Android X: The Complete Series

by Michael La Ronn

  He heard footsteps coming down the stairs—a loud clacking sound.

  Sounds like some fancy designer shoes.

  A shadow swept across the floor as the clacking neared.

  We’ll see who’s the big guy now.

  It was a woman. A Latina woman with long brown hair that looked as if it had been teased with a can of hair spray. She wore bright red lipstick that covered her thick lips, a black suit with a long white skirt, and red open-toed high heels lined with rhinestones. She didn’t look an inch over five feet tall.

  “I’m Amanda Garza,” she said, shaking Shortcut’s hand.

  Shortcut forgot to let go of her hand and babbled something nonsensical.

  “I understand that you need help with a medical directive,” Amanda said, extricating her hand from Shortcut’s. “My medical attorney is out today, so I’ll help you. Follow me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  He followed her down a long hallway into a corner office that overlooked the city. She sat in a swiveling red chair, leaned over her desk and stared at him intently. “Tell me what you’re looking for.”

  Shortcut played with his hands and looked down. “Uh … a medical … directive.”

  “I know that.”

  She pulled up a digital screen and began typing. “I assume you have medical problems? Who’s your next of kin?”

  “I don’t have anyone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. We can be your executors for a fee.”

  He looked around the office. Her desk had a ton of trophies, plaques and awards. There were pictures of her with celebrity clients—androids and humans alike—and a framed newspaper article about how she had defended an android who had accidentally killed a human and, despite a media firestorm, had helped him walk away without facing any charges. The news article showed the android, a large man, wrapping her in a bear hug as she smiled. The android’s arm was the length of her entire body.

  “So you’re Garza?” Shortcut asked. “Like Garza of Garza & Robo Garza?”

  “Yes,” Amanda said, nodding and looking at him strangely.

  “I was looking for someone else.”

  “You mean Armando?” she asked. Her face went long. She pressed a button on her desk; the door slammed and metal curtains descended over the windows, blocking out all the natural light. She stared at him, half of her face shadowed. Shortcut noticed a camera drone hovering in the corner of the room, recording the entire encounter.

  Crap.

  “Armando is my virtual avatar,” she said. “He protects my VIP clients. I assume that because you’ve met him, you have something to hide.”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  Amanda snapped her fingers, and the drone in the corner of the room stopped recording. “If you want me to protect a legitimate interest, my standard rate is five hundred and sixty dollars an hour. If your interest is not legitimate, I ask that you clean it up. My fee then goes up to six thousand dollars an hour.”

  “Six thousand an hour!”

  “Are you here to buy my services or not?”

  Shortcut stood up. “I’m here because I need to see one of your clients. I’m not leaving until I do.”

  “Tell me who you’re here to see and I’ll give you a yes or no answer. If it’s a yes, I’ll arrange a meeting. If it’s a no, you’ll be escorted out.”

  She was more aggressive than even Armando had been, and her sudden change in personality took him off guard. He had never heard of a woman using a male avatar before—it was unexpected and weird, but maybe that was part of her strategy.

  “Dr. Jonah Frantz.”

  “No.” She pressed a button on the desk. “Jackson, call the police.”

  “Wait a minute. You don’t even know who I am!”

  “I don’t need to know.”

  “I’m with the UEA, and it’s important that I speak with him. It’s a matter of … security.”

  “I don’t care if his mother is dying. He’s not taking any new clients, nor is he making himself available to anyone. I remember you now. You’re that idiot who tried to negotiate with me earlier.”

  “Idiot?” Shortcut asked. “I don’t know who’s a bigger idiot, you or Frantz.”

  The door to the office opened and a police android entered and grabbed Shortcut. “It’s time to leave.”

  Shortcut didn’t resist the officer. “If you won’t let me meet with him, then deliver him a message. Tell him that if he doesn’t see me, I’m going to hire my own attorney, and I’m going to sue the hash brown heck out of him.”

