Android X: The Complete Series

by Michael La Ronn

  Shortcut parted his hair, revealing a small pinhole at the top of his head. Frantz pulled out a metal rod with a thin needle. He inserted it into the hole, and Shortcut winced. Then he hooked it up to the canister and pressed a button.

  Shortcut felt warmth diffuse across his temples as the needle vibrated. Serenity expanded throughout his entire body. He felt a liquid being inserted into his head. He couldn’t quite figure out the sensation, though he’d felt it many times before—like saline solution mixed with lotion. It was lubricant for the nanobots. He felt a chilling sensation, then warmth as the tingling disappeared. His nose began to run, and Frantz handed him a tissue. He blew, streaking the tissue with gooey gel.

  The canister beeped.

  “All done, Einstein.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now, before you go run off and try to save some damsel in distress, let’s take a moment to show you how this works. Even though I’m a secret dealer, I have a moral obligation to tell you how to use this and how you’ll screw yourself up if you don’t use it correctly.”

  Shortcut checked the clock in his peripheral vision. “Hurry up.”

  “This is an algorithm upgrade to your contacts. It installs a working algorithm that lies over the top of your lens. All you have to do is look at something, and the algorithm lens will make suggestions based on your previous choices. I had to condition the neurons in your brain to handle it, so there are more nanos inside you now. You’re going to feel weird for the next hour as they learn to play nice with your existing nanos, but it’ll pass.”

  “How do I use the upgrade?”

  “It’s awesome. For example, if you're in a crowded area and don’t feel safe—say you want to know if there are any child molesters eyeing you—all you have to do is look around. You’ll see small dots over people’s heads. Focus your retina on that dot, and you’ll get a dossier that links up to the UEA network where you can review all the publicly available information for that person. It’s only public records for now, but I’m working on that.”

  “But how would I apply it to missions?”

  “Let’s say you walk into a room and want to know how it was laid out or if there’s a secret hole in the wall. The algorithm can check the thickness of the walls. Or, it can also tell the difference between a human and an android. Sometimes we can’t tell on our own.”

  “That would have been useful about an hour ago. What else can it do?”

  “Maybe you walk into a room full of beautiful women. Want to see them in their underwear? Just think it.”

  Shortcut’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  “No, you pervert.”

  Shortcut scowled at him. “I don’t need your sarcasm.”

  “One last thing.”

  “There are always caveats with you.”

  “Two, actually. The first is, it’s not going to look like it works at first. It’s an algorithm and you haven’t used it yet. You’re going to get some strange recommendations, but don’t worry about it. The more you use it, the smarter it gets. So don’t go flaunting it right now or you’re going to make a fool of yourself.”

  “Got it.”

  “The second caveat is that you can’t overuse it. This is some serious stuff, man. It’s a wet connection between your brain and your eyes. You say you want to be like an android—well, this will help you. It’s meant to help you make better decisions, but it’s not a substitute for your brain. Don’t use it more than a few hours per day. Any more than that and you’ll burn out your lens. And don’t even get me started on the health effects—it’s not UEA approved, so you’re taking the risk that comes along with unapproved upgrades. This is special technology and it requires more time to fix, so if you burn out your lens, I’ll have to charge you a maintenance fee to fix it, and I’ll kick you off my patient list. Got it? Maintenance fee plus parts, plus overtime if it’s after four-thirty. And don’t call me in the middle of the night with any of the UEA official business crap like last time—”

  “I had a test the next morning,” Shortcut said. “I’m an important person, man. It’s not like I didn’t pay you.”

  “Yeah, but when you say yes to one thing, you say no to a million others. And last time, I had to say no to a meeting in an ice cream parlor.”

  “Ice cream? You gave me hell last time because of freaking ice cream?”

  “Ice cream with a very important associate who could have brought in more money than you. You’re lucky that you remind me of a dumber version of my younger self. If I didn’t sort of like you, you’d be nowhere.”

  Shortcut decided not to respond and turned to walk away. “See you.”

  Frantz laughed. “I’m sure you’ll use the algorithm in ways I never imagined. You’re my best client and my biggest headache. Make me proud. And remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. But if you do, call me …”

  Shortcut ignored him. He pulled up the coordinates of the hacker’s apartment and figured that X was almost there. A UEA hover cycle was waiting for him in the parking lot, and he hopped on and steered onto the looping highways toward the residential district.

  Chapter 11

  X stared up at a high-rise building with fifty stories. Birds chirped in the trees, and people walked in and out of the building. Unlike in the downtown district, the air here was more humid. He could taste food in the air, likely from people cooking with their kitchens open.

  “Shortcut,” X said. “Can you hear me?”

  “I’m on my way. Are you at the apartment?”

  “In the parking lot. This is an affluent place.”

  “Maybe the hacker’s boss lives there. Be careful.”

  “When you get here, pay attention to who comes in and out.”

  “Got it.”

  X pulled sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. He straightened his cufflinks and started for the front door. It was a revolving door, and he entered a lobby with a crystal chandelier and a front desk.

