Chapter 14
“I thought I was allowed to be myself.” She shoots him a snarky grin.
He stifles a groan. Her existence is your fault, so you deserve this. “I changed my mind.”
Electra chuffs. “What does ‘act like a manupartner’ even mean?”
“Be agreeable. At least until we are alone, if you can manage that.” He instinctively offers Electra his elbow. “Better yet, don’t speak. That goes for you too, Chryl.”
“Yes, Daddy!” Chryl says, earning a groan from both him and Electra. Chryl loops her arm through his offered one. “Don’t be cranky, handsome.”
He shakes Chryl’s arm off, angling for Electra, who steps out of his reach.
“My not speaking wasn’t part of our agreement,” Electra says.
“Perhaps we can add it as a condition?”
“How about a second favor of my choosing?” She smiles at him smugly.
Zorg, give him strength. He shakes his head. “No.”
It’s not like his attitude is unwarranted, considering he spent fifteen minutes bargaining with Electra to get her out the door.
Besides, he already heavily weighted the deal in her favor by granting her one request of her choice—at a time of her choosing—that he couldn’t refuse, in exchange for agreeing to visit the lab with Chryl in tow, plus lunch for advertising.
It’s a steep price, which feels a little ominous, if he’s being honest. But after the sixth failed synthetic Jerme DNA attempt that morning, he was desperate to get her to the lab for some scans, so he gave in.
Should the scans offer a path to bringing Jerme back, fulfilling her request will be well worth it.
Then he won’t have to use the organic samples as Lextr keeps pushing.
It’s getting harder to deny the soundness of his reasoning.
He takes Electra’s arm, sliding down until he can entwine their fingers.
She doesn’t resist as he tugs her forward.
They pass various staff members in the hallways, some of whom he recognizes.
All recognize him and give the three of them a wide berth.
When they are safely ensconced inside an elevator, she holds up their joined hands.
“Considering we’re at your company, is this necessary? ”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t holding Chryl’s hand,” she points out.
“I don’t have to worry about Chryl misbehaving.” For her part, Chryl gleefully nods, pretending to zip her lips. He permits himself a bemused grin as he leads them into the hallway that connects the research and development laboratories.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Lextr says. “We weren’t expecting you this afternoon.”
He pulls Electra forward. “Electra has agreed to a few scans.”
Chryl starts, “You can scan me if you want—” but Res6 cuts her a warning look. She mouths sorry and re-zips her lips.
“Excellent. I can take care of it.” Lextr holds out his hand in a gesture that says, Just hand her over to me.
Electra takes a wary step back, edging behind Res6. The fingertips of her free hand wrap around his arm, and an emotion he’d rather avoid swells in his chest. “I’ll accompany her. We should do a full bio check while we’re at it.”
Lextr’s brows rise, and he shoots an incredulous glance between them. “As you wish. Unit, please follow me.” He leads them through the nearest double-paned glass door and down the long corridor that leads to the medical wing.
“Her name is Electra,” Res6 repeats when they enter a large exam room.
“With respect, sir, I don’t care what her name is. To me, she’s an experiment. Fascinating, yes, but still an experiment.” As Lextr collects the equipment, he shoots Chryl, who is shimmying with excitement, several wary glances. “Is she malfunctioning?”
“I’m not,” Electra answers, busy eyeing the different pieces of medical and scientific equipment.
He tries to see the blinking gadgets and human-sized chambers through her eyes: the shiny metal electro-regeneration scale, the transparent particle panes of the Spot-Gene Interface. His lab must be a strange place to her.
Chryl steps to Electra’s side, shaking her bosom. “He means me, obviously, babes!”
“My mistake. Well, in that case . . .” Electra mutters, trailing off.
Ten minutes later, Lextr has collected a saliva and blood sample. They’ve come back normal. Res6 hovers nearby, trying not to fidget while Lextr takes the first of many scans. As the blue biowave makes a pass over her body, Electra is stiff.
The device beeps twice before lighting up green. “All internal systems are intact,” Lextr says. He steps closer, inspecting her face. He lifts his hand, tapping her cheek. “I would suggest we remove these since you plan to keep her.”
She flinches, and Res6 steps forward, forcing Lextr to take a step back. “Absolutely not.”
