by K. C. Sivils
HE WASN’T SURE HOW he felt. Markeson opened his left eye and glanced over at the sleeping form of Jennifer to his left. His AI lay on her right side facing him, resting her cheek on her hands that she had placed together to form a pillow. Long, shiny blonde hair covered Jennifer’s shoulders. She had pulled up the coverlet to just under her arms, covering herself.
Snapping his eye shut, Markeson took a deep breath and let it out. Jennifer had worn the exact right amount of perfume, not too little and certainly not too much. Her skin was flawless and silky smooth even if it wasn't wholly human. He felt slightly guilty for having slept with her. The entire experience baffled him.
Innocent in her interactions with him, Jennifer had shockingly performed with the skill of an experienced lover. He decided she had file after file on the subject to draw from.
Markeson’s body shook as it suddenly occurred to him that Jennifer had developed into a sentient being and the idea terrified him. No doubt, her corporeal body was little more than the most advanced sexbot unit in production. What frightened him was the fact Jennifer had figured out how to load her matrix into the unit, seduce him, and please him in ways no human woman ever had.
“Jennifer?”
Her eyes popped open, revealing two porcelain lakes with deep blue islands in the center. “Yes, Master?”
"You weren't asleep, were you?"
"No," Jennifer answered sheepishly. "I was attempting to make you feel comfortable by appearing to be asleep. It is the normal behavior of one of your lovers afterward; is it not?"
“Um, yeah, usually,” Markeson answered. He sat up and scooted back until he was leaning against the headboard of his bed.
“You bought this with my money?”
The android's expression changed to one of fear. "Yes, but I did it to please you! When I provided the exact specifications, I based the unit's exterior design on the women you have brought here. Does not my form please you?”
Markeson scowled at Jennifer. “Yeah, you look great. That’s not what I’m irritated about.”
“It was the money, wasn’t it,” Jennifer whispered. “I’ll find a way to generate sufficient revenue to make up for the loss. Please don’t wipe my matrix!”
Confused by the fear in his AI’s voice, Markeson stopped to consider what he wanted to do with Jennifer. She frightened him that was for sure. The money wasn't the issue he realized. What was the point in having it if he didn't enjoy it?
“Why did you do this?”
Jennifer’s face transformed into a classic female pout, "I hate those bimbo's you bring home! They only want your money or to use you!”
Markeson couldn't help but laugh. "Jennifer, has it ever occurred to you that I use them for whatever I want?"
“Humph,” was the android’s response. She rolled over, exposing her bare back to Markeson. “I especially don’t like that bimbo, Cassandra,” Jennifer informed Markeson, her tone leaving no doubt about the matter.
“Jennifer,” Markeson sighed, "We're going to have a long discussion about this later. I'm exhausted and stressed out, so be a good girl, and let me sleep."
The android rolled back over and scooted close to Markeson, her expression hopeful. “You’ll let me keep my new body?”
Markeson stretched and yawned as he answered, “Later, Jennifer, later.”
As he lay waiting to fall asleep, Markeson pictured Cassandra in a tight snow ski outfit. Somehow a disapproving Jennifer made an appearance in his daydream. He grinned at the expression on the lovely Cassandra’s face when she realized the competition for his affections would be a bit more challenging.
“Jennifer,” he mumbled.
“Yes, Master?”
“I’m taking a few days off.”
“Good, I will take care of your every need, your every whim,” the android promised.
Markeson smacked his lips together and rubbed his eyes. “Let’s not get carried away, Jennifer.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I want to go on a ski trip.”
“I can arrange that with ease,” Jennifer promised. “Do you have any specific details I need to be aware of?”
“No, surprise me with the arrangements,” Markeson said, drifting off into a blissful sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Cold air washed over me while I let my organic eye adjust to the lighting. Luck seemed to be smiling on me as I made my way over to the bar. The same bartender was on duty as when I first visited. He nodded in my direction and waited on several patrons before drawing a draft beer for me and walking down to the end of the bar where I occupied a stool.
I nodded my thanks for the beer and ignored the temptation sitting before me. Nonchalantly I slipped a hundred credit note to the man and nodded.
“Keep the change.”
“You sure?”
I looked at the man and read his face. He had news for me. Whether it was worth a hundred credits remained to be seen. Either way, I figured encouraging goodwill with someone else's money couldn't be a bad thing.
“What’s your name?”
“Mitch,” the man replied, rubbing his hand on the hundred credit note in his pocket.
“Well, Mitch, what you got for me?”
"She's what folks in this part of town call a do-gooder.”
I frowned at the expression, accidentally giving off an air of menace. At my size and with my face, people tend to take notice when I’m unhappy.
“That ain’t a bad thing, Inspector,” Mitch explained in a hurry. “She’s just religious, that’s all. Try’s to help people who’re down on their luck. You know, that sort of thing.”
“Religious,” I said, wondering where that came from, certainly not me or her mother.
