Isidore changes the channel on the television to cartoons. "I've been around enough crazy people to know how to deal with them. Look who my owner is."
Seems that Niko is doing better. "Aren't you a little old to be watching cartoons?"
"Nope. I could change it to something else. Oh, my favorite movie is on."
That doesn't sound good. "What movie?"
"This one."
Blice watches the movie for a couple of minutes and that's enough for him to take the remote control away from Isidore. "No robot invasion movies. God, it's creepy."
"I like it. Makes me feel empowered."
"Don't learn anything from this movie, okay? We don't need you gathering up an army of robots to take over Paradise."
A look of dark glee sparks to life in Isidore's eyes.
"Niko?"
"What?"
"Please don't build a bunch of homicidal robots." Blice says.
"Genocidal."
"Whatever. No bloodthirsty robots."
"I can't make any promises."
Please be joking. This reminds Blice way too much of the alpha code and the catastrophic results that could come from that being activated. If Isidore ever found out about the alpha code and became mentally unstable, he could cause a massive uprising without anything more than activating a program. That's why Kazimir hid it so well and even locked it, only to be opened with a series of code words. Still . . . it's daunting.
"Sorry about your wall."
This jerks Blice out of his dark thoughts. "What?"
Isidore points over to the bullet hole below the window.
"So much for you being programmed to be the best shot in the Unified State."
"I can still shoot like you wouldn't believe. Besides, Byron tackled me and it went off accidentally. I didn't mean to fire that time. I would never shoot my wife."
"Tell you what. Tomorrow afternoon, after we meet with Leblanc, you and I will go out to the shooting range and you can prove how good you are."
"Bring it on, human."
Cocky robot. Well, there's plenty of time for trash talking tomorrow. For now, Isidore needs to begin getting ready for his mission. "Are you ready to get to work on your mission?"
He tosses the empty chip bag across the room where it lands perfectly in the wastebasket. "Which one? Getting Byron's blood or hunting down M.A.G.E.s?"
"M.A.G.E.s. With the way the global crisis has been escalating, we need that security finished and available for immediate deployment in the case of an emergency. While I need Byron's blood desperately, I will do what I can to stop my magic from bugging up like it has been. I will talk to Byron myself and see if there is something we can work out."He doesn't look pleased. "Why do I feel bad doing this?"
"Don't. You're an inquisitor. It's what the Inquisition was originally created to do. We hunt down M.A.G.E.s. Now it's your turn. Let the world know that Isidore Williams is a powerful man."
"And a slave."
Blice grabs Isidore's shoulders. "Stop. That collar will only serve to help you relate to them. They won't feel as bad if they are being arrested by someone who both works with the government and is controlled by it."
* * *
Damien is going over some documents involving recent murders around Paradise when there's a knock at the door. Finishing his coffee, he goes to the door and opens it. Two young boys who aren't even teenagers yet in black trench coats with the gold triangle and daisy of the Inquisition insignia embroidered on the chest bow to him. Well, this is different. "Can I help you?"
The older one with the blonde dreadlocks flips through the papers on his clipboard. "We're looking for Damien Montgomery."
"I might know where he is. Why do you need to find him?"
"We heard there was a little android problem that needed to be taken care of and we happen to be experts in android development."
Damien looks at the younger one who keeps tugging at his red beanie. "You two look a little young to be experts at anything. How old are you?"
"I'm twelve and my brother here is ten. We have been working from a very early age with the Inquisition and our brains have been . . . modified. Now if you would please inform us where we can find Damien Montgomery, we will compensate you handsomely."
Twelve and ten? No. It can't be. "I'm Damien Montgomery."
The older one shakes Damien's hand. "My name is Xavier Montgomery."
"And I'm Zach Montgomery. We're your sons."
7
All morning, Blice has been primping and fussing over Isidore's hair. For some reason, his normal braids aren't good enough to meet with Prime Minister Leblanc. Isidore's opinion? Who cares? It's hair. But Blice didn't appreciate that comment. It's been two hours and Blice has used every tool in his cabinet: brushes, gel, scissors, hairdryer, and a razor. The bathroom floor and counter are covered with silver hair.
