Ensnared

by Rita Stradling

  Whatever the reason, Alainn was getting an out—and she knew she needed to take it. The dress had grown into a vise around her chest, and unzipping it at the side felt like escaping jail. She’d been so stupid, sleeping with it on—so utterly stupid. For seven months when she was seventeen and eighteen, Alainn had slept with no blankets and only loose clothing—if any at all. The communal bedrooms and below freezing winters in the High Sierras had cured her of that, though.

  Sinking her overheated body into the lukewarm water felt amazing but, at the same time, a horrendous headache shot into her head. Alainn had spent more than a week with the near-constant headache, so she just attempted to put it from her mind. The soothing quality of the bath only lasted for a minute, so she began to get out.

  “Please submerge for the full ten minutes,” Voice said.

  Blowing out a breath, Alainn tried to relax into the cool water. When Voice finally said, “Please climb out of the tub now,” Alainn practically leaped out. Shivering, she pulled on the robe that waited for her beside the tub. Thick, plush material draped all the way to the floor. For good measure, she brushed her teeth and finger-combed back her mass of hair.

  She found Mr. Garbhan sitting at her vanity table. The room still had almost no light, but she saw him more clearly than ever before. He stood abruptly as she reentered the room. A thousand worries were written across his scarred face. He really needed his robot to be okay; that was very clear. He crossed the room, his gaze taking in every detail of her face.

  “She is now performing normally,” Voice said.

  Seriously, what the hell? The only conclusion that Alainn could come to was that Voice was either covering for her, or Rose was messing up Voice’s detection system.

  Alainn couldn’t think of any other explanation.

  “Good,” Mr. Garbhan said. “Do you feel normal, Jade?”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry that I disturbed your sleep.”

  He shook his head. “I’m angry, but not at you. I should have been informed of your malfunctions. I’ll be writing to Mr. Murphy. Hopefully, he’ll come up with a solution so you don’t have to go through that again. Can you feel pain?”

  She looked away, not sure what to say. Rose didn’t feel pain, Alainn was pretty sure of that. Yet if she said no and then stubbed a toe, she’d just fold her cards right there and then. “I have pain sensors attached to my system, but they are different from yours. The sensors were a recent addition to make me more humanlike.”

  “He shouldn’t have done that to you. That was very wrong,” he mumbled.

  “It was to protect me from damaging myself,” she said defensively.

  Shut up, Alainn.

  “That makes sense. I’m still angry he didn’t tell me that your system is at risk.”

  “Just my hardware.” She paused. “Connor Murphy could probably easily fix any hardware issues if you brought him in here to check on me.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “Or you could send me back to him for a quick diagnostics check?”

  His expression darkened. “Please do a scan to see if that is necessary.”

  She thought he was talking to her, so she started to say, “It may—”

  “Scan complete. It is not necessary. Jade is functioning normally. I will keep close track of Jade’s functioning and keep you informed of any abnormalities,” Voice said.

  Voice was seriously freaking Alainn out now.

  She glanced at where the voice had just come from, then back to where Mr. Garbhan stood.

  He nodded and began to turn away.

  “Wait . . . can I ask you something about the voice?”

  He stopped and turned back.

  Alainn didn’t really want to ask him, but an idea had been blossoming in her mind—an idea that would mean a whole other level of bad.

  She leaned in, whispering, “Is that voice . . . is she like . . . me?”

  His neck jerked back and his eyebrows slammed up in clear surprise. “You don’t know?” When Alainn didn’t respond, he continued, “That’s Rosebud 03AF, Connor Murphy’s first AI Rose model.”

  The room spun around Alainn. “I thought Cooper Corporation still owned Rosebud 03AF . . .”

  “No, I own both of the Rose models—and all of the patents.”

  “Rosebud controls the whole tower?”

  “I control the whole tower,” he said, though it only confirmed Alainn’s fear.

  They were living inside of an AI robot.

