Chapter 18

The Master

Marcus bit down on his thumbnail. More bad news: the Tech Council had rejected his company’s lobbying efforts once again. All because of that blasted Pandora Project.

“Fuck you, Tech Council!” Marcus’s voice reverberated against his office’s rounded walls. “I’ll do what I want, and if you won’t let me do it legit? Hey, black market’s always open!”

Frustration after frustration—that was his life. An outsider who saw the shiny ship he resided on, the obedient staff who catered to his whims, and the rich fabrics he wore would have applauded his success. Yet in person-to-person interactions, he was still treated like the scrawny kid to be picked on, ignored, or pitied. No woman thought him worth her attention—no real woman, anyway. Marcus had seen enough of gold diggers, whores, and desperate broads.

He couldn’t fathom why. He was wealthy, intelligent, and good-looking. He’d once kept his five-foot-ten frame fashionably trim and spent thousands ensuring that his brown hair resembled that of the holodrama stars women fawned over. Well groomed, well dressed, well mannered—he’d done everything right. And still, all I get are those bitches.

He no longer bothered busting his ass at the gym or keeping up with fashions. The only things he maintained were his facial treatments; he refused to look fifty-four. When he eventually got his perfect woman, he wanted to start life over as though the past twenty-some years of misery hadn’t existed.

Marcus slumped in his chair. What’s wrong with the universe?

Life was a never-ending cycle of tantalizing wins robbed of true victory by harsher losses. He should have had it all. As a child, he’d been the kid who did extra homework while the others climbed around like monkeys. At university, he’d been the student who pursued independent projects while the so-called cool ones partied and fucked.

It had seemed to pay off. Acuitas, the Net search engine he’d created in his twenties, had become widely popular and expanded into a successful tech company.

You can tell everything you need to know about a person by what they’re looking for. Acuitas showed Marcus who people were and how they thought. That knowledge was priceless. Every person in the galaxy used the Net and therefore used Acuitas, whether they knew it or not. Acuitas had bought him the Pride of the Creator, the Moray that served as his house, office, and playground. The steady stream of riches the company provided would never run dry as long as people searched for things.

Suddenly in the mood for a drink, Marcus yelled, “Candice! Get in here!”

The door to his office slid open. Candice flounced in, her brilliant red curls and ample breasts bouncing. “Do you need something, sir?”

“A bottle of Venovian wine, and make sure it’s cold.” Marcus clapped his hands together. “Hurry up!”

Candice’s spike heels clacked against the floor as she left. Marcus examined her backside. Lovely as ever, my Candice.

But there was something wrong with her. There was something wrong with all his girls: they didn’t really want him. No affection lay behind those sultry eyes and luscious lips. Their brain implants made them do and say whatever he wanted, but a personality had existed before the programming. Nothing Marcus did could truly change who they were.

He couldn’t make them love him.

He recalled who Candice had been when he’d met her: an idealistic receptionist at Acuitas’s headquarters on Kydera. Oh, how she’d enticed him with that melodious optimism, those flowing words and that naïve sparkle! He’d brought her on board the Pride as his personal assistant, hoping that, with time and proximity, they’d grow close. Instead, he’d ended up with a shadow of what he’d thought her to be, a dull woman who never gave him the respect he deserved. Disappointed, he’d implanted her, just as he’d implanted the others before her.

A window flashed on the wide computer monitor before him: “Incoming Transmission.” The insignia in the corner indicated that it was from headquarters.

Marcus groaned. Corporate had kept him bogged down with their bullshit for more than two weeks, forcing him to work on company projects when all he wanted was to examine his new AI acquisition, Adam Palmer.

Marcus accepted the transmission. Corporate Guy—Marcus had never bothered learning his name—spread his arms as though inviting a hug. “Marcus! How’re things over on the Pride?”

“Fantastic.” Marcus kept his tone deadpan.

“Good, good. Hey, me and a couple other execs were wondering if you’d be coming to the meeting next week. The investors would love to see the brains behind the company.”

Marcus sighed. The more ways there were for people not to show up in person, the more people valued face-to-face contact. The way Corporate Guy was asking, he wasn’t asking at all. How dare he command me? Acuitas is my company!