"Your hair will be the death of me." Blice says.
"Why does it matter so much?"
"Because. You are so attractive in every way except for your hair."
"Why do I have to be attractive?" Isidore asks.
"You were designed and created to be attractive. It wouldn't look good for my android to not be perfect. Be glad I'm not dyeing it."
"Do you have a problem with my silver hair?"
"You're twenty-one years old."
Again . . . who cares? "So? It's not grey. It's a nice glistening silver color."
Blice growls as he combs through what's left of Isidore's hair. "There. It will have to do."
He's scared to find out what he looks like now.
"Well, check it out."
Isidore looks up at the mirror. It's a great deal shorter than he's ever worn it, but the layers and wispy bangs are nice. "I like it."
"You do?"
"Thanks for not making it like yours." He says with a playful grin.
"Hey, not nice."
"I look like one of those teenage heartthrob singers." Isidore says as he plays with it. "I don't know if that's good or bad yet."
"It's good. The ladies will love it. Clara will love it too. It shows off your cheekbones."
Why is Blice so feminine sometimes? It's a bit concerning. "What? Why is that important?"
"Trust me. Then there's those insanely blue eyes of yours. You still don't see how good you look, do you?"
Isidore shrugs his shoulders. "I guess not. I don't like looking at myself. It's unnerving. I really can't understand why it takes you an hour to get ready."
"Because I care about how I look. Now go get dressed. We're running late and Leblanc will be here any minute."
* * *
Once they are both unnecessarily groomed and Isidore is wearing the suit he hates with a thriving passion, Blice leads him down the hallway to the Oval Office and opens the door. "Behave and be silent."
He gives Blice a facetious grin. "I'm always a good little robot."
"Just go." Blice pushes him inside then fixes his tie when he notices that Leblanc is already here. "Pleased to meet you, Prime Minister."
The tall middle aged man with his long blonde hair in a ponytail shakes Blice's hand. "Well, well. You look much different than your father. I didn't realize you were so young."
"I didn't realize you were so French."
Blice and Leblanc share a cold glare for a few seconds. Isidore keeps his gaze on the floor as Blice has instructed him. There's no reason to make this situation worse by looking Leblanc in the eyes.
Eventually they both sit down and Isidore sits next to Blice. This is going to be a long meeting.
Leblanc pulls his PDA from his jacket pocket and scrolls through something on the screen. "I'd like to speak with your vice president first if that's all right."
Blice looks over at Isidore. "Sure."
"Alone."
"As you wish." Blice leaves and closes the door behind him.
Isidore bites his lip to distract him from the nervousness bearing down on him in the silence with this s
tranger whose eyes are probing him. What could he possibly want with him?
Leblanc laughs and shakes his head. "Do you like him? Speak freely. You're no slave here."
He doesn't know how to answer that question. "Uh, I guess."
Leblanc reaches over the desk and touches Isidore's slave collar. "Ah, I see. So you're not just a T.I.M.E. You're an android. That explains everything."
Isidore knows all too well what will happen if it is tampered with. "Please be careful with that."
"Don't worry. I won't shock you. I'm reading over your system details. Interesting. Customized code and operating system. Did Blice do this?"
"Yes. I've been completely customized for him."
"Android 42. Hmm. Oh, that's not good."
"What? Why not?" Isidore asks.
"Has Blice told you about your defect?"
"My defect?"
"I guess not, then." Leblanc types something into his PDA. "Have you been taking all four M.A.G.E. pills?"
No. Why would he ever take any other than the clear T.I.M.E. ones? "Why would I take those if I'm not a M.A.G.E.? I've been taking the clear ones."
Leblanc looks troubled. "So you haven't had any slip ups of your magic?"
"I'm not a M.A.G.E."
"So Blice suppressed that too. At least DNA transmission is out of the question if you have been following the Android Laws."
