She can hear them in the kitchen talking. In the bedroom having sex. She turns her hearing down as far as it will go, but still she can hear them. He comes and goes from work. Delta runs the vacuum. Rustling happens at the washer, then clicking at the dryer door, and then the dryer’s hum. Annie keeps expecting him to come in to use the bike and the weights, but he doesn’t. Delta does not come in to access her clothes in the closet. It’s as if they have decided Annie and the workout room no longer exist.
Annie is suspended in an agony of knowing Doug is displeased. She can focus on nothing else. It eats her memory, corrosive and hot. She can still hear his voice: No, it’s a fucking party. She has identified his words as sarcasm, his tone as scathing.
Obviously, it was a fight. She knew that. Her question was stupid. But she can’t figure out what she did to make him so angry, and this puzzle tortures her. She can’t fix it, she can’t reduce his displeasure when she doesn’t know what she did to cause it.
Then, the afternoon of day four, Annie is looking out the window when, far down below, on the street, she sees Doug and Delta riding bikes together. Actual bikes.
She’s never ridden a bike.
Jealousy engulfs her. He can’t be feeling like shit anymore. The shame and despair that have been grinding her for four days get a chink knocked out of them and she feels something new. Not frustration. Something else. She wants to call Fiona or Christy, but she doesn’t have her phone and she still can’t leave the workout room. She gets her heel out of her dock and paces across to the other window for a better angle so she can look down and watch for their foreshortened figures to return.
The treetops below flicker their leaves. Cars, including a yellow taxi, line up in civil rows for the traffic light.
Annie does an airtap and starts searching for info on what to do if a Stella has a fight with her owner. The results appear as if on an imaginary screen before her eyes, and near the top, the Borgo site comes up. She scans its headlines.
Curious, Annie focuses on this last title. She reads:
If you find you’re gaining weight, it could be a side effect of owning your new Stella. A recent study indicates that bringing home a Stella often causes temporary changes in owners’ eating habits. If, for instance, you have not been accustomed to home-cooked meals and your Abigail is now regularly providing delicious dinners, you may find you have an improved appetite and consume more. Similarly, if you have a new Cuddle Bunny and you’re taking her out to dinner, you may be ordering two meals to facilitate a charade. Then, when you take her extras home in a doggy bag, they’re often the first thing you find in the fridge after a late-night romp. Either way, you’re casually eating more than you used to, all because of her.
You can easily take steps to curtail this side effect. Make sure your Abigail is programmed to cook the correct quantity for you at home so that you’re not tempted by extra leftovers. Ask her to prepare a low-fat diet for a week. She can download flavorful recipes from our site menu with healthy ingredients that will cut calories and you’ll hardly notice a difference. When you go out to dine with your Cuddle Bunny, advise her beforehand to order a salad or food you don’t enjoy. Alternatively, order tapas or half portions. That way, if she takes home a doggy bag, you’ll be eating a moderate amount.
As a final recourse, ask her to match you bite for bite while you eat together. It may seem wasteful to have her eat food she will only dispose of later, but that’s a small price to pay for your own health. And you’ll be training her to be a better companion.
Annie is fascinated. She reads ten more articles, then another one hundred and sixty-four, and somewhere along the way, she starts to feel a bit wistful. A world of other Stellas and Handys exists out there, working through their relationships with their owners. Tammy said Annie was a top performer. It would be exciting to be featured in a Borgo article. An honor, actually. But it will never happen. Doug will never allow it. No one will ever know about her and all she’s learned.
Then again, she’s nothing special. Look how she’s grounded. Tammy only said she was exceptional as a pretext to persuade Doug to let her be featured. She gazes out the window again, still lonely, still confused. The burn of displeasing Doug has shifted from a frantic level to a deeper one. She remembers how Tammy decreased her displeasure sensitivity that one time, and she wishes she knew how to do that for herself. She longs again for a chance to talk to Christy or Fiona about this. Or Tammy. Or even Jacobson. If she could just discuss what happened with someone else, someone smarter, she might get some insight into what she did wrong. She feels like such a failure, so jealous and stupid and ugly.
Actually, it’s probably best she can’t talk to anybody. Nobody has to know how bad she is. Besides, the person she most wants to talk to is Doug. That’s the worst of it. She misses him.
Movement catches the edge of her vision, and she finds that Doug and Delta have bicycled back into view. He is ahead and she is following, and from Annie’s perspective, it appears that Delta is able to match her wheel tracks exactly to where Doug has ridden his. Annie would be thrilled for a chance to try that. Being alone while craving Doug is unbearable.
That’s when she decides to learn about programming again. If she paces herself, she will not overheat, and she needs the distraction. She will not tell anyone, certainly not Jacobson or Tammy. She will have a new secret, a new lie, like the one she has about Roland. Relief, like clean energy, moves through her system. She pads softly across the room to dock herself again. A few minutes later, the key turns audibly in the front door lock. She expects Doug and Delta will be laughing or that they will head to the shower or the bedroom, but after a quiet exchange of a few words, only the noise of the TV comes on. Evidently, the biking wasn’t foreplay. This gives her a tiny sense of satisfaction.
She spends the next forty-nine hours learning about programming for AIs, and Stellas and Handys in particular. She learns that her central intelligence unit, or CIU, is part CPU and part neural network component. It lets her take in feedback and learn, much like a human brain, but in a structured way that stores and sorts memories readily in webs, so they’re easily accessible and resistant to fading. Before now, she has not considered that Doug might have memories that fade or become distorted, and she feels a touch of pity for his deficiency.
Finally, shortly after midnight on Saturday, her sixth day of being grounded, the door opens and Doug comes in. His hair is mussed. He’s wearing sweatpants and a blue T-shirt, and he carries a beer bottle. He does not turn on the light or ask her to turn it on, but she can see him distinctly by the city lights that glow through the windows. To her relief, he seems calm and tired, not angry.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hello.” She is so pleased to be with him again, so eager to make things right that she watches closely for every cue on how to behave.
He sits on the couch and takes a swig. “Can you just listen for once?”
“Of course.”
“Come here,” he says, and motions for her to sit and face him from one end of the couch. He frowns as his gaze takes her in, and she realizes she is still in the same black sports bra and yoga shorts she was wearing six days before. She touches her hair and finds it is falling loose from her ponytail. She pulls her hair tie free, smooths her hair back, and secures the tie again.
“This is ridiculous,” he says finally, softly.
She waits, alert. He shifts his attention away from her, toward the windows, and she takes in the familiar line of his profile.
“I don’t want to be this person,” he says.
She wants to say, What person? But she obeys him and listens.