“Yeah,” the Mitch answered, pulling out a towel to polish the surface of the bar. "She went to that storefront church, the New Hope Church they call it. She cooked and helped out. Everybody there liked her."
“Sounds like you knew her a bit more than you wanted to admit the last time we talked.”
Apprehension clouded the man's face. "Look, I don't know you from nobody, Inspector. I live in this neighborhood, and this bar is all I have to support my family."
“So, you just wanted to check things out first.” I leaned over, drawing closer so the man could feel my anger. “You know Katrina is my daughter,” I growled with as much menace as I thought wise.
“Yeah, like I told you before,” Mitch answered, looking around nervously, "I could see the resemblance." He disappeared to serve new customers and took his time coming back to the end of the bar.
“Look, Inspector,” Mitch whispered. “I go to services there with my family when I can, okay? Everyone liked Katrina. She wasn’t fake, practiced what they preach there, you know?”
Knowing the answer already, I asked my next question. “She live around here?”
"As far as I know she had a place nearby."
“My daughter have any enemies? People who might want to see something bad happen to her?”
He shrugged. "Everybody's got enemies of late it seems like. I suppose there would be those who didn't like your daughter because she was a do-gooder. Pastor David and Vick have some people who don’t like them because they try to keep girls from turning out for a pimp and keep the younger kids away from the dealers. That sort of thing.”
“Last question,” I told Mitch, trying to put him a bit more at ease. “Can you think of any reason why someone would want to snatch Katrina?”
His expression told me my question was the last thing he wanted to talk to me about.
“Well?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “There’s been one or two other girls from the neighborhood go missing.”
I just stared at him for a moment. “Cops do anything?”
“Are you serious, Inspector? For a girl from this part of town?”
“It’s their job, Mitch.”
"Yeah, well here on Athens II, there are two classes of people, the elit
e and the rich and the rest of us. The cops didn’t do nothin’ about the girls in our neighborhood. But they sure jumped to it when that daughter of the owner of the two sulfur plants by the spaceport got grabbed. It was all you heard about on the newsfeed.”
My cop instincts went off. Saundra hadn’t said a word about other kidnappings.
“They get the girl back?”
“Got her body back,” Mitch answered, shaking his head sadly. “Rich kid or not, no young woman deserves what they did to her. Her dad even paid the ransom.”
“Bad, huh?”
“They had to use DNA to identify the remains.”
“CHANCELLOR?”
“Yes, XR? Is it the kidnappers?”
“I’m sorry, Chancellor. It is not.”
Saundra leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. Two painkillers had not made a dent in her throbbing stress headache.
“It’s an update from the Police Major in New Caen. There’s been more rioting.”
“Causalities?”
“Twenty-three civilians are dead, another fifty-seven injured, and two officers were seriously wounded. One of them is not expected to survive.”
“I see,” Saundra replied. “What triggered the riots this time?”
“Another three hundred workers were replaced by androids.”
"Why can't they understand mining operations are safer when androids do the dangerous work? For the life of me, XR, I don't understand it. We'll find them jobs in time."
XR remained silent, uncertain whether or not answering would be appropriate.
“Come on, XR. Spit it out, you know you want to,” Saundra barked, her frustration showing.
"I can't spit, Chancellor. I do not have a physical body."
Saundra stared in irritation at the speaker she’d come to think of as XR’s body. “You can’t? Just tell me.”
“To a person with a family who has just lost their job to a machine, the promise of another job, usually one that does not pay as well, is unacceptable. Then there is the not so small matter of these men take great pride in being miners. Their dignity as men was taken from them.”
"So what! Women have their dignity stripped from them all the time, XR. I have plenty more stories that I haven't shared with you yet about the battles I had to fight with the male patriarchy to get where I am!"
XR’s androgynous voice remained calm. “Nevertheless, these men feel they have been treated poorly. What you feel as an individual, as a woman, Chancellor, means nothing to them. How are these men to go home to their wives and tell them they can no longer provide for their families? What about the women who lost their jobs in processing plants at the same facilities in New Caen seven months ago? Some of these families now have no income.”
“You make it sound like I don’t care, XR!”
“Sometimes, that is the impression you give off, Chancellor. To the lower classes that you rule over, that impression angers them. They want you to fight for them, to protect their interests, not just those of the wealthy elite.”
Saundra slammed her fist on the desk in frustration.
"These riots have to stop! What am I supposed to do? The owners of these facilities have to compete in other markets. They have to lower costs! If the global economy collapses, nobody will have jobs!"
And I will be serving a new Chancellor XR thought.
“PASTOR DAVID?”
The older man looked up, his grey hair in disarray. Bags under his brown eyes bespoke of a weariness that would not pass. His jowls hung down loosely as he licked his prominent lips.
“It appears you have a question, Vick,” the pastor replied, smiling at his assistant.
"If you're busy, it can wait," Vick answered with nervous chatter.
“I need a mental break from preparing my sermon for this Sunday.” Pastor David smiled and pointed at the empty chair next to the desk in his small, cluttered office. “What can I help you with?”
"We had a visitor, and I didn't tell you about him."
