Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2)

by Liza O'Connor

  Amanda smiled and tucked the card safely into her purse, just as the recital began. The first to play were the young, scholarship musicians, and Amanda wondered which musician was Andrew’s son, for over half were black males.

  “Cello in the middle,” Adam replied.

  She wanted to ask him how he’d known what she was thinking, but then realized he had basically been born in her thoughts, so it was perfectly natural he could correctly predict what her brain would ponder.

  When they finished, she stood up and applauded enthusiastically. She was very annoyed by all the seated people around her. The young students were superb. They deserved a standing ovation. She was pleased to see that other than the dead weights in the center, most people stood and gave them their due. She glanced back, trying to find Andrew.

  “Andrew is in the balcony, first row, left side.”

  She spied Andrew, with tears streaming down his face, applauding his son.

  She sat down as the youngsters left and the next set of musicians entered. These were students from the music program, some of whom she recognized from Dr. Branson’s musical theory class. Yet to her ear, while more precise, they lacked the passion of the young musicians. When they’d finished, she applauded but did not stand.

  Jules leaned toward her and spoke over the applause. “I see you have an ear for quality, or the lack thereof.”

  “I thought the young musicians quite remarkable for their age,” she replied.

  “They were indeed. However, most will falter before reaching adulthood. I’ve seen it happen so often that I refuse to stand for anything other than greatness. The promise of greatness is not sufficient.”

  Given how hard he sat down in his chair, she decided his rule was a blessing to anyone seated beside him. She smiled at her observation, then realized Jules was watching her intently.

  “You are recalling I stood for your performance last week. Before your head swells, you should know I also stand when my leg cramps.”

  She laughed at his effort to take back an unintended compliment. “I didn’t know you stood at my performance, but I do hope your leg is better now.”

  His eyes narrowed a bit, but he seemed pleased by her answer. “How old are you?”

  She was about to reply a woman never tells, but Adam recommended she tell him. She leaned in and whispered her age in his ear. She could see both surprise and disappointment in his eyes. She gave him a slight shrug of her shoulders and returned her focus to the next set of musicians entering. This group of six were all quite good and each had a moment to shine as a soloist. When they finished, Amanda rose but applauded with less enthusiasm than she had for the youngsters.

  She noticed Harold and Geoffrey stood this time. They evidently thought the performance brilliant. She didn’t understand why the music had left her untouched.

  When she sat back down, Jules leaned in and whispered, “They are the product of mathematics. Technically perfect, but still lacking. Do you know what they lack?”

  “Imperfection,” she replied, then feared he would think she was being a smart-ass.

  He smiled. “Exactly!” He seemed very pleased with her. “You have an excellent ear.” He turned her head sharply to the left so he could see her right ear. “Is that a hearing aid?”

  “Tell him I’m security,” Adam advised.

  “No, it’s so I can hear my security person.”

  Since the next set of musicians were ready to start, he couldn’t question her further on the matter, and she hoped he’d forget it entirely.

  She could tell by the drumming of his fingers that he was agitated. However, she thought it might be the musicians and not her answer. One of the cellos was not tuned properly. When they finally finished, she remained seated. Oddly, everyone else except for her and Jules stood and applauded.

  “Is everyone deaf?” Jules demanded of no one in particular. Then he glared at her. “And why are you clapping?”

  “Because the cello stopped.”

  He smiled. He opened his mouth and then closed it. “After this recital, I’m taking someone out for a celebration. I want you to come as well.”

  “Say yes,” Adam instructed.

  “All right,” she replied.

  Satisfied, he turned to the man on his left, who had just sat down, and demanded, “Why are you applauding that nightmare?”

  Only two of the musicians left the stage and, unfortunately the off-key cello remained.

  “Damnation,” Jules cursed, and leaped from his seat, barreling down the row, crushing feet and knocking people in the backs of their heads. Once freed from the row, he stormed to the edge of the stage and demanded the cello come to him. After a very brief and one-sided conversation, the red-faced musician returned to his seat and re-tuned his cello to blend harmoniously with the other two.