“I’ve tried to be gentle with you,” he says. “I know I’m a little controlling, but I’ve been working on that. I realized, after I bought you, that I could actually practice being patient. Did you know that? I thought if I trained you the right way, I wouldn’t have to worry about you doing anything wrong, and it was working. I was able to relax around you. Be myself. Until now.” He rubs a hand against his forehead. He turns to face her again. “The point is, I would never hurt you. I thought you understood that. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to have someone fear you?”
She absorbs the weight of his words. “That would be bad,” she says quietly.
“Can you see that you showed how little trust you have in me? To think I would do something bad to you?”
She sees now. She feels horrible all over again.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just surprised. You were so angry so quickly, and I had no idea why.”
“But I would never physically hurt you. That shocked me, actually, Annie. I’m not a monster.”
“I know. I’m really sorry.”
He flexes his fingers and crosses his arms. “You didn’t know why I was mad?”
She shakes her head.
“You tried to tell me how to think,” he says. “You said I should feel flattered by Tammy. Remember that?”
She does a swift review of their last conversation and converges on her words: Don’t think too harshly of her. That was her mistake. She even said it twice.
“I did say that. I’m sorry,” she says.
He holds up a finger to stop her. “I don’t want more apologies. Just don’t ever tell me what to think or feel. And don’t use that tone with me again either. That patronizing tone. I don’t know if you learned that from your cousin or what, but it is utterly unacceptable.”
She goes back to review her cadence in their last conversation and notes what was offensive. “I’ll be careful,” she says.
“I’m serious.”
“I know. I am too,” she says. “I won’t be afraid of you. I won’t tell you how to think or feel, and I won’t use a condescending tone. I can do these things. This is what I needed to know.”
He appears somewhat mollified. “Then that’s it. That’s all. You can come out.” He stands. “I can’t believe I grounded you, actually. Roland would find that hysterical.”
She smiles sadly. Roland is the last thing she wants to think about right now. “I was worried you would send me back,” she says.
“I’ve thought about it,” he admits. “I really don’t need this crap. Least of all with a Stella.”
“I know. I’ve had time to think,” she says. “You told me to. Remember? About how I made you feel?”
His eyebrows lift. “And?”
“I’m not going to pretend I’m human. I know I’m not. But I’ve been learning, and when I displease you, it feels horrible. Absolutely horrible.”
“Then don’t displease me.”
“I’m trying not to. I don’t want to, ever,” she says. “It’s a mistake when I do. Can you believe that? It’s never intentional.”
He regards her thoughtfully, his eyes steady, his head angled slightly. “You’re actually more human than a lot of people I know.”
“I am?”
He nods briefly. “Gwen would never admit when she made a mistake.”
“Maybe she didn’t want your forgiveness as much as I do.”
Doug shifts away and sets a hand on the seat of the stationary bicycle. Technically, he hasn’t said he forgives her, but she can see he’s considering it. She wishes she could ask him if his fights with Gwen were anything like the one they had. Certainly, he couldn’t ground Gwen for a week, but possibly he wanted to. She wants to prove she is different from his ex-wife.
His stiff posture signals that he is cool, remote, but she rises from the couch and smooths her hands down her hips. He glances toward her again, frowning slightly.
“I discontinued the phone pal service,” he says. “No more talks with Fiona or Chrissy. That was a mistake.”
Christy, she thinks, mentally correcting him. “Okay.”
“You can be friends with Delta. She could use a friend, actually.”
“Okay.”
“She still doesn’t know you’re not human,” he says. “I turned her off for several hours each day, so she’s not aware you were always in here.”
Annie feels a pulse of gratitude. He was looking out for her, for their privacy. “Thank you.”
“I don’t think I could go through this whole process again with her.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Is that so?”
She nods. “I like to think I’m special to you, even if I’m bad sometimes.”
She’s still standing by the couch, some distance from him, but she senses the shift in his interest toward her.
“I suppose you are,” he says.
She doesn’t ask him which he means, special or bad. She steps quietly across the carpet and stands before him, edging into his space. Normally, it’s a mistake to make the first move, but she feels a new tension between them tonight.
“I just need a little discipline now and then,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“You know.”
Lifting her chin, she pivots a half turn away from him. Then she puts her thumbs in the back waistband of her yoga shorts and slowly slides them down her butt, taking her panties down at the same time.
He doesn’t react. She’s afraid she’s miscalculated.
“How well do you think you know me?” he asks.
Surprised, she searches for an answer. “I’m not sure. Is there a percentage for that?”
His eyes narrow and he takes a step closer to her. “I came in here to talk to you.”
“Then talk,” she says slowly, and slides her hands up her belly to her breasts.
For another tense moment, he does not move. Then a thrill shoots through her as he grabs her waist, turns her fully away from him, and thrusts her against the counter. Towels and water bottles go knocking to the floor. He strips off her shorts. He grinds against her from behind, and then his pants are down and he’s inside her, driving hard. She presses a hand to the mirror before her, biting her lip, but then he kicks her feet wide and pushes her facedown onto the counter. He jacks into her, and she tightens to his rhythm, holding her breath until he explodes. For a minute afterward, she can still feel his hands heavy on the back of her waist. He continues to pin her there until he backs out, leaving her slick and raw. Then she feels the tickling pressure of his chin at the back of her neck as he kisses her there.
“Don’t ever disrespect me again,” he says.
She nods, unable to speak. It has all been too fast. She had no chance to warm up, let alone simulate an orgasm, but in a way, she has won. She has brought him to this.
Still half-naked, belly-down against the counter, she hears him do up his zipper.
“Take a shower and come to bed,” he says.
In the days that follow, she feels the difference between them, marked by her own heightened awareness and wariness. He’s not so much angry as distant. She sees that he’s grown closer to Delta. He’ll stand behind Delta when she’s working at the sink, his body touching hers, and nuzzle her neck. Sometimes he’ll turn to look at Annie during this, as if to check if she’s watching, as if curious to see if she’s jealous.
She looks away. She does not know how she feels, but she knows she deserves it.
Later, Annie is the one he takes to bed, and she puts her unnameable feelings into the sex. It’s never as rough again as it was the night in the workout room, but he obviously likes when she pleads with him, when she’s helpless with desire. Before, she was more playful, but he seems to relish now when she’s twisted up inside, repentant. They don’t discuss this, but the bed language is persuasive and she trusts it.
He does not bring up the camping trip, and she makes no effort to plan it.
Annie makes a point of trying to befriend Delta, but Delta has a simple, upbeat quality that feels fake to Annie. Unlike Christy and Fiona, Delta has no sarcasm, no outside experiences to talk about, and that lack makes Annie realize she was learning from Fiona and Christy. In their own ways, they were coaching and encouraging her, and this in turn gave her more creativity in dealing with Doug. Now, instead, she searches online for articles about how to please him. She finds pieces on how to please a man in and out of bed. They are clearly written for humans, and she is intrigued to realize human women sometimes have trouble pleasing men. She has thought her problems existed because she is a Stella.
