Chapter 3
Sera
“Oh, that’s very convenient!” I huffed as soon as my heart restarted from a brief panic freeze. “You want to force it on me, don’t you? I’m leaving!”
I stormed out of the room with Charlie following close behind me.
“I cannot let you leave the premises, Miss Evans. I’d also advise you to stay away from windows once you reach an upper level. We use armored glass, but it can be traumatizing to see a bullet rushing at you.”
I stopped, biting the inside of my cheek so hard, I tasted blood. “So it’s true? There is a sniper out there? How do you know?”
The lights dimmed, and the wall clicked, a screen sliding out from a partition in the ceiling.
It displayed the feeds from about six cameras, showing a tall, narrow building from different angles.
It definitely belonged in this area of high rises and fancy office towers.
Two feeds showed movement and a glint of metal in a window, followed by a clear shot of a long barrel, but not the person holding it.
I folded my arms, locking my knees. The memory of my car exploding replayed in my mind, and sweat poured down my spine, soaking into the waistband of my shorts.
“Fine. Let’s assume there is a sniper. What will you do about it?”
Charlie gestured at the screen and the image changed, showing the parking lot in front of the MSA’s main door.
It flickered with lights and the view seemed distorted, the edges of objects blurring and shifting.
I blinked and looked away. There was something unsettling about the view, and it made my head hurt.
“We’ve deployed a visual distortion system that makes it impossible to aim at any target present on our premises. The law only permits us to use it on the land belonging to the MSA. It should be sufficient protection for our guests and clients.”
I didn’t feel sufficiently protected. Sweat poured down my face and I heard a low click. Cold air from the nearest AC unit blew down the top of my head. Thoughtful. I clenched my eyes shut and trapped a frustrated scream in my throat.
“Aren’t you going to take them down? It’s what you do,” I said through gritted teeth.
The MSA was known as the most proactive agency when it came to neutralizing threats. I heard they had agents who weren’t so much bodyguards as trained assassins. This looked like the perfect case for one of those.
“We have no cause to attack the sniper. They are in a building that does not belong to us and haven’t fired a single shot. Most likely, the sniper will wait until you leave the safety of our perimeter and attack you then.”
I threw my hands. “Fine! Can I hire a cyborg for just one hour and have him get rid of the sniper so I can leave?”
“The shortest possible detail duration is seven days once a threat is detected,” Charlie said, sounding apologetic.
“It’s one of the provisions in form Z12, which you signed.
A week is the minimum amount of time allowing us to bring you to relative safety so you don’t expire as soon as our contract ends. ”
“Seven days! And if I stay here and wait until the sniper is gone, I’ll be charged 800 bucks an hour?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“That is correct. May I encourage you to look at the silver lining, Miss Evans?”
A sharp bark of laughter tore out of my throat. “What silver lining?!”
Charlie smiled gently, and I clenched my teeth so hard, my jaw burst with pain.
“Had you left here before we detected the threat, you might not have survived. But you are alive and aware of the danger. That gives you all the advantage you need.”
I deflated, leaning my back against the wall. Charlie was quiet, and the only sounds were my rapid, unsteady breathing and the soft murmur of the artificial waterfall on the other end of the corridor.
I wanted to fight, wanted to rally, but a bone-deep, stifling exhaustion filled my chest and belly. I felt so heavy, the idea of taking even a single step filled me with nausea. All I wanted was to slide down the cool wall, lie down on the thick carpet, and sleep.
It would be the most expensive nap in my life. Not a chance. Leaving on my own was out of the question, too.
I was truly out of options. Defeated by bureaucracy. What a joke.
“I’ll take one,” I whispered. “For—a month, let’s say. I don’t care which one. They all look the same. Could you please get me something to drink? Thank you.”
Since I was going to betray all my principles and my dead mother’s memory, I might as well get something out of this—and I could do things if my safety was guaranteed for a month. Maybe I could solve this. A tenuous plan formed in the back of my mind.
Charlie nodded, and a moment later, the door leading to the cyborg room opened. One of the machines came out, bearing a tray.
