“Mr. Aaronheart,” the doctor said, “do you recognize us?”
“Yeah,” Shortcut said. He tried to sit up, but then he felt a sting in his arm—an IV.
He looked down at his white hospital gown and brown hospital socks. A digital screen played the news on the back wall. An android nurse moved around the room, tidying up and filling the air with cleaning chemicals. His vitals beeped on a panel next to the bed.
Then he felt the grog lift, replaced by the cold feeling of medicine flowing through his veins. He looked out the window; his eyelids were heavy and lensless, and the world outside combined into a cloudy mosaic.
He felt pain surging down his neck and back and touched a bruise on the side of his head, tender and throbbing.
Slowly, he realized where he was. He focused on the doctor again—a human. Anytime a human doctor came to visit you, he either knew your family or he had something bad to tell you. Android doctors performed most of the day-to-day operations, and human doctors just checked their work. Shortcut felt like a boulder was rolling around his stomach at the thought of what the doctor was going to say.
“What happened?” Shortcut asked.
“You fell,” X said. “You hit your head pretty bad. The doctors say you have a concussion.”
“Ah,” Shortcut said. “Did we beat Xu?”
X nodded, but Brielle frowned.
“Don’t concern yourself with that right now,” she said. “The important thing is that you’re okay.”
“Good to know,” Shortcut said, sitting up. “Listen, everyone—why don’t we get out of here? I’m sorry for the trouble, and I feel fine. If we’re fast enough, we can still catch Cren—”
The doctor pushed Shortcut back onto the bed. “You need to rest.”
“I hate hospitals. Besides, I’m on a mission, doc.”
“Mission or not, you’re staying,” the doctor said.
“Can’t you just give me some pain killers and tell me to follow up in a few weeks? I mean, based on what I know about head injuries, it can take up to eighteen months—”
“Please stop, Mr. Aaronheart,” the doctor said. “You’re right about your concussion. We are not concerned about that. There’s something else we need to discuss.”
Shortcut flashed a look at X. X gave him a slight nod, and he knew that trouble was coming. A knot throbbed in his throat and he swallowed it down, exhaling loudly.
“So let me guess: you did a scan and you found the unapproved nano enhancements in my brain, right?”
“You make it sound so casual,” the doctor said. “There were a lot of nanos in there, son. I’ve never seen so many in such a young person.”
“Everyone has enhancements,” Shortcut said.
“You have twenty,” Brielle said. “The average UEA citizen is allowed four. Remember when I kept asking you about them? We already knew, Shortcut. We were giving you an opportunity to confess.”
“It’s all safe,” Shortcut said.
The doctor read his chart. “Let’s go through them, shall we? You have a neural vision optimizer, an algorithmic lens upgrade, a hearing upgrade, an IQ boost, an anti-nausea stabilizer, live stream news, a nano monitor, a pseudo-infrared sight option that barely works, an energy boost, a lens clock, lens mail, real life analytics, a universal translator, a price matcher, an ultra-video recorder, a code duck—whatever that is—a code decoder, a code decoder encoder, a code encrypter, and a code igniter. Now why would you possibly need all those?”
“They help me on my job,” Shortcut said.
“With the exception of a few, these upgrades are not approved,” the doctor said. “In fact, the UEA Medical Association has issued health warnings on several of them.”
“For no reason,” Shortcut said flippantly. “They’re just mad because they don’t have the resources to create enhancements that people actually need. I’m not going to listen to the recommendations of a bunch of stodgy old doctors who wouldn’t know a clever enhancement if they saw one.”
“Those stodgy old doctors are looking out for you,” the doctor said. “I have to remind you that when we talk about enhancements, we’re really talking about nano machines flowing around your body, augmenting your cells at the cellular level for full-body results. It’s not natural, and the human body was not created to have nano machines running through it all the time. For starters, there’s the risk of cancer, stroke, heart attack, organ damage, pulmonary embolism, internal bleeding, chemical imbalance, and immediate death at any time. Not to mention a heightened susceptibility to diseases that we’ve never seen in humanity before.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Do you know you’ve had cancer seven times?”
The doctor’s comment silenced the room, and Brielle gasped.
“My nanos have destroyed it every time,” Shortcut said quietly. “And as long as it comes back, they’ll keep killing it.”
“And how will you counteract nanoitis?”
“What?”
The doctor smiled as if he’d won the debate. “Nanobots only have a two year warranty at best from approved vendors. They’re machines, just like X and the bed you’re sitting on and the panel that you’re hooked up to that’s monitoring your heart rate. Unless you maintain them, they start to break down and their protective coverings wear off. If you let them go too long without repairing their coverings and recalibrating their programming, their metal edges can cause tears in your cells, which can lead to all of the health problems I mentioned above. Until the damage is done, you’ll never notice it. But when millions of cells are ruptured, the onslaught is immediate and irreversible. Have you thought about that, Mr. Aaronheart?”
“That’s why I have the monitoring nano, so I can replace any that go bad.”
The doctor brought up an image of a brain scan on his screen. There were two images: the first was a normal brain with no enhancements. It had swirls of color all over it. The second brain was grayish and filled with hundreds of gray marks that looked like ninja shurikens.