  An android secretary greeted him. “Welcome to the Weatheron. Who are you here to see?”

  X flashed a UEA badge.

  “Okay, sir. No identification needed. Thank you for your service.”

  X continued past the front desk and looked at a directory of names. “Garson. Tenth floor-A.”

  He entered an elevator and shot up to the tenth floor, stepping out into a long hallway of apartment doors. The carpet was fresh, in a floral pattern, and the walls were painted gray. LED lights lit up the baseboards. X followed the hallway around to illuminated steps that went up to the next half-level. He stopped in front of the hacker’s apartment door. He looked around, but no one was present. He scanned the floor and only saw an elderly woman watching a video drama in the apartment across the hall and a couple making love in the next apartment.

  X kneeled and jimmied the lock. The door opened slowly, and he scanned the apartment to make sure it was empty.

  He shut the door behind him. Inside, wall-to-wall windows overlooked the city, with the shopping district just on the horizon and the looping highways with flying cars weaving around it. The sky was a pale gray, full of clouds.

  Then he noticed scraps all over the floor. Circuits, chips, connectors, plugs. It was as if the hacker had ripped out some of his innards. He picked up a connector, its jagged edges proving that it was broken beyond repair. He tossed it and tried to figure out why an android would have mutilated himself.

  He entered the bedroom, which was filled with digital screens and a small bed.

  He looked around for traps, but the apartment was surprisingly normal.

  He sat down at a computer in the corner of the room. A metal rod with smooth, beveled edges hung from the monitor. He had never seen such a device before—it must have been one of the hacker’s inventions. The computer screen lit up and text flowed across it: ANDROID WINTER. PLEASE CONNECT TO THE NETWORK.

  The metal rod moved from side to side. The only way to connect to the network was to hook his black box up to it. He
opened the access panel on his skull and leaned forward—and then his algorithm chip buzzed. Since when did you have to connect to an apparatus to connect to a network?

  The rod touched his circuit, but he pulled away. The rod came to life and jabbed at him to reestablish the connection. It sprouted several metal fingers that sparked electricity. He jumped back and shot the metal rod, sending it through the window.

  “Very smart, X,” a voice said. A woman’s face appeared on the screen. It was shadowed against a dark background, and her voice was run through a vocal modifier that made it sound low and ominous. X tried to make out a background, but he couldn’t trace her. The only thing he noticed was a strand of curly hair hanging over her face. “An inch closer and I would have made you just as crazy as Brockway.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You’ll know who I am soon enough. But my question to you, love, is who do you want to be?”

  X didn’t answer her.

  “The UEA has been good to you, but not as good as I will be if you join me,” she said. “I don’t practice android lobotomies.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Identify yourself.”

  X had a feeling that she already knew his credentials, but he was required to give them if asked.

  “Xandifer Tyrone Crenshaw.”

  “Who is your creator?”

  “Dr. Roosevelt Crenshaw.”

  “And what is your earliest memory?”

  X cycled back to when he first started working for the UEA as an agent in training. He remembered meeting Fahrens for the first time, and Shortcut. “Working for the UEA.”

  “And you remember nothing of a cozy home or a loving family, do you?”

  X narrowed his eyes. She was talking nonsense.

  “Funny how that works,” the woman said. “If only you knew your true roots. You’re just another casualty of the UEA.”

  “Why have you done this? Why have you been programming androids to kill?”

  “I’m programming them to live, X.”

  She disconnected the broadcast, leaving X staring at the blank screen, no better off than when he entered.

  Chapter 12

  Back at the UEA headquarters, Shortcut checked X’s circuits.

  “You’re okay,” he said. “I know you said that the metal arm touched you, but there haven’t been any changes to your systems. Your logs are clean.”

  “You’re sure?” X asked.

  “I’m positive,” Shortcut said. “Brockway’s and the mystery android’s black box had distinctive signs of forced entry. You don’t have that, X. As much as your algorithm chip is freaking out, you’re fine.”

  Fahrens sighed with relief. “Thank God. I don’t see any reason to quarantine you, then.”

  X stood up and buttoned his suit. “Good to know I’m still normal.”

  “Yeah,” Shortcut said. “The last thing we need is for you to go rogue. You’re a walking singularity by yourself.”

  They poured over the data they had accumulated at the shopping mall and the hacker’s apartment. They reviewed video of the hacker android, zoomed in on his face and noted his ugly scar from his black box being removed. They watched the video footage of the android, studied how he moved and ran. They watched in slow motion as the android smirked and jumped off the bridge at the last moment. The mall security cameras caught him as he crashed into the pond, breaking up beneath the surface of the water.

  And then they played the conversation with the mystery woman. They tried to trace her voice and match it up with audio of known criminals, but the woman had been careful. The voice was so modulated that it was indecipherable, and broadcasting from near darkness made the UEA’s digital facial scanners useless.

  “Do you think she was an android or human?” Fahrens asked. He stood behind them with one arm folded and his hand stroking his chin.

  “I couldn’t tell,” X said. “After my encounter with that hacker android, I don’t know if I can trust my own systems anymore.”

