by W.E. Larson
that?”
“Will you just let—”
“I’ll tell them you’re the one who stole me. You’ll go—”
I seized her wrist, and she made a sharp intake of breath. “Listen, I’m not going to take you back. I’m not going to take you to the police.” At least not yet.
“Nobody’s ever touched me before. I have memories of warm skin and cold fingers but they're shattered glass, they don't add up to anything.” Her gaze stayed locked onto the wrist I held, but she didn't move a muscle. I let go.
She might not be making any sense, but at least the panic had broken. When HABs break down, they should stop working, not start spouting nonsense. “None of this is adding up. First, we need to see if you’re really a HAB or not.” Coincidences didn’t come big enough for her not to be the supposedly stolen HAB, but I thought we both needed to know for sure.
She took a ragged breath, and her eyes sharpened. “I want to see the file, the one about me.”
“We need to see if you’re a HAB. If you’re not, then I take you in and someone’s going to get nailed to the wall for trying to pass you off as one. If you are... then things stay complicated.”
“How do you check?” She scooted away from me.
Being a police tech, my phone could scan for a HAB registration chip, so I took it out and punched up the function on the touchscreen. It detected the code immediately with a signal strength of ninety-nine percent. To any routine check, the result would be cut and dried, but I knew a hell of a lot more about HABs than your routine guy. With my phone near her head, I should get a hundred percent every single time. Still, the code was there. “You’ve got a registration code.”
“So that means I’m not human?”
As I lowered my arm to pocket my phone, the signal spiked to full. Her registration chip had must been put in her hip instead of buried deep in her head. I could only think of two reasons: they wanted it removable or Sarah was human. Neither option was legal.
“It means you’ve got a code; every HAB has one. Thing is, you can chip someone with a fake code. It happens.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“That’s easy,” I said. “Pinch yourself.”
“Pinch myself?” She glared at me. “I don’t appreciate you joking about—“
“It’s not a joke. HABs sense pain, but they don’t... feel it. Pinch yourself hard and see if you want to stop because it hurts or because you think you should.”
She gave me a skeptical frown, but she went ahead and dug her nails into her arm. When she stopped, I could see the deep indents left on her creamy skin. “I remember a knife, the smell of green peppers, and red blood on my finger. I’ve felt pain before, but I don’t feel it now. Show me the file, Ethan.”
I should have driven her right to the station, but I knew that wouldn’t happen now. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t look at her and think it. Her beauty didn’t matter—any sex HAB looks attractive—it just made her look expensive. Sarah could think for herself, crazy thoughts maybe, but still her own.
The report would only be background info; the investigation team couldn’t be on site yet. “Vickie, open Greg’s file.” The console screen lit up with data.
Just as I thought, it didn’t contain much in the way of details. Prairie Biotech reported that a nurse was locked in a room after having her ID badge stolen, and somebody used the badge to get outside the facility. The exit should have been monitored by a camera, but it happened to be out of service. For that matter, the culprit managed to avoid any video detection at all. A well-planned inside job... or P.B.T. didn’t want the footage getting out.
Now I felt sure there had never been a thief. The thing is, HABs don’t run away; their brains are more silicon than grey matter. One and zeros don’t have free will.
I leaned back from screen. “Damn.”
“They don’t want anyone to know I escaped by myself,” Sarah echoed my thoughts. “That room I locked the nurse in, they never let me out of there. There’s nothing, no windows, no pictures, no mirrors. I was so bored.”
“HABs don’t get bored.”
“I did.”
Greg had attached a manual from P.B.T. that described the stolen model. The picture looked exactly like Sarah. It said the model could do advanced emulation, but I knew HABs well enough to know this wasn’t faked behavior. Sarah read every bit of the document, but I looked away when she started to read about the sexual stuff.
"You're a companion model." I didn't want her to think they'd designed her for only one thing.
“I'm not a wide-eyed schoolgirl. They can call me whatever they like, but I'm an expensive sex-toy. Actually, that explains a few things.”
