Her casual humor about my constructed body reminds me of what I am and what I’m not. The fundamental difference between us that can never be bridged.
“Sorry,” she says quickly. “That was insensitive of me.” Then her voice changes again, becoming almost pleading. “But seriously, please get in the pool with me. The water really does seem to have healing properties, and you’re hurt.”
I realize I can’t refuse her request, and that realization troubles me deeply. Is it because she’s my client and she just gave me an order? Or is it because I can’t resist her when she wants something from me, when her voice takes on that particular tone?
The water rises around my body as I submerge myself up to chest level. My temperature sensors register the heat, and I feel my self-repair systems activate more aggressively in response to the mineral-rich environment.
“Wait,” she says, and there’s alarm in her voice. “Will you be affected by the hot water? I mean, are you completely waterproof?”
I look at her then, moved by the concern in her voice.
Her shoulders rise above the water line, pale skin flushed pink from the heat, droplets of water clinging to her collarbones. Knowing that she’s completely naked just a few feet from me is dangerous.
Jessa Holloway might be the most dangerous trap in these caves, in fact.
“No, water doesn’t affect my functions adversely. I wasn’t harmed by the Drowning Room.”
She smacks her forehead and laughs.
“Right. Of course. I’m not making any sense. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Usually, I’m a sharp person. I promise, I’m actually smarter than this.”
She laughs again, but I don’t find her self-deprecation amusing. She’s diminishing herself unnecessarily.
“You are intelligent,” I tell her. “Do not suggest otherwise.”
She grins at me.
“You’re too serious, you know that? I bet you can’t take a joke to save your life.” Then she tilts her head, studying me with those penetrating blue eyes. “How does the water feel to you?”
“It feels beneficial,” I admit. “The minerals appear to accelerate my healing processes.”
I can feel the hot water working on the damage to my steel body, smoothing over the places where the blades pierced and sliced. It seeps under the plate covering my groin, and I can feel it attempting to soothe the constant pressure there, but the steel barrier prevents any real relief. I want to remove the plate, let the healing water reach every part of me, but I can’t allow myself that vulnerability.
Jessa swims toward me, and I don’t know what to do with myself. Every instinct tells me to retreat, but I’m frozen in place as she approaches.
“Can I ask you a few questions that might be uncomfortable?” she says, looking up at me. “They might even be really rude.”
My voice stutters for a moment before I manage, “Y-yes.”
“You can refuse to answer if it’s too inappropriate,” she continues, and there’s something almost mischievous in her expression. “Or you could even lie to spare my feelings.” She laughs, but there’s a nervous edge to it.
“My programming prevents me from lying,” I tell her, though I’m mostly reminding myself of that fundamental truth.
As she prepares to ask her questions, I make a promise to myself that I won’t lie to her, no matter what she asks. I have to hold onto my commandments, especially now when everything else seems to be failing. No matter what it costs me.
“Do you have a cock?” she asks directly, then immediately flushes red and adds, “I’m just curious about your construction. Don’t read anything into it.”
Her bluntness catches me off guard. I feel my internal temperature spike dangerously. But I made a promise to myself about honesty, and I can’t break it now.
“Yes, I do possess male genitalia. But I’ve only had it for thirty years, and I’ve never used it. I don’t know what to do with it. It’s essentially useless.”
Her mouth opens and closes several times without producing any sounds. Finally, she finds her voice.
“What do you mean, useless? It’s a cock.”
“I don’t require it for urination, for instance,” I say. “Since I have no biological necessities, it serves no functional purpose.”
“Wait,” she says, her eyes widening with realization. “You said you’ve only had it for thirty years? But weren’t you made in the fifteen hundreds?”