Actually, it wasn’t anymore. Somehow, Marcus had allowed the leeches in suits to take over his company until they captained the vessel, leaving him a mere mechanic that kept it flying. Even Acuitas, his own creation, was no longer in his control.

“I’ll be there,” Marcus grumbled.

Corporate Guy beamed. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll—”

Marcus punched the icon to shut him up.

The door opened. Candice strutted in, carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and a single glass. She set the tray down on the desk, poured a glass of the crimson liquid, and handed it to Marcus. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Marcus considered those red lips of hers. Once, they’d filled him with longing, but knowing she’d automatically do with them whatever he asked made them lose their appeal. “Maybe later. Get out.”

“Yes, sir.” Candice left.

Marcus shook his head. Can’t believe I poured all that time into a brain implant just to come up empty.

His girls couldn’t give him what he truly wanted. He’d thought his implant would turn at least one of them into a suitable woman for him, but it had simply turned them all into whores. Perfect whores, but whores nonetheless.

What he needed was a blank slate. He’d considered genetically modified clones, but they presented too many problems. Even clones had brains, so he’d have to implant them anyway. Ultimately, they would have been no different from the beauties he lured to the Pride.

Marcus gulped his wine. Enough donkeywork. He decided to ignore Acuitas’s desires and indulge his own. Where should I begin?

He had so many things he could have done, but they all felt like work, even though they weren’t related to Acuitas. His personal projects ate all of his free time and much of his Acuitas time. The past two weeks of busyness had been to make up for months of blowing the company off.

I could design her. Marcus took a sip as he wondered what his perfect woman would look like. A face appeared in his mind, one that fascinated and bewildered him. A craving rose from the pit of his stomach. He had to see her.

Marcus swiped his monitor and accessed the ISARK sniper cams. Or rather, the cams the snipers tapped into in order to keep their eyes on their targets. A live video feed filled his monitor. There she is.

Jane Colt stood in the center of a Kyderan gym, kicking a heavy bag. Her sleeveless white top revealed her delicate collarbones, which perfectly offset her slender neck. Her purple shorts clung to a pair of smooth, youthful thighs.

Marcus leaned back with a sigh. So beautiful, so strange.

She wasn’t the most attractive woman he’d seen; Candice was much hotter. Perhaps Jane so fascinated him because he’d watched her do things she shouldn’t have been capable of—like win a face-off with an ISARK operative. Something about her defiance aroused feelings beyond anger, and Marcus yearned to show her who really had the power. But unlike Candice or any of his other girls, Jane would be missed if she disappeared.

Marcus finished his glass and poured himself another. On the monitor before him, Jane round-kicked the bag. He pictured what it would be like to catch that silky, bare leg before the blow could land to remind her that she wasn’t so tough after all.

He noticed a young man at the gym staring at Jane as he lifted weights. The man, who would fit the textbook definition of athletic, finished his set and approached her. Jane didn’t appear to notice as she threw another series of kicks.

The man clapped. “Nice moves.”

Jane spun toward him as though startled. “Um… Thanks.”

She turned back to the bag. The man tried to make conversation with her, but she responded only with single-word answers.

Marcus drained his glass. “Still playing the faithful lover, are you, Jane? What’s wrong with you? You have a muscle-bound god drooling over you, and yet you’re pining over a boring little AI?”

Frustration ground his insides. Why would she stay with Adam Palmer, knowing he was fake? Why didn’t it seem creepy that she did? People fell in love with objects all the time, but Jane’s relationship seemed different from what Marcus had seen before. He knew plenty of people had become enamored with a life-sized love bot, silicon doll, or virtual lover. There was always something unnatural and disturbing about it. Because of the Tech Council’s restrictions, those artificial lovers could never fully represent human beings.

But Adam Palmer can. Marcus would never have imagined that Adam was an AI if Colt hadn’t revealed the boy’s true nature to Rourke.

