Chapter 4
Does delegating the task of motivating Electra to shower make him a coward, or something worse?
He’s not exactly handling her well. So what if he needs reinforcements?
Tommy’s job is to support him. Plus, Tommy’s referred to a sister multiple times over the years.
That means he’s more equipped to—he glances at the bedroom door, which has become an ominous, threatening thing—more equipped to do whatever it is he’s doing in there. Hopefully, getting her to shower.
Then she’ll come out and . . . well, that’s where his plan loses traction.
He has no clue, so he’s going to improvise.
Not that improvising is going well either, based on the evidence.
Every interaction they’ve had since she woke up a week ago is playing on repeat in his mind as he paces outside the bedroom door.
His brain is only offering him two choices: retread every syllable he uttered, or let his curiosity about what’s going on in the bedroom drive him mad.
He has plenty of other things to think about, like his first Jerme experiment, but he can’t seem to redirect his mind. The first option—retread—is winning.
Another excellent specimen, Lextr.
Get a little mileage out of it.
How is that so unbelievably sexy?
That last one haunts him the most. She even grumbled something like I’m not so sexy now as he attempted to get her out of bed.
The problem is, she put on his shirt and he gawked at her like a teenage boy.
Even now, a week later, he can’t get the image out of his mind—her pert nipples poking through the soft fabric, the hem grazing her upper thighs.
She was naked during the entire trip from his office to his unit, then standing there in the corner attached to the activation pad while the drugs wore off.
But for reasons unknown, he developed a forceful attraction to her at that moment.
Still, why did he let it tumble out of his mouth? While he meant it, there’s no telling what he was thinking. If she were a manupartner, she might have giggled and coyly pawed at his chest. This woman, however, isn’t a manupartner, and he couldn’t pull his head out of his ass and act normal.
He spends too much time with lab techs and clones.
This confirms it. He definitely shouldn’t have grown a manupartner using his DNA—basically a body double—to send to his weekly FRIENDS appointments, mandated by the NHOS initiative Project: LEN, Loneliness Ends Now.
FRIENDS are a vital First Response to Isolation via Engagement with Networking as a Deterrent System.
When NHOS first rolled out the program, he scoffed.
Why would people need FRIENDS when they could get a manupartner?
Yet even he can see how his NHOS-issued FRIENDS might have prepared him to interact with the woman hiding in his bedroom.
Zorg, is he considering going to his FRIENDS appointments?
Her presence is clearly arresting his brain function.
Perhaps that’s why he showed her the commercial.
Was it insensitive of him? If one isn’t used to the process of manupartner formation, it must seem grotesque.
But that wasn’t what alarmed her. Pathetic was the word she hurled at him.
Is he pathetic? He needs context.
He glances at the door—not his bedroom door this time.
The one next to it. Before he can talk himself out of it, he turns the handle and slips inside, closing it securely behind him.
Nothing wrong with a little chat to gain some necessary insight while Tommy works to get Electra out of bed and into the shower.
Against the far wall, in an ergonomic antigravity chair—he isn’t a monster—sits a manupartner.
Specifically, the manupartner body double he’s been sending to his FRIENDS appointments for the last seven months.
He’s been doing this for decades, of course, but he recycles and replaces the units yearly to avoid glitches.
The unit’s eyes brighten. “Oh, hi! Time for another FRIENDS visit?”
This is a horrible idea. He’d be better off going into the bathroom and talking to his reflection like normal . . . but unprecedented times and all . . . fuck it.
“I want to discuss something with you,” he says, forcing the words out.
The unit sits up, angling its head as if it’s truly concerned. “What’s bothering you, buddy?”
He groans. He programmed this unit, like all his body doubles, to be especially perceptive, sensitive, moral, and intuitive.
Then, upon activation, he gives them a tablet and instructs them to study the Respectful and Considerate Conduct Manual, so they’re prepared for when he sends them to his FRIENDS appointments in place of himself.
To solve the memory issue, since there is—or at least there was—no way to carry memories between manupartners, he always complains in his annual Project: LEN survey so they switch his group right before he gets a new body double.
