Chapter 1 – Will’s Legacy #2
Set you free? Marci stared disbelievingly at the tablet and asked herself fearfully what he meant by that.
Maybe he wanted to kill himself? But that would have gone against his Catholic upbringing.
Maybe he was on drugs? His voice had sounded weirdly empty.
Almost as if he’d turned into a robot. At the end of the message, he looked right into her eyes without a flicker of remorse as he said goodbye to her: “You can do it; you always were stronger than me.”
Marci had wondered in vain what the hell had got into him.
Maybe he’d met another woman and had run off with her?
Louise had hinted at something like that.
She’d certainly prefer that to any other scenario.
But her inner voice, which she could usually rely on, argued firmly that it wasn’t true.
Will wasn’t the kind of man who got involved with other women on a whim.
But maybe he’d met someone at one of his rebel meetings?
Someone who shared his political convictions?
The fact was, they had argued more often recently because of his crazy political ideas, and they normally talked about everything calmly.
Even when they were young, they’d been like soulmates.
Politics had seldom come up as a topic of conversation.
Like Will, Marci came from a poor background where people paid little to no attention to world events.
Marci’s great-grandparents had come to the country as Mexican zero-hours workers who were simply proud to be able to put enough food on the table for their children.
Will’s Irish ancestors had worked as labourers with no health insurance, living with their families in run-down motorhomes.
And when you looked at it, three generations later, things weren’t much better, but that was no reason to simply run away, never mind desert your wife and children.
After he was made redundant, Will may not have been the same dynamic guy she’d known for so long; his proverbial good humour and optimism had vanished overnight.
His gentle eyes, however, still shone with the love that he felt for her and their two boys.
“I don’t understand”, wailed Marci tearfully, after telling Louise the whole story.
“He was so devoted to the boys. What if he’s actually killed himself?
I mean, he was desperate about not being able to provide for us.
” She paused and blew her nose. “Maybe I missed something? Maybe I should have paid him more attention?”
“I don’t believe it, honey,” Louise had reassured her.
“He would have left you a note. Look, no, I’m really sorry for you and the kids but I reckon he found someone else.
Someone who makes his life easier and doesn’t make any demands of him.
Men are just like that. When it gets hard, they’d rather run away than deal with it.
You’re not the first woman this has happened to,” she added sadly, putting her arms around Marci sympathetically.
“I’m actually surprised that your Will didn’t do a bunk sooner. ”
Marci didn’t want to believe that Will had simply given up on her and the children. “So what am I supposed to do now?”
“You’ve only got two options, sweetie. Either you give up and leave the boys, like Will did. Or you pull yourself together and keep going and give them at least a bit of hope of a better future.”
Marci thought about what the older woman had said, but she wasn’t sure whether she had the strength to keep fighting. But she had to, for her two boys.
The villa doorbell rang, jolting Marci abruptly from her thoughts and making her jump.
Startled, she looked up and saw on the large wall-mounted screen in the entrance hall a giant with steel-blue eyes and a short military haircut with a strange, silver-blue sheen.
The man was young, probably the same age as her.
He was absolutely huge, his broad shoulders and immense chest muscles almost bursting out of his black jumpsuit.
It bore the logo of a well-known delivery company that only used basic robots, whereas this one looked like Superman.
Apart from his unusual hair, he looked human, even though she couldn’t imagine that the company employed humans.
He looked like he was delivering a large parcel and she didn’t stop to question why.
To reach the villa, the man would have already crossed the fully automatic security zone, where he would have identified himself and security would have definitely screened his vehicle and its contents.
The entrance door leading to the hallway would normally have opened automatically but Rochelle preferred Marci to open it personally. As she did so, the silver-haired giant pushed a steel box more than two metres tall inside, and she signed for the receipt using a fingerprint on a tiny tablet.
