by Alicia Ellis
His lips turned down at the edges for an instant and then back up into his usual cheery expression. “Yes. Those are on the medical draft floors.”
I wondered if he held any bitterness about his mother’s failed surgery. It wasn’t as if CyberCorp had given her cancer. But maybe Ron was secretly furious with CyberCorp and decided to take it out on Mr. Miller by killing Harmony. Of course, that scenario made sense only if Miller had worked on his mother’s treatment.
“Is Greg Miller involved with any of the medical technologies?” I asked.
Ron gave me a questioning look.
“Can we see the Model Ones?” Hunter asked, before he could answer.
I gritted my teeth and silently cursed Hunter. But he offered me that goofy grin, and I found myself nodding back at him. Did he know what a great smile he had? Not perfect and confident like Jackson’s, but imperfect and real.
Ron touched his ear to activate his comm. “Call Sophie.” After a short pause, he added, “Hey, Soph. I’ve got Lena Hayes down here with a couple of her friends. You mind if we come up to take a look at the Model Ones?” Another pause and then, “Yeah, we’re on our way up.” He touched his ear again to disconnect. “As you wish,” he told us.
14
I froze when the elevator doors opened onto the seventieth floor.
As on the eighteenth, a wide expanse greeted us. Only, instead of a disarray of electronic parts scattered around with no clear organization, order ruled everything on this floor.
Row upon row of androids lined the room, from the back wall reaching to only thirty feet in front of us. The overhead fluorescent lighting glinted off their metal bodies. They faced us with eerily perfect posture, soldiers ready for battle.
Like a drill sergeant, a tall man in a sleek gray suit walked back and forth across their front line, shouting commands. He carried what looked like a toy silver gun.
“Right foot forward,” he called.
Each one of them stepped forward and then together. I flinched at the metal thum-thump of their synchronized footsteps.
“This way.” Ron’s voice was louder than usual and drew my attention from the scene.
Liv jumped at the sound.
From the amusement on Ron’s face, I guessed he’d been trying to get our attention for a while. “I’m going to introduce you to Dr. Sophie Kim. She’s one of our quality-control specialists.”
A single room stood separate from the remainder of the space, marked by glass walls and an open rectangular arch for entry. Inside, a small woman and a tall man stood behind a metal desk. Another of the androids stood across from them, its back facing us. Ron led us toward the room and knocked on the glass next to the entryway.
A vid-screen covered the wall behind the woman, its surface filled with scrawled equations and notes. Beneath it, a small tray attached to the wall held an array of styluses that I assumed Dr. Kim used to interact with the screen. In the top right corner of the display, someone had drawn a picture of what looked like a Model One petting a sleeping baby elephant.
The wall beside me held a virtual bookshelf filled with books. It was rendered in such detail that the spines contained title and author names, but it had a faint glow that told me the bookshelf wasn’t really there.
They appeared to be technical texts on robotics and psychology. I guessed these were books Dr. Kim actually owned. I’d heard about virtual bookshelves where, when someone touched a book spine, the digital copy was delivered to the person’s hand-screen.
The woman shifted her attention from the man beside her to us. “You got here faster than I expected.”
“Sorry about that,” Ron said. “We were already on our way up when I called.”
The woman gestured for us to come closer. “I assume these are the guests you mentioned.”
“This is Lena Hayes and her friends Hunter and Olivia.” He pointed us out one by one. “I couldn’t let them tour the building without stopping on this floor.” Ron gestured toward Dr. Kim and the taller man beside her. “Dr. Kim and Paul Rodriguez. I think his son goes to school with you at Hanover.”
“He does,” Rodriguez said. “His name’s Kevin. Do you know him?”
“We’ve had a few classes together,” Liv said.
“Me too,” I added. “He’s been the star of all my History classes since freshman year.”
Rodriguez beamed, and his chest pushed out farther.
“What do you do here?” Liv asked him.
“I’m the head of marketing.”
Dr. Kim slapped him on the back. “He’s being too modest. Paul here is a genius. He could convince the ocean it needed more water. He used to pitch our smaller products, but now he’s Vice President of Marketing.”
“You’re too kind, Sophie.” Mr. Rodriguez scratched the back of his head, uncomfortable with all the praise. “It was lovely to meet all three of you, but I’m going to get out of your hair now.” To Dr. Kim, he added, “We can continue this later. I have a few more questions about some of the more subtle features that I want to incorporate into our campaigns.”
“I’ll call you when we’re done here,” Kim said. After Rodriguez strolled from the room, she turned back to us. “What can I do for you three?”
“Maybe you could tell them what you do with the androids,” Ron said.
“Of course.” Dr. Kim pointed at the single Model One standing across the room. “This is Jane. She was chosen at random from among the androids ready for shipment. I’m doing quality control to make sure she’s ready.”
“What kind of quality control?” Liv asked.
“I run through all the same drills that Sergeant—that’s what we call him, outside those doors there—is going through with the group. Then I assign her some of the sorts of tasks she’ll get once she has a home. If she succeeds at those, I tear her down, piece by piece, and test each component to make sure it behaves as expected.”
