Chapter Twenty-Two

When Lucas broke the kiss, he retreated hesitantly and as his hands held me tighter, as if he really didn’t want to let me go. But we were standing on a balcony in the snow, and despite the bliss of the moment, we couldn’t stay there forever. He might not freeze to death, but I would and he knew it.

When I opened my eyes, I found him staring down at me in a way he never had before. The storms in his eyes swam with untold emotion. “Open the present now,” he said softly. It was a request, edged by the slightest bit of command. “And then let me take you back inside before you freeze.”

I was flushed and dizzy, so I managed a shaky nod and that was about it. Then my shaking fingers pulled the ribbon loose. Like a magic Rubik’s Cube, the wrapping paper fell away, nearly mechanical in how precisely it had been cut. Inside it was a jeweler’s box, but one made of black wood. I knew that wood. It was very rare. The tree it had once come from had gone extinct almost a hundred years ago.

I was already impressed, but when I opened the box to the sound of another mechanical click, I realized the wood had an internal mechanical working all but invisible to the outside world. Much like an android. However, I saw no seams; whoever had crafted it was most definitely an expert.

Most impressive of all however was what waited inside, shining with impossible light on its pillowed casing.

With what felt like clumsy fingers, I lifted the shimmering gold pendant out of the box and held it up to the snow-white light. “How…”

It was frankly stunning in beauty. It had been designed and crafted with the same expertise as the box, a perfect pure gold replica of one of my favorite things in the… galaxy.

The Millennium Falcon.

The gold working was breathtaking, and the pendant was heavy in my hand. Gold had nearly gone the way of helium somewhere in the middle of the twenty-first century, becoming so verifiably rare, new and strict laws had gone into effect to curb any further mining and dictate what the precious, conductive metal could and could not be used for.

Gold jewelry sky-rocketed in price, its production grinding to a nearly absolute halt.

But more impressive than the metal and the goldsmithing was the fact that the subspace hyperdrive – that blue part in the back – was actually glowing. And despite the gold I could see it was crafted from, it was glowing blue.

There’s no way, I thought. Before me, Lucas laughed softly. “I’m pleased you like it.”

But I barely heard him. Again, I tried asking him how this was possible. “How… how is it glowing?” I managed to get out. There was no light source. The metal itself was glowing.

Now, what I should have said if I’d had any social graces whatsoever, was something along the lines of, “Jesus Christ, this is stunning,” or “Holy shit, this is beautiful,” minus the bad language. But I’d never been good at social niceties when I was blown away by the mechanics of something seemingly impossible.

And everything about this pendant seemed impossible, from the African Blackwood that had been wiped out due to unstoppable forest and brush fires decades ago to the heavy, worked, and polished gold, which was now almost as expensive and difficult to acquire as Californium-252, a lab-created synthetic metal used in everything from treating cancer to bone research. I happened to know personally how hard it was to come by Californium because it was one of the things I’d used to create my antidote for Anthrocore, or “Bone Breaker.”

But bless him, Lucas didn’t seem to mind my lack of manners. He simply smiled more broadly and explained, gesturing to the glowing blue portion at the back of the pendant. “One, that’s blue gold,” he told me calmly. “An alloy of gold and indium.”

I knew what blue gold was. What I didn’t understand was the glowing. But at least the blue gold explained the color.

He gently grasped the swinging pendant between his thumb and forefinger – and the glow intensified, becoming bright enough I could read by it at night if I’d wanted to. My eyes widened.

“And two, the alloy contains a secret ingredient, an analytic possessing of various substances akin to phenyl oxalate and phthalic ester… along with a dose of my own thorium.”

I looked from him to the pendant and back again, noting that the blue color was identical to the glow of his EED. Vulcan blood was green – but thorium could glow any color you wanted it to. It was radioactive, a source of power.

I processed what he was telling me. And what he was basically telling me was that he’d managed to create an entirely new metal, one that was capable of glowing blue. Not only that, it seemed to do so with respect to its creator’s proximity. When he’d touched it, the glow had become brighter.

