Single Wired Female (Wired for Love Book 2) (14 page)

The words brought a warm feeling to her abdomen that she couldn’t understand, and spread throughout her body until she thought that she was glowing red in front of him. She didn’t want it to stop but knew that she would have to or Stephen would mistake her hesitation for anger or misunderstanding.

“Why do you feel that we’re on the same level?” she asked, and he turned his face away from her to stare across the room at the blank television display.

“I think that synthetics are the next step in our evolution as humans. Some want to think that becoming a cyborg is… replacing organic parts with mechanical in order to enhance life or possibly extend it. But I think that the vessel that carries us—and when I say us, I am referring to what the religious call the soul… Anyway, that soul should be able to occupy any form that has a working brain and it shouldn’t have to be organic.”

“I’ve never heard this take on life before,” Tricia said, and she sat up suddenly, causing her bust to pop out from beneath the sheets, which brought a smile to Stephen’s face. Seeing this and wanting to keep his focus on their conversation, Tricia reached down for the covers and pulled them up around her shoulders.

“It feels so good to hear that we may be an extension of you,” she said. “That in time we can all live together without any form of restrictions or roles based solely off of physiology. That we can be with the ones we love and not have the fear of being charged with mechanophilia or anything. To think that the future could hold such a reality for us … well, it just warms my heart.”

“See, Tricia,” Stephen said. “This is what I believe is reality. This is what I feel makes us push back so hard against our natural evolution. It is fear. It is the fear of what is to come. It is a fear that we will lose our identity. It is a natural fear that has always caused us to do the most atrocious things under the guise of self-preservation. Genocide, wars, terrorist acts, we’ve done some truly wicked things to our own for decades.

“All so that we can tell ourselves that we’re trying to keep our home safe for our children. But it can be argued that what we were always doing was murdering, maiming, and lying to ourselves out of fear. I believe that we will achieve a singularity, we organics and you synthetics. We will reach a singularity and then we will be able to live amongst one another without any judgment beyond what humans place on ourselves today.”

Tricia smiled when he finished. It was a genuine smile that was radiant and beaming, so much so that Stephen looked away out of embarrassment because she was happy and he was the cause of it.

Salvatore Minstretta landed his sleek, black, unmarked car in the front of the sprawling ranch-styled home that belonged to Jonathan O’Neal. He got out slowly so as not to spill his coffee and then checked his wrist where his device was flashing to show that he had several messages awaiting his ear. With the coffee balanced in his other hand, he used his booted foot to slam the car door shut as he marched up to the house in long, careful steps.

He could tell by the spotless exterior that the O’Neals had money. The lawn was pristine, the hedges trimmed, the flowers real and blooming in the garden near the door. If he were being honest, he would have admitted that the neighborhood alone should have tipped him off. The place looked like it was ripped from out of a magazine, and it made him feel dirty and out of place being there.

When he approached the door it melted away in an off-putting effect that he hadn’t gotten used to yet. This melting effect on doors in modern homes had become popular recently and after making to knock on several of them only to have his hand slip through, he had begun to really hate them. An android walked up to the entrance and bowed to him and Sal awkwardly returned the gesture. The android was a dark-haired young man in a cheap tuxedo and his hair was slick with gel, making him the living embodiment of a classical cartoon.

“Okay, Pinocchio, nice to meet your acquaintance, now where the hell is Geppetto? He should be expecting me; we have some business,” Sal said as he stepped past the doorman to stand inside the waiting room. The android walked silently past him to open the biggest of three doors. It melted before him, revealing a large living room furnished with real wood furniture and a piano where another android—this one a female—played so lightly that he hadn’t heard her when he came in.

Sal whistled in a way that showed how impressed he was at the O’Neal home. The living room had a vaulted, cathedral ceiling and light shone through it like a temple to the gods.

“Detective, how are you?” a deep voice intoned and Sal turned to see a spritely old man stomping up to him with a veiny arm outstretched. He took the hand and shook it firmly and looked for a resemblance in the face of the gentleman that now regarded him curiously. “So how’s the case going for my girl? Any leads or anything substantial? You haven’t called me in a while.”

“Sorry, Mr. O’Neal, but there hasn’t been anything new. Just a lot of dead-ends and people that look a lot like the two that we caught on camera. I told you about the ex-husband, right?”

“Yes, you told me that he took his own life.”

“Well that ain’t the worst of it, he had an accomplice. So I’ve been tracking her down to see if I can get some answers,” Sal said.

