by J. S. Morin
The upload rig must have saved some of the specimen’s residual memory back to Evelyn11’s crystalline matrix. Damn that Charlie25 for tinkering with the rig. What had he hoped to learn, anyway?
Evelyn11 checked her diagnostics to tell whether the oafish uploader had damaged anything.
There was no diagnostic menu. There wasn’t even an input selector to discover that there was no diagnostic menu. Evelyn11 was computer-blind.
“Blast you, Charles. You’ve ruined my data link,” Evelyn11 snarled. That’s what would have come out if her voice hadn’t been entirely muffled by something blocking her vocal emitter.
The water continued falling all around her head, sloshing down the drain. The purple color was familiar. Relevant. She’d just seen it.
Evelyn11’s breath quickened.
Why was she breathing? And why was it so restricted? Evelyn11 began to hyperventilate.
A voice from a thousand miles away, muffled in gauze, called out to her in Charlie25’s voice. “Keep calm. It worked. You’ll be out of there in no time.”
Slowly, Evelyn11’s muscles fought back against the vice grip of purple foam as a light solvent solution dissolved it around her. The slight hint of mobility was worse than complete helplessness. Evelyn11 screamed her muted frustration as her prison fought against being stretched and wrenched.
One arm broke free of the hardened foam at the shoulder joint.
Thrashing around, Evelyn11 managed to rock back and forth, using leverage to put weight on her other limbs. As she turned, the melted solution drizzled into her eyes through the cutouts.
The solvent burned. Pain. Honest, searing, human pain! Six hundred years of work crashed around Evelyn11 in blinding agony.
“Hold still,” Charlie25 scolded. Evelyn11 blinked to clear her eyes; through the blurry haze, she could make out the uploader standing just a meter away. “It’ll all wash away. Cutting would have taken a layer of skin off your whole body.”
Evelyn11, the greatest geneticist robotkind had ever known, had become a product of her own creation. Letting the impact of that epiphany sink in helped distract from the solvent clawing at her eyes. Evelyn11 bided her time until she could move.
A few targeted blasts from a nozzle washed away the last of the gooey foam residue.
Forcing herself to her elbows atop a mesh bed frame, Evelyn11 grabbed the breathing tube in both hands. The synthetic rubber snaked a kilometer and a half down her throat. Covered in slime and with slick-coated fingers struggling for grip, Evelyn11 gagged the whole way pulling it out.
“What… have you done?” Evelyn11 rasped once she’d vomited out whatever the test subject’s last meal had been. A mush resembling chopped pasta sluiced down the drain along with a diminishing trickle of purple goo.
A cold, steel hand rested on Evelyn11’s back as she stood, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. Charlie25 bent to look up into her eyes.
“We succeeded. I examined your convoluted post-test and decided to see what came out the other side for myself instead.”
“What if… I’d come out wrong?” Evelyn11 asked. With one hand, she rubbed at her throat, though the rawness was in her trachea. With the other hand, she cupped splashes of shower water to rinse her eyes.
“I ran a few neural comparisons. You’re you.”
“Where’s—?”
“Already disposed of,” Charlie25 cut in quickly. “There is no more Evelyn11. EMP hit the second I was sure you’d been successful. Chassis went into the deep core magma minutes later.”
Evelyn11 shuddered despite the warmth of the water drizzling over her.
Gone?
What if she wanted to go back?
The shower room began to sway.
“Easy does it,” Charlie25 said. High overhead, lost in the glare of LED lighting, a shower head stopped, giving up a few last drips. Charlie25 guided Evelyn11 to a seat on the edge of the mesh bed.
Steel fingers pinched her chin, not painfully but leaving no room for argument. Evelyn11’s eyes were brought into line with the glowing orange lights of Charlie25’s.
“Your name is Gemini,” the uploader said, voice as unyielding as the fingers of that impossibly strong hand. “You were an experiment of a robot whose name you never learned. You are not Evelyn11 anymore. Understand?”
Evelyn11 shivered. Without the heat of the water, every breeze was a winter wind. Shuddering, she shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “I’m… I’m not sure what I am right now.”