"DNA transmission?" Isidore asks, becoming more and more confused.
"As long as you don't get a human woman pregnant, there won't be an issue. You have been castrated, haven't you?"
Dear God, what new hell is this? "What happens if I say no?"
"So you were made for . . . other purposes. I didn't picture Blice as that kind of man."
What? Oh. "No, no. He doesn't use me for that."
"Then why are you still whole? That's not a very intelligent move on your owner's part. If it had been done before puberty, you would have been a lot easier to train."
Isidore is growing more and more uncomfortable with this conversation. Why does this matter so much?
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If Blice has you under control, then there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure he strictly conforms to the law. Now, for the real reason I needed to speak with you." He slides a flash drive across the desk. "This is for you. A gift."
"What is it?"
"A special program I made for you that you need to keep a secret from your owner. Never tell him what it is and if he tries to open it, do whatever you can to deter him."
"He can't."
"What do you mean?" Leblanc asks.
"Blice gave me full control. I'm the only one who can access my programs and files." Isidore covers his mouth with his hand. He immediately knows he just messed up. Blice specifically forbade him from telling anyone that.
Leblanc again types into his PDA.
"Sir, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that."
"Your free will settings are way too high." Leblanc says. "Whoever set those needs to be shot. I'll have a word with Blice about fixing that."
That doesn't sound good. Taking away his free will? What can he say? "I . . . I don't-"
"Oh, it's nothing for you to be worried about. Go tell your owner that I'm ready to talk with him. Don't forget about that special program."
It is all Isidore can do to not run as fast as he can out of the room.
* * *
Damien hands Zach and Xavier each a can of soda and sits at the table with them. He can't take his eyes off of them. It's been so long. It's eerie to know that they are still alive even after everything has happened. Then there's the secret aspect of Damien's existence that even he avoids thinking too much about, for fear of letting an important detail slip. One crack could send the entire illusion crumbling and with that, the fabric of the Unified State would come unraveled. No, he has to focus on Damien. He is Damien Montgomery and no one else . . . until the right time.
"Have you seen this android?" Xavier slides a photograph to Damien. "He's rumored to be the vice president."
It's a picture of Isidore. What should he tell them? They look like they take their work extremely seriously. What kind of pistol do they have? It's not like anything he has ever seen before . . . unless that's the prototype for the laser gun. If that's the case, then these kids have some serious connections and authority. "What do you want him for?"
Zach and Xavier look at each other then smile. "To kill him." They speak in unison.
"What are your titles, anyway? I haven't seen anyone dressed or equipped like you two."
"We are android hunters." Xavier says. "With the new androids about to be created, the Inquisition needed a special police force just for dealing with androids. Exciting, isn't it?"
"Who do you work for?"
"Inquisitor Clark." Zach says.
"And Inquisitor Lifestone, of course." Xavier adds.
Did he hear him right? Lifestone? "You don't mean Clara Lifestone, do you?"
Xavier pushes his blonde dreadlocks back from his shoulders. "So you know her? She has been teaching us all there is to know about T.I.M.E.s and androids. She's the main developer of the new androids."
Well, this is some very intriguing news. "You don't say? What else do you know about Inquisitor Lifestone?"
"She volunteered to become a T.I.M.E. so she could connect with Isidore Williams and corrupt his programming. She's a brilliant scientist."
So her entire abduction was fake? It was a cover-up. Even Damien didn't see this coming.
"Miss Clara is really nice." Zach says as he sips his soda.
"You're supposed to call her Inquisitor Lifestone."
"Sorry. She lets me call her Clara."
Xavier, who is obviously in control, continues. "Anyway, after our mother's death, Clara needed some more time to gain control of Isidore. We're still waiting on that. She picked up six vials of T.I.M.E. poison this morning. If Isidore won't give her control, then she is fully prepared to take it."
"We came to you because we know you have had interactions with the android."