My brows shot upward. I might not appreciate these androids, but it was hard not to admire how much work went into them.
“I do this to multiple Model Ones, and a couple of the Model Two prototypes as well, because some of the parts and software are shared. If I find a problem in a single component of a single one, I pull out a larger sample of androids and test them for the same issue.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“It can be,” she said. “We take our quality control very seriously.”
Her explanation made me feel a little better about these machines being around humans. “Have you found any major issues?”
“Just one, a couple months ago. A security loophole would have allowed malicious data to be downloaded from the EyeNet. It would take an expensive, high-end machine to infiltrate the EyeNet like that, so it’s unlikely but still a concern. We developed a patch for the issue about three weeks ago. Part of my job is making sure these babies have the current software, including that fix.”
“What’s it doing?” I pointed at the Model One’s back.
Dr. Kim motioned me toward the android, so I could get a view of its profile. It stood before a small stove. In one silver hand, the android held a sauté pan filled with vegetables and shrimp.
“She’s cooking dinner?” Liv asked, her voice filled with awe. “What else can she do?”
I cringed at hearing her call the machine she.
“A late lunch, actually.” Dr. Kim’s smile grew wider. “When she’s done, she’ll clean up the mess and then organize my desk.” She waved her hand toward the multiple stacks of paper covering its surface.
On the edge of the desk lay a silver pistol-shaped device, just like the one the Sergeant held in the main room of this floor. I pointed to the gun. “What’s that?”
“An EMP gun—electromagnetic pulse. It shoots a precise pulse that knocks out electronics. We keep them handy during testing, so we can shut down the androids in an emergency.”
“It works on all androids?” I asked.
“On all electronics. This one
is coded to my ID chip as a precaution. The last thing we need is someone shooting it at someone’s pacemaker.”
Liv and Hunter both inched closer to the stove, with Liv in the lead. I hung back toward the doorway.
The android shifted the pan back and forth in jerky movements to brown the food on all sides. Although the movements couldn’t pass for human, they were impressively close. Its metal arms looked eerily similar to the one attached to my shoulder, except it was more angular where mine had smooth curves—more like a Model Two actually.
“Hold on a moment.” Dr. Kim pressed her ear to activate her comm. “Yes? Mm-hmm. I can be there in five.” She pressed her ear again. “We have to wrap this up. I have a meeting.”
“We should get back to school anyway,” I said.
“Oh crap.” Hunter offered a quick apology to Dr. Kim for his language, then added, “I have a Calculus quiz at 2:10. We have to go.”
“It was lovely to meet you all,” Dr. Kim said. Although she used the word all, her gaze stayed on me when she spoke. “Do tell your father how accommodating I was.”
I gave her a tight smile. “I will.”
When we arrived back downstairs, I wasn’t quite ready to face the prying eyes of other students. Plus, I was still seeing those damn virtual objects in the lobby.
“You have time to get me off the network now?” I asked Ron. “The EyeNet is driving me insane.”
“Sure.”
I turned to Hunter and Liv. “You guys go on without me.”
“But I’m your ride,” Liv said. “How are you going to get back to school, or home?”
“I’ll figure it out. Maybe grab an auto-cab if I need to.”
“Okay.” Liv gave me a quick hug and then headed for the door.
Hunter stood still for a second. His gaze flicked toward the door and back to me. Then he too moved toward me for a hug.
It caught me by surprise, and at first I stood there with my arms at my sides while he wrapped his around me. I was just reaching up to embrace him back when Hunter stepped back, nodded, and followed Liv to the door.
“Bye,” I called after him. “I’ll see you later.”
He walked out the door with a backward wave and barely a limp. My back still tingled where Hunter touched me, as Ron led me up to a large conference room.
Inside, Simon sat at a table that filled most of the space. Opposite the table, a whiteboard took up the whole wall, covered almost entirely in scrawled equations. When I blinked, the formulas wavered and then solidified once again.
The whiteboard was virtual, and probably nothing but a plain wall in real life. Next to it stood a Model One, its red eyes dead since it appeared to be turned off.
“Hey. How are you feeling?” Simon asked.
“As well as can be expected, considering I have a metal device attached to my shoulder and I’m seeing things that aren’t actually there.”
“The alternative would be to have no arm at all,” he said.
That option looked more and more appealing each time I thought about it.
“Plus,” Ron added. “Who’s to say virtual objects aren’t actually there. If you can see them and experience them, does the fact that they’re fleeting make them any less real than this desk?” He knocked on the surface of the table to emphasize his point.
Simon grabbed his hand-screen and a cable from the edge of the table, while Ron pressed the button on my arm to open the small compartment containing the outlet. Simon extended the hand-screen display to its full size, then connected the cable between it and the arm. After he entered the password, a flood of file names scrolled onto the display.
Simon selected one of the files, scrolled downward until he found what he was looking for, and typed on the screen to overwrite a couple lines. He saved and exited the file, and as before, the display informed us it was compiling the revised program.
The arm went limp, and a red light on the palm glowed as the software reinstalled.