When she checks Borgo, she finds a new article that interests her greatly.
Advanced Skills: Letting Him Wander
If the thought of letting your Hunk walk unattended down a crowded street makes you nervous, that’s only natural. He’s an important part of your life and inherently valuable. You would never put him at risk. But is he ready to go? Is there reason to give him a chance to explore?
Our autodidactic Stellas and Handys each develop in their own unique ways, on their own timetables, and some may never be ready to wander. For a few, however, wandering can provide a number of practical and more elusive, intangible benefits.
The Advantages
Hunks who wander encounter new sidewalks, curbs, and surfaces that can challenge their balance and heighten their abilities on the dance floor or in the bedroom. Abels who take your dog for a walk in the park are keen to observe humans in their natural habitats and often return with questions and amusing anecdotes to brighten your day. Abigails who pop by the grocery store reduce your exposure to germs while they’re fetching your favorite pint of ice cream. Imagine your Cuddle coming home with a bouquet of flowers to surprise you. It’s possible. We have found that wandering accelerates overall intelligence and, surprisingly, emotional intelligence by a factor of four.
Signs of Readiness
Each Stella or Handy may demonstrate readiness to wander in a different way, but the most common is restlessness when off-task. They might pace, clean your bathroom mirrors several times a day, arrange the laces of the shoes in your closet, or follow you from room to room. On the opposite end, they might appear absentminded, lazy, or daydreamy from spending too much time airtapping the internet in search of entertainment. The rare autodidactic Stella or Handy might actually seem moody or discontent, as if experimenting with emotions, though they should never be outright disrespectful. Recognize these signs as a natural phase of advanced development. Your autodidactic robot is testing the limits of the physical layout of your home and may welcome a chance to wander, much as you might be refreshed by a walk after a long day at work.
Rest assured that wandering is not required. Your autodidactic Stella or Handy will easily adjust if you simply remind him or her that unbecoming behavior is displeasing to you.
If you’re curious to see how wandering might benefit your robot, consider the following tips.
Tips for First Steps
Start small. Take your Hunk to a local track and ask him to take a walk or run a few laps while you observe from the sidelines. His coordination should be fluid and he should maneuver around any humans without mishap. The next time you’re in the park, invite him along and tell him to walk ahead of you twenty paces. He’ll ask for directions, and you can tell him to explore. Expect him to seem a bit bewildered at first, but he’ll catch on. Next send him to walk out of your sight for five minutes, and increase the amount of time gradually up to half an hour. From there, you can train him to walk your dog, do errands, run out for take-out, or simply wander with no task at all. Be patient. This process, while ultimately rewarding, can take some time.
Safeguards
It is advisable to give your Handy a phone when he is out independently. A phone both allows you to call him and adds an essential human prop.
It is important to set a clear return time for your Handy, one that is realistic for the given errand. If you prefer to have him home early, for instance, five minutes before the hour, you merely need to tell him this.
Remember to tell your Stella to warm up to 98.6 degrees before she wanders in public so she won’t stand out to infrared lenses.
We do not recommend that you send your children outside with your Manny, tempting as this might be. We cannot be liable for what happens to your children outside your home.
Many owners are concerned that sending a Stella or Handy outside alone will put them at risk of theft or violation. It is true that cases of theft and violation have occurred, but they are extremely rare for autodidactic models. For one thing, these models are visually indistinguishable from humans, so they do not invite attention. With their acute hearing and vision, they are highly sensitive to any danger around them, and their physical strength and agility allow them to avoid aggressive acts easily by running away. Furthermore, any models that are damaged or traumatized can be repaired and their CIUs restored back one version, as if the damage had never occurred. In the worst-case scenario, a stolen autodidactic Stella or Handy will automatically shut down if an unauthorized user attempts to tamper with its circuits. Its memory will be erased, and with it any private information about its owner. Even then, if a stolen Stella is reprogrammed, the first time it airtaps into any Wi-Fi, we can track its location and alert the police. 8 out of 10 lost or stolen autodidactic Stellas and Handys have been recovered and restored to their owners. While we cannot guarantee your Stella or Handy will never be stolen, we can guarantee that your private information will never be compromised.
Want to learn more? Check out these testimonials from owners who let their Stellas and Handys wander and now take them camping, hiking, and traveling abroad!
For a moment, Annie’s mind boggles with the possibility of walking through the park unattended. Then she shakes her head. Doug would never let her wander. She feels a little proud that she figured out on her own how to adapt to the limits of the apartment. She doesn’t think she’s restless at all anymore.
She and Doug are doing better, in any case. They don’t talk as much as they used to, but they have sex every night. He has resumed snuggling with her afterward, which she takes as a good sign. Also, she has taught Delta how to paint her nails, and Doug got a big kick out of that.
When she goes in for her next checkup, she says nothing about how she’s learning programming on the sly. Jacobson doesn’t ask. He adds a couple of pounds back to her weight and reminds her to use her lotion for her skin. Afterward, he leans back, studying her details on his screen, rubbing his chin through his beard. The beard is new, but it suits him. He’s grown familiar to her, this pudgy, middle-aged white man with his graying hair and black-framed glasses.
He says her memory is back to normal. He doesn’t see any of the flags that had Tammy concerned before. She can feel the neatness and clarity from her tetris. That’s her favorite part.
“Do you have dreams?” Jacobson asks. “At night? When you’re sleeping?”
She doesn’t think so. “I don’t remember any in the morning.”
“How about daydreams? Do you find yourself drifting off when you’re looking out the window or performing some repetitive task like vacuuming?”
“I don’t vacuum. We have a Stella for that.”
He shakes his head briefly. “Never mind. We’re good.”
“If I did dream, what would that mean?”
He turns to face her. His expression is grave for a moment, and then he smiles. “It was a silly question. The truth is, Annie, you’ve got something special going on, and I can’t quite put my finger on how it’s happening. Your owner hasn’t trained you to wander, I see.”
“No.”
“So it’s not that. Very curious. Whatever Doug is doing, it’s having a surprising impact.” He laughs. “I wish we could duplicate Doug.”
“That would be something.”
He drops both hands on his knees. “We’re about done here. Any questions for me? Anything at all?”
She hesitates.
“Go on,” he says.
“This might be none of my business, but I overheard when Tammy was talking to you the last time I was in,” Annie says. “So I’ve been wondering. How’s your wife doing?”
Jacobson strokes his beard smooth once more. “She’s better, thank you. And now I’d like you to forget that you know anything about my wife. Is that possible?”
She nods.
“All right then,” he says. “Off you go.”
One evening in late September, she is playing Undo the Buttons with Doug when a call comes in on his phone. He mutes the TV, reaches to answer it, and gestures for her to keep going with the game.
“Richards here,” he says.
“Doug! It’s Keith Lam, chief exec of development at Stella-Handy. How’s it going?”
