“The software for the glow-in-the-dark feature just came in,” Carlie said. She held up a box. “Want me to install it in your chair?”
Damian shook his head.
“I’m pathetic,” he said. “I’m watching the company I built go down in flames.”
“Stop blaming yourself, Damian,” Carlie said. “It’s not going to change anything.”
“I can’t believe I blew nearly twenty thousand on this chair,” Damian said. “That’s like a dying man spending twenty thousand on his coffin. Pathetic.”
“You’re handicapped,” Carlie said. “There’s a difference.”
“Don’t ever say the word ‘handicapped’ to me again,” Damian said. “I hate the sound of it now. The rest of the world can say it to me. But I don’t want to hear it from you.”
“Alright,” Carlie said. “I won’t say it. Madrick Castleshank called. He wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll talk to him now,” Damian said. “Close the door behind you, Carlie.”
Damian pressed a button on his touch screen. The phone system dialed a number and rang until a voice picked up.
“Madrick Castleshank.”
“Hello, Madrick,” Damian said.
Madrick chuckled.
“How are you doing, Damian?”
“Oh, I’m just fine,” Damian said. “I am a little confused about the announcement I saw today regarding your company though.”
“Well, it’s a free market, isn’t it, pal? Frontier’s been refining its technology in the artificial limb industry for years. We’re ready to tackle a full-bodied artificial human being, the likes of which you’ve never seen before.”
“If that’s the case,” Damian said. “I wish you the best of luck. But android technology is a whole different ballgame than making fake legs, Madrick. It takes a level of skill. Finesse.”
“Oh, I think I’ve got all the skill and finesse I need to play a good ball game,” Madrick said. “At least I’ve got the use of my own legs. Good night, Damian. Sleep well. I look forward to bankrupting your company.”
Damian heard a dial tone on his touch screen.
Chapter 8.
Despite his rigid demeanor, Jorg was impressed by the display of wealth Madrick Castleshank sent to greet him at Boulder Municipal Airport. A long, sleek, actually gold-painted jet glided down the runway towards him as he waited inside a private hangar.
His single suitcase was taken from him by a discreet flight attendant and he was ushered on board the private jet. There was nobody else in the spacious cabin except for him.
He sank into a leather chair and exhaled imperceptibly.
An attractive flight attendant approached him.
“Welcome to Mr. Castleshank’s private plane, sir. Would you like a drink or something to eat?”
“A sparkling water, please,” Gustaf said.
“Right away, sir,” the attendant said. Despite her outward smile, inwardly she felt a little bit chilled by the cold, uninviting atmosphere that surrounded Gustaf. She walked away from him quickly.
Gustaf leaned against his chair as he felt the plane vibrate beneath him in its take-off. He produced a small computer tablet from his carry-on bag and began typing on it.
In a bathroom filled with steam Carlie relaxed in a marble bathtub and took a sip from a glass of wine. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck.
She did not often stop to think about how shocking it was that she had gone from being Damian Foster’s executive assistant to his live-in caretaker in a matter of years. The thought was still hard for her to accept, months after the fact. Her salary had gone up, of course, but nearly all of her time was sacrificed for Damian’s sake. Her social life had all but vanished.
“Carlie.”
Carlie sat up in her bathtub, the waters spilling over the sides of it. Through the steam she could see the outline of Damian’s wheelchair a few feet away from the tub.
“Damian! Can’t you see I’m kind of naked?”
Damian waved away her nudity.
“So what? I used to see you naked all the time, if you remember. You’re probably not looking for compliments, but you still look great.”
Carlie gritted her teeth.
“What do you want?”
Damian rolled his wheelchair a few inches closer. Carlie sank down in the water to cover more of her body.
“I just had an idea,” he said. “A way to get the board off my back. Why don’t I pick someone myself to take over some of my job duties? Make the first move. It’s better for me to choose someone I want and create some kind of ceremonial and meaningless title for them, than to wait for the board to spring someone on me I can’t stand.”
“Like a dummy Vice President?”
“Exactly,” Damian said. “You’d have to tweak the title a little, since we already have a vice president, but you get the idea. Can you line up a list of candidates and we can start interviewing as soon as possible?”
“Sure, Damian,” Carlie said. “Can I finish my bath now?”
“Take your time. But when you’re done I want you to come to my room and give me your opinion on this new car I’m having delivered from Japan.”
“Fine.”
The noise and crowds of New York City were a slight shock to Gustaf after his long sojourn in the Colorado mountains. He wheeled his suitcase behind him and kept a close eye on the chauffeur who had waited for him at LaGuardia Airport and was now moving briskly ahead of him towards a waiting limousine. Gustaf bumped into many people without bothering to apologize. He kept his head down and the brim of his hat pulled low over his face.
When he at last reached the car the chauffeur took his suitcase and placed it in the trunk.
Gustaf sat thankfully in the backseat of the car and rolled up his dark window immediately.
The car pulled away from the airport and towards Manhattan. Gustaf did not look out of the window but instead took his computer tablet out once more and buried himself in it.
“Only fifteen minutes to the Frontier Building, sir,” the chauffeur said.
