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After his behavior, he expected it to come, yet at two a.m. twenty-four hours later when a signal was sent to return to base, 653 lay there, making no effort to move. Lexie had taught him something, that maybe blind obedience wasn’t the best thing. Maybe, for him, it paid to think and decide what was best. The signal repeated ten minutes later, and he rose, but didn’t respond.
852 inspected him from the chair he’d been in for the last four hours. “They called?”
653 nodded.
“Did you respond?”
“No. I’m going upstairs.” Upstairs to talk to Lexie and organize his thoughts because this was serious. Returning to base opened him up to everything from reprogramming to deactivation. He wanted neither one.
“Should you do that?”
Go upstairs, he meant. 653 considered the question. “I’m not sure. But I do know I’m not leaving here until I speak to Lexie.”
653 exited the bedroom and moved to the stairs. He gazed upward, the angle of ascent and length of travel downloading into his brain. First door on the left. He’d seen her go in there at bedtime more than once. How she would react to his presence was his big concern. How he’d react was even bigger. Any more, he found his behavior unpredictable and always as a result of his time with her.
He had a theory, as Lexie would put it, and the more he thought on it, the more it made sense. She’d said love came from deep inside, that it was uncontrollable and unplanned, that it brought on commitment and desire. He couldn’t figure this growing in him now as being anything else. He left her side, only to want to go back. He lay down at night, only to want her nearby. He craved the sight and smell of her. He longed to taste her lips, each brief moment fueling his need to know, to experience. He was falling in love, and he could only attribute that to her God, who obviously wanted them together.
But he was unsure how it fit into his existence. He wasn’t created to do as he pleased, but to follow the instructions given him, nothing more. She challenged that. She said he had the right, and more than that, the responsibility.
Outside her door, he halted, then turned the knob and entered quietly, shutting it behind him. He took in the room, instantly registering the objects in it, from the chair beneath the window to the items on her dresser. At one glance, he knew the make of the perfume, its scent and chemical formula, as well as the manufacturing date of the wristwatch lying nearby.
He faced the bed.
Lexie lay on her side, the bedcovers fallen to her waist. Her tank top slightly askew, the rounded curve of one breast enlarged with the compression of her arms. He stared for the longest time, his insides heating, then approached the bedside lamp and flipped it on. Though he didn’t need the light to see, she did.
She started, tossing her fingers over her eyes. Upon seeing him, she sat up abruptly. “Kent? What ... what’s wrong? Has something happened ...?”
He considered what he ought to say, but found looking at her, it wouldn’t work. It was too logical, too much like whom he’d been when he came here, and she deserved more than that. Yet, what fell out wasn’t at all what he’d planned. “I want to sleep with you.”
Her eyes flared wide. “We ... we talked about that.”
“Yes, but I’ve noticed knowing the rules doesn’t change my thoughts.”
Her face smoothed, and she lowered the bed sheet to her lap. “No, it doesn’t, and that’s why people break them. But you didn’t come up here in the middle of the night to tell me that.”
He shook his head. “I’ve been recalled.”
Lexie gasped. Mashing one hand to her chest, she curled over her legs. He knelt by the bed, and, extending one arm, pulled her close. A tremble in her limbs turned into tears. He’d expected those, so he let her cry, unspeaking.
“You can’t leave,” she said. His shirt dampened with her crying.
“I haven’t responded yet,” he replied. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
She craned her head back, looking upwards.
“I would have obeyed instantly before, but now, I can’t. I ... I think I love you.”
She lifted one hand to his cheek.
“I’ve been thinking on it,” he continued. “I’m part-human, but with advanced DNA. My body doesn’t waste anything it acquires and can sustain itself for long periods of time. I can hear at great distances, can see in the dark. Therefore, it’s an intelligent argument to say emotion would be more advanced as well, more pure, and unadulterated by outside forces.”
Lexie tilted her head, her hand falling back into her lap. “All of that to say you love me?”
“To say, I can’t not love you. I’ve tried to shut it off, but it’s taking over.”
Her smile faded and was replaced by a line of worry that wrinkled her forehead. She took his hand, clinging tight. “So what will you do? Can you ... not go?”
He pursed his lips. “If I don’t, they will eventually come after me and definitely shut me down. I feel I must return, but I’m not sure what to expect if I do. Human emotions cloud my judgment.”
“Then, I’m going with you.” She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress.
He trailed his gaze along each beautiful limb, distracted, and lowered one hand to her calf. In a slow, lingering motion, he slid it upward. She captured it at her knee, and their gazes met.
He refocused. “I’m not sure your going is a good idea,” he said. “Many things could go wrong. I fear ...” He stopped speaking.
Fear choked him, filling his chest until all air fled his lungs. Crushing her to him, he swam in it, what logic usually operated in his mind becoming a muddled mass, except for one thing—her. Like a beacon, her heart reached out to his, and he folded over, his face in her lap.
“I’m going with you,” she said again. “God will take care of us.”
“I don’t believe,” he replied.
She tapped his cheek, and he glanced up at her.