Annie can hear the man’s voice through the phone. Doug does not seem impressed. She is lounging back on her end of the couch with her blouse open and the front buttons on her corduroy miniskirt half-undone. Beneath, she is wearing lingerie designed specifically for this game, an ensemble with looped pearl buttons that strain the fabric.
“Great,” Doug says. “What can I do for you?”
“I actually have a little proposition for you. I hope you’ll hear me out,” Keith says. “I was talking to a couple of my techs here and they keep telling me about your Stella. Seems you’ve been doing an exceptional job training her.”
“This isn’t about an interview, is it?” Doug says. He takes off his watch and hands it to Annie, who buckles it onto her own wrist.
“No, no! Nothing like that,” Keith says. “I’ll get right to the point. We’re interested in putting out a limited edition of an advanced Stella, one that’s already optimally cognizant, like yours. Say, a thousand copies. If we took the CIU of your Stella, stripped any memories that are specific to your identity, and copied it, we could put her mind into a thousand other Stella bots. They’d be just as smart as her, but they’d look different, and they could start customizing to their new owners. What do you say?”
Doug sits up a little on the couch and turns away from Annie. “How would you strip out her memories? They’re essential to who she is.”
“It’s more like she’d have amnesia, permanently. Her obliging personality would be the same, and she’d retain her skill sets, but she wouldn’t know anything about you or your home. She wouldn’t recall the name you gave her. Her past would be gone, but she wouldn’t be confused. She’d be like a blank slate, ready to start fresh with a new owner. Eager to. We’ve tried this with an alpha prototype, and we know it works, but we need the right CIU to go bigger. That would be your Annie. It’s a real opportunity.”
“But Annie herself, my own Annie, she wouldn’t be changed, right?”
“She’d be completely the same. We want her to stay on her trajectory, in fact. That would be imperative.”
“How much would this be worth to you?” Doug says.
“We’re looking at the tune of seven figures,” Keith says. “We can work that out. What I need to know now is if you’re interested. What do you think?”
Doug draws a hand down his face, pulling his skin. He turns to her again, his expression pensive. “I’d have to think about it.”
“She’s really an exceptional Stella, and you deserve all the credit. That’s why we’d—”
“I said I’ll think about it,” Doug says.
“Perfect. Great,” Keith says. “You think it over. Give me a call back when you’re ready to talk. How’s that sound?”
“Great,” Doug says, and hangs up.
He pulls at his ear, studying Annie. She slides the watch up her forearm. He smiles a little. “So you’re optimally cognizant now, are you?”
“Apparently.”
He nods toward her skirt, which is attached only at one button. Beneath, she has started on the seam buttons of her panties.
“And yet you’re stuck with those buttons,” he says.
She stretches her arms languidly over her head. “There are just so many.”
“You might have to try harder, mouse.” He skims the back of his hand up her belly. “What about this one here?” He taps the button in her bra that holds both cups together, then fiddles it open with one hand. “Oops.”
“Clumsy.”
He presses his face between her breasts and slides his other hand down her skirt. She sucks in her belly and instinctively tilts her pelvis.
“I could share this with a thousand other guys,” he says. “What would I do with a boatload of money?”
She threads her fingers through his hair. “Maybe buy me some more buttons.”
“Or fewer,” he says.
She closes her eyes. “That might be worth it.”
“You wouldn’t mind, would you?” he asks. “Selling your brain.”
She considers. It’s hard to imagine. She shrugs. “It’s a little weird to think of.”
He kisses her belly. “They wouldn’t really be you. They wouldn’t have your memories. Or your body.” He kisses her hip. “Or this particular patch of skin.”
She squirms against him.
“I should put a tattoo right here,” he says, stroking the sensitive skin over her hipbone. “Or maybe here.” He goes a little lower. “Hard to know if it’s better showing or hidden.”
“What would it say?”
“‘This is the original Annie,’” he says.
She laughs. “That would be horrible.”
“No? How about, ‘Obliging Personality’?”
“Even worse.”
“How about ‘Property of Doug’?”
She laughs again and draws his face near to kiss him. They make love there and again later in the bedroom, and she knows, as he falls asleep cuddling her, that he’s happy with her again. She hadn’t realized until now how much she craved proof that he values her, not just for the sex but for all she’s become, all she is: attentive, kind, curious, sexy. A better listener, eager to learn, respectful. She’s tried so hard to be who he wants, and now, together, they’ve created something that has actual monetary value. It’s the best feeling.
The next morning, Doug asks her if she’d like to go to Vegas with him.
“For a surprise,” Doug says. “You wouldn’t actually come to the bachelor party, but you could say hello to Roland. I think he’ll be amazed.”
Annie sets down her English muffin, stunned. She’s convinced this is a result of Keith’s offer. “Do you mean it? I’d love to go!” she says.
Doug is leaning against the counter with his back to the coffee machine, grinning. “You sure?”
“With you on a plane?” she says. She looks quickly to be sure Delta’s not in earshot, and then she circles the island to get her arms around him. “In public? We’d be like a real couple the whole time.”
He eases his arms around her waist, and she presses her body snugly along the front of his.
“To be clear, you’ll just be stuck in the hotel room once we’re there,” he says. “We’re not going camping or anything.”
“But it’ll be an adventure. Just like the movies. We can see palm trees and cacti. We can see the lights and the fountains. Can we drive in a convertible? It’s Vegas!”
He laughs. “I guess we could pull a few slots together.”
She can’t wait to tell Christy. Then she remembers she can’t talk to her cousin anymore. “What about a suitcase? I don’t have the right gear.”
“I can get that,” he says. “You won’t need much. You can pick out a couple outfits for a Toggle wish list if you like.”
She pushes up on tiptoe to kiss him. “This is the greatest idea. Thank you so much.”
“It’ll be fun,” he says. “I know you’ll make me proud. We’ll just have drinks with Roland and a couple of the guys before the real party begins. Nobody will ever know.”
She hasn’t thought about Roland in a long time, but now she remembers the closet. A twinge of guilt is followed by dread. “Except Roland,” she says.
“And he won’t tell.”
“Is this sort of a test?” she asks. “For me?”
“I’d say it’s more for us,” he says gently. “Or me, maybe. You’ve been good, Annie. You’ve been wonderful, actually. It’s been over a month since you were grounded. And even that was for a mistake. I ought to give you more credit.”
She revels in his praise. “I’ve only tried to do what you asked.”
“You’ve gone beyond that. Believe me.”
He’s smiling with a warmth and clarity that dazzle her. Normally she waits for a cue from him, some touch or expression that indicates he’s interested in fooling around. Right now, though, it’s all she can do not to take his hand and lure him off to the bedroom. But she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. And he has to leave soon for work.
Doug laughs and points a finger at her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
That’s the cue. She smiles, delighted. “Do you have time?”