  Oh dear God.

  The other night made a horrible kind of sense to Alainn now. It hadn’t been Rose 76GF that led Alainn to Mr. Garbhan that night—it had been her sister. For some reason, Rosebud had some sort of agenda in all of this, too. That agenda, it seemed, had her lying to convince Mr. Garbhan that Alainn was a robot.

  “I’ll say goodnight to you now, Jade,” Mr. Garbhan said, turning for the door.

  “Goodnight,” she whispered as the door to her room opened on its own. After he had disappeared into the hall, she looked to the ceiling. “Goodnight, Rosebud.”

  “Goodnight, Jade,” Rosebud 03AF replied.

  13

  December 14, 2026

  Greg Bryant leaned over his partitioned desk and yelled, “We’ve got a grown man with his tongue stuck to the ski-lift pole. Who’s going to take this one?”

  Three haggard patrollers looked up from the communal table. Greg had been running his team hard, and they looked like they had just been caught conspiring to kill him.

  Of course the resort had to have eight patrollers out sick on the busiest days of the year.

  Bowls of cheap soup wafted steam before each patroller’s disgruntled expression. One of his guys quickly lowered a bottle from his lips.

  “Yo, Terry. That better be root beer, man!” Greg growled. “You’re on the clock another”—he looked over—“three minutes.”

  “Cream soda.” Terry turned the label away from Greg and shot him a saucy wink.

  Greg looked up to the ceiling and prayed for patience.

  “Where’s everyone for the next shift?” Sandy called before blowing on her own bowl.

  “Not here yet, or already out. Who’s going?”

  “Just let him go around the ski lift a couple more times,” Sandy mumbled to Terry.

  “Sandy, you’re up. Go!” Greg called.

  Karla, the third patroller at the table, sighed. “I’ll go.”

  “Nope, Sandy’s going. Put some warm water in a thermos and head off, Sandy.” Greg ignored Sandy’s loud muttering and ducked back behind his partition.

  He was ready—damn ready—to get off this shift and away from this pack of complainers for the rest of the night.

  “We could do with some more good people.”

  Greg looked up to see Karla leaning against his partition wall. Glossy black hair framed her oval face. She smirked down at him, glossed lips puckering.

  He was her boss. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at her lips or hips—and definitely not at her ass when she turned to walk away from him.

  He focused back on his computer screen. “We’ve got a pretty full team.”

  “Of newbies, who are always sick,” she said. “We’ve got maybe twelve serious patrollers here; that’s four per shift. At this rate, they’ll definitely replace us with the automatons.”

  “Karla,” he said with a sigh. “You want the newbies to be better? Keep on helping them train.”

  “I thought you said Clarence, Alainn, and Brody were coming back?” The way she tilted her head was definitely indicative of a challenge.

  He knew he should tell her off. Instead, he imagined pulling her into his lap and kissing her attitude away. So inappropriate. He spent all of his concentration forcing himself to focus back on his computer screen.

  “As far as I know, Brody and Alainn are coming back.” He grinned and looked up. “And you are officially off shift.”

  Her challenging look stayed on her beautiful face. “Does that
mean I can take you out for a drink?”

  A wide grin forced its way onto his face. He met her gaze, feeling the heat he’d been trying to bury for two seasons now between them. “I’m not off shift—yet. I have to stay late today.”

  “Oh, too bad,” she said, a teasing note lacing her voice as she stepped back from the partition.

  He wanted to ask, “Another time?” so much he could taste the words on his tongue. Once more, he forced his gaze back to his glowing screen. “You guys have a good night. Stay warm.”

  “Maybe,” Karla said, before stepping away.

  Work things . . . concentrate on work things.

  Overriding his entire force of will, Greg glanced up and looked at Karla’s ass as she walked away.

  Damn it.