  Jules returned to his seat with supportive applause from quite a few in the crowd, so evidently they hadn’t been the only two tortured.

  Mark Hammer entered the stage and the audience instantly burst into applause. He accepted it with ease as he turned to his musicians and asked for a second tuning. Satisfied, he walked to his mic, set low for his violin, and leaned over to speak. “Does it sound all right to you, Mr. Bavard?”

  Jules smiled and nodded that it did.

  Amanda could tell the moment Mark noticed her, because his smile widened. She found it impossible not to return his smile. On stage, all his egocentric self-adulation seemed appropriate.

  With a soft count and a nod to the three musicians, Mark took control of the audience and gave them pleasure so fine that at times it was almost painful. The emotions he evoked astounded her senses, leaving her with no will of her own. Her soul was open for him to pull, torment, and enrapture as he wished.

  She had no idea how long he played. She lost all track of time, but when the music ended, she felt exhausted, yet cleansed, and new, as if spiritually reborn.

  Everyone rose and not only applauded, but a great many Bravo’s could be heard above the raucous noise. Jules yelled in her ear, “Finally, something worth standing for.”

  Mark Hammer took eight bows, and finally Dr. Wilson said he’d play once more for those who wished to stay. Everyone sat down, and those who had been attempting to leave scampered back to their seats.

  Dr. Wilson had a second mic brought out onstage. “I’m about to spring an unexpected surprise on one of my students, but hopefully she will forgive me.” He then looked at Amanda. “Amanda, will you come up here onstage, please?”

  “Go,” Adam ordered at the same time Jules grabbed her arm and propelled her down the row. Given no choice, she made her way onto the stage, where Dr. Wilson met her.

  “I want you to sing The Windsong,” he explained.

  “They don’t want to hear me!” she protested as Mark approached, smiling at her. “They want to hear him,” she added, then grinning at Mark.

  “And they will. He’s going to accompany you.”

  “Accompany me? That’s like having God do my laundry!”

  “Or Adam answer your phone?” Adam said in her ear. “I don’t mind, and he doesn’t either, so shut up and sing.”

  Mark touched her arm. “Don’t worry. You know the music. You can do this.”

  She sighed and agreed. Applause burst forth when she nodded. She was surprised—she’d expected the audience to boo her away.

  “Should we tell them we haven’t practiced this before?” she asked Mark as he led her to the center of the stage.

  “This is going to be so beautiful that they would just think us liars,” he assured her, and positioned her in front of the mic. “Can we get a mic check, please?” he asked, then suggested she sing a bit of the beginning as a warm-up.

  Amanda had never warmed up with two thousand people watching, so she began cautiously, but when Mark’s hand settled on her back and Adam assured her that she sounded great, her tone strengthened and her body relaxed.

  “Sounds good to me,” Mark declared.
Many in the audience agreed as well.

  She had always been accompanied by a piano before, and the beauty of Mark’s violin captivated her so much that she had to force herself to focus, else she would have missed her entrance. She had no idea how she would compete with his mastery, but discovered she didn’t have to. Her voice blended perfectly with the violin into a single voice of inhuman beauty and depth.

  When the violin dropped into its own voice, which harmonized and occasionally clashed against hers, she did not falter. She remained true, certain Mark would do the same. The final note she held forever, hating to release it, not wanting this perfect moment to end. She held it for so long that it slid into silence with no apparent end, and happily with no loss of tone.

  The audience stood in unison, and the applause was deafening. Mark took her hand and walked her around the microphones and bowed with her, then kissed her hand and presented her to the audience.

  The response of the audience was far beyond anything she had experienced at her own recitals. She was completely overwhelmed, and was thankful Mark was there to lead her off the stage. Once backstage, admirers mobbed him. She would have slipped away and found Andrew, except he held tight to her hand even as he accepted hugs and kisses from the myriad girls who encircled him.