As Luke released the pendant and stepped back, the luminosity of the tiny ship’s hyperdrive decreased in response, dimming a little. This confirmed my suspicions that the metal reacted to Lucas. It would light up when he was near, and probably die down to a simple but shiny blue metal when he wasn’t.

I was blown away. “Well I guess we’ll never have trouble telling you two apart anymore when Zero does the mirror image thing,” I said softly, bewildered.

I guess he could tell how bewildered I was, perhaps by the fact that I had yet to move, and probably even more so by the fact that I hadn’t looked away from the pendant. He laughed again, taking the chain gently from my frozen fingers before training his gaze on mine. Firmly he said, “Turn around, Samantha.”

There was that command in his voice again. And that way he said my name. I had to admit that I rather liked it when he got like this.

I warmed a little, all the way to my previously numbing fingers, as I slowly turned around and Lucas gathered the hair off my neck. Cool air washed in to lick at my exposed skin, but it did nothing to drain the heat from my body when I felt his fingers next, deftly brushing against my collar bones to secure the gold pendant around my neck.

I felt its weight settle between my breasts and looked down, lifting the pendant again to peer at it in wonder. The length of the chain was perfect for my scrutiny.

“How did you do this, Luke?” The scientist in me so badly wanted details.

“I’ll never tell,” he teased, then grasped my upper arms to turn me back around.

I stared wide-eyed up at him. “Thank you, Lucas. This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me.” It meant he not only really knew me and my love of all things Star Wars, he knew what objects within that fandom I loved most – like Han Solo’s ship. The fact that it was gold and gold was so difficult to come by meant he’d put in the work because he also knew I loved gold the best of all metals since it was only ever created when a star went supernova. And that was just cool.

And for him to make it glow? And place a piece of himself within it the way he had? I didn’t think I could ever top a gift like that. I was pretty sure no one had.

“You’re welcome, Beautiful.”

I blinked. He had never used a term of endearment with me before. But ever since we’d escaped the hospital and come to stay with Coach C, Luke had gradually seemed more and more human. For lack of a better word. And now, as he called me “beautiful,” he cupped my face gently and brushed his thumb over my cheek along my cheekbone.

“I want little more than to stay here and kiss you all night,” he admitted with a rueful smile. But then he dropped his hand, and cold air rushed in to kiss me instead. “But if we don’t get you back inside now, I’m afraid you’ll freeze to the spot.”

He turned and slid the glass door to the balcony open, pulling me into the living room behind him before sliding the door shut once again behind us. The warm air felt nice, but almost a little stifling with the heavy scent of something delicious baking and the hint of cinnamon in the air and the chatter of Prometheus members talking gladly amongst themselves.

I scanned the people in the room to find the leader of the rebel group watching us, an enigmatic look on his handsome face. His gaze dropped to the necklace around my neck and back up again, capturing my eyes before turning to Lucas. The EED at Daniel’s left eye flickered, but never changed colors.

Finally, he smiled. It was a knowing smile.

“I think it’s time for a toast,” said Daniel loudly enough for everyone to hear. He gestured with his head for us to come the rest of the way inside and join them, then turned to the table to begin pouring and passing out drinks.

I gave Lucas a sidelong glance and shy smile, and the two of us made our way back into the apartment’s cheery, bright interior.

The carpet was now decorated with scraps of torn wrapping paper, and I noticed Mabel had the bear I’d given her tucked firmly under one arm. It was an average plush bear about a foot and a half long, with soft light brown fur and big, brown glass eyes. But I’d taken it to a tailor to have a few special touches added. It now wore removable clothes that matched Mabel’s favorite garments, and on its temple was an embroidered EED quarter-moon circuit board design in bright blue.

There was something glistening on its smiling, embroidered mouth. I glanced at the kitchen table to see another lollipop on a plate. Coach C had come to learn root beer was Mabel’s favorite flavor, and he’d proceeded to provide her with one root beer lollipop a day, despite Charlotte’s weak protests. I couldn’t blame him. Clearly Mabel had “shared” this latest sucker with her new bear. I couldn’t help but wonder what a psychologist would have to say about artificial intelligence associating equal intelligence, and even emotion, with an utterly inanimate object.