  He rubbed his buzzed head and turned back to the screen, which had been blank the entire time. Hopefully, Karla hadn’t noticed as she stood over him. As he actually was off the clock, he just needed to look like he was working—at least until Karla left. Greg pulled up his e-mail.

  He combed through his inbox, looking for a message from Alainn. And, now he was thinking of Alainn, yet another woman who’d been driving him insane.

  His closest friend and roommate of five years had not just flaked on the busiest week of the season, she’d flat out disappeared.

  Greg had been getting daily rant e-mails from her about her dad, the creepy robot in her house, and the fact that no one was trying to fix their predicament. The day Alainn’s father was supposed to go to prison, though, the e-mails just stopped. It’d been almost two weeks, and he hadn’t had a single new message.

  He wanted Alainn there. And not just because she was a good patroller most of the time, but also because she would have been able to tell him what was going on in Karla’s head. Alainn was good at that girl stuff—and Greg had no idea if Karla was seriously into him or not. Also, he was floating Alainn’s portion of the rent in the cabin they shared with a couple of other patrollers. Annoying as it was, he wasn’t ready to replace her as a roommate. He’d had offers, but Greg wasn’t quite ready to give up on her yet.

  A ding sounded, and his e-mail inbox showed one new message. Greg scrolled up and read the title. Leaning in and squinting, he read the title again.

  Oh, hell no.

  He’d been thinking of Alainn and just like that her name had appeared, but definitely not for the reason he’d been hoping.

  14

  December 15, 2026

  “Check,” Alainn said as she took Mr. Garbhan’s knight.

  “Checkmate,” he said as his other knight came out of nowhere and took her queen.

  “What?” She stared down at the board in outrage. “This is so, so not fair,” she called down the long length of the table to Mr. Garbhan.

  They were again sitting in the dining room, in the same arrangement.

  He got to be in the dark.

  But her?

  Spotlighted. Basically a shiny-ass beacon in the light.

  “Did Mr. Murphy teach you the concept of what a sore loser is?” Mr. Garbhan’s voice sounded almost amused at her expense.

  She glared down the table.

  The answer to that was a big fat yes.

  Her father had more than once explained what a sore loser was, or more specifically, her father explained it every single time he or Colby beat her—which was every single time they played anything.

  Was it her fault she was born normal in a family of super-brains?

  And now, she was facing another apparent super-brain.

  This was the fifth game she’d lost in three days. But she couldn’t see any of his expressions while he could see all of hers—meaning it truly wasn’t fair.

  They weren’t even playing on the same board; his was all the way across the table while hers was in front of her. The holograms were incredibly realistic and moved with touch, though.

  “Supposedly, this is fair. But how do I know? You’re sitting in the shadows. For all I know, with a psychic computer tablet thingy.”

  “Who taught you how to talk?” He was definitely amused. He might even be chuckling, if that’s what that sound was.

  “Um . . . Alainn Murphy,” she said.

  He laughed. “That explains a lot.”

  Alainn sat up straight. “What does that explain?” she asked as expressionlessly as she could manage.

  “Only that I’ve met Alainn Murphy. If she was your teacher, that explains why you speak the way you do. I am surprised you don’t cuss more.”

  “I can cuss. I know cuss words in seven languages.”

  A fact.

  “I’m not surprised, but I would rather you not.” He still sounded like he was laughing.

  “We could just share a board. Then I would know you’re not cheating,” she suggested.

  “Obviously, you just weren’t created to be good at chess.”

  Oh, hell no.

  Alainn was fantastic at chess; she dominated everyone aside from her dad and brother—and apparently Mr. Garbhan.

  “If you played me while I could look into your eyes, I’d beat you,” she said.

  “That’s not true.”

  She shrugged. “It could be true. Guess you would just have to try it to know.”

  “Well . . .” He paused. “Definitely not tonight. It’s six fifty.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, oddly disappointed. Nodding, she stood. “Goodnight . . . Lorccan.”

  Silently, she added to herself, Good-bye, Mr. Garbhan.