  Amanda gasped, and then she put her hand on her chest and laughed a hard, cackling laugh. She bent over her desk and slammed it. “How old are you? Fifteen years old? Do you know who I am? Get the hell out of my office,” she said, catching her breath.

  The android dragged Shortcut out of the office, but Amanda followed him.

  “I spoke with Frantz after seeing you. He told me to tell you that you’re on your own. What was the word he used? Oh, that’s right—snitch.”

  Shortcut’s eyes widened. “Snitch!” He was about to respond when the elevator doors closed in front of him.

  The android officer threw him out of the building and he landed face-first in the lawn.

  “Don’t come back,” the officer said.

  Shortcut rubbed his head and stared at the office. For the first time in a long time, he felt helpless. He remembered the nightmares and the bad dream and the cancer diagnosis. He felt like a lead statue with concrete boots and two-ton weights on his shoulders.

  He fell back into the grass, his head sinking into the soft dirt, then closed his eyes and wiped away tears.

  Chapter 7

  X wired to the headquarters, and Fahrens told him that the engineers would need at least an hour to decipher the codes from the android sentry. So X decided to walk back to the headquarters. He passed through the long, narrow streets of the financial district into the artisan district. Food trucks sold hot dogs, pretzels, ice cream, fondue, and every other food imaginable, the smells mingling and gathering in the air as X analyzed the aromas, separated each into its separate component, and filed the sensation away in his memory. A little further down, he crossed through a circular town square made of pink and white paved brick where street performers swallowed fire, danced in and out of giant, rolling metal rings, told fortunes by palming digital tarot cards, and played electronic saxophones that razzed and vibrated as the players dipped and twirled alongside a floating drone that played harmonies and adjusted in real time to whatever notes the players hit.

  A scarlet macaw flapped past X, and the edges of its wings brushed his bald head as it flew toward a shirtless tattooed man with his arms outstretched at the other edge of the square. He caught the bird, and a crowd clapped.

  X kept his head down. He thought about the attacks and replayed footage of Xadrian as he walked.

  Xadrian was the weirdest android X had ever seen. The way he moved, spoke, and attacked was unusual—not quite ineffectual, but not as deadly as the androids who had attacked the UEA headquarters. He didn’t last long in battle, either.

  Why would Crenshaw send a less powerful android to execute her orders?

  X felt a tap on his shoulder and his algorithm chip buzzed. He turned around to see an Asian man behind him. X knew from his posture and the position of his eyes that he was going to make trouble. X’s wrist heated up in response, his guns ready for action.

  “You aren’t welcome here,” the man said.

  “I’m welcome anywhere I want to go,” X said.

  “You’re the reason we got attacked.”

  X didn’t answer him. Instead, he backed away. His algorithm chip buzzed again. He didn’t turn his head, but behind him, he sensed the breath signatures of four more men. They gathered around him in a circle.

  The Asian man laughed. “We ought to dismantle you part by part. Maybe then Crenshaw will leave the UEA alone.”

  “Androids are not the problem,” X said. “Cren
shaw is the problem.”

  “Because of you!” the man shouted, jamming a finger at X.

  “You’re obviously not capable of listening,” X said. “I ask that all of you stand down, or I will have to defend myself.”

  “Did you hear that?” the man asked. “He’s going to kill us!”

  The men drew guns. “How many bullets can we pump in your skull before you snap our necks?”

  “You’re being illogical,” X said. “Put away your weapons. You’re going to get yourselves hurt.”

  X activated his guns. He selected rubber bullets and stretched his arms, one in front and one back. The men closed in on him, and he was about to fire when a green line of code flashed and his black box hummed. Text scrolled across his vision: UPDATE IN PROGRESS.

  “Not again,” X said. He fell helplessly to the ground, staring up at the blue sky.

  The men hollered and laughed. The circle of faces around him transformed into a single head—Dr. Roosevelt Crenshaw, his creator. He was looking down at X with concern, his head eclipsing the sun and half of his face in shadow. He wore a captain’s hat with shiny gold trim and a white suit. X had never realized how big of a man he was. He wasn’t fat, but he was big-boned, and his posture, demeanor and way of speaking commanded attention.

