23 – Web of Lies
Why did he lie? It’s not like he owes her the truth, does he? So what if he’s selfishly trying to bring back his dead brother? Sure, Jerme might be upset at first, but he has Electra to help him solve Jerme’s issues.
He reaches around the fully formed Jerme experiment and sets the scanner down on a shelf. The scan looks perfect. In a few hours the light will turn green, and he’ll be ready to activate it. His anticipation is making him jittery.
Chryl lounges on the bed, watching something on her tablet, giggling occasionally, unlike the body-double manupartner, who seems content to stare blankly at the wall or watch him like it’s doing now.
“Something bothering you?” it asks. “The woman again?”
Even though he’s now had a dozen conversations with the unit about Electra and her nature, it still calls her the woman.
Telling the manupartner was probably a highly inadvisable plan, but he’s exasperated Lextr and Tommy talking about her and, well, DumBot is dumb.
His body double’s selected traits make it such a good sounding board, and it looks just like Jerme.
One day, he just blurted it all out. He should invent a line of therapy manupartners—he’s getting distracted. Focus, Res6.
“She doesn’t approve of my experiment.” And in a few hours, she’s going to find out and they’re going to have a blowup—between Electra and a newly resurrected Jerme, it will be a challenging few days, but it will be worth it.
He glances toward the now closed closet, then at Chryl, who looks up from the tablet. He points to the noise-canceling headset on the nightstand. Chryl frowns, but puts it on. In a too-loud, pouty voice she says, “I don’t know why I don’t get to be part of your little talks.”
Thank you, he mouths, and a second later, she’s reabsorbed in whatever she was watching.
He turns back to the body double. “She brought up that some people like Jerme might not want to be brought back. At first, I thought she had a point. Then I got to thinking. She told me her stepmom was a psychologist. She wasn’t just any psychologist. After a little research this morning, I discovered she was on San Francisco’s premier morning show with her own segment, Ask Doctor Janet. ”
“That’s why she wants to start an advice column,” the body double astutely observes.
“Right.”
“Did you change your mind about the column?” it asks.
“What? No,” he shakes his head. “That’s not the point. I’m trying to say it’s serendipitous that Electra is who I brought back. When Jerme is here, she’ll know how to help me make Jerme happy.”
The body double’s eyes narrow. “So you’re going to tell her?”
“She’ll find out when I activate him. Then Jerme will help me smooth things over.” He huffs, plopping down at the foot of the bed. His foot is tapping restlessly. He grabs his knee, willing himself to still. He can handle this. “You’ve studied up on relationships. How upset is she going to be?”
“According to the Respectful and Considerate Conduct Course text, citizens ‘should refrain from lying. Engaging in falsehood may break down trust and stifle open communication between individuals, leading to negative consequences for both parties, such as causing the offended party to make poor choices based on the misinformation. Lying may even cause stress, feelings of guilt, or negative self-talk, effectively lowering one’s self-esteem.’ ”
Damn, that’s what he was afraid of because that’s exactly what’s happening.
His lie is leading Electra to believe he’s a better man than he is.
That’s why when she’s sitting across the room at her new desk, she keeps stealing glances at him with stars in her eyes.
His lie has effectively tricked her into a poor choice: liking him.
His guilt is a natural consequence. Ergo, he’s an idiot.
But his proverbial hole is already dug. There’s nothing he can do about it now, and it’s not like he can afford to come clean. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences when they inevitably come. “Great talk. I’m screwed,” he says, effectively ending the conversation.
He didn’t select judgmental, but it seems to be a consequence of the morality trait backfiring because he can feel the manupartner’s narrowed eyes on his back as he slips out to get a little work done to keep himself occupied.
An hour later, Chryl joins him and Electra in the living room, wearing a black pleated skirt, a gray open sweater over a vintage white button-down, and a pair of glasses she doesn’t need.
She carries his tablet to the couch and plops onto it, eyeing him as she twirls the end of a pigtail braid.
Her attention darts between him and Electra like she’s waiting for something.
“What are you doing, Chryl?” he gives in and asks.
She brightens considerably. “Reading!”
“Reading what?” he asks, mostly out of scientific curiosity.
While manupartners are programmed with the ability to read all six of the most common languages since reading is often necessary for their owner’s tasks, manupartners don’t typically read for fun.