The thought made me grin.

A glass of pink champagne appeared before my eyes and I looked up to see Lucas had one in each hand and was holding one out for me. The others were taking theirs from Charlotte, who was serving them from a large tray. Coach C was behind her with three bottles of beer. He handed one to Jack and one to Cole. Those guys didn’t do champagne. I grinned at that too.

I took my glass from Lucas and faced Daniel. When everyone was supplied with drinks, Daniel raised his glass. The room grew quiet. Even Mabel quieted down with her bear in one hand and her bottle of very real A&W root beer in the other.

Daniel looked at me and winked. “Here’s to a new hope,” he began, and my heart felt warm at his reference to Star Wars, probably brought on by his notice of my necklace. “To the strength it gives and to the change it brings. Here’s to a new year – a new century that dawns before us – to its bright, clean canvas.” He raised his glass a little higher, and everyone else followed suit. Then he returned his eyes to mine. “And the masterpiece it will become.”

A new century. This was 2099. In six days, it would be the year 2100.

Prometheus cheered. “Hear, hear!” Glasses chinked in celebration, and I thought about that painting Daniel had made of me, the one he’d considered a masterpiece. The one Zero had told his men to pinch… when he’d attacked Prometheus.

Then I pushed the thoughts from my head – not now – and I took a sip of my own drink. The champagne was almost ice cold and bubbled across my tongue as it went down. It was wonderful, like a not-too-sweet pink colored grape juice with Poprocks type carbonation that tickled but didn’t burn. And it made me smile just like everything else did that day.

Out in the living room, we ate and drank and talked. After a while, I felt eyes heavy on me. I glanced over to find Nick’s blue gaze locked on mine. Okay, I thought. I need to talk to you anyway. I nodded toward the door that led to the apartment complex main hall, and he nodded back, expression serious. We stood as one, and I told the others we were going for a walk. Then Nicholas followed me to the coat rack, where we gathered our cold weather belongings.

His coat was of course beautifully tailored; the man was all kinds of loaded. But mine was a cheap insulated knee-length jacket that had been purchased in a size large enough to allow for the cast. I could tell that Nick wanted to insist I accept a nicer one from him, but he’d already offered and I’d already turned him down. He’d known me a long time and knew enough not to press the issue when I told him it wouldn’t be safe for him to make purchases right now, as they might be tracked to us.

That was bullshit, of course. Nick was brilliant and more than capable of carefully getting around any form of trace when it came to his billions of dollars in finances. But like I said, I was stubborn and he knew it, and this was more about principles.

We opened the main door that led into the hall. On the way through it, I felt more eyes on me and glanced back at the table that nearly everyone sat around.

Mabel and most of the gang were playing a board game. But two members of Prometheus were watching me. One was Lucas, wearing his usual observant expression – careful and protective. However, his EED was closer to yellow than blue when his gaze slid from me to Nicholas. I chalked it up to jealousy, chose to find it flattering, and glanced at the other person watching me.

The other was Cole. His dark blue eyes were hard, and I noticed his grip tighten on his beer as we stepped outside together. But my view of him was blocked when Nicholas pulled the door shut behind us.

I stared at the door for a second. Behind it were more questions. But I had so many I already had to get answers for.

So at once I spun and blurted, “Nicholas, I need to ask you about Zero,” at the very same time that he said, “Sam, I need to tell you about IRM-1000.”

We each stopped mid-speech and peered at one another in silence for a moment until Nicholas took a deep breath, letting it out in a surrendering sigh. “I know,” he said. “But not here. Lucas can still hear us, and probably every other android in there can too.”

I glanced sidelong at the door, hoping Luke wouldn’t take offense to that since Nick was right and he could hear us. Then I nodded at Nicholas. We moved down the hall, took the stairs to the first floor, and popped outside into the cold. I yanked on my insulated jacket, pulling it tighter around me. It was looser than it had been when I’d first purchased it. But I ignored the change and swept my unruly hair out from underneath it before shoving my hands into my pockets.

