“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 thaton time is late. One of his manyrigid 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 bastardis 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 hisscreen, 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?”