“May I ask what’s in it?” she said. The handsome messenger looked at her for just a moment too long but apparently wasn’t interested in giving her an answer. He simply shrugged his broad shoulders and put the tablet casually into the breast pocket of his black jumpsuit.
“According to the delivery note, it’s a robot.
Best ask Mrs MacIntyre,” he said unhelpfully.
“She ordered it from CRU. As far as I can see, it’s all there.
The delivery is therefore complete and there’s no need to provide instructions on using the machine as the recipient has already been informed. ”
Without another word, he turned round and disappeared into the dark self-driving van that had chauffeured him and his cargo here.
Marci had no intention anyway of learning how to use any kind of robot.
She was secretly afraid that her suspicions were right and that her boss had ordered her own company to build a fully automatic cleaner.
Probably a robot that looked deceptively similar to Marci so that Rochelle wouldn’t have to get used to a new face, as she liked to say.
At the moment, the thing was just in Marci’s way, and if she were to finish polishing the marble floor by lunchtime, she’d have to put in extra hours unless someone came soon and extricated the unwanted robot out of its packaging.
She thought for a minute about whether she should do it herself, not only to get the disruption out of the way but also because she wouldn’t get any peace until she knew whether her fears were correct.
“Damn,” she whispered under her breath when she saw that the box, which was a good forty centimetres taller than her and quite a bit wider, could only be opened by the new owner’s iris scan. She had no choice but to wait until Rochelle deigned to get out of bed and come downstairs for breakfast.
As she set about dusting the marble busts of Rochelle’s equally wealthy ancestors with an old-fashioned feather duster, she heard a noise from upstairs and, shortly afterwards, a shriek of excitement that made her jump again.
A glance up to the railings of the wide, curved staircase that, like almost everything else in this house, was made of white marble and looked to Marci like the path to paradise, confirmed the appearance of the mistress of the house at the far end of the railings.
Rochelle was apparently unable to contain her enthusiasm about the otherwise nondescript steel box.
With rapid steps, the rail-thin, nearly eighty-year-old blonde rushed down the stairs wearing a gauzy white silk robe and silver high heels.
The fact she was half-naked didn’t seem to bother her, nor her dishevelled mane of hair that clearly impeded her vision and almost caused her to stumble down to the ground floor.
After countless operations, Marci’s employer still had the face and body of a twenty-year-old, plus an incredibly artificial-looking bosom that only last week she’d had pumped up to an F cup, despite that look no longer being in fashion.
Her balloon-like breasts now spilled out of her open, ankle-length robe, which was tied with a silver feather boa, giving the impression that they could burst at any minute.
This didn’t seem to bother their owner in the slightest. At least Rochelle had had the presence of mind to put some knickers on.
That wasn’t always the case; she saw it as a privilege of her freedom to be able to wander around her own house stark naked.
She reached the object of her desire and stared at it with a gleam in her eyes as if it were the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree in New York.
“Do you know what this is?” she exclaimed in delight and turned to Marci, who was amazed that someone who already owned everything could get so excited.
“No,” replied Marci shortly, pausing briefly from her dusting. “But I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”
Instead of answering, Rochelle stepped up to the box to position one of her lifted eyelids and the pale blue iris behind it in front of a narrow scanner. A light flashed briefly, confirming that the decryption code had been successfully scanned.
A humming noise made her take a step back as the box unfolded in several sections, literally exposing its mysterious contents.
The sight of a completely naked man didn’t just leave Rochelle speechless – Marci’s jaw dropped, too.
She could tell that the imposingly muscular guy was a good two metres tall as she only came up to his chest. He had an extremely attractive face with a strong chin and a straight nose.
His short, dark hair and three-day beard had a chestnut hue, while his precisely trimmed brows and thick eyelashes were a deep nut brown.
It was a combination that looked astonishingly natural and made Marci question if this man really was a robot.
But people weren’t normally transported in boxes unless they were dead, and this one looked quite alive. His eyes were closed, so the exciting question of his eye colour remained unanswered for now.