It only gets awkward when he bumps into someone in public from a previous FRIENDS group and he comes across more abruptly than his finely tuned unit.
When someone appears momentarily surprised, he knows they’ve met a previous unit and not him.
In those encounters, he quickly adjusts, slipping on his CHOICElover public figure persona to smooth things over. It always works.
He clears his throat, addressing the eager unit. “What do my FRIENDS think of you?”
The unit’s eyes narrow as it considers. “I’ve done as you’ve instructed. They believe I’m you.” It grins brightly, pleased with its own response.
He shakes his head. “No, I mean, what do they think of me? Of my company? How do they act toward you, thinking you’re me?” Zorg that’s convoluted.
The unit’s smile is gentle. “I see. Two of the three FRIENDS are quite taken with you and often invite you to join them for unrequired FRIENDS appointments. The other is a little less interested, but still very respectful.” The unit stands and approaches him.
It places a warm hand on his shoulder. “As your manupartner, I don’t want to overstep, but is something else bothering you?
” Though it was made with his DNA, for a second it feels as if it is his brother standing before him, imploring.
His heart squeezes, and suddenly, talking to the mirror seems entirely inadequate.
Perhaps that’s why he says, “There’s a woman.
” The unit nods encouragingly. “She thinks CHOICElover and our mission is horrific. She thinks I’ve been with manupartners so long that I can’t .
. .” Technically, she said, Can’t get an actual woman to spread her legs for you?
but he certainly isn’t going to say that.
“. . . she thinks I can’t attract a real woman. ”
“And this woman’s opinion bothers you because?” the unit asks.
He sighs. “I don’t know why I care what she thinks. It . . .”
The truth is, her accusation stung—what, his male pride? Because it questioned his purpose for existing? Or was it her general disapproval of him that chafed? Why does he even care if some woman from four hundred years ago doesn’t like him?
“. . . it bothers me that she doesn’t understand my reasons. It’s my responsibility as owner to embody our mission, to demonstrate that Your CHOICE for companionship has never been easier. What’s easy about dating a real person?”
The unit’s features remain placid as it waits for him to continue.
He clenches his fists as his agitation rises.
Why is he expecting some type of reaction?
Manupartners are programmed for unquestioning obedience and agreement.
He shouldn’t blame the thing for being a little stilted.
Robotic, even. The unit perfectly illustrates why he allowed the experiment that led to Electra.
If they could select for individual idiosyncrasies, the units might feel more human without the complications of actually being human.
Look at where it landed him: with a woman-shaped dilemma.
A woman he’s currently responsible for—because her existence is his fault—who doesn’t believe he’d be able to attract a real human woman.
Which brings him full circle and back to the manupartner staring at him.
“With every other aspect of life customizable to one’s preferences, people shouldn’t have to settle for less than a perfectly agreeable partner.
CHOICElover stepped in and offered an ideal solution so they no longer had to.
You see how people react to us. They think I’m a trailblazer.
A modern-day hero who provides a valuable service to society.
I could probably garner the attention of any number of real women. ”
“But you want her attention,” the unit observes.
He runs a hand through his hair, starting to pace. “No.”
“Then you want her to understand that other women will want you?”
Is that it? It doesn’t feel right—not entirely. His brow furrows. He turns the accusation over in his mind. Can’t get an actual woman to spread her legs for you? What is it about that question that bothers him?
Even by modern standards, he’s an attractive, successful man, so he assumes the answer is yes.
He could indeed get an actual woman to spread her legs, as she so vulgarly put it.
But he hasn’t even attempted anything, casual or not, with a real woman in .
. . he can’t remember. He’s always had a manupartner—at least since they developed the first prototypes.
He’d been 31, and while he’d never had a girlfriend like Jerme, he still had needs, so he fulfilled them as his body required.
But that was almost a century ago. Does it even count?
“That’s not it,” he finally replies. Again, it’s not like he cares. As far as he’s concerned, her existence is only interesting because of the scientific insight she’s uniquely poised to provide.
His device pings. There’s a message from Tommy: Where did you go?