Marcus grabbed the wine bottle and dumped its contents down his throat. If anyone deserved a girl like Jane Colt, he did. He was successful, attractive, rich. The universe owed him a beautiful, spirited young woman for all his troubles. All it dumped in his lap were those gold diggers, whores, and desperate broads. He hadn’t had a proper girlfriend since university, and she’d been a manipulative bitch. The only women who seemed interested in him were those he wasn’t interested in. Every so often, some pretty young thing would intrigue him and agree to a date with him, but the moment he started to know her, he’d find her no different from the ones before.

The galaxy held trillions of women, billions of whom were young and appealing. And yet the universe couldn’t spare just one for Marcus.

Bitches, all of them. If they’re not ugly sluts, they’re irrational. Having come to that conclusion some time ago, Marcus had given up on finding a real woman. Even Acuitas’s most sophisticated algorithms couldn’t account for the fact that the woman he searched for had to love him. After wasting years trying to develop a way to line up personality traits and whatnot, he’d concluded that his brilliance was no match for the universe’s screwiness. If I can’t find one, I’ll make one.

If Pandora had been able to create an AI man that loved Jane Colt, surely Marcus could reverse-engineer the being and create an AI woman that loved him. Once he succeeded—oh, the trillions, quadrillions, quintillions of thrones he could make! An AI wife for every victim of society screwed out of his happy ending! An AI husband for every shrew who couldn’t hold on to a man!

Hey, I’m all for equal opportunity! I’ll make my perfect match, and for a price, I’ll make yours too! Marcus laughed, suddenly realizing how light his head felt. The wine’s effects had crept up on him.

On the monitor, Jane slammed her small fist into the heavy bag. She was the first girl since Candice who’d appealed to him. The anger she provoked made her all the more desirable. Mesmerized, Marcus decided he’d model his AI woman after her. No more sniveling, pathetic whores. His woman would be headstrong and daring. But no matter how strong she thought she was, she’d always know her place. She’d oppose him and resist him, but he’d conquer her in a grand display of masculine dominance, and that would make her love and respect him more.

He watched as Jane threw a quick succession of punches, her eyes blazing with fury. Who are you picturing on that bag? Adam, perhaps? What would you do if you found out he didn’t leave because he doesn’t love you?

Marcus sneered. Jane had thought she could defeat him, but he’d won the game. Her precious AI lay deactivated on board the Pride.

Tell me, Pony, what would you do if you found out I have him?

 

Adam’s vision came into focus. He could barely make out anything past the empty lab table. A bright light shone onto him. He realized he was in a chair and tried to get up, but couldn’t. Tight metal rings anchored his wrists to the armrests. Something dug into his ankles; his legs must have been similarly restrained. Where am I?

He tried to piece together what had happened. He wore his typical combination of a white shirt and plain pants, so he’d probably been taken from what had started out as an ordinary day. But he must have been through something, for his clothes were stained with dirt.

An image—bloody bodies, Pandora’s deep blue wire-frame figure, and a reflection that wasn’t his own. A dank cavern, stun blasts, a Via temple. Jane yelling at him, eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed. Flashes of the Seer in a virtu-world desert.

The memories ended there. Adam almost wished they’d remained lost. Or that he’d never awakened. His nightmare wouldn’t end when the sun rose. In fact, he would probably never see another sunrise.

“Adam Palmer.” A cold voice broke the silence. A man approached, fading into view from the darkness. Lanky and brown-haired, with high cheekbones and a sharp nose, he looked about thirty, but something about his brown eyes made him seem much older. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Who are you?” Frightened by the man’s hungry expression, Adam spoke in a strained whisper.

The man pulled a chair out from underneath the lab bench. He waved his hand over the back, and it rose to hover a few inches off the ground. He spun the chair and sat in it backward. “Marcus. Marcus Streger. Now, answer my question.”

Marcus Streger. So you’re the one behind all this. “Last thing I remember is being in a cell. There was a hole—I think I punched through the wall.” Adam glanced down at his hand, which was streaked with exposed metal.

Marcus shifted his gaze to the side. “So a prolonged shutdown does cause memory loss.”

Shutdown? “What happened?”