“This is the most extreme case of unapproved enhancements we’ve ever seen. The brain on the right has over two hundred enhancements. Luckily, this isn’t you, Mr. Aaronheart, but this will be you in a few years if you keep on your current trajectory.”
“I’ve only had my nanos for a year, and I have them maintained regularly. I’m not going to get to that point. Your scare tactics won’t work with me.”
“Who did you buy them from?” the doctor asked.
“Like I’m telling you.”
“You will tell me. It’s the law, and whoever this pseudo-doctor is, he’s potentially hurting a lot of people.”
“No.”
“Shortcut, you should tell him,” Brielle said.
“Respectfully, sir,” Shortcut said, “I can’t.”
“You can’t because you don’t know or you can’t because you won’t?” the doctor asked.
“Neither and both,” Shortcut said, rolling his eyes. “I have a right to privacy and you’re violating it.”
“We’ll make you a deal. You can tell us who gave you the enhancements and we’ll let you leave right now and waive your medical bills—they’ll be around two hundred thousand dollars, minimum. If not, you void your employee health insurance policy with the UEA and you’ll have to pay for the entire costs out of pocket. You’ll be flagged as an offender in our system, which gives us the legal right to seize your assets immediately to get our money.”
The bed buzzed and handcuffs secured Shortcut’s arms to the bed rails.
X stepped forward and leaned into the doctor’s face. “You have no legal basis for this.”
“Yes, we do. The Council passed legislation last year. If we ever encounter a public health issue like this one, we must use any means necessary to eradicate it. We have to send a strong message to these fraudulent doctors that unapproved enhancements are not okay.”
Brielle nodded. “He’s right, X. I was there when the Council passe
d the law. As much as I want to see Shortcut free, he has an obligation as an agent.”
X pulled up the UEA statutes on his lens and shook his head as he interpreted them.
“We have a mission,” X said. “We don’t have time for this. Shortcut, just tell the doctor who it is so we can go.”
“No,” Shortcut said softly.
“You have twenty-four hours to make your final decision,” the doctor said. “We won’t be able to hold you after that. But don’t forget the gravity of your situation.”
“Got it,” Shortcut said. “Anything else?”
“We’ve also notified your family of your accident,” the doctor said.
Shortcut nearly jumped out of bed, but the cuffs held him back. “You didn’t—”
“Protocol, Mr. Aaronheart.”
A shadow appeared in the door and a man with freckles and shoulder-length red hair tied back into a ponytail entered. He looked like Shortcut, but his face was square and beginning to wrinkle.
“Tobias, what the hell happened?”
“… Hey, Dad.”
Chapter 13
Shortcut sank into the hospital bed as his dad shook the doctor’s hand.
“Doctor, I’m Craig Aaronheart. I’m Tobias’s father.”
Craig wore a black t-shirt decorated with a star with an “A” in grunge writing in the center, surrounded by a circle that looked like a bicycle wheel. He wore a hunter green blazer over it and skateboarding shoes. His red hair was the same shade as Shortcut’s, and he even had the same head shape. His eyes were bright green, and freckles pooled around his cheeks.
“Thanks for coming, Mr. Aaronheart,” the doctor said. “Do you care to tell me why your son is using so many unapproved enhancements?”
Craig flashed an angry look at Shortcut, and then to the doctor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He’s your son, isn’t he?”
“I haven’t seen him in three years.”
“Well, I think you and your son should have a chat,” the doctor said, handing him Shortcut’s chart. “He’s a walking corpse; or at least, he’ll be that way soon.”
Craig read the chart and his eyes widened. He looked around the room and noticed X and Brielle staring at him. Then he pointed at the androids and said, “So this is how you’re wasting your time, huh? Junking out on enhancements and running around with androids? This is the mythical UEA lifestyle you were telling me about?”
“Leave the androids alone. The enhancements aren’t serious,” Shortcut said.
“‘Aren’t serious my ass!” Craig scanned the chart incredulously. “Look at all of these implants. Do you think that’s right, when they’re health hazards?”
“Yeah, I do think it’s right.”
“Why?” Craig asked. The question was loaded, and anger brimmed in his throat.
“Because this is my life, that’s why!”
“There’s a perfectly good life waiting for you at home.”
“I don’t want that life.”
“You want to let our family business just go under, huh? That’s it?”
“I don’t want to work on robots! I want to work with androids.”
“Androids are scum. You belong in the badlands with me. It’s what your mother would have wanted.”
“Don’t bring Mom into this,” Shortcut said.
X put his hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Shortcut is on a lot of medication. Perhaps you should let him rest.”
Craig shook X’s hand off. “Don’t touch me, android. Who the hell is Shortcut?”
“Me,” Shortcut said.
“And why do they call you that?” Craig asked.
“Because I make androids’ lives easier,” Shortcut said.
“Let me guess: playing with computers and hacking all day, right? You make people’s lives easier by wasting your time?”
“Hacking is a viable lifestyle!” Shortcut yelled. “And if you don’t like it, get the hell out!”