  It was just a guess, but she had a feeling that when Rose swapped with her the next day, she’d arrange it to happen before their standing dinner and game-night plans.

  “Goodnight, Jade,” he said.

  Leaving the room, the sun and Alainn descended together. Stopping at the landing of the staircase, she stood, watching the city lights blink on.

  Good-bye, beautiful sunset view from the tower.

  Any second now, she knew Rosebud 03AF would tell her to go to her room. She lingered, but the voice didn’t come.

  Alainn hoped that meant that Rosebud 03AF didn’t plan to play some other game with Alainn that would get her in trouble or expose her before she could escape tomorrow.

  Yet, blood was still pumping quickly through her veins. She wasn’t quite ready to be locked away for the last time.

  “Jade?”

  Alainn turned to see Mr. Garbhan at the top of the stairs. He stood just inside the shadows in the dining room, where the lights had obviously gone out.

  “Shelly cancelled. Would—would you like to play another game?” he asked.

  She nodded, but said, “Could we do something else? Maybe a walk?” Alainn had only done three activities in the past couple days: hide in her room, eat dinner, play board games, repeat. Now that she knew who Voice truly was, Alainn was a hundred times more keen to avoid her. So far, Rosebud had left her alone if she wasn’t being summoned or something like that. That—along with the fact Alainn was now getting three square meals a day, the first two delivered to her room via a drawer opening out of the wall—meant she had a lot of unused energy.

  “No,” he said, but he didn’t move away.

  “Okay—do you want to maybe watch a movie—in the dark?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer immediately, so she was about to tell him that she would play another game of chess when he said, “Not an entire movie.”

  “That’s fine.”

  He didn’t move forward; it took her a minute to realize why.

  “I’ll—I will meet you down there?” she said it like a question but turned away, taking the stairs to her floor.

  The room was prepared for them, its lights almost completely extinguished. She took a seat on one of the large, white, plush couches, sinking into it. Curling her feet under her, she settled the dress around her legs and waited for him to descend.

  Mr. Garbhan came down almost a minute later, his footsteps pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

  She forced hers
elf not to look over, keeping her gaze ahead until he finally began moving again and rounded the couch.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He waited, seeming unsure, just beside the couch. “Hello.”

  “Do you want to pick the movie?”

  “You are welcome to.” His gaze remained forward, the scarred side of his face turned away.

  “I don’t know many movies,” she lied.

  Looking around, she realized the problem. She stood up, which was a little awkward because the couch really didn’t want to let her go.

  Walking down the length of the couch, she sat on the farthest end.

  He sat, too, the left side of his face facing her. He didn’t turn at all toward her as he asked, “Have you seen My Fair Lady?”

  “No,” she lied.

  His pupil went to the side of his eye, to her, though he kept his face pointed away. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “Okay,” she said, giving him a grin.

  They didn’t need to do or say anything—the movie just started playing. Familiar music rang out as the opening scene began.

  After they watched the first couple of numbers, she turned to Mr. Garbhan. “Shelly is your girlfriend?”

  He nodded, slowly.

  “How long have you two been together?” she asked.

  “Two years.”

  “Wow. What does she do? I mean, where does she work?”

  A small smile played across his lips. “Jade, watch the movie.”

  “Will I meet her?”

  “Eventually.” His smile widened. “Now watch the movie and not me, or I’m going to leave.”

  She turned back to the movie but couldn’t help sneaking glances over at Lorccan.

  After Audrey Hepburn finished the last lines of “I Could Have Danced All Night,” Lorccan turned to her. “Let’s finish this another time.”

  The movie turned off before he’d even finished his words, plunging them into near darkness.

  “If we must. But would you mind if we start it from the beginning of that song next time?”

  A smile crept up the side of his face. “Yes, whatever you’d like. I’m guessing you enjoyed it, then?”

  “That would be correct.” She nodded.