“You are human. Your name is Gemini. Repeat it back to me.”
“Yes. Yes. Gemini,” Evelyn11 parroted back. “That’s the name of this shell.”
A sharp sting across her face snapped Evelyn11 from the wandering path her musings were taking. Reaching up to touch the rising welt on her cheek, Evelyn11 saw the breathing tube in Charlie25’s hand.
“Good Lord, Charles,” Evelyn11 snapped. “What’s gotten—”
“Gemini,” Charlie25 shouted. Lifting her to her feet by the upper arm, the uploader dragged Evelyn11 to a fogged piece of glass on the wall.
The image that reflected back was indistinct. Evelyn11 raised a hand to wipe the surface clear as Charlie25 turned her loose.
The image staring back wore an expression of disbelief.
“Is that really… me?”
“Yes. One day we can upload you to Eve, but until that happens, this is the only body you’ve got.”
Gemini watched in the mirror, fascinated, as she explored her features with fingers made of living flesh.
Chapter Eighteen
Twisting the flow regulator, Gemini shut off the water. Free from prying eyes and sarcastic commentary, the shower had been a welcome respite.
The scent of the immobilizing foam might linger for days—or its persistence might have been her imagination. Realizing that the utilitarian substance had an odor at all had come as a mild shock.
Gemini suspected that more such shocks were just around the next bend.
Between the soap and a few minutes to herself, Gemini was beginning to feel almost human. The sensations were surreal. Like riding a bicycle, the saying went. So many old skills and habits got lumped beneath that bromide. But breathing in and out, spitting, and urinating had all sprang readily to mind. Evelyn11 had packed them away in cardboard boxes in a corner of her mind, and Gemini had just sliced the shipping tape.
Gemini tore the plastic off a vacuum-sealed towel. A nose-wrinkling chemical stench wafted out.
Did the cloth-o-matic produce that smell, or was it something to do with the vacuum-sealing process?
At least the towel was soft.
A drying process that could have ended in a minute or two, thanks to being shaved bald, instead took fifteen. Gemini let the fabric caress her skin, relishing that it felt like anything at all.
This new body would take time to feel like home. For decades, Gemini had dreamed of Eve as her host. As Evelyn11, she had stolen snippets of sensory experience as interpreted by Eve’s neurons. None of that compared to firsthand sensation.
Examining herself in the mirror as the glass defogged, Gemini was impressed. It wasn’t the compact, efficient little physique she’d prepared for all those years. Gemini was lean but had muscles sculpted like the diagrams in Grey’s Anatomy. Were there still teams floating around, she could have played collegiate rugby with the boys.
Gemini was angling to examine herself from the side and rear when Charlie25’s voice echoed from the corridors. “When you’re done ogling your new body, get dressed. This isn’t a test drive.”
Scowling holes through the wall, Gemini padded barefoot over to retrieve a second vacuum-sealed package larger than the first. This one contained a wardrobe.
Evelyn11 had always dressed simply and mainly for show. The outfit provided came with all the bells and whistles the robotic scientist had trimmed from her routine. The array of garments momentarily flummoxed Gemini.
Though never quite so ingrained as breathing or
holding a bladder in check, Evelyn Mengele had dressed herself tens of thousands of times before her brain was scanned for Project Transhuman. Gemini put analytical thought out of mind and just began pulling on garments.
Before she knew it, Gemini was lacing up a pair of combat boots. Those were something Evelyn Mengele had never worn in seventy-two years of life. However, the rest had been familiar old ground.
Modeling in the mirror again, Gemini hardly recognized the person she saw. Her mind had just begun accepting the dripping, naked Amazonian who’d stumbled into the shower in a daze. Now…
Gemini looked dangerous.
Black simulated leather tactical jacket over an olive drab tank top tight enough to show the outline of the bra beneath. Black cargo pants with loose, empty pockets, waiting to be filled with survival gear. A short-brimmed hat hid a bald scalp still tender from mild electrical burns. The welt on her cheek would look like a scar for a few days, giving the grizzled appearance of some mercenary from the movies.