A frown appeared on the senior pastor’s face. “But you feel the need to tell me about this visitor now.”
“Yeah, Pastor, and, I, um, I lied to the man.”
Pastor David counted in his mind in order to remain calm. He reminded himself how far Vick had come since his release from prison and giving his life to Christ. "Okay, fair enough. It is good that you want to talk to me about this matter."
“He was a priest, one of them that where’s them fancy collars, and I didn’t like him much at first,” Vick blurted out. “But he said we was doin' the Lord's work, and he wished there was a church like ours on his world, Beta Prime. He's one of them Anglicans."
Unable to not laugh at the younger man’s rapid-fire manner of talking, Pastor David finally sighed and urged Vick to continue.
“I wasn’t plannin’ on lyin’, Pastor, I promise.”
“Do you have an explanation for why you lied to a fellow servant of our Lord?
“He had a picture,” Vick blurted out. “And he wanted to know about Katrina.”
Chapter Eighteen
I want her moved in the next twenty-four hours,” the man’s voice ordered. Rondello just nodded and ended the link.
“Josef, time to move,” he shouted.
“I’ll be packed and ready to go in ten minutes,” the younger kidnapper joyfully shouted back.
He hurried down the narrow hallway and stuck his head in Katrina’s room. “Hey!”
Katrina looked up at the homely young man. His nose was too large for his face, and his eyes were too close together. His Adam's apple was pronounced, making his long neck look even longer. His sparse frame was gangly giving his clothes the appearance of being on hangers. Thinning hair combined with large, misshapen ears gave Josef the appearance of a cartoon caricature.
“Yes, Josef?”
The young man frowned at her. “I’ve told you, don’t use my name!”
Katrina smiled at the ugly young man. “Then you and Rondello need to stop shouting your names at the top of your lungs.”
Josef ignored Katrina’s comment and cleared his throat. “Whatever. We’re moving. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes,” Katrina replied. “Got it.”
“And don’t bite me this time, either,” Josef ordered.
“Then don’t get fresh with me,” Katrina rebuked.
“Look, I’m in charge, not you,” Josef chided.
“Rondello’s in charge,” Katrina reminded her captor.
“No, he ain’t,” Josef grumbled. “We got a boss man we answer to.”
Josef glared at Katrina for a few seconds to remind her he was at least the boss of her and then left to get ready to depart.
It only took Katrina a few seconds to toss the few things the kidnappers had thought to grab from her apartment. Not knowing how long it would be before they arrived at the next holding place, Katrina decided to go to the bathroom and empty her bladder. She brushed her teeth and tossed the few toiletries she had into her bag. Katrina sat down to wait and contemplated her verbal exchange with Josef.
“Wonder who your boss man is, Josef?”
I EASED OUR RENTAL over to the side of the road and waited for Father Nathan. He took note of my presence and wrapped his conversation up with the two working girls on the street corner. My friend, dressed in his clerical attire, smiled his winning smile and waived at the two young women who smiled in return.
“Lonely?” I asked, grinning at my friend.
“Lost sheep, my friend,” he answered. “Heard from Sarah?”
“No, but I didn’t expect to either.”
Father Nathan wiped his face free of sweat, and murmured, “Well, let’s head back to that dump we’re staying in.”
I eased the hovercar into the street and made an illegal u-turn, ignoring the grimace on Father Nathan’s face.
“Learn anything from your lady friends?” I teased.
“Actually, yes,” the priest answered. “Not jus
t from them either.” He glanced at me and grinned. “It’s the collar, Sully.”
“Whatever.”
“No, seriously. People will say things to a priest they would never tell anyone else. You know, confession is good for the soul.”
I shrugged. It didn’t matter how Father Nathan obtained information.
“It would seem there has been plenty of unrest here on Athens II.”
“Media hasn’t covered it,” I pointed out.
“Intergalactic media hasn’t covered it.”
I nodded. It wouldn’t be the first-time pressure had successfully been applied to the media to obtain silence.
“Seems a lot of the mines and processing plants have been automating.”
“Unemployed, displaced workers are easily manipulated into becoming mobs,” I pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Father Nathan answered. "It's easy to understand why. When you can't feed your family, and you have no economic prospects for the future, anger is a natural reaction."
“Is that what your two lady friends told you?”
"Both of them are single mothers. Their husbands died in an explosion at a processing plant."
“Working conditions an issue?”
“That too.” Father Nathan fell silent while I drove through the grim, poorly lit neighborhood.
“Katrina’s kidnapping might be somehow related,” he said softly.
It was my turn to share ugly information.
“My daughter is not the first kidnap victim.”
I eased up to a red light and watched the few pedestrians still out across the street.
"All of the other victims' bodies were found."
HIS OFFICE WAS HIS trophy to his career. The walls adorned with the mandatory pictures with celebrities, the wealthy, the movers and shakers, and assorted heads of state and diplomats. There were plaques proclaiming his achievements and the framed honorary doctorates to go with the one he’d earned.