  “X, you all right?”

  X blinked several times to get his bearings. He was on the deck of a yacht. A large one with blue sails that flapped in the wind. His GPS adjusted to the memory and told him that he was in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. He knew this was a memory—everything felt vaguely familiar, yet he was reliving it as if it had never happened.

  The waves were calm, but the boat still tossed from side to side.

  Seagulls flew overhead, mixing with the big cumulus clouds. X detected salt gathering on his bald head, minuscule and scraping—if left too long, it would have rusted him.

  X grabbed Dr. Crenshaw’s hand, and the doctor pulled him up and slapped him on the shoulders.

  “X, you all right?” Dr. Crenshaw asked again.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m so sorry, X!” cried a female voice.

  Jeanette Crenshaw called down from above them, where she was manning the sails. She wore a captain’s hat just like her dad, and a short, white dress with big golden buttons. Her curly hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and a single strand of hair hung across her face. She wore light makeup that made her skin seem to glow, and red lipstick. She waved and smiled from cheek to cheek. “The wind took the sails unexpectedly.”

  “I told you to be careful, baby,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “Come on down from there. Your mama’s almost done with lunch.”

  A fair-skinned woman emerged from the quarters of the yacht with a frown on her face. She saw X rubbing his head and Jeanette waving. She wore a white sundress and a flowery bonnet with a floppy brim that shadowed her face—dressed for church. She was short and had a round face with a serious air. Even though she wasn’t smiling, X could tell that Jeanette had her mother’s smile.

  “What happened up here?” Yvette Crenshaw asked. “Sounded like another singularity.”

  “I accidentally hit X with the sails, Mama,” Jeanette said.

  X shook his head and motioned to Yvette. “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Yvette shrugged. “You’re still pretty fresh. Your algorithm chip won’t kick in for a while.”

  “Algorithm chip?” X asked.

  Jeanette climbed down and walked over. “It’s how we teach you to protect yourself. It constantly scans your environment for danger, and when it finds any, it alerts you.”

  “Good to know.”

  They sat on deck chairs overlooking the horizon; Dr. Crenshaw gazed at the waves intently.

  An android server came from the bottom of the yacht with a tray of martinis and a long line of bruschetta.

  “Thank you,” Dr. Crenshaw said, taking a martini and six bruschettas.

  “Roosevelt, I told you to watch your salt intake,” Yvette said. “You’re gonna have a heart attack and I’m gonna have to bury you before your time. You are trying to advance humanity, aren’t you?”

  Dr. Crenshaw already had a bruschetta halfway in his mouth. Sheepishly, he put one of them back and kept the rest, winking at his wife.

  “Sorry you can’t enjoy this wonderful food and drink, X,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “That’s one of the true limitations of android technology. If I could figure out a way for you to experience food like a human, I would do it.”

  “I guess you can’t miss what you never had,” X said.

  “Isn’t that the truth!” Yvette said, clapping her hands.

  “I take all of my new androids on a cruise,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “I want all of my creations to look at the horizon and ponder their existence. Do you see it, X? What you’re looking at right now is our biggest difference, and that difference is our biggest asset. As a boy, I looked out at the horizon and stood in awe at how unknowable it was. Despite the fact that if I jumped into a boat and sailed long enough, I’d reach land—it was still mysterious to me. You don’t see it that way. This entire world was knowable to you the moment you were born. You have other problems to figure out. Other conundrums. I can go my entire life and still never come close to the things that you’re going to discover.”

  “Roosevelt, the only reason you brought X on this trip is because you like to be on the water,” Yvette said, smirking.

  “That too,” Dr. Crenshaw said, bursting into infectious laughter that made Yvette and Jeanette laugh with him.

  “Thank you for bringing me,” X said.

