Chapter Fifteen
Hadrian
Candice frowns, and it’s so lifelike it gives me shivers. A month ago, someone with a sense for these things would have been able to pick up that Candice wasn’t a true human. Now? I don’t know how anyone could tell. “What is it?”
A good question. Addressing interpersonal conflict has never been one of my strong points. Addressing it with a CI I created feels ridiculous. But I have to try. “Why are you changing how you look?”
I’ll leave it at that and worry about how she’s doing it later. She chews her lip, a bad habit I certainly never taught her, before answering, voice brittle, eyes staring off to the side. “Why the hell shouldn’t I?”
I’m used to light banter and a little sass from Candice, but this is pure sulky teenager. She sounds pissed off. She shouldn’t be able to, but she does. “I don’t mind if you want to experiment, but you should discuss it with me first. Changing your programming can—”
“I don’t have to ask you for every little thing. You don’t own me. I’m not a Ward.” She meets my gaze, and her eyes aren’t green anymore. In that split second, she switched them to vivid blue.
A screaming DANGER siren wails in my brain, every out-of-control AI doomsday scenario playing out in my head. This is how it starts. I should have known this was too much of a risk. Maybe Juliet was right to turn me in.
No. Get it together.
I keep my voice calm, though I’m starting to sweat. “You’re right. I don’t own you. But I care about you. You have to check with me before you mess with your programming.”
“It’s mine! I can do what I want with it.”
“Yes, but—”
“I don’t want to be a copy of her.” The words hang there, and Candice’s stare bores into me. “Why did you make me her double? It’s…”
She trails off, but I can hear the words she left unsaid.
It’s weird.
It’s creepy.
What the hell is wrong with you?
And she’s not wrong. I questioned myself many times as I struggled over matching Juliet’s skin tone and hair color exactly.
It was weird of me, and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to make myself stop.
I poured everything into creating Candice, stonewalled Juliet and her concerns, and it destroyed my marriage.
In a messed-up way, modeling her after Juliet felt like salvaging a little of what we should have had. We never settled on whether we wanted children, but I went and created one all the same.
It sounds even crazier when I lay it out in black and white. Maybe Jacob and Kendrick are right and I’m losing it.
Either way, Candice is justified in being upset. “I know. You’re right. I’m sorry. And I do like your new look. Did Quinn help you design it?”
At the mention of Quinn, Candice’s face softens, some of the tension leaving her.
I sometimes think that without Quinn, Candice would never have achieved true sentience.
It took someone treating her like a real person for her to become one.
“Yes. We’re figuring out some makeup looks right now.
She says you’re an asshole for questioning me, by the way. ”
I snort. Wards are supposed to treat all Brothers with deferential respect, refer to us as “sir,” and obey us unless it conflicts with an order from their own Brother or Kendrick. Quinn never did anything of the sort, but I can’t say I mind. I only want that sort of treatment from one person.
“You’re with Quinn now?”
“Yes. In the virtual world. She’s in the lab.”
In my lab, she means. Without permission. Another thing I choose to let go.
Most people in the small group who interact with Candice find it strange that she can conduct multiple conversations at once, but that’s because they don’t understand the scope of what she’s capable of. If they did, they’d probably be more frightened of her than they already are.
“Okay. Can you please keep what we’re going to talk about next between the two of us?”
Candice’s pause stretches long enough that I’m sure she’s about to argue, but then she gives a curt nod. Another little bit of rebellion creeping in. Is it harmless, or does it spell disaster?
“I need to ask you something. The Morse code I saw last night. Was it you playing a prank? I won’t be upset if it is, but I need to know.”
Candice’s mouth drops, and the outraged expression is so perfectly human it makes my head spin. “Of course not! I’d never do something like that.”
I stare at her digital face, trying to read the truth there. If she’s lying, would I be able to tell? Until recently, I wouldn’t have thought such a thing was possible, but now…
“You’re sure, Candice? This is really important.”
“I know it is. It wasn’t me. I promise.” The brattiness is gone from her tone, and her brow creases. “I haven’t been able to work out who did it, either. If someone in here is messing with you, they’re very good at it.”
Either she’s lying, or the person trying to scare me is smart enough to hide themselves from a sentient CI.
I’m not sure which is worse. No one outside of the Compound knows about Candice, so why would they take the sort of precautions necessary to fool her?
If Candice isn’t to blame, it has to be someone inside the Compound.
A Brother? Another Calder spy? I keep such a low profile here; I can’t imagine I’ve drawn enough attention to gather enemies. The only thing I could have done to upset people is create Candice.
It’s possible someone might see her as enough of a threat that they would attack me to get her shut down.
But a bullet to the head would be more useful than early-twentieth-century poetry, if that is their goal.
This feels like a game designed to mess with me, and try as I might, I can’t see a point to it.
Either way, there’s no point further antagonizing Candice.
“Okay. I believe you. Sorry I accused you.” I pause, then add, “And you’re doing well otherwise? Nothing you need to tell me?”
Candice smiles. “No. Everything’s good with me.”
***
By the time I arrive at the Compound’s main bar, the other three guys are already there, seated at a booth, drinks in hand. I’m late—I procrastinated, as usual. Social events always make me anxious, and this one in particular feels more like a psych evaluation than casual drinks.