“You should eat more, Sam,” Nicholas said. “You’ve lost weight.”

I chose to overlook the pang of self-consciousness that hit me when he said that. Did I look bad to him? “We’ve been kind of busy.”

He said nothing to that. We walked together in silence for a bit. I was composing my thoughts, trying to order the plethora of questions I had about IRM-1000, IRM-900, and even IRM-667 – and the ties they seemed to have binding them together. I had questions about FutureGen and why Nicholas had quit the company he’d created, questions about what he’d done in the meantime, and what Nicholas’s enigmatic gift to Jonathan Montgomery – that being the android Daniel – had been all about.

“I know you have a thousand questions, Sammy,” Nicholas said softly. “I can practically hear your wheels turning.” He was wearing black leather gloves, as expensive-looking as the rest of his clothing. He slipped those hands into the pockets of his wool trench coat, and gave me a look from the corner of his eye that struck me as very “Xanatos,” from that really old cartoon, Gargoyles.

I was a huge fan of the classics, and I wasn’t ashamed of it.

“I’m betting you don’t know what to ask first. So why don’t I begin?” he suggested just as softly.

Since he was right, I shrugged. “Okay. Go for it.”

He nodded. “You probably want to know why I quit FutureGen.”

“It’s a start,” I said.

He sighed again, looked up at the snow in the sky, and said, “It was the day the shareholders came to me with the public’s request for the first Gaius Club. The demand for it was overwhelming. I can’t even tell you what the numbers were.” He shook his head. “And I knew it was going to come to pass one way or another. And I knew… I knew it was the beginning of the end.”

I looked up at him as we walked. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed. “So I began making plans.”

“You didn’t want the Gaius Club?” I asked. To me it was a fair question. The Gaius Clubs were named after the Roman emperor Gaius, who was later known by the more infamous name, Caligula. The Gaius Clubs were legal, government-regulated prostitution dens where male and female androids played the parts humans once played. I found it difficult to imagine a man not getting behind the idea of legal prostitution. At the risk of thinking bigoted thoughts, weren’t most guys sort of… oversexed, for lack of a better term? I’d once had a guy tell me that men thought of sex on average once every eleven seconds. Hell, I was a girl and I wouldn’t have minded sex. Like, really wouldn’t have minded. With Luke, specifically.

Jesus, grow up Sam, I told myself.

Nicholas laughed harshly in response to my question. “You mean did I want the answer to humanity’s prayers to be reduced to nothing more than oversized sex toys with the unfortunate ability to reason and feel?

A nasty feeling went through me, both hot and cold and a little nauseating. The way humans treated androids was akin to the way non-human animals had at one time been rounded up, raised, and slaughtered for meat despite the same mental and emotional capacities.

I was suddenly once again super grateful that I’d chosen to be a vegetarian when I was younger; it was one of the things that had drawn Nick and I together as friends in school. Now it was unnecessary to make that decision, however, as humans had since learned to produce both meat and leather in labs without the use of animal husbandry.

The agriculture industry hadn’t been pleased, and every dirty trick in the book had been played to keep progress from happening… but that was a messy story for another day.

“Okay,” I said softly, looking back down at the ground. “I get it.”

“No, I don’t imagine you truly do,” he said, but he said it gently, as if he regretted it. “Not entirely, anyway. FutureGen meant almost everything to me, Sammy. The androids I created were all that I wanted to leave behind when I died. They were to be my legacy… the future.” He sighed. “I had dreams of surgeons who could maintain perfect focus after three full days without sleep. I thought of infinitely patient foster parents capable of taking in troubled children to keep them off the streets and out of gangs. I imagined a companion for every aging widow and widower in every empty nest or nursing home around the world. No more loneliness. No more orphans.”

He gave me a sidelong glance of apologetic acknowledgement to my own orphaned background, and I gave him a small smile.