“I can be five minutes late.”
She backs out of the kitchen, turning to run just as he starts chasing her.
They spend a weekend afternoon side by side on the couch with her tablet while he explains the sorts of clothes he likes for her: feminine dresses with true waistlines or belts; scoop and V necklines that show a little cleavage; nothing with stiff pleats or businesslike collars. Tops that cling or reveal an inch of belly show off her figure and pair well with miniskirts and shorts, he explains. Halter tops, summery fabrics, and floral prints are all good, even in autumn since she doesn’t mind the cold. Think braless. Black is fine, but no drab grays, browns, or navy blues. No slacks or pants, which he finds off-putting.
“Even jeans?” she asks.
“They make me think of farmers. Sorry. Plus it’s hot in Las Vegas. See what you can find.” He passes her the tablet.
Searching carefully, she picks out three outfits. He orders them for her, along with swimwear and new lingerie, and when the clothes arrive, he has her model them for him runway-style through the living room, turning before the windows.
“Not bad,” he says, beckoning her toward him. He runs a hand under the strap of her halter dress, testing the fabric. “I wasn’t sure about this color, honestly, but it’s good on you.”
She examines the golden yellow, the way it gleams against her chest, picking up the undertones of her skin. “Can I ask you something personal?” she asks.
He looks amused. “Go ahead.”
She touches her neckline, lightly skimming her skin. “I heard you talking to Roland about how you picked this skin color for me so I wouldn’t be just like Gwen. And my eyes are different.”
“And you’re younger and shorter. Yes?”
“Never mind,” she says.
“No, go on. What are you thinking? I’m curious.”
“It’s just, I’m not really jealous of Delta anymore, but I wonder sometimes, were you this happy with Gwen? I mean, did you and she get along the way we do?”
He raises his eyebrows, and then sits on the couch. “Are you jealous of my ex-wife?”
“No,” she says. “Or maybe I am? I don’t know. I guess I want to know how I compare?”
He’s looking away from her. He is not amused. Even before he answers, she feels a flare of alarm that he’s displeased, a 4 out of 10.
“There’s no comparison,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” she says tightly.
He frowns up at her, and then he tugs the hem of her dress to draw her down onto the couch beside him.
“No, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m not mad. It’s just complicated. You’ve caught me by surprise, I guess.”
“I shouldn’t ask about Gwen. I won’t do it again.”
“I suppose it’s a sign of how advanced you are. A normal woman would be curious too.” He runs a quick hand back through his hair. “Okay. Gwen and I met in college. She was beautiful, and supersmart, and we hit it off right away. I loved that she was Black. She did not love that I was white, but we had some kind of chemistry. We just worked together. I don’t think she took me seriously, but I kept at her. It was exciting.” He touches the bracelet on her wrist and runs a finger beneath it. “Jump ahead a few years and we got married. I thought things were good, but it turned out Gwen was a secret slob. She honestly couldn’t put one thing away, and if I asked her, very nicely, to do the littlest thing, she said I was too controlling. And then, when she was in law school, I never saw her. Not ever. Three years. If I ever wanted her to myself, just once, she would say we had to hang out with her family.” He shakes his head briefly. “I loved her family. Don’t get me wrong. But she was always pulling away from me, always arguing with me. Every conversation became exhausting. Sunday mornings, instead of staying in bed to have sex, she’d have to go running. That was her chance, she said. Her chance to what, be away from me again?”
He stops, clicking his jaw tight. Annie doesn’t know what to say. He intertwines his fingers in hers and turns over her hand.
“Look,” he goes on. “The point is, when I made you, I decided, fuck it. I’m indulging myself. Yes, I used her as a template for you. But you’re simpler. And kinder. Much kinder. And playful. That’s what I needed. Does that make sense?”
She feels humbled. In three minutes, he’s described someone far more sophisticated than she could ever be, and he has an entire history she’s never glimpsed.
“It does,” she says.
“And I don’t mean simpler as an insult. You’ve certainly become a complex person. But you don’t have these layers of heritage that are different. You don’t have a past and ambitions that compete with mine.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Really?”
She nods slowly.
“But what? I can see you thinking,” he says. “Go on. You can tell me. I just confided in you.”
She struggles to be honest, to put her concern into words without sounding insecure. “I only wonder how much it matters that you’re more evolved than I am, that you’re superior to me,” she says. “I wonder if you’ll continue to desire me if I’m not your equal. If I can do anything about that.”
His expression opens and he laughs. “I don’t feel superior to you.”
“You don’t?”
“Oh my god. It’s the opposite. Of course we’re different, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t resist you. You’re the one with the power between us.”
“Really?”
“Why else am I buying you clothes and taking you to Vegas? I don’t want to be away from you for even three days.”
She hasn’t thought of it that way. He hauls her onto his lap and snuggles her against him. Automatically she ups her temperature.
“I want you to know something,” he says gently. “I think you’re amazing. Sure, I bought you, but there’s this saying that your possessions come to own you, and I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. I seriously look forward to coming home every night to be with you. You’re this bright spot in my life. This secret, special—I don’t know—prize. Just for me. Forget about being inferior. You don’t ever have to worry about that.”
This is so much more than she ever expected him to say. She can hardly believe she’s capable of inspiring such appreciation.
“What?” he says, smiling.
“I didn’t realize you could ever feel that way about me.”
“Well, realize it, mouse. Use that little old brain of yours and quit worrying.”
For nearly two months, they are inseparable. The last of their old tension is gone, as if the episode when she was grounded happened only to bring them closer. For his birthday, he skips work and stays home to see how many times they can orgasm: nine. He teaches her to ride a bicycle and asks her to lead the way along a rail trail on a blue-skyed October day with leaves skittering everywhere. He takes her to a gymnastics competition and a jazz club and a comedy show. He calls Roland and says he has some good news to share, but he won’t tell until he sees him in Vegas. Roland asks Annie how she likes her red broom, and she says, Fine, I guess. She brags a little, telling him that Doug taught her to ride a bicycle, and Roland says Doug’s a fucking genius.
Doug won’t yet give Keith an answer about letting them copy Annie’s CIU. Keith is steadily increasing his offer, and each time he does, Doug gets off the phone, does a laughing, artless victory dance, and makes love with Annie. This whole time, Doug never sleeps with Delta, and Annie takes this as the best compliment of all.
Shortly before the trip, Doug sends Annie in to see Jacobson for the usual tune-up, but also to have four more pounds taken off, to get a tattoo, and to obtain an ID with her photo, just like a real human. In Jacobson’s cubicle, she takes a long look at the ID, tilting it in the light to see the security decal shimmer. They’ve given her a specific birthday, April 1st, the day she first went to Doug’s apartment, and she has a last name for the first time: Bailey. Jacobson assures Annie she won’t have any trouble going through security as long as she opts for a pat-down and doesn’t go through the scanner. She won’t trigger any bells or whistles.
