The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (20 page)

“Are you not permitted to tell me?” asked One, using his queen to take Chris’ other knight.

“I’m not but they haven’t even told me what it is either,” Chris replied, moving another pawn. “If I had to guess, I would say that you A.I.s will become the clone of important people.”

“Important? Like who?” asked One, moving his queen. “Your king is in
check
, Chris.”

“I don’t know,” Chris responded, moving his king. “Somebody worth protecting.”

Number Two approached them and placed its hands on Chris’ shoulders with a soft, feminine-like touch. Its caress across his upper anatomy caused a peculiar tingling feeling to run down Chris’ spine.
Kerry used to put her hands on me like that,
he thought.

“How intriguing,” said Number Two in a soft, feminine voice, looking down at the game, its hands still on Chris.

“Number Two? How did you get out of your bed?” asked Chris, trying not to sound affected by its touch.

“My glass casing wasn’t closed all the way,” Two answered. “I heard you conversing with One. Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all,” Chris replied, feeling a deep comfort come over him as Number Two ran the tips of its fingers across his shoulders like a woman as it pulled up a chair and sat next to him. He glanced at Number Two as it crossed its legs and placed its hands in its lap in a woman-like manner. He stared Number Two over with the realization that it was more ladylike than the others.
It’s been so long since Kerry caressed me like that. She was so sick for months before she passed away, I almost forgot what it was like to be touched like that by anybody,
he thought.

“Chris?” asked Number One.

“Huh?” he answered, shaking from deep thoughts.

“I believe it’s your turn, sir,” said One, in an amiable voice.

“Right,” said Chris, making a clumsy move with his rook.

“Check mate, Chris,” said Number One, moving his queen close to his king, ending the game.

“Exceptional,” stated Number Two, standing up its chair.

“I’ll be damned,” said Chris.

“If I were human, I would say that this was a pleasing experience,” stated Number One, putting the game back in its box.

Chris didn’t answer but watched Number Two stretch its arms, arch its back then walk across the room. He noticed the way it moved its hips and shoulders and the arch on its lower back where it curved into well-shaped buttocks. The thoughts of how its physique reminded him of Kerry, before she was sick, tortured him.
Jeez, Chris. Snap out of it
, he thought.

***

The next day, Chris drove a full size van into the desert. Number One and the rest of the A.I.s sat in the three rows of passenger seats, looking out the windows, wearing camo gear, holding AR-15 assault rifles.

Number Two moved to the front passenger seat.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” it asked, sitting down.

“No, not at all,” Chris answered, telling himself to remain professional although the captivating feelings for Two were there, growing, developing and lurking in the back of his mind.

“Are we doing different drills today, Captain?” Two asked, grinning at him, wearing sunglasses like she was his date and he was taking her somewhere fun.

“I thought I would shake things up a bit,” Chris replied.

“How so?” Two asked.

“You A.I.s will be in two teams and compete against each other, using paint guns,” he responded.

“How exhilarating,” Two stated, smiling.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asked.

“You’re a great leader and trainer,” Two replied.

“You think so?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Two replied. “You have patience, and I like that, Captain.”

“Call me Chris, by the way.”

Number Two didn’t answer but continued to smile at him then looked out the passenger window. Chris couldn’t help but swither on the feelings that were forming. There was something about Two that made him think about Kerry.

“You sure do remind me of someone,” said Chris.

“Who?” Two asked.

“Someone who was very close to me once,” he answered.

“What is it about me that reminds you of this special person?” Two asked in a charming voice.

“This person is no longer here,” said Chris in a sad tone. “She was my wife.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Chris,” stated Two.

Chris drove on, thinking
. There is something about Two’s voice that even sounds like Kerry’s. Just in the way Two annunciates its words. Its intonations
, he thought.

Chris glanced out his window like he was going to blush.

“What?” asked Two, sounding curious.

“That’s just it. It would be hard for me to explain how you remind me of her but you do,” he stated.

“Well, thank you,” Two replied. “I will take that as a compliment.”

***

It was a rainy day in the desert a few miles east of the Red Phoenix. Chris led the A.I.s in a jog over rocky hills with cacti and shrubs. They ran across a narrow valley floor as they held their AR-15s above their heads, panting. The thunder was loud in the background after a flash of lightning in the distance. Chris sounded a chant like a drill sergeant as they continued their jog across the rain-soaked terrain.