“Good,” Gustaf said. “I hate traffic almost as much as I hate crowds.”
Chapter 9.
Mandelie leaned against Luke’s shoulder as they sat on her couch watching a hockey game on television. Luke was casually dressed in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt. His eyes were fixed on the game.
“You really like hockey, don’t you?” Mandelie said.
“I find it more interesting than some other human sports,” Luke said. “It requires speed and skill, as well as physical impact. Basketball is interesting as well. Jake and I are going to start playing it in a court near his home.”
“Maybe one of these days we can go watch a real live hockey game,” Mandelie said. She buried her face in Luke’s shirt and inhaled his cologne.
“You always smell so good. How is that possible?”
“I don’t perspire,” Luke said. “But you know that.”
“Yeah,” Mandelie said. She leaned closer against him. Luke placed his arm behind her back and kissed her on the side of her face.
“You’ll stay tonight, right?” Mandelie said.
“Of course,” Luke said.
The Frontier Corp. Building struck Gustaf as horrendously, lavishly ugly. It offended his sense of design and he did not look closely at it as he was met at the front doors by Bernard Card.
Bernard extended his hand.
“How are you, Mr. Jorg?”
“I am fine,” Gustaf said. He followed Bernard through the doors and through a huge lobby paved in dull red marble stones and with stained glass windows on the walls. Actual gargoyles protruded from the walls and a fake apple tree sat in the middle of the lobby.
“Who designed this building?” Gustaf said.
“Oh, Mr. Castleshank drew up the plan himself,” Bernard said, with some pride in his voice. “He’s very well traveled, you know. He visits Europe regularly and draws his inspiration from a lot of
things there.”
“Apparently,” Gustaf said.
They ascended an elevator that clanked loudly all the way up to the fifty-third floor, the top of the building. Gustaf said nothing and Bernard checked his watch every other minute.
“The other recruits have already arrived,” he finally said. “You will meet them as well. We have set up a lunch for everyone in the reception area.”
Gustaf was not overly pleased by piece of information.
The elevator doors opened and the two of them walked into a large reception area in the middle of two corridors extending right and left. The reception area was carpeted with lush carpet the color of a rotten, exploding orange. The walls were painted a pale, sickly green and hung with pictures of cowboy hats.
There were four other people already gathered in the room. Gustaf scanned them all quickly. One was a tall, attractive red-haired girl dressed in a suit that was slightly too masculine, and low heels. One was a short, square-faced man wearing a colorful silk tie, a white shirt, and pants. One was a plain-faced dark-haired girl wearing a black dress and a sour expression. The fourth was a tall, angular man who was passably handsome and stood a little too closely to the red-haired girl.
“Everyone, this is Gustaf Jorg,” Bernard said.
The red-haired girl gasped. She came forward towards Gustaf.
“You’re Gustaf Jorg? I can’t believe it. I’m Carel Beflern. You’re like my hero!”
She seized Gustaf’s hand before waiting for him to give it, and pumped it energetically.
Gustaf jerked his hand back when he had the chance to do it.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
He exchanged quick handshakes with the other three people as well. The dark-haired girl’s name was Mary Alsin, the square-faced man’s name was Harris Tamber, and the tall angular man’s name was Jozef Gimble.
“The lunch and Mr. Castleshank will be here shortly,” Bernard said, looking at his watch again. “In the meantime, why don’t we go around and just give a brief introduction to ourselves?”
He looked at Carel.
“I’m Carel,” Carel said. “I’m thirty two years old and a robotic engineer for the U.S. Navy.” She smiled, aiming her smile at Gustaf.
“Mary Alsin,” Mary said. “Spent four years as a robot designer for Ford Motor Company.”
“Harris Tamber,” Harris said. “I’m a transplant from Ireland. I was working on plane design there. Don’t have much experience making robots, but I was told there are strong similarities.” He laughed nervously.
“Jozef Gimble,” Jozef said. “I’m from Denmark originally but I’ve been living in Maine for years. I’m a prosthetics builder for one of the biggest hospitals in Maine.”
“Gustaf Jorg,” Gustaf said. “I’m from Sweden but I have dual citizenship in Sweden and the United States. I’ve been designing androids all my life.”
Harris laughed again nervously.
“Right, we’re supposed to call them androids right? Not robots.”
“A true android is worlds apart from a robot,” Gustaf said.
Carel looked at him admiringly.
Luke stirred slightly and opened his eyes, his sleep state interrupted. Mandelie lay beside him, her hair fallen over her face. Luke ran his hand over her bare back and pulled her blanket over her more closely. He watched her breathing for a few moments.
“I know you’re looking at me,” Mandelie said, without opening her eyes.
“I can’t help it,” Luke said. He pushed her hair from her face.
Mandelie felt the heat from the electric current running through his body. She moved closer to him, pressing her bare skin against his, and felt him respond.
The lunch Madrick Castleshank had ordered for the recruits was good, at least, Gustaf had to admit that much. He sat on an orange chair eating a plate of caviar and lettuce cups, while watching Madrick introduce himself to Mary Alsin.