Marcus set his chin down on the back of the chair. “I let you run around for a few minutes to see what you’d do. You started snooping, so I had one of my security bots knock you out. Put you in this special chair to keep you from turning back on.”

Adam searched his memories. At the mention of a security bot, he recalled a blue line of light, but nothing more.

“Do you give a shit about what’s happening?” Marcus’s brown eyes bored into Adam’s. “Or are you just like, ‘error: cannot compute?’”

Adam wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You certainly look convincing.” The stench of alcohol wafted on Marcus’s breath. “What I’m trying to figure out is: do you really love Jane Colt, or were you just programmed to act like you did?”

“I love her.” The words spilled out of Adam’s mouth.

“Excellent!” Marcus pushed against the ground with his feet, causing his hovering chair to slide backward. “So damn real! You know, I was kind of bummed when the only known living AI turned out to be a guy, but hey, you’re in love, and that’s the trait I’m really looking for.”

That’s strange. “Why?”

“Let me tell you what I’m going to do.” Marcus stood and took a step forward, but walked into the edge of the chair. “Fucking piece of shit!” He kicked the chair, which flew out of sight. Something shattered.

Adam sensed despair behind the rage, as though the chair, small as it was, represented the last in a string of misfortunes. “Are you all right?”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m all right!” As though suddenly aware of his outburst, Marcus relaxed his expression. “You seem… nice. I suppose the least I can do is let you know why I’ll be ripping you to shreds.” He froze, then yelled at the ceiling, “Hear that, Pony?” He spat Jane’s nickname as though it were poison. “I’m ripping your almost-fiancé to shreds!” He laughed harshly.

Only Devin calls Jane “Pony.” How does he know about that? And why did he call me Jane’s “almost-fiancé”? Adam recalled Jane’s sudden, sarcastic, “Will you marry me?” and wondered if that was what Marcus referred to. But only Jane and I know about that…

Marcus stopped laughing. “I spent years trying to find myself a woman. I kept myself groomed, polite—hell, I’m fucking loaded! Do you know who I am?”

Adam nodded. “You’re the chief architect of Acuitas.”

“That’s right.” Marcus spread his arms beside him. “We at Acuitas know how all you losers think. We’re in your heads and in your homes, and you welcome us because we make life easier. So, like I was saying, I’m a fucking catch, right?”

“I suppose.” Adam didn’t know how else to respond.

Marcus pointed at Adam. “And you, boy, are nothing. So tell me, why does Jane Colt love you instead of me?” He slammed his hands down on Adam’s arms and leaned into Adam’s face. “You’re nothing but trouble. I could give her everything! Dresses, a palace—she wants to be a composer, right?” The despair in Marcus’s voice rose. “I could fucking buy Scriptus Hall for her. Why does she love you instead of me?”

“She doesn’t know you.” Adam kept his tone gentle, despite his desire to demand how Marcus knew so much about Jane. He must be working with ISARK.

“Fucking right, she doesn’t know me.” Marcus straightened. “But even if she did, would she go for me?” He scowled. “No, of course not. They always say no. Fucking hell!” He banged his fist into the lab table. “Women are fucking irrational.” The bitterness in Marcus’s voice spoke of a deep, underlying sorrow. He remained still for several seconds, head bowed and fists clenched.

Adam couldn’t help pitying the man. He wished he could say something comforting, but fear robbed him of words.

When Marcus straightened, his expression was calm. “The universe may be unwilling to provide me with the companion I deserve, but it can’t stop me from having her. I’ll make her myself.”

Adam realized what Marcus’s plans were. He wants to create a perfect lover, like Sarah was for Devin.

Marcus bit his thumbnail. “If there’s anyone in the galaxy who can reverse-engineer and modify Pandora’s work, it’s me.” He smiled to himself. “I’ll make an AI that will love me like that. Yes, she’ll be her own person—independent, smart, sassy even. I like strong women. But at the end of the day, she’ll always come back to me, the true strength of her life.”

Adam couldn’t comprehend Marcus’s reasoning. “She can’t both love you and be your slave. If you go through with your plan, you’ll either create an empty shell, no different from a lifelike doll, or a sentient being who will make her own choices.”