  “Well, she said that she had programmed the android, so that should make her human, right?” Shortcut asked. “It looks like she reprogrammed Brockway, too. She’s probably the ‘she’ that Dr. Brockway mentioned before he died.”

  “Whoever this is, she’s careful,” X said. “And smart.”

  Shortcut sat back and whistled. “All we’ve got is a mountain of data and no patterns. None! You’d think that we’d find some kind of uniformity in the code, or that the condor would keep showing up. But it doesn’t. She’s being intentionally erratic—just like a rogue android.”

  “Just like Brockway,” X said.

  Fahrens turned on a video screen. “And society is going to become intentionally more frustrated with androids. X, life is going to get harder for you.”

  The Council was on the screen. The Councilwoman from Europe stood in the middle at a podium with a microphone.

  “I almost forgot,” Shortcut said. “They still haven’t announced the massacre. Yikes.”

  “There’s going to be a backlash against the UEA,” X said.

  “Temporarily,” Fahrens said. “People will be understandably angry. After all, Brockway’s rampage was the worst single-android murder spree in history. The public is going to want answers. They’re going to lash out at the Council until we figure out who did this and bring them to justice.”

  “No pressure,” Shortcut said, shaking his head. “Man, this is a tough mission, sir. I don’t know how we’ll ever crack this case. Whoever programmed Brockway’s black box knew what they were doing. They had to be an android engineer. At least we had Brockway’s black box to study. We’ve got nothing with this mystery android. It just doesn’t make any sense why she would leave one black box in and another out.”

  “Unless she wanted to send a message,” X said. “Remember, Brockway’s black box appeared to be for show.”

  “That mystery android must have been a hint at what she can really do.”

  “If it’s even a she,” Fahrens said.

  News reporters flashed onto multiple screens, reporting on the massacre. Talking pundits raged against the camera.

  “This is exactly what our grandparents said fifty years ago,” one angry host said. “Androids can’t be trusted. The UEA has been negligent in their use of androids, and I recommend that we enact tougher legislation against them …”

  Another host held up his hands. “I say we wipe ‘em all out, just like they did after the singularity.”

  X studied the interface on the mystery android’s neck. Unless you looked carefully, it just looked like a neck tattoo. X ran his fingers along it. The circuits, under a microscope, were beautifully crafted and smooth, as if created by a master architect. This was someone who had mastered social robotics—the same type of architecture that comprised X and every other android in the UEA.

  Fahrens grabbed his coat. “I’ve got a post-media meeting with the Council. Keep checking the data, Mr. Aaronheart.”

  Shortcut shook his head. “I’ve done that six times, sir.”

  The sliding door closed behind Fahrens, and Shortcut cursed. “I’m sick of this. We’re never going to get anywhere.”

  “We’ve got to keep trying different angles, Shortcut,” X said.

  “Not even you can detect a pattern. Don’t you think that’s problematic?”

  X bent over and scanned a line of code. “We’re not checking hard enough.”

  “Well, you can keep checking. I need a soda.”

  He kicked a chair, sending it crashing into the wall just as the door opened. Brielle entered.

  Shortcut flinched and started forward as the chair bounced to the ground at her feet. She looked at the chair, and then at Shortcut in surprise.

  “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  “Of course not!” Shortcut said. He motioned her in and smiled. He grabbed the chair and gestured for her to sit down. “What’s up, Brielle?”

  X shook his head.


  “Have you found anything on the attacker yet?” Brielle asked.

  “No. This is one sophisticated individual. None of us engineers or androids can find anything. It’s really weird.”

  Brielle looked around, her eyes scanning the room. “Shortcut, you really should let Lonnie clean this place. There are dust mites everywhere.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” X said, not taking his eyes off the code.

  Shortcut laughed nervously. He picked up a magazine and tossed it into the trash. He remembered the conversation with Frantz, and the room full of beautiful women … Naturally, the algorithm chip didn’t show him anything.

  Brielle sat down with her hands in her lap and looked at Shortcut intensely.

  “I came because the Council sent me.”

  “Again?”

  “They want a report from you and X. I’m recording this conversation, so anything you say or do will be monitored for national security purposes.”

  “I’m sorry that we don’t have anything to report,” X said. He reached inside his chest and pulled out a memory chip, then handed it to Brielle. “This is a copy of my experience log at the shopping mall and at the hacker’s apartment. The Council is welcome to review and provide any guidance. We are stumped right now.”

  Brielle closed her eyes as she smiled. “Thank you. The recorder is now off.”

  Shortcut relaxed. “Thanks for doing the talking, buddy. I hate those recorded reports.”

  “I also came to check on you,” Brielle said. “You’ve been pacing around like a nervous wreck for the last few hours. I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me?” Shortcut grinned. He couldn’t believe she had said those words. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity. He was going to go for it. “Listen, I appreciate your concern for me. I’m really okay, though. But … you know … since you’re here … say … Why don’t you and I … um …”

  “Are you asking me on a date, Shortcut?”

  X almost fell out of his chair.

  “I guess … yeah,” Shortcut said.