Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-Three
Axe
“You really don’t need to be here for this, boss,” Theo, my head of graphics, says. “We got this handled.”
Theo, in his mid-twenties, sporting a rainbow mohawk and ear gauges, lives with his husband, Chuck, on a farm just outside Shelton.
When he’s not busy revolutionizing AI at SynthoTech, he’s out there growing rhubarb and making jam.
I don’t usually mix with my staff outside the office—except for the annual SynthoTech-DME party, of course.
(My team’s already hounding me for new theme ideas, because you can never start planning my least favorite day of the year too soon.)
I’ve been to Theo and Chuck’s croft once, when they had me over for their Fall Harvest Festival. I like and trust Theo well enough, but not enough to let him take the lead on re-creating AI Josie without me keeping a watchful eye.
“I know, lad. But I’m going to stick around anyway,” I say, casual as you like. I smile. I’ve no intention of alienating one of my best employees. “Watch the magic happen.”
“Suit yourself,” Theo says. Josie isn’t here yet—she’s meant to show up at 7:00 p.m., and it’s 6:55—though my dad, rest his bedamned soul, had a strict rule that on time is late. One of his many rigid demands, usually backed up with a cold stare or a beating. A memory that feels more like a scar.
Theo busies himself with his kit, setting up cameras, monitors, and iPads.
He also has a tablet that he mirror casts onto a screen.
I’ve never really dabbled with the graphics side of SynthoTech, so it makes sense that Theo is surprised to see me here.
I’m far more interested in the technical innovation side of things.
I usually leave the visuals to the ones who know what they’re doing.
I keep my distance as they finish arranging the cameras and lights. The room is buzzing with activity, but my thoughts drift to Josie. I can see her so clearly in my head, from the way she laughs—pure joy—to the way she scrunches her nose in deep thought.
Theo roughly sketches Josie’s features with his stylus, using a cache of reference photos.
His line is quick and sure, capturing the spirit of her face.
I could watch this all day. I’ve spent enough time with Josie—long before I hired her, I couldn’t help but notice every little detail, every nuance.
And it’s clear Theo’s done his homework, too.
He even catches the wee freckle on the top of her left cheekbone.
As Theo refines the sketch, layering in saturation and textures with digital brushes, I find myself sharing specific details.
“When she’s been in the sun, she gets a smattering of freckles on her nose.
She’s got an evil-eye anklet that her grandmother gave her that she doesn’t take off.
It’s subtle, but you might want to put that in.
She can whistle through her fingers, though I guess that doesn’t help much here.
Oh, and her favorite flower is the sunflower because they’re strong and sturdy and tend not to show up in hospital bouquets. ”
Theo nods and lets me ramble on, even though I must sound like a pussy-whipped fool.
“The more info, the better. You know, for the data harvest,” I say.
“Sure,” Theo says, but I can hear the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Sorry, sorry!” Josie calls out as she steps off the elevator a few minutes later.
She’s in another slip dress, this one pale pink cotton, scandalously short, with a frayed hem.
She looks as bonny as ever. For just a moment, I wonder what it would be like to have the right to kiss her hello, to feel her lips against mine.
“I got caught up with a customer. Dude refused to leave.”
“You should have called me,” I say, and the anger that flares up catches me off guard. Strike insists that Grace & Honor has an exceptional security system that links directly to Strike’s team, but I hate the idea of Josie working all alone, especially in the early evenings.
“But it’s 6:59! I’m not late!” Josie says, holding up her phone to show me the time.
Her lock screen is a picture of her with her gran, an olive-skinned, gray-haired woman with her arms around Josie’s shoulders.
The same evil-eye charm hangs around her gran’s neck.
Even though I don’t believe in that superstitious nonsense, I hope it works.
The thought of anything happening to Josie, or anyone she loves, twists my guts.
“Not because of the time. You should have called me about the customer who wouldn’t leave!
That could’ve been dangerous,” I say. Josie scoffs like I’m being ridiculous, even though she’s the one who checked my chakras with her crystal during our “date” and asked me when I was born so she could make a full birth chart.
“Hi, I’m Theo.” Theo reaches out a hand to shake Josie’s.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, smiling at Theo like he’s already a kindred spirit. He even gets her amazing left dimple. The bastard is lucky he’s gay, or I might rip his feckin’ head off. “Love your mohawk!”
“Love your curls,” he says. “Now, you go get comfortable in that chair over there. I promise this will be painless and fun.”
“Will you be watching the whole time?” Josie asks, turning to face me directly. I know she doesn’t mean it that way, but I can’t help myself. My cock twitches.
“Axe has been really helpful,” says Theo, clearly thinking I might need a wingman, but it only makes me feel daft. “He’s helping with the visual input.”
“Is that right?” Josie quirks an eyebrow as she studies her avatar. “Aw, you put me in sunflower-print shorts? Cutest! I’d totally wear that!”
“Let’s start with you giving us a variety of expressions,” says Theo.
“Sure.” Josie laughs. “Does digital Josie do a digital duck face?” She pulls the face, and the corners of my mouth lift.
Theo continues making adjustments to his digital sketches, where each new version of the artwork is a separate layer, giving him the ability to focus on specific elements—facial expressions, clothing, background—without affecting the original drawing of Josie.
She tries out all sorts of expressions, and I can’t turn away.