“But they’re a defect and will make her acclimatization in our society more difficult,” Lextr pushes.
“I said no. The freckles stay,” Res6 states.
“Fine.” Lextr shakes his head, mumbling, “When was the last time you took good advice when I offered it to you?”
Lextr runs three more scans, each a different color of light.
“Her long-term DNA malfunction prediction report will be emailed to you automatically as soon as it is finished processing.” He glances up at the particle pane displaying the time, the indoor temperature, and the current light setting, and sets the scanner on the counter. “If that is all, I’m needed elsewhere.”
Res6 narrows his eyes. Considering the scan results will be ready shortly, it surprises him that Lextr isn’t eager to review them.
Each failure bothers Lextr too. The man is as eager to succeed as he is, though his lead scientist is more interested in replicating the experiment, which will help them isolate the precise factor causing the NAM activation.
When the door closes behind Lextr, Electra lets out a long exhale. “That was exciting. Lextr seems like a real piece of work.”
“I think he’s kinda cute.” Chryl twirls a lock of hair, but she jerks like she’s surprised herself. “Don’t be jealous, Daddy!”
“Chryl, please,” he snaps, and turns to Electra. “Lextr means well, and he and Tommy balance each other out.”
Before Electra, it never occurred to him that Lextr’s behavior might be rude.
Perhaps that means there is some value in attending his FRIENDS group after all.
But if he showed up now, would anyone realize he’s been sending a manupartner in his place the entire time?
He could put in for a new group and within a week, NHOS would assign it, but it seems like a lot of trouble.
Besides, he has her for human interaction now.
Except he doesn’t have her, given that he chose to avoid a long-term attachment, and she did too.
The woman is a disruption. Why did he do this to himself?
His curiosity. Right. His thinking is growing increasingly repetitive, and his rationalizations are weakening by the moment, despite how desperately he’s clinging to them.
On the bright side, Electra’s existence gave him the idea to bring back Jerme, so her presence will be worth it.
Electra groans. “Please tell me all future people aren’t like him. What about the conduct classes you mentioned? He’s probably due for one soon.”
“I’ll have to check his file. Then there are a few things I need to do in my office while we wait on your DNA malfunction prediction report. If anything comes up, we can stop by the corrections department to get a gene editing procedure while we’re here.”
Before she can pepper him with a million questions, he takes her hand and leads her out.
Chryl follows, humming a tune he doesn’t recognize, and he does his best to ignore her and the interested looks she and Electra are getting from his staff.
Once the three of them are behind the closed door of his office, he waves his hand, gesturing for Electra to speak. “Go ahead.”
“What?” she says.
“Ask away. I know you have questions.” Res6 takes a seat at his desk. Electra and Chryl follow suit, plopping into the chairs opposite his desk. He checks his inbox and finds a few documents he can retina-sign while he supplies her with answers.
“Okay, questions then,” she begins, but hesitates. “If the report says I’m likely to get the same cancer my mom had, what do I do?”
Res6 stops what he’s doing, his attention drawn by the distressed wobble in her voice. What is with his visceral urge to draw her into his chest? That’s not like him at all. Be rational, he scolds himself. He’s about to offer her a logical reply when his inbox pings. “Oh, here it is now.”
She moves to stand beside him, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. He scrolls down through the report, pausing momentarily on a couple of yellow-highlighted rows. “What are those?” she asks.
“Minor predictors. Those abnormalities are unlikely to manifest as an illness, but given the right circumstances, they could be triggered. Anything highlighted, regardless of the color, should be corrected.”
“I see,” she says.
He stops scrolling at the first green row. It reads:
Generalized Breast Cancer Risk 94%.
“Oh God,” she whispers, putting a shaky hand over her chest. He stares at her hand for a long, unsettling moment.
“The report doesn’t mean you have cancer. It is only a predictor based on a set of data points,” he says, his voice admittedly robotic.
He’s still staring at her hand. He’s not sure what comes over him, but he takes it and cradles it in the space between them. It feels like the right thing to do, which only means her distress is doing things to him that cannot be explained with datasets.
“It says ninety-four percent.” She draws in a few sharp, panicked breaths.