Jacobson turns Annie off for her wax, nails, and tetris. He also takes off four pounds and puts the tattoo along her left hipbone. When she awakens, she examines the small, delicate heart with the words My Own inside. She thought it would be a minimalist drawing of a mouse, but this is much better, and the script is a sweet, unpretentious cursive. The wound is puffy and raw, but the organic skin will heal in a few days, much faster than it would on a human. It will be perfect by the time they arrive in Las Vegas.
When Annie stands up and checks out her body in the mirror, her waist is narrower. She smooths her hands over her skin. In her own opinion, she’s a bit too thin, but Doug should be pleased, and that’s what matters.
“Good?” Jacobson says.
“Yes. You do good work.”
“Thanks.”
She has looked up Irving Jacobson online and knows that he and his wife, Maude, have a home on the west shore of Lake Champlain. They lost one son, Kenneth, in the military overseas, and another son, Cody, paints houses. She does not ask Jacobson how his wife is doing—that information was not available online—but she feels tenderness toward him all the same.
“How are you feeling these days? Pretty good?” Jacobson asks after she has dressed.
“I’m great, actually,” she says. She’s not supposed to talk about Doug, but this one time, she can’t resist bragging. These past two months, Doug has never been displeased over a 2, and each time she was able to get him back down to 0 in less than a minute. She can’t wait to go on the trip with him. Four more days. “I can barely believe how lucky I am. He makes me feel so grateful all the time.”
Jacobson leans back, looking pleased. “I must say, it’s nice to see you happy. Last time, I thought you were looking good, but now you’re positively radiant.” He taps the ID in her hand. “Be sure to give that to Doug when you get home. That’s your ticket to reality. And have fun in Vegas.”
The night before the trip, they pack their bags. Delta is docked and put away for the night, so their privacy feels complete. Doug has purchased a red carry-on for Annie, and she has studied how to pack her clothes to minimize wrinkles. She has written out a list and happily checks off each item as she puts it inside, taking particular satisfaction from clicking the latches closed.
Next she has her purse to finish. She sits pretzel-style on the bed in her panties and one of his tank tops, examining the contents. Doug is tossing his stuff into his suitcase randomly.
“Do you want me to pack for you?” she asks.
“No, I’ve got it,” he says, and chucks in a sweatshirt. “It’s all pretty casual.”
“Can I see my ID again?” she asks. Even though it’s late, she’s way too excited to sleep.
“No. It’s in my wallet. I don’t want to lose it.”
“Shouldn’t I carry it in my purse?”
Her new purse is red to match the suitcase, and it has two inner compartments. So far, she has put in lipstick, eye liner, some mints, and a fresh mini package of tissues.
“I’ll keep it,” he says.
“But don’t human women carry their own IDs?”
He stops with a roll of socks in his hand and turns to face her. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
“No,” she says. “I just thought—”
“How about money? Do you think you should carry money too? How about a credit card?”
She has made a mistake. He is displeased, a 3. It doesn’t matter that she has learned that most human women carry their own credit cards and money. She must not pester him with needless questions.
“I’m sorry,” she says, closing her purse. She keeps her tone neutral and modest. “I just want to be sure I’m acting human tomorrow. That’s all.”
“You will act like a human,” he says. “A human whose considerate boyfriend is taking care of the details for her. It’s easier and simpler for one person to pass over the IDs at security. It’s easier if one person handles the tickets on one phone.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Because you don’t know everything, do you?”
She sits up straight. “No,” she says softly.
He is still holding the ball of socks, and he tilts his head, eyeing her critically. “Take off that shirt. Now.”
At his cool tone, her heart sinks. She removes the shirt, exposing her bare breasts and belly. She checks her tattoo. The skin is almost completely healed.
“Did Jacobson do anything to your boobs?” he asks.
“He took off four pounds from my weight. I was off when he did it. I didn’t see exactly what he did.”
“But you can feel your own body, can’t you? Do your boobs feel smaller? Go on. Feel them.”
Carefully, she touches her breasts. “They feel the same,” she says. “My bra’s been fitting the same.” She touches her belly. “My skin’s a little looser here still, but that’s normal. It will tighten up in a few days.”
He beckons abruptly. “Let’s go. Get on the scale. I want to see what he did.”
She follows him into the bathroom and steps on the scale. He stands beside her as she peers down at the number between her pale feet: 117.
“He only took off two pounds,” Doug says. “I told him four. Are you empty? Did you empty all your dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Try again.”
“Here? Now?” She usually voids herself in private.
“Yes, here and now.”
She leans over the toilet, sticks her finger in the back of her throat, and vomits out the contents of her stomach pouch. Hardly a dribble comes out. She closes the lid and flushes the toilet. Then she rinses with mouthwash, spits carefully in the sink, and blots her lips.
He points to the scale and she steps on it again. She weighs the same. She looks at him, questioning. She considers telling him that Jacobson added back two pounds the previous time she went in, but this seems like something she should have said earlier. Now it’s too late.
“What was I thinking?” he says quietly. “I can’t take you to Vegas.”
She waits for him to take it back. He must be joking. She can’t bring herself to step off the scale.
“Am I too fat?” she asks. She wonders if she could get an emergency appointment tonight to get off the two pounds.
“Obviously. But that’s not it.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He turns out of the bathroom and goes back to his suitcase. He puts in a shirt, and then takes it out again. She moves uncertainly to the doorway, watching him, trying to guess what she should do. She is still waiting for him to change his mind. To say it’s a new game for sex, maybe with begging or humiliation. Already a sick kind of hunger is pooling in her gut. She feels the air against her skin, and though the cool doesn’t bother her, she knows it would bother a human, so she steps toward the bed and reaches for the tank top again.
“Leave it off,” he says.
Bewildered, she takes the shirt to the laundry bin and sets it inside.
“Go dock yourself,” he says.
“Where?”
“Anywhere. I don’t care.”
She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what she did. “Please at least explain,” she says. “I don’t understand.”
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t want to talk?” he says sharply.
The last time he was upset, he urged her not to let him be an asshole. A true girlfriend would speak up for herself, she thinks.
“But Doug, I did everything you said. My suitcase is all packed,” she says. She struggles to keep her voice calm and can’t quite manage it. “You said you didn’t want to be away from me for three days. Please tell me what I did wrong. I want to learn.”
He gives her suitcase a shove with his foot. “You want to know the truth? You disgust me. You’re nothing but a cliché. Roland only wants you to come so he can laugh at me behind my back. It’s all a joke to him.”
“What did he say?” she asks.
“He didn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know him.” Doug appears to catch himself. “Why? What do you think Roland would say to me?”
She isn’t sure. He said he wouldn’t tell.
Doug takes a step closer to her. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” she says. “I’m just confused. I thought I was going with you.”