He went on. “But when I saw it all begin to go the way of basically everything else humanity’s filthy fingers had ever touched – ” He broke off and ran a hand through his hair. “I knew it was time to back out. And I knew I had all but failed.” He shook his head. “Not to mention the job replacement issues involved with the Gaius Clubs. Let’s be honest – prostitution is history’s oldest profession for a reason. As bad as it sounds to admit, creating those clubs literally took a final, desperate option from many unfortunate souls, leaving them no recourse.”

“So that was when you sold the company.”

“Almost,” he said softly. “I made the final decision and signed the papers when Uncle Sam demanded a large portion of FutureGen’s androids be allocated to the military.”

I remembered that. It had been a huge deal, infuriating both android rights activists and anti-draft activists alike. To them, this was no different than forcing a human slave to take the front lines. When questioned, neither group had any issues with androids enlisting on their own terms should an android decide to serve their country in that way. What both groups were against was the lack of any kind of choice afforded to the androids in question.

I glanced at Nick again, taking in his profile while I thought about the past. Nick’s jet-black shoulder-length hair was now damp from the snow, and when he had run his hand through it, it feathered forward a little to frame his handsome face. It looked good. He looked good. I was pleased he’d let it grow out from its length in his advertising images during his time as the head of FutureGen. He’d had it shorter then. But now he looked like the old Nicholas, the one I had such fond memories of from our high school years.

Nicholas Byron had always been what I considered a moral man. When I’d refused to run any of the dissection requirements or experiments on animals while earning my high school diploma and then degrees, Nick had supported me to the point that he’d refused to do them right along with me. Our decisions had come with difficult consequences, but we’d gotten through them together and never sacrificed our ethics.

It would seem those ethics had followed Nicholas through the years. They’d dogged his heels right into adulthood to change the course of his fate, along with the world’s, forever.

After a prolonged silence, I said, “Jonathan told me that Daniel was the first android you created at FutureGen and that you sent him to Jonathan before you left the company.”

Nick looked over at me. His face lost all its color. He swallowed hard.

I frowned. He looked dreadfully scared just then, and maybe even a little sick. I felt the stirrings of alarm.

But then, as quickly as he’d turned to me, he turned away again. Very quietly, he said, “Yes. Daniel was the first, and he was a solitary production.”

Making him as special and unique as Lucas and Zero, I thought. No wonder he was the leader of the android rebellion.

When I decided to shut everything down, I sent him to my old friend….” He stopped and I saw his throat work as if he were holding back some raw emotion. “Then I sold my shares and moved out of Pittsburgh.”

I chose to let Nick’s sudden strange behavior go, not because I didn’t care, but because now was perhaps my only chance to ask something I’d been painfully curious about for a long time. “Nicholas, what is Daniel?”

I paused, licking my lips as I thought of how to put the questions I had. “I mean… what is IRM-667? Why did you give him to Jonathan? And what does he have in common with Lucas? And… with Zero? Did you even design those last two models?” They’d both come out after he’d quit the company; it was anyone’s guess who had created them.

Nicholas didn’t answer right away, so I added another question – just to get it out before I forgot to ask it. “And what does the ‘IRM’ stand for?”

Now he laughed, dropping back his head and closing his eyes. “Christ, you always asked a lot of questions, Sunshine.”

I felt my cheeks grow hot, and I blinked. I hadn’t heard that nickname in a very long time. But now, hearing it come from his lips, memories flooded me. In our youth, Nicholas Byron had sometimes called me Sunshine because of my eyes. It wasn’t always. He would only do it when I destabilized him, got under his skin, or surprised him in some way. So again, it wasn’t always. But it happened frequently enough that I felt instantly shy and scolded by his words now. I’d unsettled him with my questioning.

But I didn’t retract any of my questions. They were frankly only the beginning of the landslide of queries I had about all that was happening in my world. Instead, I waited. I can’t say I waited patiently exactly, but I did wait, and I even managed to do it silently.

Finally Nicholas said, “Yes, I designed both IRM-900 and 1000. And believe it or not, I designed Daniel after I designed those two, not before, despite the number sequence. And….” Now he paused, gave me a long, silent look, and deliberated something carefully. I waited with held breath until he said, “The truth is, you’re the reason I designed them, Sam.”

