Chapter 7 #2
He gets her to check No on all the boxes and delete the damning text. When they’ve reached the bottom of the survey, he taps the enter key, hoping it suffices to submit the survey before she can intervene.
“Wait!” she cries, but it seems to have worked.
A new window pops up and a red light on the bar of the center monitor lights up.
She groans. “Please move. I have to do the retina scan.” When the scan is complete, an image of Kate appears on the screen with a green checkbox beside it, then disappears.
She turns to him. “Why did you do that? Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get into for reporting false information?”
He shakes his head, trying not to be agitated by her lack of consideration. “What would they do with me if they found out I retained the identity of the DNA used to formulate your . . .” He hesitates, mouth puckering with disgust as the word tumbles from his mouth. “Manupartner?”
“They would probably have me bring you to the GROW facility.”
“Why?” He wants her to come to the realization on her own.
Her pretty face blanches.
“Would they let me live?” he presses.
“I . . . I . . .” Now Kate is the one with words lodging in her throat. “I suppose they would want to study you to see what went wrong.”
“Then what? When they were done inspecting me for faulty wiring, what would they do with me?”
“They’d probably send you to the recycle station.” She sheepishly sinks back in her chair.
“Recycle station?” he parrots, his blanch now mirroring hers.
“Organic material is a premium product. Nothing is wasted. Biological material is repurposed every time a GROW is decommissioned or even when a real human dies. Same if food is discarded. You get the gist. Though considering your sentience, the ethical implications are unknown. I didn’t think of that. ”
“Well, good thing I did.”
She deflates further.
Shit. Now that he knows she didn’t abduct him and seems to have no ill intentions besides having intended to use his body for sex, he really doesn’t wish to upset her.
“Listen, I know this isn’t what you planned for me, but it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m a real man.
Unfortunately, in your possession, so it seems, considering you’ve paid for me.
At least until I can figure out a solution. Dying again so soon isn’t it.”
Somewhere in his monologue, Kate’s eyes widen, as if something he’s said intrigues her. “You’re real,” she observes. Awe is unmistakable in her tone.
James’s brows shoot up, furrowing for good measure. “Yes, I’m quite real, sweetheart. I don’t plan on getting recycled.” A shudder rolls through him at the dooming word. “So, like I said, I need to find somewhere to stay until I can figure out a way to make an income.”
She glances toward the room he slept in. “If you need another pillow, or different bedding—”
“It isn’t that. I don’t expect you to foot the bill for my expenses. I’m used to being self-reliant. Usually, large cities have services for those between homes. It would be better than depending on . . .” He can’t seem to bring himself to say the word you. “Someone else.”
It wasn’t her personally, either. Granted, the sex clone thing makes him feel massively uncomfortable. While he doesn’t see any other obvious flaws—she appears normal amidst the sea of oddities in the lobby yesterday—there must be something wrong with her that she needs to resort to such a thing.
“James, this is the future. There’s no need for services like that now. Besides, as you said, it’s not as if you can tell them who you are, since you technically aren’t supposed to exist. That little tag on your foot isn’t the same as the identifier I have.”
“I’m a product.” Suddenly, his fledgling agency flies out the window—more like falls out of the nest. Not only does he not own anything, someone owns him.
He’s even tagged with a bar code, like a box of cereal or a football jersey.
Great. Another thing about the future to hate.
This is going to be much more difficult than he imagined.
“What am I going to do?” He voices the question aloud, more to himself than her.
Kate’s Scientist Face appears. The one where her brows fight her frozen forehead, attempting to pinch together, as her eyes take on a faraway quality.
Her lips purse slightly, which makes her cheeks hollow and her cheekbones stand out more dramatically.
It makes her sharper, somehow. As if her intellectual capacity turns her into a predator and her beauty is nature’s warning.
James can think of several beautiful but deadly creatures to compare her to.
If she were an animal, it would be easier.
But with her, he’s unsure of what precise type of danger he should be wary of.
As he watches her think, he’s certain he should proceed with caution.
He’s said something she hasn’t considered. The smile she gives him thrills and alarms him simultaneously. He’s won an ally in her, but the cost remains unknown.
“Obviously, the simplest solution is that you stay here with me. Until we can figure out your identity problem, we’ll have to act as if you’re like every other manupartner.
I think we should carry on with my original plan.
Have breakfast out, then go find you some clothing, as if nothing is wrong with you. ” She winks, and his stomach flips.
“There isn’t anything wrong with me,” he grumbles, intending to resist her charms. But then a thought occurs to him. “Why are you so willing to help me? I accused you of abducting me, then you had to save me from the atmosphere. I’ll take up space and cost you money.”
One corner of her lip quirks upward. She’s staring at him like she pities him, and he wonders if what she’s about to say will be the truth or part of the scheme she’s clearly concocted.
“The ethical considerations, like you pointed out. It’s my fault you are here, so I feel like I’m responsible for—” She pauses, and he can see her debating how to word it.
James sees it plainly. She may be unwilling to voice it, but he isn't. “You feel like I’m your burden now. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid by going to a shelter.”
Kate looks like she wants to throw her hands in the air but is controlling her frustration. “The shelters you keep referring to don’t exist. The way I see it, you don’t have a choice.” Hurt flashes across her eyes. “I’m the best you’ve got.” She glances away, seemingly unable to meet his gaze.
There’s more behind her words. He doesn’t know any other future people, but she seems decent enough.
She’s certainly beautiful enough. It’s only that he doesn’t like depending on others.
If he accepts her help, can he really claim he did it on his own?
But if there isn’t a shelter like she claims, he really has no choice but to agree.
“Fine. If I stay here, we’ll keep a tally of every expense.
When I’m able, I will pay you back, plus substantial interest. Is that agreeable to you? ”
She waves, brushing him off. “Fine. Fine. If that makes you happy, then I’m happy to agree to it.
I’ll get you a tablet and you can keep track.
” She hesitates, and his instincts tell him she’s about to say something he should really pay attention to.
Something highly consequential. “We have one other minor thing to consider.”
“What’s that?” He’s more than a little wary.
“Nothing to worry about yet. Only that we might consider solving that problem before your lease is up.”
James coughs. He isn’t sure what that means, but a lease seems bad. “You don’t own me?”
“Technically, you’re leased. Shouldn’t be a problem, though. We just need to either make an extension or figure out how to get you an identity that doesn’t tie you to GROW. Which might be a little difficult, considering . . .” Her voice lowers until she trials off entirely.
“Kate, how long is my lease, and what happens when it expires?” He’s pacing now.
“Ninety days, which began last week when I started the activation. If for some reason we weren’t able to cover the extension, which shouldn’t be a problem, I mentioned recycling, right?
” She shrugs, pressing a button on the 3key that deactivates the monitors.
“Interesting process, I’m sure, but nothing we need to know the details of.
Anyway, now that uncomfortable conversation is out of the way, we should focus on something that makes us happy.
My friend Jett, who’s been dying to meet you, will meet us for breakfast.”
His stomach grumbles at the thought of food.
“Then,” she continues, “I know what we can do that will make us both feel better about this interesting situation we’ve arrived in.”
The rate with which she jumps topics makes his head spin. Like she didn’t just mention that if they can’t pay, he’ll be recycled—a word that is easy to interpret as eliminated, or worse, killed. Still, she sits there waiting for him to ask, so he obliges. “What’s that?”
She beams. “We’ll go shopping!”