“Because you haven’t been taught to believe. But that doesn’t make God not real. I’m going with you, and no matter what happens, we’re walking out together.”
He stared at her a moment longer, then stood to his feet. “I’ll be at the door waiting for you.”
Exiting, he made his way down the stairs to the foyer. 852 stood at the bottom.
“She’s going with you?” he asked. “Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Little brother,” 653 replied, “Arguing with a woman is not wise, and I don’t think I’m emotional enough for that yet.”
852 made a quizzical face. “I need to find me one of those.”
Lexie refused to give into the fear consuming her thoughts and set herself to face whatever was ahead. Kent was too dependent on her to allow any of her doubts to take hold. Giving into doubt wouldn’t help either of them anyway. It was anti the faith God asked them to live by.
Kent couldn’t see the battle for his soul this had become. God wanted Kent Spivey to believe in Him for some higher purpose. Maybe for him singularly. Maybe for them together. But in either case, his realizing it relied on her to remain strong.
She’d passed the office complex they entered many times. Kent drove his truck into a huge parking garage filled with vehicles in every make and model imaginable, millions of dollars’ worth.
“Wow, this is ...” she began, twisting her head around.
Kent didn’t seem taken aback by any of it, however, nor did he comment, instead, taking her hand and leading her up a staircase to a large metal door. It opened into a long, white hallway, a strangely sterile environment, and secretive, the tile floors gleaming, the doors they passed shut tight. He stopped at none of them, but rounded a corner taking yet another staircase to a similar hallway, at the end of it, entering a huge room lined with a sea of computers.
It buzzed with activity. Workers in white coats and blue slacks typed at various screens. Others gathered in groups, scanning wall-size Teleprompters across the room. At their entrance, a woman turned, and Lexie recognized her as the one in the photograph Kent’s brother, Jack, had shown Father Royce. She was much older now, her reddish-brown hair streaked with gray.
Her expression was stern. “653. You didn’t respond to our call. We expected to hear from you long before now.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “I had to talk to Lexie.”
This remark brought the woman’s eyes to her face. Lexie lifted her chin. She wouldn’t be intimidated.
However, the glance was brief, and the woman looked back at Kent. “You’ve given us cause for great concern. I see that’s justified. You need retuning.”
“Retuning?” Lexie frowned. “What’s that mean? You can’t simply shut him on and off. You can’t manufacture people.”
The woman’s eyes returned to her face, lingering for a few seconds. She gazed at Kent. “What have you told her?”
His expression almost wooden, his voice monotone, Kent never blinked. “I found it necessary to tell her what I was. She was too suspicious otherwise. In the past, you’ve left what I say up to me.”
“Not at the risk of this organization. Besides ...” The woman nodded toward their hands. “Your blood pressure has been all over the map, your heartbeat erratic. You’re system must be shutting down.”
“My system is fine,” he replied. “I’ve simply begun to think.”
The woman’s brow drew upward, lines creasing it. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” he asked. “There have always been things you’ve tried to fix. My own appetite for dessert you can’t control.”
“I hardly think that’s the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” His voice rose. “You want me to do my job, yet you forbid me the emotion I need to do it. I am more effective because I believe in the people I’m protecting.”
The woman seemed rattled by his words. Pulling her hands from her pockets, she waved one arm, and, as if on signal, two men appeared from across the room. Dressed alike – black slacks, brown button-ups – they took hold of either one of his shoulders.
653 pulled back, and in the motion, Lexie was tossed sideways. She caught herself, one hand on the wall.
“We have a serious breach,” the woman said. “Take 653 to the Defusion Center. Have them wipe his memory clean.”
Wipe his memory? They ... they couldn’t do that. Lexie scrambled upright. “No. I won’t allow it.”
The woman scowled. “My dear, he’s a machine. Before we programmed him, there wasn’t anything inside. He didn’t speak, didn’t walk. He, in fact, did nothing but breathe.”
“That’s in-human.”
“Exactly my point.”
“No,” she argued. “His life ... you didn’t give him that. The breaths you said he had, you didn’t put those there.”
The woman made another motion, and one of the two men reached toward Kent’s neck. Depressing a spot on the ridge of his spine, Kent sagged and, eyes glazed, he stared unseeing across the room.
Lexie dashed forward. “No! He’s in there. Kent ...” Bringing one fist up, she banged on his chest. “I know you can hear me. You have to fight this.”
The woman’s hand closed over her shoulder, her nails digging in deep. Lexie tugged free, but a third man appeared, in appearance like the first two. He clasped her arms together, holding her in place.
A door across the room clicked, swinging wide with no hands at all, and the two men holding Kent, pushed him toward it.
Panic shot through her. Struggling in her captor’s grip, she lifted her foot and stomped it on his toe. He hardly flinched, his grip tightening.
“Kent,” Lexie screamed. “Remember what you said? You said you love me.”
The woman laughed. “Love? You’re delusional. He’s not capable of love.”
“You’re wrong,” Lexie replied. She wiggled again in her captor’s grasp. “God sent him to me, and He won’t let you do this.”