Madrick looked even more like a cartoon character than usual in a denim jacket, wide-legged denim pants, boots and a gem-encrusted cowboy hat. His cold, calculating eyes clashed with the gaudy hat in an unsettling way. Gustaf had taken the eyes in when he had shaken Madrick’s hand, and been unwillingly impressed.
He hardly noticed Carel drifting over to him and sitting down beside him.
“What do you think of Madrick?” she said, in a low voice. She bit into a fried shrimp.
“I don’t think anything of him,” Gustaf said. “He gives the orders. We follow.”
Carel smiled. She seemed not at all affected by Gustaf’s curt tone.
“I’ve been following your work ever since you started, you know,” she said. “You don’t know what a thrill this is for me.”
“Do you wish me to autograph your arm?” Gustaf said.
Carel simply laughed.
“You do kind of live up to the rumors, don’t you? But I don’t mind. You can be completely rude to me. I’ll still be one of your biggest supporters.”
Gustaf looked at her in irritation.
“We’ve got one more candidate,” Carlie said. She and Damian had been interviewing prospects for the position of Vice President of for nearly two hours. Damian looked tired and annoyed.
“She spent four years as the president of her own tech company in Arizona and another four as the assistant to the president of Global Communications. She’s thirty one and originally from Pennsylvania. Her name is Elena Marchet.”
“Alright,” Damian said, in an apathetic tone. “Bring her in.”
Carlie opened the door and a tall, slender woman with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes wafted into the room, wearing a dark business suit and heels. She smiled at Damian, who looked immediately more energetic.
“How are you doing?” he said, as she sat in the chair in front of him and Carlie.
“I’m good, Mr. Foster,” Elena said. “It’s an honor to meet you. You’re kind of a legend in the tech world.”
Damian laughed.
“What makes you think you’re qualified for this job?” Carlie said, cutting in abruptly.
The interview lasted a half hour and even Carlie could not find anything unsatisfactory in Elena’s responses.
When she was gone Damian turned to Carlie.
“Hire her.”
“You just like her because she looks like a swimsuit model,” Carlie said. “She’s not much more qualified than any of the other candidates.”
“I don’t care,” Damian said. “I want her.”
Chapter 10.
While the other recruits were enjoying desserts, Gustaf had been slightly surprised when Bernard had tapped him on his shoulder.
“Mr. Castleshank would like to see you privately,” he said. “Come with me.”
Gustaf followed Bernard down the left corridor and all the way to the very end, where Bernard knocked on a door and opened it.
Gustaf found himself in a vast office with high windows and ceilings. In contrast to the decorations outside the office was sleek and more in accordance with Gustaf’s sense of design. It was filled with heavy standard black furniture – a black desk with two black chairs in front of it, a black couch pushed against the wall. The only out of place decoration was a pair of deer antlers that hung over the desk.
Madrick was sitting behind his desk, talking on his phone. He hung up as Bernard and Gustaf came in.
“Leave us, Bernard,” he said. Bernard left.
“Have a seat, Gustaf,” Madrick said, in a congenial enough voice.
Gustaf sat down in one of the black chairs.
“First of all, I’m very glad you came all the way out here,” Madrick said. “I intend to make this experience worth your time. Those other people out there are all accomplished, qualified people. But they’re peanuts compared to you. So I want to talk at you, one to one. Get your take on things. How immersed in androids are you?”
“I’ve made a lot of good androids in my life,” Gustaf said. “But even my best-made android can’t
compare to one android in existence. He’s the gold standard of android engineering. His name is Luke and he was constructed by a little-known lab called Argonaut Laboratories. He is, in short, a miraculous creation.”
“Argonaut Laboratories?” Madrick said. “Hmm.”
Gustaf took out his computer tablet and began pressing buttons on it.
“I’ve been studying Luke for years ever since I learned of his existence, gathering all the information I could about him and deriving my own conclusions from that information. My dream is to examine him up close, but that may never come to be. However, I’ve learned enough about Luke’s design to apply it to my own works. Sometimes I am successful, sometimes less so.”
“Tell me what you’ve learned,” Madrick said, his eyes narrowing intently.
“Luke is unique among androids in that his android technology is infused into human material,” Gustaf said. “He is made completely of organic material, just as you and I are, though he has a metal skeleton in place of a bone one. He has human sensations relating to the five senses. He can eat and enjoy food, drink water, appreciate sounds and smells. He can even have intercourse. In some ways his senses are even more amplified than ours are, by his android technology. Certainly his physical strength is much more than a human being’s. His android technology is buried in every molecule and atom of his body, through electric currents that move constantly through him and meet at consoles placed in certain areas of his body. Those consoles control his movements, his data and memory storage – which is vast and limitless – his organic body functions, and his energy supply. But they work in tandem with the electric currents that are constantly filling the atoms and molecules of his body with information and sensory knowledge, as well as supplying him with incredible physical strength and endurance.”
“Wow,” Madrick said. “Can an android like him feel pain?”
“He feels a sensation that is equivalent to pain,” Madrick said. “Like what a car would feel if it was given consciousness and one of its wheels was shot off. A sense of shattering loss and disruption that would impact his electric current flow in an adverse way.”
The Android Chronicles Book One: The Android Defense Page 14