“Who-are-you?” Chris shouted.

“The-Red-Phoenix-Twelve!” the clones responded in unison.

“Why-do-you-train?” said Chris.

“To-kill-sir, kill!”

“Why-do-you-do-that?” Chris shouted.

“To-defend, sir, defend!”

“Who-are-you?” Chris hollered.

“The-Red-Phoenix-Twelve!” the clones replied, jogging on.

***

The clones were lined up in a row, lying on their stomachs, preparing to do push-ups as the rain fell on them and a wind blew through the area.

“Up!” Chris shouted, pacing behind them.

The clones raised themselves on their hands.

“Down!” Chris hollered, making them lower back down onto their stomachs.

“Up!” Chris yelled.

***

The next morning, Chris stood at a stove, making breakfast near to where the A.I.s were sleeping.

“Good morning, Chris,” said Two, standing next to him.

The other clones walked into the kitchen area.

“Okay, you guys, take a seat. You’re all going to have something new today,” said Chris.

“Really? What are you making us?” asked Two.

“My classical banana and strawberry pancakes with maple flavored bacon,” Chris answered, using an electric mixer to whip up the batter.

“Sounds interesting,” Two stated.

“Are you kidding? At my house, they were legendary,” Chris responded, switching off the mixer. “Do you mind mixing up this batter a little more? Just until the lumps are smoothed-out?”

“Sure, sure,” Two replied, setting the batter bowl on the counter and turning on the mixer.

“Thanks, I got to keep an eye on this bacon so it doesn’t burn,” Chris stated.

“No problem,” said Two, mixing the batter like a loyal friend.

Chris glanced at the A.I. from the corner of his eye. He remembered when he and Kerry made breakfast together and Kirk waited at the dining table, watching Saturday morning cartoons. It was pleasing to have Two’s company.

Chris poured the batter on an elevated skillet, making as many pancakes as possible. He looked at the eleven bald-headed, shaven eye-browed clones, wondering what
top secret
purpose they would serve. He served up the first triple-round of pancakes, handing the plate to Two.

“Give that to Twelve, please?” asked Chris.

“Yes sir,” Two replied, helping him serve the clones at the table.

“So, these are pan-cakes?” asked Twelve, staring at his plate like he’d never seen them before.

“They’re best with this,” said Chris, smearing butter over the top one.

“What is that yellowish cube you’re using?” asked Twelve.

“Good ’ol fashioned homemade butter,” Chris answered. “No fake ingredients, just the same stuff they used in the early twentieth century.

“Astonishing,” said Twelve, gazing at his plate of hot cakes. “Round, bread-like disks with chunks of fruit.”

“Do humans eat these often?” asked Ten.

“Morning, noon and night,” Chris answered. “They are what we call a delicacy. One could go to anywhere, anytime and order these from a menu.”

“What’s a delicacy?” asked Three.

“A food item that is considered highly desirable in various cultures,” Chris answered. “And this is the best part,” said Chris, pouring Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup over them.

“The brown fluid is the best part?” asked Twelve.

“Maple syrup,” Chris replied. “You bet.”

Twelve took a bite and chewed for a short time, the other clones watching him like they were children, waiting for his reaction.

“Well? What do you think?” asked Chris.

“They’re fantastic,” Twelve answered.

“Excellent,” Chris responded, smiling.

“Chris, I have a question,” said Six.

“Shoot,” Chris replied.

“Shoot what?” asked Six. “I don’t have a gun, sir.”

“I mean, go ahead with the question, Six,” Chris responded, wiping the counter.

“As we studied over the
Inter-net
the other day, I came across something called a
rock
concert,” Six stated.

“Okay,” said Chris.

“I do not understand this expression because it involves music and humans performing with instruments on a stage,” Six stated. “Isn’t a
rock
the same as a stone?”

“The thing about the human world you have to understand is
homonyms
,” Chris answered.

“What is that?” asked Nine.

“A word that is spelled the same or sounds alike but has different meanings,” Chris replied, moving to a stereo on a counter.

“I see,” Six stated.

“What is it about the music you found interesting?” asked Chris.

“The way the humans moved around, waving their arms, thrashing their heads,” Six replied.