Prototype D (Prototype D Series Book 1)

by Jason D. Morrow

  “If I were to make an educated guess, I’d say there isn’t a dead body under that sheet,” Phil said with a grin. “But it sure does look like it.”

  Roger shook his head and forced a smile. “Could be a dead body. Things get crazy around here sometimes.”

  Hazel was horrified. What was Roger saying? Why would he say that it could be a dead body? That was a sure way to get Phil to talk to someone about what he saw.

  She stepped forward, laughing awkwardly. “Oh, Roger, you’re funny.” She jabbed an elbow in his ribs as she walked by him.

  Phil wasn’t smiling once she stood directly in front of him.

  “So, how’s the cleaning?”

  One of Phil’s eyebrows cocked and he shook his head. “Ma’am, I realize that I’m not supposed to know a lot of the things that I know around here. But I bet you’ve got a robot under that sheet.”

  “Robot?” Hazel laughed again. “Why would I have a rob—”

  “I’ve worked in this facility for a long time,” he interrupted. “I know more about what’s going on here than either one of you.” He shook his head. “The only way a man can keep his job in a place like this is to keep his head low and plead ignorance. As far as I’m concerned, you’re wheeling around a birthday cake. I don’t care if it’s a robot, a corpse, or a horse’s head. It ain’t none of my business.”

  Hazel was at a loss for words. This was the most either of them had ever spoken before, and suddenly she felt comfortable enough that she could tell Phil everything she ever knew and the information would never leave the hallway. Of course, he could be bluffing.

  “Okay,” she said. “Well, have a good day.”

  “You too, ma’am.” He looked at Roger and nodded as he started walking away, rolling a mop bucket in front of him.

  Hazel watched Phil until he turned the corner and was out of sight.

  “That was the guy you were afraid of?” Roger smirked.

  “That situation could have gone a lot of different ways,” Hazel said. “I think it just went as well as it could have.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Hazel’s computer screen flashed to life and a voice spoke from the speakers. “You brought him here? What’s going on?”

  Why wasn’t this odd to anyone else? Des pulled the sheet off of himself, stood from the gurney, and walked toward the computer, curious and excited and fearful all at the same time.

  “Why is it speaking?” Des asked.

  “It?” the computer said. “I, dear robot, am no more an it than you are. And I know quite a bit more about your situation than you do, so it would be wise to treat me with some respect.”

  “Take it down a notch, Esroy,” Hazel said. “He doesn’t know much yet.”

  “Well, he better learn quickly if he wants to survive,” Esroy said.

  Des looked at Hazel and she smiled. “Des, meet Esroy, my first creation.”

  Des looked back at the computer screen—a surface filled with icons and folders. “What am I looking at exactly?”

  “Well,” Esroy said, “you’re looking at a computer screen. A mistake people make all the time.”

  “What do you mean people?” Hazel asked. “I’m the only one you ever see.”

  “I was talking about you,” Esroy said. “Besides, there are others that come in here. Phil was just in here last night looking through your desk again. One of these day’s I’m going to start talking to him. He would never set foot in here again.” Esroy let a small chuckle escape through the speakers.

  “No, just watch him,” Hazel said. “Make sure he doesn’t find anything too good.”

  “Wait just a second,” Des said. “Esroy has a consciousness?”

  “Yes,” Hazel said.

  “Like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, he’s in a computer.”

  “So are you,” Esroy said. “Yours just happens to have arms and legs and can move around as you please. I, on the other hand, am a prisoner in my own body.”

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”

  “This is weird,” Roger said. “Fascinating, but weird.” He shook his head. “I should get back to the lab. Hazel, whatever you do, don’t get caught with Des. If Bracken finds out about him, then we’re both toast.”

  “He won’t find out,” Hazel assured him.

  Roger let out a long sigh from his nose as he stared at Des.

  Des wasn’t sure if he should thank Roger, say goodbye, or just sit there without saying anything. Roger had gone from being an enemy who was trying to terminate his very existence to a man who saved him and gave him a second chance. Of course, it was Hazel who had convinced him to do so. If anything, she should be the one Des thanked.

  “I’ll doctor the reports,” Roger said. “Let me know what you do with him so we can stay on the same page.” He started to walk out of the room, pulling the gurney behind him. “It won’t be long before Bracken will realize Des’ body is gone. You should consider a clean transfer so I can put his body in storage.”

  “Okay,” Hazel said.

  Roger left the room, looking Des up and down. Des didn’t know what to think about the situation.

  “How long before he gives in?” Des asked.

  “What do you mean?” Hazel asked.

  “He seems fickle like he might be tempted to tell Bracken,” Des said. “How long before he gets nervous and talks?”

  “He won’t,” Esroy said. “Not unless he’s threatened by someone which I doubt since it will look like you’ve been destroyed.”

  “But how do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “But how?”

  Hazel jumped in. “Because he has a crush on me.”

  Des looked at her sharply. “What?”

