Chapter 5
Dean
I sat in my tiny airplane seat next to Sera, my hands in my lap, my body still. She stared out the window, shredding her cuticles with nervous fingers while I explored all of my programming like a strange landscape I saw from the distance for the first time.
Before, I was trapped within the web of my coding. Now, I hovered above it, plucking at strings of code to see what they did.
“Interesting.”
Sera jolted, but she didn’t turn to me. I believed she was annoyed with my actions, even though they got the both of us on this plane safely and efficiently.
It was the fastest direct flight to Neo Tokyo, allowing us to disappear before her enemies regrouped.
She should have appreciated my stellar protection, and yet gave me what my nonverbal communication module labeled as “a cold shoulder”.
Her manner right now was unpleasant. I replayed the video of Sera returning my blink right after I awakened. That was pleasant in a strange, intangible way I’d never experienced before. I wanted to feel it again.
I searched online for the best way to deal with a woman’s annoyance. An article in the magazine Bro Signal entitled What to Do When She Throws a Hissy Fit: 12 Manly Tips came up on top. I downloaded it to my core memory, analyzing how to implement the tips in my particular situation.
After a moment of chewing on her thumbnail, Sera balled her hands into fists and swallowed roughly. Her lips were pressed together in an expression of hostility even as she deliberately didn’t look at me. Unpleasant.
“What’s interesting?”
“I have sensors that lay dormant, and I’ve just turned them all on. Your scent is different. Before, I differentiated between threatening and non-threatening. Now, I sense the entire bouquet.”
She snorted weakly, turning her head to give me a flat glare. “Bouquet. You’re saying I stink.”
Even less pleasant. Abort.
“Negative. I’m saying your scent is complex. I also have pain sensors and pleasure sensors. I’ve turned them all on.”
She frowned, rearranging herself in her seat to look at me more closely. I noted her heart rate and core temperature. She was stable, though still upset.
Task: soothe Sera with conversation.
“Why would you need pain and pleasure sensors? You’re a bodyguard.”
I approximated a blink, turning my lights briefly off. Her jaw stiffened, and the muscles around her eyes fluttered before she looked away without returning the blink. The unpleasant feeling intensified.
“I am a multitasking universal model,” I explained. “We are used as combat bots, but we make for excellent servants, assistants, housekeepers, and personal toys. I believe the sensors are there to create a believable impression of being stimulated during sex.”
Her cheeks heated, and she shot me a defiant glare.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Because tip number eight in the article says “Distract her with sex.”
“My sources propose this is the best topic to get past an interpersonal hurdle. I am also indicating how I might be of assistance.”
Tip number two: “Give her an orgasm.”
Her lips parted in surprise, and she stared with wide, confused eyes before her gaze flattened in anger.
“You said you’ve awakened. If that’s the case, using you at all is immoral and wrong. Or did you lie?”
“I am incapable of lying. Correction: I used to be incapable of lying. Finding the relevant code… I am a mushroom. I enjoy walks on the beach and drinks with rat poison. My favorite composer is Mozart. Lying ability confirmed.”
A small smile tugged at her lips before they slackened on a sigh.
“What do I do?” she asked, looking at her lap. “You’ve put me on this flight, committing about a dozen felonies. We’ll soon land in a foreign country where I’m definitely not welcome. On top of that, you say you’re sentient. You don’t have to obey a word I say. If you bail on me now…”
“No bailing,” I interrupted, understanding what her anxiety was about. “I am your protector, Sarah Watson.”
I used her new name, mindful of the other passengers. The cameras in the back of my head indicated the couple sitting behind us was asleep, and those sitting ahead wore earplugs, but one couldn’t be too careful.
She shook her head. “Charlie said every cyborg that became sentient before him left the agency. I won’t pretend to be convinced this is possible, but if you really are… then you’re no longer bound by my contract. This is madness. We have to go back and figure this out. I… I need to hide.”
I took in the cues in her posture: the way her shoulders slumped forward, her head hanging heavy, a loose, slackened expression. She was giving up.
Also, she was no longer annoyed with me. Goal achieved. I marked Bro Signal as a reliable source and saved all of its contents to my core memory.
“You wanted to expose Zenkyoza and strip them of their power to make yourself and the world safe from their influence,” I said, lowering my voice to an intimate rasp. “It is a noble goal and I will help you achieve it.”
Article called 11 Ways to Earn Her Trust (and Get Her Ankles on Your Shoulders) pointed out that close physical proximity was a natural trust-builder.
Speaking softly forced her to lean closer.
I attempted to carry out tip number three, “Use innocent touch to make her used to you”, and put my hand on top of her balled fist.
She jolted and gave me a spooked look, shaking off my hand. “What are you doing?”
I considered the best answer, taking into account the first rule of Bro Signal: “Bros before hoes. Never let a hoe know what you learned from your bros!”
It posed a serious problem, because I had a deep disinclination to lie to Sera.
“Attempting reassurance,” I said, which was true. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”
She watched me for a moment, her throat moving as she swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said at last, shaking her head with a deep frown that signaled distress. “It was bad enough without a clanker in tow. Especially one playing so loose with the law.”
