Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE_
THE GIFT
Winston Lowe was used to his father bailing on him, and this was no different.
Not only had he missed his high school graduation, he’d missed most of Winston’s college career.
Now that he was entering his senior year, it shouldn’t have surprised him that his dad couldn’t pry himself away from running the company to make it to a simple birthday dinner.
He’d given up being disappointed a long time ago, and now he looked forward to seeing whatever it was his dad sent to try and buy his affections. To be fair, his dad didn’t miss every major event and holiday. Winston was sure his dad made it to Christmas dinner three—no, four—four years ago.
When he started college, his father, not wanting his son to be subject to something as unsavory as dorm living had bought him a modest house off-campus.
It was Victorian in style, though not in age.
The modern style might have moved on to all clean lines and boring little boxes, but Winston loved the charm and flair that people used to have.
He missed the embellishments in architecture.
In fashion. In just about everything now.
The off-campus house was more his home than the stark, palatial mansion he’d grown up in. His roommates, Lucky–his best friend–and Novak, were more of a family than the people he shared blood with.
He parked his car in the driveway and jogged up the steps and into the house. The chill of early November nipped at him, and he hurried inside.
“Hey, Win, get your ass in here. You’ve gotta see this,” Lucky called from the living room. The large space was furnished with a huge TV and several gaming consoles, and it was where everyone tended to gather when they were around.
Winston took his coat and shoes off and pocketed his keys as he strode into the living room. In the center of the room stood a box that was nearly as tall as Winston. Sleek and shiny, it dawned on him that it wasn’t a box at all.
“Holy fuck.”
“Daddy must be gearing up to miss the next few major milestones if he dropped a mint on one of these.” Lucky ran his hands over the outside of the box.
Not a box. Winston had been following the advances in cybernetics and artificial intelligence.
The new wave of robots looked eerily human.
They were built to be the perfect companion.
Teachers. Butlers. Servants. Whatever you needed a robot for, they’d provide.
The base of the box served as the uplink to the mainframe and would allow the robots to update as necessary.
Winston stepped closer, running his hands over the smooth surface. “Did you open it up yet?”
“Nah, man. The delivery guys just left.” Lucky pulled out a card and handed it to Winston. “It’s the number for the company if there’re any issues.”
Winston had to admit that, in this case, the sleek lines of the box were sexy as hell, given that he knew what was inside.
Running his fingers down an edge, he found the button that opened it.
He glanced at Lucky, who bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement.
Novak looked on from his usual spot on the sectional.
A man of few words, he arched an eyebrow at Winston.
Yeah, so he might be stalling a bit.
Sucking in a deep breath, Winston opened the box. He let out a low whistle at the contents. Tentatively, he reached out, caressing the robot’s face.
“He feels almost real,” Winston whispered, stroking his fingers down the robot’s cheek.
Robots from the factory came fully dressed, this one in a smart navy blue business suit and a silver tie.
He stood motionless, and Winston took the opportunity to brush his hands down the chest and over the shoulders. “How do you turn him on?”
As Winston spoke, the eyes on the robot opened. Pools of endless blue stared at him. It unnerved Winston, and he took a step back. “Holy shit.”
Lucky came over to gawk at the robot. Unaffected for the most part but mildly curious, Novak looked on from his spot on the couch.
“What do we do?” Lucky whispered to Winston as he draped an arm over his shoulders.
“I don’t know.” Winston hated that he hadn’t been alone to receive the gift.
He wanted to take his time to get to know all about it before he jumped in with both feet, the way his friends often did.
If he’d been able to take his time getting to know what model it was and what tasks it performed, he’d have felt better about the whole thing.
Besides, he might have been able to send it back, but it was clear by Lucky’s interest that there was no way he was going to let that happen.
“Let me call my dad first.” Winston pulled his phone out. “Call Dad,” he told the phone. It responded by autodialing his father’s number. Something Winston rarely did. If his father wanted to speak to him, he would reach out. Any other time, Winston knew better to leave well enough alone.
“Winston,” his father’s deep baritone rumbled over the line. “You got my gift.”
“I did. Thank you, sir. Um, I was just wondering… what’s it for?”
“What do you mean what’s it for? It’s a gift. It’s for you.”
“No, uh, I meant… what does it do?”
His father let out a deep, ugly-sounding chuckle. “It’s for whatever you tell it it’s for. It’s the newest model. Cost a fortune. It’ll keep your house clean. It’ll help you with your studies. Hell, it’ll even wash your ass if you tell it to.”