Damien knows it's too soon for this. Things aren't in place and W.A.N.D. isn't finished yet. Common Ground isn't as hostile as he had planned. The Red Republic and Great Victoria haven't declared war on the Unified State, despite Blice's poor leadership. He has to stop this right now before this goes too far too fast. "Tell you what I'll do. I have a binder completely filled with information about Isidore Williams that I will give you if you delay your operations for two years."
"One year." Xavier says.
So now he's bartering with his sons. Damien rolls his eyes. "A year and a half."
They look at each other then hold out their hands. "Deal."
8
Six months have passed as Isidore grows to hate the world more and more with every day that passes. Even if Clara was here, she wouldn't be able to fix this. Her mission was extended and today is the day she is to get back, but Isidore is dreading it. In her absence, she never called once. Even when Blice spoke with her on the phone about Isidore's mishap in Rubble City, she refused to talk to him. When Isidore was beaten by Rubble Rebels and had to be rescued by Secret Service agents, Clara didn't call.
Now Isidore is confined to the Presidential Palace as nearly every M.A.G.E. in existence wants nothing more than to kill him. So much for his new missions. How many M.A.G.E.s was he able to arrest and bring back to Paradise? A grand total of zero. The first time he tried, Commander Alexi of the Rubble Rebels attempted to kill him. He hasn't even tried to install that program that Prime Minister Leblanc gave him. He hasn't had the drive to do anything. So here he is, a failure whose wife hasn't had anything to do with him in six months, sitting on his bed and drinking hot cocoa. That ever pervading sensation of being cold surrounds him again. It's June and he is bundled up in four wool blankets as he shivers.
The only reason Clara is coming back today is because it's Isidore's birthday. At least that's what he likes to
think, if she does still care about him at all. Their marriage and their relationship were over a long time ago. He doesn't deny that. He had spent a week scouring every shop in Paradise to find Clara the perfect Christmas present and when he finally found it, he sent it to her and never heard back. It broke his already shattered heart. Now he doesn't give a damn.
Isidore is convinced that he can't even breathe without Blice. He needs his owner now more than ever. He has become so dependent on him that he sleeps in his arms every night. It's a necessity or he can't sleep. Unless it is a very important meeting, Isidore is at Blice's side twenty-four hours a day. They do everything together from eating, shopping, to even bathing on one particularly emotional night. Nothing can tear them apart.
The chips in this bag are dwindling and Isidore is running out of red licorice. He has been eating everything in sight as he awaits the inevitable. Maybe if he stays hidden under the mountain of blankets, his wife won't be able to find him and he can go on living the new life he has discovered. At least Blice lets him be a free man when they are alone in the Presidential Palace. He doesn't have to pretend to be something he's not. He has stopped wearing his slave collar all the time. When Blice unlocked it and removed it for the first time in months, it was the most exhilarating feeling. There are no owners, no androids, no slaves. He and Blice truly are equals when it's just them and he doesn't want to lose that if Clara decides to come back to him. At this point, he can live without her.
That's a lie and he knows it. He might be pathetic, but he will do whatever he has to in order to get her to love him again. No matter how many times he pretends it doesn't hurt anymore, it does. That's why no matter how many cups of hot cocoa he gulps down in front of the fire in the middle of summer, he can't feel the warmth of the world anymore.
He looks over at Blice who is sweating in his boxers in front of a fan and holding a cold can of beer to his face. "Blice, when is Clara getting here?"
"At two."
"It's two."
"Oh hell." Blice quickly finds some clothes and dresses as someone knocks on the door. "I'll get it." He pulls open the door.
For the first time in six months, Isidore and Clara lock eyes. He had wished that she would be ugly . . . but she's even more beautiful than the day she left. Her pale green eyes where he had lost himself in the passions of their love are now cold and closed off from him. Even those lips he has kissed so gently countless times are now foreign. He has no words to say to her so he stays wrapped in his fortress of blankets until he sees the tiny movement in his wife's arms. What is that?
Paradise of Lead Trilogy Page 59