Marcus brought his hands crashing down onto Adam’s arms again. “What are you saying? You’re saying I’m so pathetic that even my own creation won’t love me?”

Adam drew a breath. “I’m saying that what you want is a fantasy.”

Marcus pushed off the chair. “Of Pandora’s AIs, you’re the special one because you’re supposed to be a human mind in a synthetic body. But something made you. Am I right?”

That was what Pandora had wanted Adam to believe, but Adam knew it couldn’t be true. “No.”

“Yes, it did!” With each word, Marcus jerked his arm for emphasis. “You’re a machine. Pandora built you, and something about what she did to you made you love.”

If only love could be explained so easily. “Pandora never wanted me to be with Jane. She couldn’t fully control her creations, and you won’t be able to, either.”

Marcus’s eyes blazed with fury. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He stormed off, disappearing into the dark shadows of the room.

I shouldn’t have spoken. Fear grasped Adam’s heart.

He heard a faint whirring. Marcus reappeared, clutching a cylindrical device. Beside him, a squat robot hovered about two feet off the ground, holding a tray of instruments in its metal claws. Marcus looked at the machine, then turned his gaze to Adam. “What’s the difference between you two anyway? If I wanted to test how my bot handled a surge”— Marcus shoved the cylindrical device into the robot’s side, and a line of red lights flashed across the robot’s head as an alarm shrieked—“no one would give a shit.” He regarded the robot. “Apparently this one can’t stand a high setting. Now, let’s see how you do.”

Marcus shoved the device into Adam’s stomach. White-hot pain flared through Adam’s torso, and a scorching heat pulsed into his chest. Every fiber of Adam’s being—every inch of skin, every ounce within—cried out in shock. An agonized scream shook the air, sounding distant in Adam’s ears. But for the strain in his throat, Adam wouldn’t have known it was his own.

Scream away, my child. Your screams are nothing more than an error message. Pandora’s deep blue image flared within Adam’s mind.

The device was removed, and the burning ceased. Adam’s head fell forward. A fire seemed to have been set within him. He kept his eyes closed, but tears escaped.

In Adam’s mind, Pandora reached out. Come. I can guide you to freedom. Disobey me, and you condemn yourself to this fate.

Then I condemn myself. Adam pictured himself staring down Pandora. His own image appeared before hers.

Pandora scowled. You do nothing without—

Adam wished for her to be silent, and her words cut out. Her image flickered. What was that?

“Look at me!”

Adam felt a stinging across his face. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into Marcus’s cold brown irises.

“Please…” Adam searched Marcus’s eyes for any sign of mercy. “I… I know you see me as—as artificial.” His words faltered. “But… you said yourself that I’m a person in a synthetic body. Would you—”

“Shut up!” Marcus snapped straight. “A sentient AI is still a machine. I’ll take what I need, and when I’m done, I’ll discard you, like I would an old slate.” He beckoned the robot to come closer. The robot obliged but seemed to have trouble moving in a straight line. It jerked from side to side as it approached, red error lights still flashing on its head.

Adam’s heart trembled. “Please…”

Marcus picked up a slender laser scalpel from the robot’s tray. “Machines don’t bleed. Neither do AIs.”

Marcus grabbed Adam’s hair and pulled his head back.

Piercing heat bored into Adam’s forehead. Adam’s own screams pierced his ears—involuntary, unstoppable cries—as the heat moved down the edge of his face. Even his tears did nothing to temper the burning as the laser arced toward his brow.

Absolute One, grant me strength.

The heat disappeared. Adam gasped, feeling as though he’d inhaled for the first time. Pain stung his face as Marcus tore off the section of skin he’d outlined.

Marcus slammed Adam’s head into the back of the chair.

Adam opened his eyes. Marcus dangled a piece of skin from a pair of tweezers. Crescent-shaped and a warm shade of alabaster—Adam’s own.

Marcus examined the sample. “Pandora did such a thorough job, and yet she neglected to include blood.” His lips curved maliciously. “What would you do, Pony, if you knew I had your precious lover? What would you do?”