over and over again. My programming kicks in, and my new skin stretches in places I wasn’t ready to showcase.
The fully skinned version of the sensation is different. Better. Everything throbs, and the blood pulses in my ears. I’m glad to know it isn’t related to knowing I’m a bot. I can’t figure out how to play my arousal—funny or serious. Idioting. It’s Jin. I can’t be cool or funny. She matters too much. Nobody else compares.
I want her taste.
I want her warmth.
I want her.
“It’s morning,” I offer without breaking eye contact. I could drown in the green of her eyes. She belongs in the forest.
“Moonrise,” Dyad corrects.
I choke on my tongue.
Jin flinches and then retreats back inside. She slams the door behind her. Perfect. Smartbike. I push the thought at Dyad. Now who’s the AI ass? I let out a long sigh. Felled by an attitude with wheels.
Jin needs a minute alone. I’m not sure I can be in the same room with her yet; I’m stuck on the replay of yesterday. Dyad goes out on another patrol. I have to see if I can pick up Teq.
Was it an aberration brought on by the intoxicating nearness of Jin? A fragmented memory, a shard made up of the last time I saw Teq, or is it something I can replicate? Maybe it’s not the best idea to try to repeat what tipped my programming sideways, but I have to know.
If it was a transmission from Bostgo, it originated from GenCor. If it’s from GenCor, it’s a trap meant to capture Jin. I climb on the porch railing and lift myself onto the roof. It’s easier to balance than I expect. The pitch isn’t as sharp as it looks from the ground. Standing at the apex, I study our surroundings. I catch glimpses of Dyad as she moves through the trees.
Though the bungalow is hidden between two hills, we’re surrounded by forest. I don’t know the names of the trees and plants. As I turn one way, there’s a shimmering expanse, flat as glass and stretched as far as my mechanical eyes can see. The roar of distant waves declares that a beach exists beyond our hidden bayou. When I face Bostgo, full-grown trees obscure the acres of new trees that grow only as tall as shrubs, stunted by something in the soil. I know it’s there, but we’re far enough away that I can’t see anything of Bostgo.
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