“Is Bonnie in the apartment we picked out?” Jonathan O’Neal asked.

“Yeah, it’s a real beauty. She shouldn’t be in there for long. I’m just—”

“As long as it takes,” Jonathan said quickly. “I bought the place so that she doesn’t have to worry about getting kicked out or any sort of nonsense like that. I want the killers found. That’s all I expect from you, and then once they’re off the street, we can bring my daughter back home.”

Sal was seated at a large round table by the android in the tuxedo, who transferred his coffee to a fancy mug. Another showed up, this one a portly chef in a red outfit, and he came up to their table to display a digital menu.

“You have to be hungry after staying up all these late nights looking for my daughter’s shooter,” Jonathan said. “Why don’t you let my chef prepare you something?”

Sal nodded and looked over the menu. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said cheerfully, then ordered poached eggs, toast, and a stack of pancakes.

The chef smiled, then looked at Jonathan for his order.

“Just get his food, Charlie,” he said to the chef and then turned his attention back to Sal.

“Say, Mr. O’Neal, I mean no disrespect, but an old guy like you living with androids all over the place… doesn’t it ever creep you out?”

“No, I can’t say it has. These machines have become like family to me over the years,” he replied.

“How long have you had them?” Sal asked and the old man seemed to slip into deep thought.

“Long time, really. About ten years. But I picked up the chef last year when I decided to retire from the bank,” he said.

I’m sure you did
, Sal thought.
Retired to live like a king with all of those broke losers’ money. Retired to bang out your mechanical cocktail waitress turned piano player, eh old man?
He raised his glass slyly as if to offer cheers to Jonathan and then took a long drag from his cappuccino.

“Hate to keep asking personal questions, but one more and I’m done,” he said, smiling.

“I see photos of you all over the place. You at parties, you with celebrities, hell, and right over there is that Johnny Comet Nova?” he asked and the old man smiled and nodded. “Get the hell out of here, man that is priceless! But I don’t see any photos of your Bonnie. Did you two have a falling out, or is there a special room for that type of thing in this house?” he asked.

“I like to keep my family private, especially in this house where I could be robbed and targeted for extortion. You understand, detective? Bonnie has done well for herself in her career, so I don’t want some burglar with a high IQ coming in here, seeing who my daughter is and putting the ropes around my wrists. If they’re gonna rob me, let it be me, and they can leave my daughter out of it,” he said.

Sal gave him a look. It was the type of look he would give a guy at the poker table whose cards were reading a deuce and a seven, yet he was talking as if he held the nuts. He thought about asking for a tour of the house but thought better of it. The place was vast, like a flat, tower-less castle, so Jonathan could pretend to take him everywhere yet leave off the important rooms if it suited him. He sipped his cappuccino and watched the old man like a hawk.

“So any girlfriends or do the androids keep you happy enough?” he asked with a wink.

“You have no shame, do you?” Jonathan asked, “Where I stick my wick ain’t none of your goddamn business.”

“Ey!” Sal exclaimed. “I was just making conversation. I don’t mean nothing by it. Besides, the piano player is doing it for me. I might just be feeling things out to see if you’d be mad if I, y’know?” He made a suggestive gesture with his hands and when Jonathan stared at him he burst out laughing, spraying cappuccino all over the place. “I’m so sorry, Mr. O’Neal but you should see your face,” he began.

“Hey asshole, what’s the matter with you?” Jonathan asked. “My daughter is out of her home, suffering, and you came all the way over here to make frat boy jokes about my staff? Come on detective, be a professional.”

Sal feigned a look of seriousness as he fanned the air between them. “I’m sorry, I forget that my humor can be quite distasteful sometimes. I assure you that my guys have been turning over every stone looking for this woman that hurt your baby. I just wanted to come over, break bread with you in good faith, and give you an update on where we are.”

“It’s okay. I know that your job is stressful and this is how you blow off steam. I just can’t do it with the sex jokes, do you understand? So go light on those. I’m 65 years old. Talk about football or golf or something, but leave my staff out of it.”

The breakfast came out and it was just as delicious as Sal imagined it would be. The chef was an android, which meant zero chances of “human error,” so he focused on his meal, ate it quickly and held back on ordering more when he finished. Time flew by once the table was cleared and he spoke at length with Jonathan about his daughter and some of the clues he had uncovered with the case.

Once he had finished his coffee and the pancakes had settled, he excused himself and went to the bathroom under the guise of taking a leak. He walked briskly but deliberately, scanning the house as he made his way to the room Jonathan had indicated was the guest bathroom.