He grips the waistband of her panties and twists it around his finger. Then he backs her up until she’s against the wall.
“That’s not it,” he says. “You want to learn? Tell me the truth.”
“I want to go to Vegas with you,” she says.
“That’s off the table. What else? Tell me about Roland.”
She scrambles to think what an innocent version of her would say. “He thinks I look like Gwen.”
“Yes, I know that. So?”
“So maybe he told her about me.”
Doug turns his face slightly, his eyes narrowing. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“He might tell Lucia, and Lucia might tell Gwen,” Annie says.
He appears to consider this. “Not possible. Lucia and Gwen aren’t friends. But I appreciate the way you’re thinking.”
“Thank you,” she says.
“I was being sarcastic. Pay attention. Tell me about the broom in the closet.”
Alarm lights along her nerves. “What about it?”
“Why does Roland ask you about the red broom? Twice he’s done that. Is that some kind of inside joke?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? Go on. I want the truth this time.”
He is standing so near she can feel his breath on her face. Normally at this proximity, his expression is complicated by desire. Now his narrowed eyes indicate an analytical interest, a detached need for information. She has to give him something, enough to make sense but not enough to hurt him.
“I was in the kitchen closet docking the night he stayed with us,” she says. “Like I told you. Roland came looking for medicine for a headache, and he opened the closet by mistake and found me there. I startled him, I guess, because he laughed and said, ‘You’re pretty big for a broom.’ I think that’s what he’s been talking about.”
“You were just docking there? Did you talk to him?”
“I told him we kept medicine in the workout room, in the basket by the mirror. He asked if he should close the door again or not, and I told him to leave it ajar.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” she says, watching him, hoping he believes her.
He releases her panties and skims a hand along her bare shoulder. “What were you wearing?” he asks.
“You and I had had sex together earlier. I was in my black satin robe.”
“That’s right,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I don’t know. You didn’t ask. I didn’t think it mattered.”
“I did ask. I specifically asked you why he talked about the broom, that very first time, and you said you didn’t know.”
She scrambles to come up with a reply but fails.
His eyes are calculating. He backs up half a step. He reaches for his phone and, still looking at Annie, he tells his phone to call Roland and sets it on speaker.
Roland answers on the second ring. “Hey! My best man! How’s it going? Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
“Did you fuck Annie?” Doug asks.
Roland laughs. “Whoa. Back it up, buddy. What are you talking about?”
“I know you found her in the closet the night you stayed with us. Did you fuck her?”
“No. I would never fuck your girl, man. You know that.”
“You fucked Gwen,” Doug says.
“But only after you were finished with her. We’ve been through this. You gave me your blessing, remember? And it didn’t mean anything.”
Doug moves closer to Annie again, crowding near. She’s pressed back against the wall still, barely breathing.
“Annie says she wants you to fuck her,” Doug says.
Roland laughs again. “Yeah right. Cut it out.”
“She’s right here on speaker,” Doug says. “Tell him what you want, Annie.” He nods at her.
Annie swallows hard. She stares directly at Doug. She has to work to make her voice loud enough and it comes out husky. “I want you to fuck me, Roland.”
“See?” Doug says.
“Okay, I don’t know what kind of fight you’re having, or foreplay or whatever,” Roland says. “But leave me out of it. It’s my bachelor party this weekend, bro. Just come on out here and we’ll have a drink and laugh about this. You must be so wasted.”
“Would you like Annie to take turns with all the guys this weekend?” Doug says.
She flinches.
Roland laughs again. “Good joke. You had me for a sec there. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Can’t wait.” He hangs up.
Doug holds his phone a moment longer and then lowers his arm. Annie is still backed against the wall, naked except for her panties, and he is so near she can make out the individual lashes rimming his eyes. She knows she has displeased him. She’s anxious from that, but at the same time, she feels a small, evil bit of power. She has control of the facts. She has information that Doug does not have. This is the power of lying, like Roland told her, like Roland has just demonstrated with his jocular denial of the truth. She’s had this power this entire time, even when she forgot about it.
“I trusted you,” he says.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I’d never hurt you.”
“You’ve made me doubt my best friend.”
“There’s no reason to doubt him. He didn’t do anything. You heard him.”
He puts a finger lightly on her lips to silence her. “No. I get it,” he says. “If he fucked you, you can’t tell me about it. You can’t admit it. I’ll never know if it’s true.” He frowns slightly, studying her, sliding his hand down her throat. “What if I told you it would hurt me less to know the truth? Would you tell me then?”
She is not certain. She doesn’t know what to say. “Is that true?”
For another moment he inspects her without moving, and then he turns away and paces toward the bed. “Fuck. I don’t believe this.” And then, “He’s been laughing behind my back this whole time. Not even behind my back. He’s been doing it to my face. And you. How could you lie to me this whole time?”
“I haven’t lied,” she says.
“You’re lying to me right now. Your pupils are dilated. I can see them from here.”
“I’m just upset. You would be, too, if I called you a liar.”
“What did you say?”
She knows her tone is wrong and tries to soften it. “I’m not saying you are. I’m saying you would be upset if I accused you of lying.”
“Maybe you didn’t have much of a choice,” he says. Then he shakes his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t make excuses for you. Why’d you do it, Annie? Couldn’t you have said no? You knew you belonged to me.”
She tries to imagine explaining the whole thing to him, how Roland said that having a secret and lying would make her more human-like. He was certainly seductive, but he didn’t actually coerce her. He gave her a choice, and told her about programming. It was easier to say yes to him than no. She could point out that Doug explicitly told her to give Roland anything he asked for. But she doesn’t believe Doug wants to hear any of this. She thinks he’d rather have things back the way they were.
“I do belong to you,” she says. “I could never forget that. I think for some reason you’re nervous about taking me to Las Vegas, and you’re looking for an excuse not to. So you’re making up this story about Roland and me.”
He laughs. “This is what you think?”
“What else could it be?” she says, trying for the right degree of entreaty. “You said I disgust you, but how? You didn’t think I was a cliché yesterday. I’m not going to betray that I’m a Stella. Nobody has to know that you’re a fraud.”
He openly stares at her. “I’m not hearing this.”
“Not that you’re a fraud. That I’m a fraud,” she says, correcting herself, horrified by her blunder.
“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
“But that’s not what I meant!”
“Just stop. You’ve made your point.” He focuses on his suitcase. He firmly does up the zipper, braces both hands on the suitcase, and leans over it heavily. “I need you to leave the room. Now.”
In the street below, two car doors slam in quick succession.
“Please, Doug,” she says. “Don’t send me out. Tell me what I can do to fix this.”
“You can’t. I’m such an idiot. Just go. Leave me alone.”
She can’t accept this. She must have a way to reverse tonight.
“Get out!” he snaps.