  “Roger has had a thing for me ever since I got here. He’s always trying to impress me or whatever, but honestly I can’t stand him.” She shook her head as if the thought was just too much and she wanted the conversation to be over quickly. “He’s not going to say anything.”

  “I don’t like the idea of Roger holding a gun to my head. What if this Bracken finds out I’m alive? You will be in trouble.”

  “We’re safe for now,” Hazel assured him.

  “Well, until Bracken finds out I’m not in the lab, right?” Des asked.

  “We’ve got some time. It’s against protocol for me to have you in here, but if you’re caught I think I can convince him that I needed you close to test out the emotion levels.”

  “It’s severely against protocol,” Esroy said.

  “What is the protocol then?” Des asked.

  “I have to test everything I do on Esroy,” she answered. “Then, when everything is calibrated correctly, I alter a clean copy of Soul the way he wants it. Then, it goes into you for testing.”

  “And when Bracken approves it, it’s off to the incinerator for you,” Esroy said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because they’ve been working on a new model,” Hazel said. “Superior to you, the new one is fully armed with guns and explosives. It can fly. It’s stronger. You were built to make sure the basic functions and mechanics were working properly. They determined you would be replaced long before you gained a consciousness.”

  “So, Roger is building a super version of me?”

  “It’s already built.”

  “And this version is supposed to function without fear,” Esroy said. “Don’t forget that.”

  Hazel sighed again and leaned against the wall. “Yes. Without fear.”

  “I don’t understand,” Des said.

  “You know about the Soul program,” Hazel said. “Search your archives. The information is there.”

  There was a brief moment of silence while Des read all there was to know about the program. In a flash, he read up on Hazel’s history with the program, the declaration that she was a prodigy—a bright hope for the future. “I see,” he said. “You’re the creator of souls in machines.”r />
  “That was one headline,” Hazel said with a shrug. “But everyone else looks at it as just a really good computer program. I look at it as true life. Anything programed with Soul is alive. To take that away is murder.”

  “You really believe in your product,” Des said.

  “It’s so much more than that, Des. You are so much more than that.”

  It was strange for Des to hear that everything he felt was the result of a complex computer program. Talking about it in such a way made him seem less real—artificial. But he didn’t feel that way.

  “You’re feeling what I felt in the beginning,” Esroy said. “You start to question yourself, your existence. Eventually you’ll come to accept who and what you are and that it doesn’t matter what other people think about it. Of course, you might not make it to the time of acceptance. Bracken is probably going to destroy you.”

  “Esroy!”

  “I’m just stating the probability.”

  “Sometimes you talk too much.”

  Des’ head jerked to the right when a short chime sounded out from the speaker next to him.

  “Ah, Hazel,” Esroy said. “There’s a message from your father.”

  Des looked at Hazel. Her head was pointed up at the ceiling and she closed her eyes. “What does he want?”

  “He says something urgent has happened at home. He wants you to come by when you can.”

  “Tell him I’m busy.”

  “I think he knows you’re busy. He hasn’t contacted you in a long time.”

  “Tell him I’m sick.”

  “Just a note here,” Esroy continued, “urgent is typed out in all caps. Doesn’t that mean it’s actually urgent?”

  “Do you think it’s actually urgent?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I really don’t want to go over there. I just saw him a few days ago.”

  “Thirty-seven days ago to be exact.”

  “Sometimes I hate that you have a computer brain.”

  The room was silent for a few seconds. To Des, everything had slowed down drastically in a matter of minutes. He’d gone from fighting for his life to hiding away in a small office in the corner of a military research facility. There were so many questions floating through his mind, but he felt that asking too much right now would annoy Hazel. He didn’t want to be a bother, but there were some things he just had to know.

  “What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

  “Stay here,” she said. “Maybe for the night while we figure out what to do. Then, we will figure a way to get you out of here.”

  “Where will I go?”

  Hazel shook her head. “I’m not sure. Roger is right, we will probably have to do a clean transfer and put you on a hard drive for the time being. If we don’t, Bracken will discover that you’re missing at some point.”

  Des didn’t like the sound of that and he knew he let it show on his face.

  “I just don’t know Des. This whole thing is a disaster because of Bracken.”

  “I’m sorry that I messed everything up,” Des said.

  “You acted like anyone would,” she said. “Me and Esroy included.”

  “I don’t know. I might have acted differently.”

  “Shut up, Esroy.” Hazel walked away from the wall and toward the door. She pulled out a set of keys and then opened it just a crack. “You two can talk, but you need to keep it down. I don’t want Phil to get any ideas and start snooping around in here, so I’m going to lock it, okay?”

  Des nodded.

  “Listen. I know you’re scared and there are a lot of weird things happening to you right now, but you have to stay in here.” She looked toward the window. “Don’t do anything stupid and try to leave. I will be back.”

  “Where are you going?” Des asked.

  Hazel glanced at the computer screen across the room. “My father has something urgent to tell me. I should go see him.”

  “You truly are busy,” Esroy said. “Bracken has given you two days. Don’t you think it would be wiser to stay and work on the program?”