The drink was in a tall, frosted glass. There was a pink umbrella in it, and a long metal straw in the color of slick, shifting purple.
I stared, my face numb and frozen, as the enormous cyborg walked steadily, making as much noise as a cat stalking prey. It stopped in front of me and lowered the tray to the perfect height for me. I gaped at the drink. It was green with pink tapioca balls on the bottom.
“How…” I began then stopped, taking a deep breath. It smelled like kiwi and watermelon, and I sighed. This was my favorite.
“There is a smart drink bar hidden in the wall,” Charlie explained helpfully.
“Most clients hiring our cyborgs tend to be wary just like you, Miss Evans. We have established through trial and error that being served their favorite drink by their bodyguard tends to lessen anxiety by fifty-nine percent. An ice-breaker, if you will.”
“Oh, I will,” I said, gripping the cold glass. “How do you know I love boba tea? I suppose I’ve blabbed about it on my blog, too?”
“You have posted eight pictures of boba tea on your social media, with the majority of them containing kiwi and watermelon emojis in the descriptions.”
I nodded, vowing silently to purge any personal content from my social media accounts once this was over.
Of course, I never posted anything revealing nor did I provide any material of myself that might be used for a deepfake.
I was famous enough to be used that way.
My haters—mostly tech bros who loathed the way I cramped their style—would likely piss themselves from joy at any chance to run my image through a nudifying AI and humiliate me.
“Does it speak or is it mute?” I asked, gesturing at the silvery clanker that now stood nearby, the tray still in its hand.
Charlie was a he and I couldn’t help it, but this thing was an it.
“His name is Dean, and yes, he speaks when addressed.”
I sighed, bracing my shoulders, and turned to the thing.
It towered over me, gleaming and large, perfectly proportional.
Its eyes blinked blue like Charlie’s. I swallowed, deeply aware that this thinking, scheming entity was legally mine for the duration of the protection detail. Though—I didn’t sign anything yet.
“I’ll call you Clanker,” I said uneasily, looking at the thick cables making up the thing’s neck. Its face was creepy. Not at all emotive like Charlie’s.
“My name is Dean, but if you wish, I will respond to Clanker. Be advised that it’s a less efficient name to call in a crisis. A one-syllable alternative would be better.”
Its voice was smooth and masculine, and yet there was an androgynous quality to it, like the speaker was just an octave away from sounding feminine.
It spoke clearly, but I could immediately tell there was far less warmth and personality in its voice.
I shot Charlie a sharp look. So was it true? Was he truly—sentient?
“Will you do everything I say?” I asked, turning back to the machine even as my back crawled with foreboding.
“No. I will prioritize your safety above all else. If your instructions aren’t aligned with that goal, I will not carry them out.”
I looked at Charlie helplessly and he smiled.
“I’ll give you an example. I once had a client who was a compulsive gambler.
His enemies knew that and observed all the large casinos in his area.
It was in his best interest to stay home where he was safe, but he wanted to leave.
When I tried to stop him from sneaking out, he threatened to take his life if I didn’t let him go. He had a knife.”
I swallowed roughly. “What did you do?”
“I injected him with a harmless, short-lasting sedative and tied him to a chair. Upon his awakening, I had a secure online gambling setup ready for him that satisfied his compulsion enough to keep him from leaving. My job was to protect his life, not his finances.”
“That… makes sense,” I said slowly, turning to my clanker. “I forbid you from injecting me with anything.”
Its eyes flared brighter. “Noted.”
Charlie clicked softly, and I turned to him just in time to see him take a tablet from inside his torso. It seemed like the lower part of his ribcage was hollow, and a part of his armor the size of my two hands opened like a little door. It closed as soon as he had what he needed.
He offered me the tablet.
“The contract, Miss Evans. Press your index fingertip to the screen and Dean is all yours.”
The contract was sixteen pages long. I stared at the number, too weary to even try reading it. I knew it was a mistake even as I pressed my finger to the screen, but at this point, the cost of refusing to sign it was death. Whatever lurked in that contract couldn’t be worse than that.