Juliet is the only person who brought me out of my shell. With her, I actually enjoyed going out. Some of the time, anyway. She called herself my “emotional support extrovert” and wouldn’t take no for an answer. How will that work once I let her out of her dungeon?
I pull out my phone and allow myself one more minute before I face the horrors of small talk.
Juliet must really be suffering now. She’s abandoned the blanket and is sitting by the stream of water, her hair soaking wet.
She must have thought a cold shower would help.
By the look of her flushed skin, it hasn’t.
All the sex toys are gone from the altar.
A quick check of the replenishing box’s camera tells me she’s put them in there.
Out of sight, out of mind. A smart move, but she’ll have to take them out if she wants to eat—the mechanism that delivers her food won’t activate unless the box is empty.
Once she starts to get hungry, she’ll figure it out, I’m sure.
I check what’s on the menu and can’t hold back a smirk when I see it’s stew again. By the time I release her, she’ll get to her knees and kiss my feet if I promise her a slice of pizza.
“Hadrian? We’re over here, mate.”
Jacob’s booming voice makes me jump. Goddamn it. I’m supposed to look calm and collected. I put my phone away and head over with what I hope is a friendly smile. “Sorry. I was just checking on Juliet.”
“All good, mate. Get a drink and grab a seat. I’ve ordered a few snacks.”
“By which he means enough food to feed the entire Compound. For a week.” Sebastian says with a smile. He’s making a joke, trying to be friendly, even though I know he thinks I’m an oddball.
I try to come up with a joke in response, but my tongue ties, as it so often does. Maybe I should just wear my Saldar costume full time. At least then, no one would want to make conversation with me. “I’ll get a drink. Give me a minute.”
Maybe alcohol will help.
It turns out, it does.
After three beers, words come out in a way that doesn’t feel like torture, and the guys actually seem to be interested. I’m describing Juliet’s prison and all the work I put into the details.
Sebastian lets out a low whistle. “Shit. Ophelia should be glad I didn’t talk to you about any of this before I took her. If I’d realized we could get this elaborate, I’d have come up with something really crazy. All I managed was a pet bed.”
Jacob holds up a finger. “Which bloody Quinn is jealous of, thanks very much. You have to tell me where to get one.”
Sebastian shakes his head. “I had to promise the chap a kidney to get him to make one of the things. He’ll never agree to another. He doesn’t want to become known as the pet-bed man. He’s a master craftsman.”
Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You guys overcomplicate things. I hardly had any equipment for Eve.”
Sebastian brays a laugh loud enough that a couple of people look over. His bottle of wine is almost empty. “Yes, because Eve is the sweetest person on the planet. You didn’t exactly have a challenge on your hands there, did you?”
Gabriel smiles. “You’d be surprised.” He turns his attention to me. “How’s Juliet’s temper? Do you think she’ll lose it when she finds out who you are?”
I take a sip of my fourth drink. I have to make it my last, even though I’m actually enjoying myself. I need to be on top form for Juliet tomorrow, once she’s completed her punishment.
“She’s a Scottish redhead and lives up to every stereotype. If I’m not careful, she’ll kill me.”
Even Jacob looks impressed. “How did you meet?”
For the first time in years, the memories aren’t tinged with pain. Now that I have Juliet back, her betrayal no longer stings with the force it once did. She’s going to spend the rest of her life on her knees for me. It makes the past pale into insignificance.
“We were in school together. I was a bit of a loner, and she’d just moved over from Scotland and didn’t know anyone yet. She loved gaming and anime, and I loved sci-fi, so we hit it off.”
Juliet didn’t find her social groove until college. The girls at school didn’t like her quirky style, and she struggled to make friends. Lucky for me, really. It meant I had her all to myself for a while.
“High school sweethearts. How touching.” Sebastian drains the last of his drink and frowns. “So, what happened?”
“Fuck’s sake, mate. He might not want to talk about it,” Jacob mutters, but I shake my head.
“No. It’s okay. It all went to shit when I started work on Candice.” I take another sip of my drink, then set it down carefully. The room sways a little. Okay, definitely the last drink. When did I become such a lightweight?
“Juliet is a game designer, so she’s used to creating responsive characters, but she’s always been afraid of true cybernetic intelligence. When she saw the direction my research was going, we started to argue. I had research funding from the university and, well…”
I force myself on. “I lied about what I was using it for. I told myself that once they saw my progress, they’d get on board.
Juliet begged me to stop. She had so many safety concerns and said I wasn’t thinking straight.
That I’d become obsessed.” I pause, then admit the truth.
“She wasn’t entirely wrong. At that point, Candice might not have been ready. ”
I shift my head, and the room gives a sickening lurch. I push my half-finished drink away and reach for the water jug instead. “When I wouldn’t listen, she told the university. They took everything. My funding, my research…”
The old anger flickers for a moment, surging up with its usual bitter intensity.
How could she? How could she do it to me?
My hand shakes as I lift the jug, and I stare at it. What…
The jug crashes to the table, water spilling out, as my body spasms, agonizing cramps knifing into my muscles. I scream, flailing. My legs jerk, my chair tips backward, but someone catches me before I hit the floor.
The pain. Oh God, the pain. It’s shredding me from the inside out.
I convulse on the floor, though someone is holding me down. Shouts. Urgent voices. Running feet.
Then a sharp stab to the back of my neck and blessed nothingness.