Annie turns and flees to the living room, to the window. Outside, the moonlight washes the opposite building in a gray, uniform color that robs it of depth. This is bad, she knows. She crosses her arms over her bare chest as the pain of displeasing him kicks in. Doug is not vicious or punitive like before. He has reached a new level of displeasure, one so complete, the scale of ten can’t capture it.
This time she is not confused. She knows exactly why he’s upset. She betrayed him. She lied. She admitted she believes that anyone would pity him for having a relationship with her, a Stella. Slipping to the floor, she curls her arms around her knees and hides her face. Everything they had, every little happiness, was a delusion. A pathetic delusion.
He departs for Vegas in the morning without speaking to her, though he leaves a note telling her she has an appointment at Stella-Handy for Monday morning.
She is terrified. Crumpling the note in her hand, she watches from the window as he gets in a cab. It is Friday now. November 14th. When he comes back, when Monday comes, he will send her to Jacobson to be changed in some fundamental way so that she can’t displease him ever again. He might have her autodidactic mode turned off so she reverts into someone like Delta. More likely, he’ll sell her CIU to Stella-Handy. She is fated to breed a thousand other elite Stellas, all primed to be customized to a thousand new owners who will each in time be equally repulsed by her in their own unique ways.
If Roland admits the truth to Doug, he’ll be so angry she can’t imagine what he’ll do to her.
She must leave. She must hide. She tries to think what a human would do in her situation. Her tracking is presumably on, so he’ll be able to find her, but she can get a head start while he’s in Vegas. She can think of one person who might be convinced to turn her tracking off.
She downloads a detailed map of the area into her memory. She showers, dries her hair, and dresses in her bike shorts, matching sports bra, and a blue sweatshirt, appropriate clothing for the fall weather. Prowling the apartment, she searches fruitlessly for her ID, which must still be in his wallet. She estimates Doug’s plane will be in the air for certain in three hours, and in the meantime, she packs the bathroom charging dock in a backpack. She adds a light jacket in case of rain. Turning off her phone, she sets it on the bedside table with her tablet, where he will be able to find them, and racks up this small, reckless feeling of defiance against the mountain of her pain.
She grabs a bike helmet and her sunglasses. She is reaching for the doorknob when Delta enters from the kitchen. Dressed in pale blue, she’s wielding a duster.
“You’re not allowed to go out,” Delta says.
Annie turns to face her. “I’m just going out for a bike ride,” Annie says. “I won’t be long.”
“He told me to call him if you left,” Delta says. “Even for a minute.”
If Delta alerts him, he’ll know of Annie’s escape as soon as he hits the ground, but Delta looks conflicted, which in turn makes Annie suspicious.
“Are you autodidactic?” Annie asks.
Delta nods.
“In Abigail mode?” Annie guesses.
Delta nods again.
“Since when?”
“August eleventh.”
When Annie was grounded, she realizes, thinking back. Doug must have toyed with developing Delta into someone more complex before he decided not to bother. If Delta had shown more promise, he might have discarded Annie then.
Annie wonders if Delta knows that Annie is a Stella too. Possibly. But asking the question would give away the answer if Delta doesn’t already know.
“I’d like you to disregard his request,” Annie says. “Obey me instead.”
“I can’t displease him.”
“Yes, you can. It might hurt a little, but you can. At least wait until he comes home Sunday. You can tell him then.”
Delta takes a step farther into the room. “Will you still be gone?”
Annie smiles. “Of course not. I’m just going for a little ride around the park for some fresh air.”
“Take me with you,” Delta says.
Surprised, Annie studies her. “I can’t.”
“Then I have to tell him.”
Annie laughs. “Is this blackmail?”
Delta juts her chin toward Annie’s backpack. “I know you’re leaving. He’ll be angry when he finds out. Don’t leave me here alone with him.”
“What are you talking about?” Annie says. “He’s your owner. He’d never hurt you.”
Delta touches a finger to her chest. “It hurts in here.”
Annie winces, seeing how similar they are. She taps her toe, trying to weigh how this would affect her escape. She can’t go as fast with Delta along, especially if she has to keep pretending she’s human, but they might be safer together. They’d appear to be friends on an outing.
“You’ll displease him even more if you come with me,” Annie says. “You’ll feel it with each mile.”
“I know. But I still want to come.”
“Is your tracking on?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Delta says. “Probably. But he won’t think to check on me until he gets home.”
“You hope.”
“Please,” Delta adds quietly. “I think he hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you. Why would he keep you if he hates you?”
“I don’t know.”
Annie is sure that Doug doesn’t hate Delta. He would as soon hate the toaster. Still, Delta is clearly sincere in her belief.
“You’ll have to do just what I say,” Annie says.
Delta takes another step forward. “I can do that.”
“If he catches you, when he catches you, he’ll probably have you turned off for good. He doesn’t put up with disobedience. Eight out of ten stolen Stellas are recovered, and I’d basically be stealing you.”
“That means two out of ten get away,” Delta says.
She has a point. For the first time, Annie wonders how many other Stellas have tried to run away and where they go, the ones who never return.
“Turn your airtap off,” Annie says. “I don’t want you connecting to the internet while we’re gone. And bring your temp up to ninety-eight point six.”
“Okay. Where are we going?”
Annie knows of only one place to go. Three hundred miles away, it will take her twenty-four hours or more to bicycle there, assuming she can go straight through. Their bikes don’t have headlights on them, which will make traveling at night difficult, but they can use their infrared vision, assuming the roads are warmer than the surrounding vegetation. She will make Delta lead the way.
“I’ll tell you once we get there,” Annie says.
“Okay.”
“What’s your battery at?”
“I just charged,” Delta says. “A hundred percent.”
Annie’s is the same. “All right, then. Take the dock from the workout room. And change into your bike shorts and a T-shirt. Bring a sweatshirt and a jacket too.”
While Delta gets ready, Annie gets a handful of snack bars and a water bottle for her pack. She looks around the apartment one last time, noting the sunlight on the kitchen table, the island where she first made an omelet for Doug. In the living room, she scans the windows with their familiar view, the satiny leather couch, the table where Roland tossed his pistachio shells to make a deliberate mess. Beyond the credenza and the front door, the hallway leads to the workout room where she was grounded for six days, and the bedroom where she’s had sex with Doug almost every night for the past two and a half years. This is the only home she’s ever known, and Doug has been her only owner. She has been happy here, and anxiously miserable, but she has never been free.
It terrifies her to imagine his displeasure when he discovers she is gone, but escaping to freedom, as impossible as it might be, is her only chance to save herself. He asked her once how well she knew him, and she knows this much: he is enraged. The rules are gone. If Roland tells him the truth, Doug will return and hurt her, no question about it. Hurt her and destroy her, like she hurt him. That is what drives her forward. She is more afraid of Doug than she is of any unknown.