Josie happy. Josie sad. Josie guilty. Josie disappointed. Josie playful.
I enjoy every version. Theo’s also set up a camera that’s clicking away, and I wonder if there’s a legit way to ask for the images without sounding like a creep.
“How about giving me a Superwoman cape, Theo? Or some laser vision? Also, please don’t make my hair too insane—I’d like my AI me with ten percent less frizz. ”
Josie already has Theo under her spell. When I glance at his screen, I’m relieved to see he understands the task: This is about understanding and appreciating the real Josie, every quirk, every bit of charm, and bringing that to life in her virtual avatar.
Flesh-and-blood Josie lights up the room, her mood as bright as a sunbeam, and I’m proud and fiercely protective of her.
The specificity of Gemini will be next-level.
From an AI standpoint, it’s fascinating—we’re not just replicating human behavior but going somewhere deeper, distilling the essence of charisma itself. The spark that makes someone unforgettable.
Taking down von Graf has always been the top priority, but it’s clear now we’re onto something big—this lass is going to make us a bloody fortune.
Time always seems to warp around Josie—so when Theo nods to the team that he’s calling it a night, I’m shocked to see that it’s almost ten.
“Did you drive here in your old Volkswagen rust bucket?” I ask her. “Or do you need a ride home?”
“Her name is Gertrude, and I’ll have you know she’s aging gracefully,” Josie says, her eyes shimmering. I get the impression she enjoyed tonight, that it was fun for her to ham it up for the cameras and showcase all her sides.
“Please apologize to Dame Gertrude for me. She’s a fine old lass, with a bumper to match.”
“Hey, you have to buy Gertrude dinner before you start talking about her bumper.” She smiles at me. “Actually, SynthoTech picked me up in a company car.”
“Ah, right. Page fourteen, last paragraph, subsection C.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, there’s nothing in the contract that says I can’t take you home myself. I didn’t bring the bike, though,” I add.
“Oh dear, no cool bike?” she teases, raising an eyebrow as she plucks a chocolate-covered pretzel from the bowl of snacks set out on a table. As she takes a bite, a tiny morsel sticks to her lips. I want to lick it off. “How will I ever survive?”
“At least this way, you won’t be holding on to me for dear life,” I say.
She laughs. “You think I need the bike as an excuse?” Then she gives me a look, one I can’t quite read, and I can’t tell if she’s saying it as Josie or as the app, keeping things flirty to stay in Gemini mode.
It’s a proper mind fuck that I just can’t tell the difference.
“By the way, the date was great, and of course, I took some notes today, but we will need more interaction data from you two in the coming days,” Theo cuts in, and I nearly jump.
I forgot the lad was still here. Gotta give him credit—he acts like he hasn’t noticed a thing between us.
Even if what we’re doing here is unconventional, it’s still a workplace.
Josie is still my employee. “We’re hoping you might want to do something less fantasyscape and more normal couples-y, like spending a little time in a supermarket or something.
We can take one public outing and then map an entire digital world from it. ”
“What? An isolated picnic on a mountaintop with personal heaters wasn’t normal for a first date?” Josie asks, and I feel the beam of her light shift to Theo.
It feels colder now that she’s not looking at me anymore.
Theo’s just ruined my plan to ask Josie for a proper second date while privately driving her home. Because this is business, not pleasure. Right. I wish I was grateful for the reminder.
“We could go to the farmers market,” she suggests.
I blink, a bit lost. “Shelton has a farmers market?” I pretend not to notice Theo stifling a laugh behind his cough.
“You’ve never been? You’re in for a treat.
They set it up every Saturday behind the public library.
You’ll love it. It’s super quaint and cute.
Small-batch yogurt, hand-pressed olive oil, homemade pies.
And…” She bites her bottom lip, catches that bit of chocolate.
“Then you can see how well you manage a date where you have to do it all on your own, Axe. No drivers, no handlers. No script.”
Ach, did she twig that last time, my team printed up a list of questions I could ask if things went sideways? I didn’t need to use them, not once—but I must admit, I liked having them in my pocket.
This woman has a way of making me feel off my nut.
“It’s been a while since I picked out my own apples,” I say.
“See? You can impress me—or at least AI me—with your secret shopping skills.”
The air between us is hot as firecrackers until Theo’s voice butts in. Again.
“Sounds perfect, mate,” he says in a horrendous Scottish accent.
My jaw clenches. I’d like to hook my fingers through those ear gauges and use them to lift him up and throw him into a wall so hard his grandkids will feel it. Instead, though, I nod. It’s not Theo’s fault Josie has me ass over teakettle.
“It’s a plan. Josie, me, and the farmers market,” I say.
“Chuck runs a stall there most weekends selling our jam. Maybe I’ll come along and bring my sketchbook. See you both live and in action.”
“No, mate,” I say. “We don’t want to make Josie feel like she’s being watched. The whole thing needs to feel organic.”
“No pun intended,” Theo says, but I ignore him. My eyes are on Josie. I want to see if she’s on board.
“Sure,” she says, flashing me another smile. “Just us.” But there’s a twist in her expression now, like she’s swallowing down a bit of nausea, and it’s unsettling. Is it the thought of spending time with me?
“Aye, just us, then,” I say, trying to keep it light. “But if you change your mind, that’s fine, too.”