“You thought you could just up and leave after your mom died? My business is booming, son. Things are better. The badlands aren’t so bad once you’ve been there for a while. And when you’re making money like I am—”
“No. I’m not coming back.”
Craig puckered his lips and looked X up and down. “Do you think your android friends are going to care about you when it’s all said and done?”
“You could show them some respect,” Shortcut said. “They’re standing right next to you.”
“The only person in this room that matters is you,” Craig said. “Do you think these androids are substitute for family? Well, I got news for you, Tobias: when it’s all over, the only thing left is going to be your humanity. And the only family you got left is me. Craig Ryan Aaronheart. I will always be your father. I will always make a place for you. But when I’m gone, you aren’t going to have anyone. And if you don’t come home and take up the business like you’re supposed to, you’re not going to have anything. Nothing. Just the shirt on your back, a bunch of rocks in your skull, and a keyboard to hack people with. And those people are going to turn their backs on you the moment some fancy new technology comes around. All these androids you’re working with, they’re going to forget about you on their quest for intelligence. And maybe, if you’re unlucky, they’re going to kill you. I remember the days when being human used to mean something. Since when is being a human a bad thing?”
X clapped his hands on Craig’s shoulders. “Time to leave.”
Surrendering to X’s strength, Craig moved away from the bed and shrank toward the door. X stepped toward him and he backed into the hall, eyeing Shortcut.
“I’m getting a drink,” Craig said. “This conversation isn’t over, Tobias.”
X shut the door in his face. Outside, Craig and the doctor conversed. The androids and Shortcut watched through the small window in the door while Craig waved his hands, flustered, and the doctor tried to calm him down.
“Nice guy,” X said.
“You never told us about your dad,” Brielle said.
“I prefer to keep that part of my life secret,” Shortcut said.
“It’s not secret now,” X said. “I always thought you were an enigma, Shortcut. Now you’re almost incomprehensible.”
Shortcut sighed. “Look. I was born in the UEA, but my dad is a serial entrepreneur. He started all kinds of businesses when I was growing up, all related to robotics in some way or another. They never really went anywhere, but the money he made was enough to live comfortably. Then he found an opportunity in the badlands to create a messenger drone business. Since all the people in the badlands hated androids, dumb robotics was an effective way to transmit items and messages between each other.”
“Dumb robotics?” Brielle asked. “Why not just use a network?”
“We’re talking about the badlands, Brielle,” Shortcut said. “It’s nothing like the UEA. They have technology there, but it’s not like ours.”
“Oh,” Brielle said.
“His messenger drone business took off. It helped that they were solar powered, too. People liked it. Business was booming so much that he moved my mom and me to the badlands so he could work on it full-time. I had to transfer high schools during my junior year, and my mom had to move away from her family, and she was really close to them. We lived in the badlands for two years.”
“When did you leave?” X asked.
“When it was time for me to go to college. My dad wanted me to stay and learn the business, but I didn’t care about messenger drones. I wanted to work on androids. We had a big fight and I left to return to the UEA so I could go to school. My mom—” Shortcut quieted. “She—she begged me not to go, not to leave her alone.”
“But you left anyway,” X said.
“I did.”
“But didn’t she come to visit you?” Brielle asked.
“Yeah. But it wasn’t the same. She missed the UEA. So she came and rented an apartment here while I went to sc
hool. Made my dad pretty mad. And one day, when she was coming to bring me lunch, she got hit by a flying car whose engine had malfunctioned.”
Brielle cocked her head with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Shortcut.”
“That’s too bad,” X said.
“It’s okay. It’s just that … I always blamed myself for it, you know? My mom died because I was too goddamned lazy to make myself a sandwich.”
“Does your dad blame you?” Brielle asked.
“No, but I’m all he’s got left. He wants my life to be a certain way in case he dies earlier than expected. His way of showing my mom that he took care of me. But I don’t want that lifestyle. I hate the badlands.”
“Those sound like painful memories,” Brielle said. “I’m sorry you had to go through them, Shortcut.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Shortcut said. “At least you androids don’t have to worry about memories. I kind of envy you.”
“Memories,” X said. He paced around the room, his eyes glowing in the dark. “That’s it.”
“What?” Shortcut asked.
“While you were on your personal errand, I received another memory from Dr. Crenshaw. We were on his yacht, and we landed in Aruba—the place where this mission we’re on now started. And Xu was at Dr. Crenshaw’s exhibit trying to learn about him. She was trying to relive Jeanette’s memories.”
“But why would she do that?” Shortcut asked.
“I don’t know,” X said. “But it has something to do with Dr. Crenshaw’s work. In the memory that I had, Jeanette Crenshaw was attached to her father. Very attached. And all of her attacks so far have had some tie to Dr. Crenshaw.”
“You’re right,” Shortcut said. “So maybe she’s not so erratic after all.”
X shook his head. “I don’t have my memory chips, so I don’t know what other places Dr. Crenshaw liked to frequent. What do you know, Brielle?”
Brielle gave X a sympathetic look. “I never knew Dr. Crenshaw. The Council never mentioned anything while I was in their presence.”
“We should trace his life,” Shortcut said. “Where was he born?”
“In the badlands,” X said.
Android X: The Complete Series Page 21