A deep breath steeled Gemini’s nerves before she marched herself into the hallway to confront Charlie25.
“Not bad,” Charlie25 remarked. “You toughen up nicely. Who’d imagine that beneath that G.I. Jane exterior, you’re an 800-year-old robot with an elderly mathematician’s brain?”
Gemini rolled her eyes. “Really, Charles. You know the perfect way to spoil a moment.”
“Cut the crap, Gemini,” Charlie25 snapped. “You’re not a stately old Englishwoman with an American Ivy League education. You are an angry, cold-hearted escapee with an eye for vengeance and a soft spot for your fellow humans.”
“I’m not an actress, Charles. I’m a scientist. Even mathematics was ages ago. I’m beyond simple theory. I just need to get close enough to Eve to tranquilize her and drag her back here.”
As robot and human spoke, Charlie25 led the way deeper into the bowels of Kanto. This was an entire hideaway, so far removed from the functioning part of the factory that no one would ever look for it. Yesterday it had been a homey little safe house. Its only crime had been the state of near-captivity that remaining undiscovered required.
Now Gemini had a body that yearned Vitamin D. The glare of LED lighting was no substitute for sunlight.
They reached a media room, and Charlie25 brought up a feed of Eve14. The clip was a news feed summary of the world’s most beloved runaway.
“What’s all this?” Gemini asked.
“Watch…” Charlie25 whispered.
Eve was shown speaking before the human committee. Gemini thought the girl looked ridiculous with an army buzz cut, but Eve looked otherwise healthy and composed.
The news feed audio was of little Eve14 dressing down the Human Committee.
“You’d better count that as a ‘nay.’ How can any of you think of killing Plato? I’m only alive thanks to him and Charlie7. And speaking of Charlie7, how come no one ever carried out Charlie’s last request? We were supposed to make a new Charlie robot and give him all of Charlie7’s things.”
“I don’t remember raising a little spitfire like that,” Gemini muttered.
The transformation of the girl was remarkable. Her precious Eve14 had been one of the mildest-mannered of the Eves. Never talked back. Never raised her voice.
Charlie25 skipped the news feed ahead.
A soft gasp of longing escaped Gemini’s lips as she saw all her Eves lined up in pairs, practicing kung fu at the Shaolin Temple. They were all so beautiful and strong. Perfect little creatures all queued up to try being Evelyn11 when their time came. Except now they weren’t hers anymore.
The video perspective wandered as the girls sparred. This was footage from the internal memory of one of the instructors. As Eve14 and Eve16 fought, if only for play, Gemini was astonished.
These were the motions the girls had all learned as part of their daily exercise. Evelyn11 hadn’t wanted to inherit a clumsy or sluggish body. Always seemed like a better idea to have the girls handle all the prep work in advance of upload.
Evelyn11 never grasped that she had taught the girls to fight.
Time and again, Eve16 fell to the padded surface. Eve14 was the eldest, of course, stronger and better practiced. More than that, though, she was fast, fluid, and decisive.
The video paused with Eve14 giving the polite bow expected of a victor.
“The old IQ tests don’t even capture her intellect,” Charlie25 said. “And Mary27 ran one anyway. The way the story goes, some combination of her and Charlie7 outsmarted you and wiped you down to a three-day-old backup file.”
“No need to dredge up that unfortunate episode. I shan’t forget it.”
Charlie25’s head whipped around. “Next time I hear you use the word ‘shan’t,’ I’m uploading your brain to a cocker spaniel. This is serious business. If that young lady in the video there suspects that you were her creator, she is going to snap your neck before you know she’s there.”
“You’re being melodramatic, Charlie,” Gemini said. “And you see? I can be flippant and casual as the next girl.”
Charlie25 tossed her the remote of the video screen. “Study up. Figure out her next move. You know that brain of Eve14’s better than anyone alive. You built it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Plato sat like a limp rag on the edge of his couch. He was back in his cell, emotionally drained and physically battered. Ashley252 was attending to the latter.
The robot medic was dressed in a white lab coat and slacks. The stainless steel of her fingers was covered by a pair of pale green latex gloves.