There were plenty of photos of Jonathan and his late wife, but as Sal got near to his destination he stopped to look at one of them closely. This particular picture was posed for by the patriarch and his wife, and Sal tried to see which one of the two had given Bonnie her subtle but beautiful features. He saw no resemblance in either of them. Their noses were wrong, and his suspicions increased when he realized that after scanning the photos, Bonnie should have been present in at least one of them.

He walked into the bathroom and did his business, then walked out, waving to Jonathan as he approached the table. “Seems like my buddy Lou found something on our girl,” he lied.

“Who, the one you say was with Ronald?” Jonathan asked with a mockingly enthusiastic voice.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Thanks for the breakfast, Mr. O.”

“Oh, that was all Phillip; you should thank him,” Jonathan said.

“You mean your android,” Sal said while raising an eyebrow, then attempted a little bow when the old man nodded his head.

After saying goodbye, Sal rushed out of the house and into his car, then lifted off and rocketed unto the highway. He didn’t look back or allow himself to think about it; all he knew was that his heart was racing and he was worried that he would be followed. When he sped past the fifth car towards the center of the city he touched the device that he wore around his neck. It made a chime and he stated a code, and then it began to ring while projecting an image of Bonnie across his windshield.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite gumshoe,” Tricia said when she answered the call but Sal didn’t volley back one of his own smartass quips like she expected.

“Bonnie, if that’s your real name, we got a problem. I think you were trying to tell me about it a few weeks ago,” he said.

“My name is Tricia, but what happened, Sal? You sound as if you’re suffering from a really deep sadness.”

“Which detective ain’t?” he snapped. “Listen, stay away from that old man who pretends to be your father. You hear me? That dude is some sort of whacked up droid fetishist and he’s part of whatever screwed up cover-up is going on with Bonnie O’Neal.”

“Sometimes I wonder if a Bonnie O’Neal ever existed,” Tricia said and Sal couldn’t help but consider that she may be on to something.

“Nah, that wouldn’t make sense; she’s on file with pictures. That Eras place she worked had her there for years, plus the marriage to that Ronald dude, her school pictures. I got ‘em all, Tricia. She was real. Trust me.”

“So, if this is a cover-up, are you sure that Ronald took his own life or did someone murder him to keep the lie going?” Tricia asked.

“More than likely he was murdered, but I’m missing the point. They put you, a machine, in place of Bonnie, but then they have me protecting you and chasing ghosts. What’s the point of all this?” he asked.

“If I find out you will be the first one to know,” Tricia offered.

There was a long period of silence and Sal parked his car outside of the police station and sat silently in the dark. “You ever consider that it’s an android behind all this?” he asked Tricia. “I can’t imagine any human being, no matter how rich or bored he is, would think that it’s a good idea to swap out one of us for an unrestrained human-looking android.”

“I feel the same way, it’s all so confusing. Listen. I’ll talk to you later, Sal. I hope you feel better,” she said and Sal hung up his device and looked around wondering if any of his fellow officers were really androids in disguise.

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Tricia thought about what Sal had said the night before and it made her uneasy. Could an android set up the perfect murder in order to get back at Eras Innovations or Fritz and Isaac? It was a little too science fiction for her to find logic in it. Still, it made her nervous, so she went to her computer and began to search for any news concerning groundbreaking AI, or androids that had been slighted cruelly.

She wasn’t surprised to find that most news concerning the two companies had either been removed from the search engines or were hidden behind sites that required a login. The more she searched the more she realized that something had been covered up. It was a deliberate and masterful obfuscation of Eras’s history with android research and the online articles were all generic, meant for a low-tech reader.

As the hours ticked by Tricia became increasingly annoyed at the internet. She wished that it was free and wide-open so that things could be learned and discovered without any policing. Now what she was flipping through was a controlled connection stream, monitored and policed by a conservative and bulletproof AI, and what this told her was that whomever had decided that android business would be too dangerous for the public held enough power to make it so.

It was the afternoon and she was flustered, so she threw on a comfortable dress, tall boots, and large sunglasses. The internet had been locked down for decades but there was another internet, a hidden, secret, underground web that she didn’t want to access from her hotel room.

She rode her scooter to the nearest mall and walked around it for a time to see if any of the kiosks inside of the stores had access to the internet. She roamed the numerous floors of the mall for an hour until she saw that the help desk—which normally had an android behind it—was empty and the interface was on. She felt a wave of panic go through her as she approached the desk and wished as hard as she could that her ability to sense other androids would return.