  “No need to thank me,” Dr. Crenshaw said, raising his glass. “I should be thanking you. We should all be thanking you. Without you, X, none of this would be possible. This ship. My fancy clothes. This trip to the Caribbean.”

  Jeanette sipped her martini. She held the glass with both hands and stared at the sea without looking at anyone. “Why don’t we travel more often, Papa?”

  “Because there’s work to be done,” Dr. Crenshaw said.

  “But we have the money. You’re rich. We could sail around the world. Wouldn’t that be something? I’m twenty-five years old and I’ve barely left the UEA island.”

  Yvette Crenshaw accepted a drink from the server. Then she took a knife and fork and began to cut up her bruschetta. “I agree with your father. Scarcity makes family trips like these even more enjoyable.”

  “It’s just …” Jeanette said, trailing off. “It’s a big world out there. Don’t you think it would be beneficial for my career if I saw some of it? Look at those waves! And the dolphins we saw earlier. What other incredible things are out there that might help our research?”

  “The world isn’t what it used to be,” Dr. Crenshaw said. “I know it’s hard for you to hear, honey, but we’ve got to keep our eyes on our research. Remember what I promised? Every new android we create, we’ll go somewhere new.”

  Jeanette sank back into her chair, pensive. Dr. Crenshaw took her hand and patted it. “All good things in time, baby. It doesn’t matter where we are. It doesn’t matter where in the world we go. It’s times like this, time with each other, that are the most important.” He grinned and looked over at X. “Isn’t that right, partner?”

  X nodded. “I suppose so.”

  Dr. Crenshaw laughed, merrily. “I suppose so! Ha ha!”

  Yvette laughed, too, wiping a bit of tomato from her mouth. “Good Lord, Roosevelt. The things your androids say.”

  Even Jeanette, who was nursing a martini as well, broke into a small laugh.

  X studied them and didn’t understand why they were laughing.

  The android server whispered to him. “Don’t worry. First thing about the Crenshaws is that they like to laugh.”

  X nodded.

  The ship approached a port. It was Aruba.

  A female android captain interrupted their conversation. “Dr. Crenshaw, we’ve arrived.”

  “Excellent!”
Dr. Crenshaw said.

  “You’re not going to be in meetings long, are you?” Jeanette asked.

  “Should be fast. The UEA sent me to meet with the prime minister of the island. Soon, Aruba will be part of the UEA.”

  Yvette straightened Dr. Crenshaw’s collar and kissed him; it was a loving, been-married-longer-than-thirty-years kind of kiss. They both puckered their lips and closed their eyes.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Dr. Crenshaw said. Then he kissed Jeanette on the cheek and took X by the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here and have some man-to-man time.”

  They walked down the platform onto the pier. X noticed the name on the yacht—THE RG. The Royal Crenshaw.

  They entered the harbor where other boats were tossing on the waves and bumping against the piers. As they made their way to town, several men approached them. They didn’t look friendly, and their postures hinted that they were looking for trouble.

  Dr. Crenshaw stopped. “Be cool, X.”

  “Dr. Crenshaw,” one of the men said, “we appreciate the visit, but you’re not welcome here.”

  “Ask your prime minister that,” Dr. Crenshaw said, frowning.

  “Turn around and get back on your fancy yacht, go back to your fancy laboratory, and patronize some other desperate country that will take you. We’re proud badlanders here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “Son, get out of my way.”

  The men drew knives. X’s algorithm chipped buzzed; it was the first time he had ever felt such a sensation. His head buzzed so hard that his vision blurred; the rattling spread to every inch of his body—buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. A voice in his head said in a monotone voice: DANGER. DANGER. DANGER. TAKE ACTION. TAKE ACTION. He felt like his entire body was going to split open.

  “We’re going to keep this respectful,” the man said.

  DANGER. DANGER. DANGER. TAKE ACTION. TAKE ACTION.

  X couldn’t take the buzzing anymore. He staggered back and screamed, then drew his guns and fired at the men. He missed intentionally, hitting the ground at their feet, but the men jumped back.