It’s most likely a side effect of her jealousy trait and proximity to Electra.
“Some sort of instruction manual, I think,” Chryl answers, nose wrinkling.
Electra’s gaze snaps up, and she muffles a laugh as she eyes the other woman. “What are you wearing?”
Chryl frowns, assessing herself. “I asked DumBot to give me an outfit recommendation for a naughty book nerd from the early 2000s. This is what it suggested.”
“You look like Britney Spears,” Electra says.
A second later, a video pops up in his chat, which he also assumes shows on Chryl’s display as the manupartner’s eyes widen.
Chryl gasps. “Why is this child wearing my outfit?”
Res6 returns his attention to the video, in which an oversexualized teenage girl dances provocatively. Frowning, he closes the window.
Chryl must sense his disapproval, because she says, “Great. This entire outfit is wasted.”
She gets up and tosses the tablet onto the couch, shooting Electra a glare.
“I thought you were reading?” Electra prods, smirking.
“That instruction manual was boring. Besides, I already know all the positions described. When you’re ready, handsome, I’ll show you.” Chryl winks at him and slips into his room, presumably to change.
When he looks back, Electra has the discarded tablet in one hand, and is trying to hide a broad grin behind the other.
“Do I even want to know?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.
Electra waggles the tablet. “Res6, why are there dozens of romance books downloaded onto your system? I thought you said you don’t read romance books. Just mine.”
He shoots to his feet as mortification reddens his cheeks. “That file was labeled private!” He rushes around his desk to snatch the tablet containing the damning evidence proving that he may have formed somewhat of an addiction to Electra’s books and possibly others like them. “It’s your fault!”
She dances away before he can get to her. “After our previous conversation, I suspected you’d like erotica, but these are swoon-worthy historical romances.”
“I wanted to know what a duke was. Please give me the tablet,” he begs, chasing her.
She stops on the opposite side of his desk, giggling.
“This one is called Romance for Romeo.” She wipes tears from her eyes.
“Here’s another called Duke Theodore’s Tempestuous Touch.
This cover—you gave it five stars.” Losing herself in a fit of laughter, Electra folds over, clutching the tablet to her stomach.
He darts around the desk, but as he reaches for the tablet, she spins, effectively wrapping his arms around her from behind.
He grips her waist, and she leans back into his chest. The fresh lilac scent of her hair must be the reason he buries his face in the inviting skin beneath her ear and inhales like an animal, much in the same way Duke Theodore did to Lady Catherine.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he growls into her neck.
She glances over her shoulder, and their noses nearly brush, which sets his pulse racing. “Too late.”
Their eyes meet. The heat swirling in her wide pupils draws him closer.
Confusing yet not unwelcome emotions surge to the forefront of his emotional landscape—longing and something more menacing.
He pulls her closer. The way her soft curves mold so perfectly against him has his mind racing in dangerous directions.
Zorg, he’s going to miss this when she hates him.
He really shouldn’t let this go any further.
With a slow breath, her eyes flutter closed. Damn if he doesn’t feel like a romantic hero. He’s powerless to stop himself, and it’s only a kiss. His heart skips as he reaches up, coaxing her chin toward him. Their lips brush—
A throat clears. “Am I interrupting something?” Chryl says.
Shit. He didn’t even hear the door open.
Electra stiffens, and at that moment he determines the manupartner is getting recycled at the next available opportunity.
Electra giggles, moving out of his arms, and waves the tablet at him.
He steps forward, compelled as though she wields the full power of the MagTrack and he’s merely a SAT drawn to her charge.
“There’s something in here you need to see,” Chryl barks.
Stupid jealousy trait. He doesn’t take his eyes off Electra. “Not now, Chryl. Go back to your room.”
She huffs. “There’s something wrong with the thing”—her eyes widen comically—“in the closet—”
“I’ll be right there,” he interjects, his blood chilling. Why would Chryl think there’s something wrong with the Jerme trial? Its scan came back perfect an hour ago. Unless she’s using it to distract him.
Electra crosses her arms. “What’s in the closet, Chryl?” She turns her pointed—no, accusing—gaze on him.
Right as Chryl opens her mouth to answer, he laces his voice with authority, commanding, “Go. To. Your. Room.”