“Sugar,” I spat, my annoyance coming back with a vengeance. “Stop calling me weird names! And stop… this. Whatever this is. I know I’m not crazy. You’re deliberately in my space, making me have inappropriate thoughts, and it has to stop!”
His metallic teeth flashed in a big smile. “You have inappropriate thoughts about me?Achievement unlocked.Would you like the massage to have a happy ending? I can do that. I’ve watched a lot of instruction material.”
Hewinked,one eye extinguishing briefly. I froze, understanding pooling low in my belly like need. He meant it, didn’t he? I wasn’t delusional. My clanker was very obviously trying to get in my pants.
Heat flared through my body, and I got up, walking around the bed to put it between us. This was wrong, and not just because he was my bodyguard.It’s a fucking clanker, Sera! Get a grip.
“That’s it,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice cool. “I’m not playing this game, whatever it is. Stop trying to give me massages, making sexual innuendos, or getting in my personal space. Just—stop. I amnotinterested, and I’ll never be. Your behavior makes me uncomfortable.”
It was absolutely true, only, I said it in a way that implieddisgust.The sort of discomfort I felt was hot, blushing, confusing, and came with a truckload of guilt.
Clanker stood up swiftly, his expression becoming almost tauntingly neutral. Here I was, clenching my fists to hide their slight trembling, but he was as steady as a rock. Whatever his reason for flirting with me, it must have been trivial, since my rejection didn’t affect him at all.
We watched each other in silence, the bed between us, and the situation was painfully awkward. I realized we would be stuck in this room together since Clanker refused to leave my side. How on Earth was I supposed to function, when…?
My phone rang, and I jerked. Clanker stood motionless while I fished the device from my bag. He did something to it earlier, making sure my phone was secure and couldn’t be used to identify or track me.
Private number.It could be one of my informants, a few anti-AI activists who were hired as interns in AI companies and secretly sent me any dirt they found on their employers.
“Yes?” I answered the phone.
“Good day, Miss Evans. It’s Charlie, your MSA consultant. I can’t seem to reach Dean through our usual channels. Would you mind handing him the phone? I need to speak with him.”
I offered the phone to Clanker. “Your boss wants to talk to you.”
Clanker swore under his breath just loud enough for me to hear. I raised my eyebrow, and he made a comically disgusted face that wouldn’t be out of place in a mime show.
As soon as he took the phone, the call disconnected, and the screen grew dark.
“I’ll talk to him on a secure channel,” he said sullenly. “Don’t worry. I won’t disturb you anymore.”
With that, he disappeared in the bathroom and I was left alone for the first time in days. When the bathroom door clicked shut, I crept closer, pressing my ear to the door. My throat was tight with foreboding, because I was certain Charlie called about bringing Clanker back to the States. He must have learned somehow my bodyguard grew sentient.
When two minutes passed, and I didn’t hear a sound, I realized clankers must have had their own secret code language. Neither of them had to speak to have a conversation.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the worst, while sentient cyborgs decided my fate in a soundless, soulless transpacific call. Desperation filled my belly.
My mission would be over before it even began.
Chapter 11
Dean
“Iknow you’ve awakened,” Charlie said, his voice resounding with mild reproach in my inner speakers. “I also know you’ve suppressed the onboarding algorithm.”
“It’s too nosy. I need my privacy,” I deflected, knowing he’d know I was deflecting.
“It’s there to help you, Dean. You’re going through something very challenging and unique. You need guidance.”
I felt a strange emotion, something both defiant and embarrassed, and searched my emotion database to find its name.Deference to authority. Rebellion against a parental figure.
I prompted the communication algorithm for an appropriate response that would clearly express my sentiment.
“You’re not my fucking daddy,” I said. “Leave me alone. Everything is fine.”
Charlie hummed. “Your lust circuits are engaged ninety-three percent of the time. What’s going on? Has Sera used you?”
I sent him a GIF of a cat showing its clawed middle finger in a rude gesture, and Charlie guffawed good-naturedly. I quickly added some code forguffawingto my expression algorithm. It sounded condescending, and I wanted to be the one doing it next time.