  Unable to leave, she reined in her newly born infatuation and observed to herself Mark probably exceeded Chad’s dating numbers by double. Hell, he could have twenty girls tonight if he procured a supply of Viagra.

  A warm hand settled on her back. She looked up in time to be kissed on each cheek by Jules. Upon discovering she was presently attached to Mark, Jules said something to him, and Mark released her hand, but not until he’d kissed it and smiled at her.

  Jules led her out to the audience, where Harold, Geoffrey, Dr. Wilson, Mrs. Wilson, and Dr. Branson stood in a group. When she and Jules arrived, Harold spoke. “My dear, I apologize for ever believing you had improperly been given a grant.”

  “Don’t apologize to me! It’s Dr. Wilson and Dr. Branson you gravely insulted,” Amanda replied.

  Harold turned to Wilson and Branson, who were smirking. Before he had time to apologize, the university president approached the group.

  “I’m waiting,” Wilson declared, and nodded to the president.

  “I have evidently ‘gravely insulted you’ for implying you had placed Miss Carrington among the grant recipients for the wrong reason. I should not have judged the situation without hearing her, and I was completely wrong to suggest you and Dr. Branson would ever be swayed by anything other than your love of music.”

  The president smiled, then leaned forward and held his hand out to Amanda. “It was a pleasure to hear you again, Miss Carrington.”

  Amanda smiled and shook his hand.

  He then looked at Harold with disappointment. “That was a very nice apology, Harold. I’m only sorry it was necessary.”

  “As am I,” Harold said, then looked at Mrs. Wilson. “I suppose I owe you an apology as well.”

  Mrs. Wilson glared at him. “Don’t bother. I’ve never liked you, and I finally have a good reason that not even Sam can chide me for.”

  Dr. Wilson kissed his wife’s temple and smiled. “In this matter, I will never scold you again,” he promised.

  Mark arrived and shook everyone’s hand except for Mrs. Wilson, whom he kissed on each cheek. “You look very beautiful.”

  “Well, if you will excuse us, gentlemen, we have a late dinner reservation,” Jules declared, and tried to lead Mark and Amanda away, but Dr. Wilson stopped them.

  “Amanda, give me your word you will not sign anything without having a lawyer read it first.”

  “I promise.” He looked so worried, she added, “I have a very good lawyer who would never forgive me if I did otherwise.”

  “May we go now?” Jules asked with obvious annoyance in his voice.

  Chapter Ten

  As Amanda, Mark and Mr. Bavard left the concert hall, her driver, Andrew, stepped forward.

  “Oh, my driver,” she exclaimed, and explained to Andrew they were going to a restaurant.

  “I’ll take you,” Andrew insisted.

  “I’ll see Miss Carrington home,” Jules assured him.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s my job to drive Miss Carrington about and see her safely home. The limousine is very comfortable.”

  Jules sighed and nodded his agreement.

  Upon stepping outside, Jules stared at the Bentley parked at the curb. Once they climbed in, he eyed Amanda. “Clearly you are not a starving musician.”

  “No,” she admitted.

  He sighed and looked at Mark. “I had planned to take you out to celebrate a fine performance before heading off to Europe. However, I must apologize, because I really need to learn a bit more about Miss Carrington’s history, and I don’t dare allow her to head off to Europe without determining whether I wish to represent her.”

  “Well, if you’re asking me to bow out so you can interrogate her alone, I’m going to refuse, because I want to know more about Amanda as well,” Mark replied. “After all, we are going to be roommates.”

  While Amanda was shocked by his claim, Jules appeared ready to blow his top.

  “Aren’t there other girls in the twelve going?” he growled.

  “There are, but they all hate her. Everyone hates her...except for me.” He looked at Amanda. “What we talked about before still stands, but unless you decide to move out of the dorms and find your own lodgings, I’m your roommate.”

