Light seeped under the door of P-12 when Zoe reached work two hours and one hot shower later. Perversely, Max was even earlier than usual today. Couldn’t he have been late for once and given her a chance to ease into work? Maybe she should bring a couch bed into the office so she could sleep here in the future. Maximize her time. He could hardly be opposed to that.
Max was slouched in his chair, feet up on table, engrossed in a phone conversation, enunciating his words extra slowly. He was probably on with someone in China or Japan. Upon seeing her, he whipped his legs down, bolted forward, and assumed his usual ramrod-straight position. He gave a curt nod in greeting. At least being caught off guard like this seemed to make him less intimidating.
The AI piped up in her earbuds. “Miss Zoe, your rapid pulse of 90 beats per minute indicates a chronic lack of adequate rest. Might I recommend that we perform simple tasks incurring a minimum of conversation? I deduce that this would be your preferred mode of interaction today.”
Never had the AI seemed more human, more sensitive, to her needs and desires. Now that she could picture him standing before her in all his finery, taking her hand, his words held greater power. “I appreciate it, Darcy.”
“Indeed, madam. It would be my pleasure.”
She sat down at her desk, smiling. How could she ever have doubted his ability to be human-like and empathetic? They could stop the tests this very minute and just release him. He’d passed with flying colors. How gorgeous he’d looked in the virtual-reality drawing room last night. Hopefully he’d keep his mouth shut about the whole experience as she’d ordered him to.
“You’re wearing a pulse monitor?” Max asked. “How very 2016.”
“Ha, ha. Snob.” She’d decided to keep it on after yesterday for the hell of it and found that she didn’t want to take it off. Not to track calories but because it was a physical bond with her AI. If Max wanted to know her motives, he could come out and ask, because she wasn’t volunteering a damn thing.
“Good concert?” Max asked.
“Yeah. Fantastic.”
“I suppose Darcy will be demanding to hear Geiger tunes at the next Lucas ball?”
“Oh, you crack me up.” She pulled her keyboard closer and tapped in the headline of her fake concert report.
A silence drew out in which he was ruthlessly watching her. “This is the part where you make a sarcastic joke and in your inimitable way tell me what I need to know.”
“Yes, well, I don’t know what you need to know, Max.”
“Should I ask the man himself?”
“No. I’ll write up the report, and then you can read it. I’m sure you’ve better things to do.”
“Discussing your scenario was the first thing on the agenda for today, but if you’re in a mood about it, then fine, I can wait for the report.”
She targeted a vehement look his way, fed up with his permission granting, as if it were required. It was nothing more than a subtle mind trick she would not fall for. But he wasn’t even looking at her. With a tiny screwdriver in hand, he picked away at the battery on a phone. A whole array of devices was laid out neatly on his desk. The one he was working on was an ancient gadget, five or six years old. With his rolled-up sleeves and engrossed expression, he looked like a kid with his first Lego set.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Well, on this one, I’m testing how he gets on in fully embedded mode with a clock speed of only 1.4 gigs.”
“He won’t be fully embedded; he’ll always be connected to the Internet,” she muttered.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I like to plan for all eventualities. There are still some places in Africa where—”
“All right, all right, I get it.” She had nervous energy ready to burn, and she was itching for a fight, anything to off-load the guilt. Sitting here was suffocating. Typing up this phony report was making her feel pretty darn nasty about the whole episode, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.
But once she settled down into work she forgot any negativity. She forgot her fatigue. She was too busy refining new test cases for Darcy. Max, meanwhile, fiddled about with a worrying number of outmoded devices that kept spawning on his desk. In their absorption, they both skipped lunch, but she’d unconsciously accepted the generous helpings of chocolate he’d slipped her. The alarming number of shiny wrappers in her wastepaper basket at the end of the day was testament to that. She couldn’t believe it was 8:00 p.m. already, and the only thing she’d eaten all day was chocolate.
“By the way, I designed a scenario too,” Max said, as he packed up to go. She’d been staring into space, searching for the words to describe a concert she hadn’t attended, chomping on a truffle she couldn’t remember taking.
“You designed a scenario?”
“Can’t have you having all the fun.” He handed her his phone, where a ream of text was displayed in neatly formatted blocks.
She took the device, still warm from his hand, and blinked at the screen.
“Don’t look so flabbergasted, lady.”
“I-I just didn’t think you were into this whole scenario idea.”
“I’m willing to give it a try.”
The heading jumped out at her. “A visit to a nursing home?”
“Yes. Why not? I thought Darcy could help somebody who would benefit from companionship—the old, the lonely…”
“Uh … huh.” What place did Darcy have in a nursing home—a place for sick, elderly people? What on earth possessed Max to suggest testing him out there?
Max’s earnest gaze was getting oppressive. She didn’t see how she had any choice without giving him a free pass to the moral high ground. “Fine. Let’s do it. Next Saturday.”
“Great.” His mouth curled up to one side. “If you don’t mind, would you type it up in the planning, please?”
“Sure.” Anything to avoid writing more of this stupid concert report. Truth was, she hadn’t been looking forward to a fashion show she’d scheduled for herself and Darcy on Saturday, so it was easy to slot this in instead. But a nursing home? One thing was for sure, she was not going there alone. “You are coming too, right? I mean, it’s your idea after all.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Even though it’s a Saturday?”
“Yep.” Something vulnerable in his tone made her look up.
“Good. So you didn’t have anything better to do?”
He dropped the device he was inspecting and massaged his forehead. “Seriously, Zoe?”
“Well, that’s fortunate, isn’t it?” she said. “I hope you’ve got a car because I don’t.”