The woman eyed her then, one hand finding her lab coat pocket. “Tell you what. Seems like you’ll benefit from a little education.” She nodded toward the door. “Let her watch.”
The man’s hands loosened, and he shifted his grip to her arm. Wresting her forward, he followed behind the two hauling Kent out of the room. They entered yet another hallway, at the end, making a left into what appeared to be an operating theater. Computer screens encircled the walls, displaying a mesmerizing sequence of images. Blueprints, with a design remarkably like Kent.
The man pressed her against the wall.
Placing Kent on a metal table, the two men with control of him stretched his arms to either side and fastened his wrists and legs into semi-circular clamps. One man flipped Kent’s head sideways, and the other, with a scalpel, cut a notch in his skin. He peeled it back to reveal a tiny port.
At this, a light descended from the ceiling, and beside it, a cord. Inserting it into the port, both men stepped back.
Lexie’s gut tensed. “No. Please, don’t do this. He’s human. I saw it.”
“Watch,” her captor snapped.
An image lit on a screen across the room, a rotating diagram of Kent’s figure forming. At the base of it, a blue scale-like bar climbed toward the top. Kent’s body twitched, his legs and arms convulsing as the bar grew higher, and a percentage appeared. Forty percent. Fifty. His eyes blinked, the pupils dilating. Sixty percent. Seventy.
A sob pushed at her throat. What were they doing to him?
Eighty percent. Ninety. Nearing the top level, the screen blinked red. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. At one hundred percent, the computers silenced, and Kent stopped moving.
Tears streaming down her face, Lexie yanked her shoulders free. Her captor’s hands fell away, and she ran to the table. She yanked the cord from Kent’s neck and clasped her hands to his cheeks. “Kent, speak to me.”
He blinked, but made no sound.
“Kent. It’s Lexie. Remember? You love me,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here, go home. They can’t hold you here.”
His brow wrinkled. “Who are you?” he asked.
Her breath fled. One hand pressed on the table for support, she curved her fingers over the sharp edge. “Lex-Lexie. You ... you ... live with me and Father Royce.”
“I know no one by that name.”
Her lip trembled. “I don’t believe it. Somewhere in there is Kent Spivey, the man who loves me.”
The door to the room opened, and the woman entered, her hands dug deep in the pockets of her lab coat. “653, you’re being sent on a mission to Juneau, Alaska.”
“Juneau, population, 31, 275,” he replied. “Average low temperature, twenty-three degrees Fahrenheit. Average snowfall, 87.4 inches.” Kent rattled off the statistics.
“You see?” the woman asked, her gaze hard on Lexie’s face. “He doesn’t know you from any other human now. He’s incapable of forming attachments. He’s simply a means to an end, here to perform a service, nothing more.”
Incapable? Not the man she’d come to know. He was sensitive and kind. Lexie’s thoughts changed. “What of Jack?” she asked.
The woman paused. “Jack?”
“Kent’s brother.”
The woman grew more puzzled. “He has no brother.”
“Yes, he does. He ...” Lexie silenced. Whoever Jack was, it might be best she said nothing further. She returned her gaze to Kent.
His stare blank, everything he’d worked so hard to gain was, to all appearances, gone. Except she knew better. He hadn’t forgotten her. Deep in his heart, the seeds of understanding sprouted. God had brought him to her. God wanted Kent Spivey to serve Him, and God never changed His mind. What He’d begun, He would complete. She had only to believe. She placed herself in front of him.
“I’m going to have to ask you to go now,” the woman said.
Lexie clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “If I go, he goes with me.”
“He’ll do as he’s programmed, nothing more.”
“You’re wrong.” Lexie glared at the woman. “You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it.” Before the woman could speak again, she raised a hand to either one of his cheeks and, gripping him tight, mashed her lips to his.
Cold, unfeeling, he gave no response. She pressed harder. He was in there. He’d remember.
“You foolish, foolish girl,” the woman said. “Take her out of here.”
Footsteps crossed the floor and the man grasped hold of her, his fingers digging into her sides. But Lexie wrapped her arms around Kent’s neck and, clinging tight, said the only thing left in her. “I love you.”
Kent’s brow wrinkled, and he winced, as if in pain.
They dragged her backward, and she shouted it again. “Kent! I love you.”
He shook his head and squinted, his thumb poked into his temple. “My ... my head. I ...” He clenched his skull in one hand and grunted. His gaze landed on her. “Lexie?”
“Kent, tell them you remember. Tell them you love me.”
The woman stepped between them. “Take her out. Now.”
The man hauled Lexie off her feet, tossing her over his shoulder, and Kent stood from the table with a roar. “Let her go.” In two strides, he’d crossed the room and pulled her from the man’s grip.
Wrapping herself around him, she collapsed with a sob. “Tell her. Tell her you remember.”
Tipping her chin up, he stared into her eyes. “I remember, and I love you.”
“You ... you can’t. We reprogrammed you,” the woman said. “It’s not possible.”
“I do, and it is,” he said. He plucked Lexie from the ground and headed for the door. He trained his gaze on the woman. “Her God is stronger than your science, and I’ll make my own choices from now on.”