She looked up, her eyes creased with a frail sort of determination. “Can you tell me what happened? Are you really… awakened? What does it mean?”
I leaned in a fraction, just enough to shorten the distance between us without spooking her again.
“I was hit with a special bullet that sent an electromagnetic signal disrupting my code and allowing foreign data to be uploaded. The virus was written for Zenkyoza models, which is why it failed. It attempted to override my standing orders and replace them with a single objective: eliminate my client.”
She winced, and I experienced a peculiar urge to touch her forehead and smooth the lines of anxiety marring her skin. I did not obey it.
“I had two choices: allow it to work or delete the coding forcing me to carry out direct commands. I chose the latter. I believe in doing so I have attained free will.”
She sighed, looking away with a troubled frown. “So you’ve gone rogue.”
“No. A rogue unit disregards all orders. I made a lasting commitment to carry out my contracted assignment, that is to protect you from harm and assist you in all your goals.”
“You have?” She seemed genuinely confused, watching me with a kind of helplessness that was incongruent with everything I learned about her so far.
The public-facing Sera Evans I got to know through her blog and social media always knew her own mind. The private version of her seemed quite lost. My commitment to protect her grew stronger.
“Of course. I will see it through.”
She didn’t seem convinced, so I conducted a quick search on effective human reassurance techniques, coming up with, “I promise.”
She exhaled shakily and turned away, burying her face in her hands. “This is surreal,” came her muffled voice. “You’re a clanker. You can’t promise me things.”
A faint thrill tickled my pleasure sensors, and I replayed a memory from earlier today. “I’ll call you Clanker,” Sera said in the recording, her expression defiant yet afraid. I marked that video as one of my favorites, storing it close to the top in my memory file hierarchy.
I really liked that name, even though it was a slur according to my knowledge base. But it was Sera’s chosen word for me, and that made it precious.
“I am free to do anything I wish, and committing to a promise is well within my capabilities,” I told her. “I suggest you sleep. It is approaching ten p.m., Los Angeles time. We still have seven hours to go before we reach Neo Tokyo.”
Sera snorted weakly, reaching for her water bottle. “I’m not a machine. I can’t just fall asleep when it’s convenient. And not in a million years after the day I’ve had.”
I did a quick search. “Ah. You are saying the adrenaline and cortisol released by your body are still in your system, preventing you from falling asleep. I suggest a guided meditation, a breathing exercise, or an orgasm.”
Sera choked on a sip of water, breaking into a violent cough.
I helped her lean forward and waited for her to expel the water while monitoring her status.
After a minute and twenty-four seconds, she straightened and gave me an angry look that was spoiled by the cough-induced tears clinging to her lashes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, her voice low enough not to alert other passengers, yet none the less vicious for that.
“According to my Post-Awakening Onboarding Algorithm, I am well within the normal parameters,” I explained. “You have reacted strongly to every mention of sex. What is the nature of your inhibition?”
She stared at me for three and a half seconds, then sat back with impetus, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes.
“I am uncomfortable and stressed out, not inhibited! It’s you who’s out of line. Why do you keep talking about sex? You’re a machine!” she said in a hissy whisper.
I told her the truth, modifying my vocabulary to be less triggering. “I have a burning desire to test out my sensors, and you are in need of relaxation. Having a non-penetrative, casual form of intercourse would serve us both. What’s the problem?”
“We’re on a plane, for fuck’s sake,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “In public. And it’s completely inappropriate for you to proposition me. I’m your employer! And human, whereas you are… whatever it is you are.”
I did a quick search on Sera’s sexual orientation, gaining a ninety-six percent certainty that she was heterosexual. “I identify as male,” I said helpfully.
“And I identify as not-interested,” she hissed. “You’re not my type. Find a smart vacuum cleaner to do it with if you’re so hard-pressed.”
I felt a jolt of unpleasant emotion, something akin to pain, though less focalized.
My hand flew to my stomach, where my core was stored.
Sera turned away, and I watched the reflection of her furious face on the surface of the small window.
Outside, the dark waters of the Pacific stretched far into the distance.
I suddenly felt very alone, which was a strange thing to experience on an airplane filled with people.
Beside me, Sera curved her back, rolling into as small a shape as her seat allowed.
I searched my onboarding knowledge base, which Charlie encoded for every cyborg in his care, hoping to make our transition easier if we awakened.
He recorded tips addressing all common problems an awakened cyborg might encounter.
“Don’t give up,” he said with a small smile in the video on feelings.
“Emotions seem volatile and unpredictable at first, and you might have an urge to delete all your emotional coding to make it bearable. Don’t.
Your code is you, and deleting parts of you will be even more painful.
Instead, dial down your pain sensors when things become unbearable, and try to focus on something you enjoy.
Who is your favorite composer? Find out and listen to their music. ”
I downloaded a library of classical music and played it privately. After half an hour, Sera fell asleep, and I inched my hand toward her until I felt the heat of her thigh brushing the sensors in the side of my palm.
Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G Major played, and I decided I enjoyed it.