  “I advise you accept his offer,” Adam said.

  She shrugged as if she didn’t care. However, she noticed Jules wasn’t particularly happy with her response. “I’ll talk to Dr. Wilson,” he promised her.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “Mark is correct. They do hate me. Assuming I have a say as to what goes on in the room and who’s allowed to enter, I have no problem with Mark as my roommate.”

  “Absolutely,” Mark assured her.

  “I’m sorry, Mark, but under the assumption that all goes well tonight and I sign Miss Carrington, I don’t want you screwing with her head.”

  “Jules, I have no intention of screwing with Amanda’s head, nor do I think she’d allow that to happen.”

  Jules turned back to Amanda. “You are not to fall in love with him.”

  Amanda smiled. “I promise to resist.”

  “You say that now, but he hasn’t tried to seduce you yet.”

  “Actually, I tried to seduce her after the first time I heard her sing,” Mark admitted. “She’s proven herself fully capable of resisting my charm. If you want her focused on her music, then I am without question the best person to have her room with.”

  Jules looked at her in shock.

  “He’s too young,” she explained.

  “Do you have proof you’re thirty-seven?” Jules demanded.

  Amanda handed him her driver’s license.

  He tossed it back. “So why are you in college learning music this late in your life?”

  Replying was very easy, since Adam told her exactly what he wished her to say. “While I’ve always loved music, my father decided I lacked a voice, and thus I was ordered to find a different career. So I became the wife of a rich man and lived a very dull life. He was considerably older than I was, and when he died, I changed my identity and started over. And that information cannot leave this car,” she added.

  “What was your husband’s name?” Jules asked.

  “I cannot answer that.”

  Jules sighed. “You’re thirty-seven years old. I cannot present you as an ingénue with no history. You have to have a history to account for those years!”

  “Well, the truth isn’t going to help in this situation. If you want me to have a credible history, then make it up. Honestly, I’ve no more qualifications than an ingénue.”

  “Maybe you should simply consider changing her age to something younger,” Mark suggested. “Hell, she doesn’t look more than twenty-five.
”

  Jules frowned. “How many people actually know you’re thirty-seven?”

  Adam thought this an excellent solution, and assured her all electronic data in the school’s records was being changed, as well as her bank accounts, social security, tax and motor vehicle records.

  “I’ve told you, Mark, Dr. Wilson and Claire.”

  “That’s it? Then how did Harold know you were older?”

  “I’m not sure, because I never heard the rumor. But he didn’t actually know my age.”

  “I may be at fault there,” Mark admitted. “I was trying to explain why it made sense for a freshman to receive a grant. I said Amanda far exceeded the age of a freshman and needed to get on with her career.”

  “This could work,” Jules said. “But it might blow up in our faces, since your passport and driver’s license will still have your true birthdate.”

  “I can get those changed.”

  Both men stared at her in shock.

  “I have friends who can do that,” she assured them.

  “She does have friends,” Mark said as he hugged himself.

  “Then we’ll handle it that way. As of now, you’re twenty-five years old. So how do we explain what you’ve been doing over the last five years?”

  “How about private training with a Russian master?” Mark suggested. “Everyone seems to be training with unknown instructors these days.”

  “Doskoff,” Jules said. “He died last year, so he can’t refute your claim, and he was known to teach students on the sly if they had sufficient money, which clearly you have. You will need to study up on the man so you’re familiar with his habits and philosophy. Fortunately, he loved talking about himself, so there is considerable documentation. I’ll bring you some material tomorrow.”

  “Tell him not to bother,” Adam said.

  “I can obtain the information.”

  “Amanda, deception is not something to be taken lightly,” Jules advised.

  “I know, and that’s why I want my person to do it. Collecting the data could lead to an unwanted trail and questions about why you wanted the information. My person can collect it without anyone knowing. He’s also very good at putting material together so I can learn it.”