I wanted to ask what it explained, but my curiosity didn’t justify taking away more dignity. She finished the report, and slumped back in her seat before turning to watch the kids again. "I can't have children; the manual says I don't have the parts. I remember both wanting and not wanting, but I don't have any fragments of my own."
I decided to ignore the crazy. “You said they were going to take you to your—"
“Owner. Yes, the nurse told me I’d be delivered tomorrow morning.” She continued to stare out the window.
“The report from P.B.T says you haven’t been sold. They're hiding something.”
She turned her gaze back to me. “So, what now?”
“We go to my place, and start trying to figure this out.”
“No police then.” I could see the tension draining from her features.
“Just me. You hungry?”
She nodded.
“I’d planned to pick up a sandwich, will that work for you?”
“I..." Sarah furrowed her brow. "I don’t know, but I’ll give it a try.”
I picked us up a couple of Italian subs from Nyki’s Deli and Vickie drove us to my place. We stopped in front of the stairs of my building, and I waited until I couldn’t see anyone before we rushed to my apartment. I didn't want the neighbors catching sight of a beautiful redhead in a hospital gown. It's the sort of thing neighbors remember.
Sarah settled on my couch and took a bite out of her sandwich. After the first swallow, she closed her eyes and moaned. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They gave me the blandest food there.”
I had to make myself stop watching; her enjoyment of the sub bordered on erotic. If Chloe knew I’d brought Sarah home with me…. The thought froze my spine.
While I ate, I fired up my search scripts for any signs of an illegal registration change. I knew I wouldn't find anything, but at least I’d have a report to turn in.
I thought for a good long time. Prairie Biotech had made something special for someone who didn’t want their name known; but why? Where did those memories of a little girl come from?
“Is this your girlfriend?” Sarah held the picture of Chloe I kept on the end table. I liked that photo; I took it myself. Chloe sat on a white bench in front of a dark green rose bush blossoming in soft pinks. Her hair came down to her shoulders in a loose sheet. The smile made the shot, a real smile like someone laughing at a joke. She felt happy that day, happy because she was with me. All my other pictures lived in digital frames, but I wanted this one in hardcopy—an unchanging moment.
“We’re engaged,” I said.
“She’s pretty.” Sarah stared at the picture for a few more moments. “Can we go someplace?” She turned and fixed me with those vivid, green eyes. “I’ve been cooped up in a white room my entire life. My real life, at least.”
I glanced around my apartment and saw what she meant. The walls were painted a bright white, and only the outline of my wall screen broke up the smooth nothingness. Not long after I rented this place, Chloe and I decided I’d move in with her. She had a real nice townhouse where everything from the furniture to the pictures on the walls complimented each other. It made my apartment look like rented storage. I'
d never made it a home, just a place for passing through.
“Please?”
I couldn’t say no to those eyes. “You need something to wear.” Chloe abandoned a sundress and a cheap pair of sandals the night before her trip. I lived close to the airport so she stayed over and changed into business attire before catching her flight.
Going somewhere in town only invited trouble, so we hit the Interstate and I told Vickie to drive us to Topeka, about an hour away. Sarah wanted to see things, and the park there had a little zoo and a big rose garden. I figured that would do; I thought maybe she'd like flowers.
HABs are flesh and blood aside from the electronics in their heads. They're constructed, not born, but they still need time to learn their body just like a baby, about a month of physical therapy. Sarah had never seen daylight in that time, so I decided to spend a few more bucks and bought her some cheap sunglasses and a straw sunhat from the gift shop. She told me I shouldn't, but I wanted to give her a little protection on her first day in the sunlight.
Everything at the zoo interested her, the animals, the other visitors, the landscaping, even the blue sky and clouds. She asked me questions about everything we saw: where did elephants come from, do people really think those boots are fashionable, are summer days always this humid here… all sorts of things.
“What are those?” She pointed to some animals frolicking in the water.
“Otters.”
“North American River Otters, I think,” she said. I checked the sign as we moved on, and