Winston wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t a prude, but he hated it when his father got crass.
It meant that he’d been drinking and when his father was drinking, he could be abrasive and thoughtless.
Winston should’ve been used to it by now.
His father had often wanted him to toughen up, and he thought being an asshole was the way to do it.
“Well, thank you for the gift, sir. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“We’ll talk soon, Winston.”
They probably wouldn’t but Winston didn’t have it in him to mind at this point.
The call ended and Winston shoved his phone back in his pocket. “How do you activate this thing?”
The robot closed its eyes, then they opened again and a slow, somewhat eerie smile spread on the robot’s face. “Hello, I am 85295-C, at your service. What tasks do you wish me to perform?”
“Fuck me,” Winston whispered, stunned and amazed at how lifelike the robot was. Then, it stepped toward him. The robot reached for his waist. Startled, Winston stepped backward. “What are you doing?”
“You requested sex. I am fulfilling your directive.”
“It was an expression. Jesus. You need your language drivers updated.” Winston hoped like hell that Lucky and Novak hadn’t noticed the way his dick had hardened at the thought of having sex with the robot. “And while you’re at it, what should we call you? What’s your name?”
“My name is 85295-C.”
“No, you need a name. Not a serial number. While you’re updating your language drivers, pick a name.”
“Cal, short for Calvin,” he shot back with a moment later, then extended his hand toward me. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Winston, Winston Lowe. This is my best friend, Lucien Townsend.”
Lucien shook his hand next. “You can call me Lucky. And that lump on the couch over there is Novak.”
The robot—Calvin—Cal, greeted them both, then turned his attention back to Winston.
He seemed to know that Winston was his owner.
Owner sounded wrong, though. It made Winston cringe to think of being an owner to something that could choose its own name.
Winston would have to think of a better word for it.
Sponsor maybe. Boss, perhaps. Anything was better than owner.
“What do you wish of me?” Cal asked Winston.
“Um, is your charging unit portable? Like, can it be relocated?”
“Yes.”
“Great, um, follow me, I’ll show you around, and then we can pick a suitable spot for you.”
Cal followed Winston around the ground floor as he explained what each room was as they passed through it. “This is the kitchen. Not that you’d have much use for this room.”
“I can cook,” Cal said. With every word he spoke, he sounded less like a robot and more like a person. Like every interaction, no matter how small, informed him on how act. How to move and speak and interact to blend in better.
“Have you ever cooked before?”
Cal tilted his head. “No, but I’ve never walked or had a conversation before, and I’m holding my own.”
“Fair enough.”
“Do you wish me to cook?”
Winston thought about it for a second. “I mean, you can’t be worse than anyone else. Sure, but not right now. Come on, I’ll show you the upstairs.”
Winston climbed the stairs that lead to the second floor. “These rooms belong to Lucky and Novak. Then there’s the bathroom. Mine is on the third floor.”
It was Winston’s dad who purchased the house, so he got to choose what bedroom he wanted.
In reality, Winston didn’t need roommates.
He could have survived just fine here by himself if money had been the only issue.
But Winston had grown up in large, empty mansions.
Sprawling estates with plenty of staff and no friends.
If he had his way, he’d never live alone again.
His bedroom took up the entire third floor. He had a king-size bed that looked antique, but it had been modeled after an old Victorian style four-poster. A thick canopy of rich, eggplant purple fabric draped over the top. Sheer curtains were tied off at the posts instead of being drawn shut.
The room was large enough that it had its own sitting area with a couch and a couple of chairs. Over by the window, Winston had a chair that he sat curled up in sometimes. Across the room at the other window, there was no such chair, but there was plenty of room for Calvin.
“Is here fine?” Winston asked, showing the empty space to Calvin.
Technically, he could keep him wherever he wanted.
He could lock Cal in a closet or the basement.
He could command him to stay in his crate and power down, and he could ignore Cal’s existence altogether.
The thought crossed his mind but was easily dismissed when he saw the way Calvin traced his fingers over different things in the room.
Calvin didn’t know what sheer curtains felt like until he touched them.
He’d never experienced the warmth of a bed or the softness of a pillow before.
“That location is adequate.” Cal paused. “Thank you.”
“Do you need help bringing your charger here?”
“I can manage, but thank you, Winston. You’re kind to offer. If it pleases you, I’d like to retrieve it now.”
“Absolutely. Go ahead. I’ll, ah, wait here.”
“I’ll be right back.”
When Calvin left the room, Winston dropped onto the bench at the foot of his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. What the fuck was he going to do with his very own fucking robot?