“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 markedBro Signalas 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 called11 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 ofBro 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.”