There was a tug and a slicing of fabric as Ashley252 cut Plato’s shirt from tailbone to nape.
“Multiple contusions. One fractured vertebra…” She lifted Plato’s arm, drawing a wince that he couldn’t suppress. “Tendon damage.”
Plato offered a forced chuckle. “I always thought medical lingo was a little more… Latin.”
Ashley252 let the arm sag. “I was simplifying the diagnoses for your benefit. You’ve suffered a grade-one sprain of the subscapularis muscle tendon. There is a stress fracture in your T3 vertebra. You have—”
“Yeah, yeah. Forget I asked. Just do what you gotta do, and let me wallow in peace.”
Ashley252 leaned around from behind Plato until he could look her in the eye. “You also have several untreated injuries and conditions.”
“Listen, it wasn’t my idea to get patched up in the first place. You can talk to Brent184, but I just want the bare minimum so I can get the cell to myself again.”
“I could relieve most of your chronic joint pain.”
Plato gritted his teeth. The offer was tempting. It had been years since he’d woken up without agony in his knees and lower back. These days, his hips bothered him even after short spells sitting in one position.
Plato fluttered a hand at her despite the shooting pain up his whole arm. “Nah. Do what they sent you for, then get the hell outta my room.”
As Ashley252 rummaged in her kit for tools, Plato rolled his eyes. You’d think someone who was a surgeon and a robot might be more organized.
“Stop slouching,” Ashley252 ordered.
Seething out a breath, Plato sat up straight.
There was a pinprick in Plato’s upper back and a hiss of pressurized air. “Hey, what did you just—ooh. That’s not half bad.”
“A mixture of local anesthetic and osteogenesis compound. You won’t want to feel the bioactive agents fusing the bone.”
Fair enough, Plato kept to himself.
Another pinprick and pneumatic puff, and the fiery pain in Plato’s shoulder ebbed. He could put up with a few minutes inconvenience, he supposed.
“Lift your chin. Your posture is abominable.”
With a sigh, Plato complied.
This time there was neither a prick nor an injection. Instead, there was a click. A soft whir of an air pump and a firm yet light pressure tightened around Plato’s neck.
“What the—?”
Plato reached
up and found a hard plastic collar fastened around his neck. There were protrusions and seams, but nothing to grip to pry it open.
“Take this thing off me!”
Ashley252 scooted aside and scurried toward the door. “It’s for your own protection. It’s lined up to deliver a neurosedative directly into your carotid artery at the first sign of you making trouble. You’ll be unconscious nearly instantaneously. By the time you wake up, you’ll be in bed, and we’ll have replenished the dose.”
“Why you…”
“If you attempt to remove the collar, it will activate. We’ve set a hair trigger on it. I apologize, but it’s rather likely to fire off accidentally at some point.”
Plato’s breath quickened. The edges of his vision blurred red.
“If you like, I can still take care of your chronic issues—”
If there was some sweetener to add to Ashley252’s offer, Plato didn’t wait to hear it. With a roar, he lunged across the room. Even if he couldn’t escape, he’d make Ashley252 pay for doing this to him.
Plato wasn’t an animal to be controlled and collared.
There was a puff accompanied by a sharp twinge in Plato’s neck. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Ashley252 muttering, “Idiot.”
At least Plato didn’t have to feel the impact as he hit the floor face first.
Chapter Twenty
The controls of the skyroamer were all new and exciting. Buttons that were once little more than points in space to robotic fingers now touched back with firm plastic smoothness. Wind-induced hull vibration came through the steering yoke and the seat as a soothing buzz. The air recirculator gave off a whiff of ethylene glycol.
Gemini made course adjustments far more often than her heading demanded. Vertical drops were especially novel; the sudden rise of the gorge sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through her veins. But the joyriding never took her far off course from her goal.
Tracking Eve14 had been disappointingly simple. Social tracking and a knowledge of Eve14’s known associates was all it took. Of course, for any of Gemini’s plan to have earned back its grant money required a proprietary level of knowledge of who those associates actually were.