  “You can get started for me, right Esroy?”

  A short pause. “I suppose. Where do you wish for me to start?”

  “Help me figure out the algorithms for eliminating fear without screwing everything up. I’ll be back in a few hours. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  She closed the door behind her and locked it. Des knew he could break down the door if he wanted to. There was nothing keeping him here but himself. But for some reason he trusted Hazel and she said she would be back.

  He sat in the chair and stared at the computer screen. Esroy’s voice sounded through the speakers. “So, what’s it like to have legs?”

  9

  The house was just down the street from where Hazel now stood but it felt like a mile. It looked worn and dirty like no one had taken care of it for the last decade. It used to be a house of four that now only gave shelter to one man and a single robot that was too happy for its own good. Throughout her trek across the city she kept thinking about what this urgent matter could be. She wondered if he was working on some new invention that he thought would be the next greatest thing and he needed her to tell him if it looked right. Maybe there was another strange noise in the house and he needed her to figure out what it was. Whatever the task this time, she was growing tired of these urgent visits.

  She walked across the street slowly. Coming here almost felt like going to a different planet—like she was leaving Mainland completely and stepping into the wild and dangerous Outland that was forbidden to her and everyone else. Her father’s house was close enough to the Outland that she could actually see the southeastern perimeter from this distance. At least he didn’t live in the northeastern section of Mainland. That was where most of the violence and conflicts had emerged recently. Outlander violence in the southeast hadn’t been a problem since about eight years ago.

  She just hoped that conflict didn’t make its way down again. Someone like her father wouldn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t even be able to run away if he had to.

  The house was set away from the street by a good fifty meters or so. It sat between two houses along a row of many that looked about the same and were in similar condition. Her father’s was noticeably worse considering the state of his yard. It was deep into the spring season and the grass and weeds had grown almost a foot high. Only a small path trampled by the feet of delivery men kept the place from looking completely abandoned. Though this was better than a lot of places—being one of the few that still had grass.

  At night a passerby would never see a light on. During the day, no one would ever see a man sitting on his front porch waiting for his mail. Occasionally a window might be open, but there would be no one sitting beside it. To say the least, her father was reclusive, though she never blamed him for being so. She couldn’t think of any person who would have more of a right to shy away from the outside world than her father. The Outlanders had taken everything from him and the Mainlanders did nothing to make things better. Her father hated them all: the Mainland government and the Outlander savages.

  She found herself in front of a chipped gray and white fence that was halfway covered by weeds and grass. Up close, the house looked dilapidated—one of those places that might be better off demolished rather than repaired. The thought made Hazel feel sad and a little guilty at the same time. She had grown up here. This neighborhood had once been alive and had flourished with families, though it was never beautiful and green like it was before the Great War. Back then children played together, parents were friends with each other and had meals together. Many even worked the same jobs.

  Then the Outlanders came in and took everything away in one night. One night and their entire world had collapsed. Those who didn’t die, moved to another part of Mainland. Those who didn’t move or couldn’t move remained to see their neighborhood turn into a shantytown where crime went unnoticed except by the victims. A major road had
been partially built directly through the middle of the neighborhood a couple of years before in an effort to give the few buses a more direct route to the train station. However, for some unknown reason, construction had been abandoned and the neighborhood was left with an ugly section of loaded concrete and orange tape.

  She stood for a moment in front of the house, her thoughts racing wildly. A year or two ago she might have done the same thing, only emotions would have gotten the best of her. She might have cried at seeing the house the way it was or at the thought of her father inside all alone. But tears didn’t come to her anymore. Not during memories of the past at least. She could think of her younger sister and how they used to play in the yard, just a few feet from where she stood now, without the need to look away. The thought of her mother setting out a picnic blanket and reading them stories in the spring sunshine didn’t force Hazel to stare at her feet, swallowing to try and avoid the streams that insisted on trickling down her face.

  When had she become so hardened? Or had time simply healed those wounds? Obviously they hadn’t healed completely or she wouldn’t find it so difficult to come back. But she didn’t think it was the memories that kept her from visiting. It was the man that shut himself inside. He was never mean to her—Hazel couldn’t remember a harsh word ever spoken by her father. He had only shown her love. But his spirit had been broken on that night eight years ago. Hazel had lost the same family, but it was different for her. She had been spared and thus had a life ahead of her. That man no longer had that chance. There was an emptiness inside Hazel. But how much emptier was her father? To lose his wife and a child he made with her was too much. To lose a sister and a mother was too much too, but Hazel turned it into fuel. She had been given a second chance—the gift of life. She wasn’t about to throw it all away by living in sorrow.

  She moved along the fence until she reached the short gate that more or less leaned against the side, halfway blocking the entrance. It had broken off its hinges years ago and no one had bothered to fix it. Hazel wondered if her father even knew about it. She stepped through the crack of an opening and walked along the downtrodden grass that led to the back porch. She didn’t look up from her feet, but simply counted her steps until she got there.