“Thank you, Miss Evans. I’ll see you in a month.”
Charlie put the tablet back in the compartment in his torso, then closed it. The door integrated seamlessly with the rest of his armor. I wondered what else he stored in there as he walked away, disappearing in one of the rooms down the corridor.
My clanker watched me impassively, its arms loose at its sides. I blinked at it on a whim, pressing my eyelids shut with exaggeration. It was a game I used to play with my mom when I was a kid.
A deliberate blink meant, I see you. Do you see me?
She always blinked back—until she didn’t.
The clanker’s eyes remained a steady blue, not returning my blink, and I gave up, slumping as I hugged myself. I never felt more alone in my life.
“What do you want to do now?” the thing asked after maybe a minute, its voice smooth and indifferent.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, and gathered what remained of my will. “My life is already on the line, so I might as well write the most risky article of my career and expose Zenkyoza. For that, I’ll need definite proof straight from the source. We need to get to the airport.”
The clanker’s eyes flared brighter for a moment. “I’m preparing my travel documents and searching for the fastest flight to Neo Tokyo. Rerouting… Task complete.”
I scoffed under my breath, uncomfortable and sweaty, and hating this thing with all the power of my anxiety. “Showoff. Have you also bought the tickets?”
“I will once I find the most optimal flight. The cost will be added to your fee. A car is ready in the underground garage,” it said, motioning toward the elevator.
I froze, staring at its open doors, then at my bodyguard. More sweat trickled down my face despite the cold AC still blasting down my head, and I shivered as an abyss of fear opened in my chest.
Me and the thing were alone, and the wrongness of it—it’s a machine, you can’t trust it, you’ll die just like Mom—hit me with a full blast.
“I’m not getting in a car with you,” I whispered hoarsely.
Clanker tilted its head to the side, its eyes dimming.
“Searching for an explanation for the client’s distress.
I see. Sera Evans’ blog, article entitled AI Killed My Mother.
Noting client’s aversion to AI-driven cars.
Considering a solution. The client has a valid driving license. Would you like to drive?”
I swallowed with effort, even though it did nothing to melt the huge ball of terror sitting in my throat. “Do you always… process things out loud?” I asked, doing my best to calm myself.
“When the circumstances allow it. Research suggests providing a context facilitates communicating with organics.”
“Right.”
My hands shook, and I definitely was not in the right state to drive. Could I wait here until I calmed down? No, sitting on my butt always made my anxiety worse. Now that I’d decided what to do, I needed to be out there, revealing dirty corporate secrets and making the world safer.
“Fine. I’ll drive.”
“Do you require a guided breathing exercise to calm down?”
I gritted my teeth and shot the thing an angry look. Its expression was indifferent, and it was infuriating. If clankers felt emotions, they would probably bask in their sense of superiority, since they were so much more controlled than us hot-blooded organics.
Cold bastards.
“I require you to shut up,” I said through clenched teeth. “What car are we driving?”
Clanker’s torso lit up, and glowing blue words appeared across his chest, as if rapidly typed out. “An MSA car. It will return to HQ once we arrive at the airport.”
I blinked, confused. “Why did you just type that?”
“You instructed me to shut up.”
I grunted from frustration and banged the back of my head against the wall. Or at least, I tried to. A cold hand slid between my head and the wall at the last moment, molding to the shape of my skull and cushioning the blow.
Clanker’s face was right in front of mine, its eyes cool, its expression impassive. Glowing blue words appeared on its forehead.
“I’ll prevent every attempt to hurt yourself.”
“But I didn’t mean to… I’m just frustrated! Let go. What’s with the typing? Are you sassing me? Stop!”
Clanker stepped away, straightening, and watched me impassively. I took a deep, steadying breath, but at this point, it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world to soothe my nerves.
“You can speak,” I said through gritted teeth, feeling like an idiot. “Do not sass me ever again.”
“I will do my best to avoid any behavior that might be construed as sassing.”
Construed. The thing was gaslighting me, and I had no more energy to deal with it.
“Take me to the car.”
Clanker leaned in, picking me up bridal style, and strode into the elevator.