I blinked, and the room suddenly seemed a lot emptier than it used to. The far wall, now plain white, no longer displayed the scrawled equations it had a moment ago. The Model One that had been in the corner was also gone. I hadn’t even realized it was virtual.
“That should do it,” Simon said. “What do you see right now?”
“The whiteboard is gone.” I pointed at the wall. “And so is the Model One that was next to it.”
“Good. That’s what we wanted.”
“Once you’re healed from the surgery,” Ron said, “we’ll modify the chip to remove network access altogether. Right now, you’re still on the network, but we’ve suppressed all the virtual images.”
“How long until you can modify the chip?” I asked.
“It’s hard to say. Not until your headaches are gone. That’ll be a good indication that you’ve healed enough.” He opened the office door and ushered me out. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”
I hesitated in the doorway of the elevator. “Can I see Jackson before I go?”
“Sorry, no. They’re working on his upgrades right now. Besides, trust me. You won’t want to see him again until he’s done. You weren’t a pretty sight while your new arm was being constructed, and Jackson . . . Well, he was in worse shape than you.”
My gut twisted, and I nodded mutely. I tried to push from my head all the images that invaded it. Images of Jackson with more metal than flesh, barely alive. I wished I’d dragged him into the passenger seat that night. Then he’d be fine, sitting in class right now.
When the elevator doors opened into the lobby, all hell broke loose.
Owen and two other men in dark suits stood only a few feet from the elevators, and all three of them turned their intense gazes on me. My first instinct was to scream and shrink back into the elevator, but my mother’s assistant, Missy, stepped forward and grabbed my arm.
“What the h—” I started.
“Your mother sent us to collect you.”
“I don’t need collecting.” I tried to yank my arm away from her, but her fingers dug in tighter.
“That’s hardly the point.” She sounded disturbingly like my mother.
Missy had worked with my mother for so long that, over the years, she’d become a smaller, lighter version of my mother. Instead of curly dark hair, Missy had straight blond hair that she kept tied in a tight bun. Her black skirt suit fit her like a glove, and she held her head high.
She couldn’t match my mother in expression though. Her face looked decidedly irritated, where my mother’s would have been unreadable.
Surprisingly strong for someone a couple inches shorter than me, Missy clutched my wrist and tugged me toward CyberCorp’s front doors. The three security guys pressed close around us as we hurried through the lobby. A small crowd had gathered to see the commotion, and when we emerged from the building, the repeated clicking sounds of hand-screen cameras met us.
My family’s black car idled just beyond the exit. Owen circled to the other side of the backseat and got in, while the remaining two security guys pressed closer to me when Missy opened the door. I had no choice but to fall into the backseat. Missy slid in beside me, locking me into place between her and Owen on my other side.
At least I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a ride home.
“Let’s go,” Missy told Lionel.
Lionel caught my eye in the rearview mirror with a sympathetic glance. It didn’t help quell the storm brewing inside me.
Owen took up too much space next to me, but I still managed to extract my hand-screen from my backpack, making a point to elbow him and Missy more than necessary. I placed a call to my mother.
“What did you do?” I shouted into the device as soon as the call connected.
“Watch your tone, Lena.” My mother’s annoyance snapped over the phone line and electrified the air around me.
With the car in auto-drive, Lionel rotated his seat to cock an eyebrow at me, then smoothly rotated to face the front again. Between the t
wo of them, I took the hint and lowered my voice.
“Your minion and three security guards just dragged me out of CyberCorp headquarters.”
“I told you I wanted you guarded.”
“You could have called CyberCorp, and they would have told you I was fine.”
“Of course, I did that. But I gave you a bodyguard for a reason, and I expect you to keep him with you until I say you don’t need him anymore.”
“You didn’t have to send an army to drag me out of the building. Just Missy and Owen could have done the job.”
“I thought this would be more persuasive.”
“Haven’t you made me enough of a spectacle already? First, the arm. Now, a whole team of guards to bring attention to the arm.”
“Keep Owen with you, and we won’t have any more problems.” Her voice had a singsong quality to it. “Hold on a moment.”
The line went silent. I itched to scream into the phone, to tell my mother she had no right to run my life, and that she’d done a sucky job of it so far. To tell her I spent every minute being an outcast from technology lovers, because I disagreed with them, and from the anti-tech community, because they didn’t trust the CyberCorp princess. To tell her she’d ruined me, ripped apart my soul, and all that was left was a shell.
“Lena, I have to go,” she said when she came back on the line. “This conversation is over anyway.”
“It’s not over!” I shouted, but silence met my outburst. My mother had disconnected.
15
At eleven that night, I stared at the ceiling above my bed. My anger still simmered at the surface.
I was too worked up to sleep. It wasn’t enough that my parents had sentenced me to this arm, but my mother had topped it off by making me a spectacle and dragging me out of CyberCorp. Just in case I forgot for a moment that they ran my life, my mother’s cronies were there to remind me.
I grabbed a throw pillow and threw it against the far wall. It hit and tumbled to the floor, harmless. I snatched up a second pillow and did the same. I itched to cause more damage, to blow off some steam.