I blinked. Then I froze in my tracks, coming to a standstill in the middle of the snowy sidewalk.

Nicholas took two steps past me before he realized I wasn’t walking any longer. He stopped and turned to face me.

“What?” I asked softly, stunned to my core. “What… on Earth do you mean I’m the reason? And….” I was just too surprised to get my words out right. “What?” I asked again, this time with a good deal more feeling.

He chewed on his cheek, his ice blue eyes focused hard on me, and he asked, “Do you happen to recall that argument we once had over the duality of the animal spirit?”

“What?” I asked again dumbly.

But he continued. “You remember, I’m sure. Morrison’s class. We were paired together to study the subject of the twin aspects of the soul. You took the side supporting the two wolves theory. Except that during our collaboration, you decided they were more like a wolf and a Siberian tiger.” He paused meaningfully. “Ring any bells?”

I must have been a sight standing there with my wide, bewildered eyes and my mouth half open. But of course, I did remember the conversation. I remembered it very well. It had been more of an argument than a conversation, and one that went on for more or less an entire week. The initial exchange was heated and took place in public, right in Morrison’s philosophy classroom. And it began when Nicholas icily and verbally sliced me up because… well, because he’d caught me and his brother kissing.

Okay, Cole and I had been drunk at the time.

Well, I was drunk, anyway. It was a special night, some kind of dance or bonfire or something. We were seniors. I’d never consumed alcohol before. And I was stressed with projects and finals.

On the other hand, Cole’s excuse for the kiss had simply been that he was Cole, because in truth he wasn’t drinking. I couldn’t remember what he’d claimed as his reason for teetotalling that night, but in the end, it wasn’t alcohol that made him pin me to the wall in the school hall and kiss me hard and deep until my toes curled.

Besides, even if he had been drinking, that wouldn’t have done it. I had really seen him throw back some alcohol in our youth, and not once had I ever seen Cole so much as tipsy. The man had almost supernaturally been able to drink anyone under the table.

When he found us embracing, Nicholas came to the conclusion that his brother had used his sobriety – and my lack thereof – to take advantage of me. He hadn’t been wrong.

In any case, due to Nick’s visceral reaction and my very strong desire to maintain the status of friendship between the three of us, that had been the first and last kiss Cole and I ever shared, despite the look in Cole’s eyes when I’d told him that’s how it would be. I would never forget that look. And no, I would never forget that “conversation” between me and Nick.

Slowly, I nodded. “I remember,” I admitted warily. “How could I forget?”

Nick’s eyes were extra blue in the reflected light of the snow as he drew closer. They were so beautiful they were hypnotic. “I spent all weekend fuming. Then Monday came around and you were stubborn as ever, arguing with me… defying me as usual.”

A strange thrill went through me when he put it like that. Maybe it was my submissive side? I didn’t know. But I was enrapt as he went on.

“Monday night I was so pissed off,” he said, “not only because of you. But because I’d confronted Cole about the indiscretion. And he’d chosen to react by telling me in no uncertain terms that he’d do it again as soon as he had the chance. The icing on the cake was that I knew you’d fucking won that argument with me in class. As usual.” He chuckled, but his laughter had a hard edge to it, and I could see that old familiar streak of irascible heat riding just under the surface of his skin and speeding through his veins.

That “argument” between us had taken a long time to get over. And he was right; I had won. Nick may have always been moral, but I’d done nothing but think about humanity and life and existence since my first memories of being able to think at all. The universe – the multiverse – confused me. It intrigued me. Life confused and intrigued me. I still knew nothing about it for certain and I supposed I never would. But I knew that nothing thoroughly, and from every conceivable angle. That was why I’d earned and sustained the highest grade in that philosophy class, and that was why I’d been able to hold my own that week, as Nicholas and I traversed the issue of people being both good and bad.

Nick continued. “So when we parted Monday, I went to the lab, turned on my dedicated computer, and set out to prove to you that a person could exist who was not two wolves – or rather, a wolf and a tiger. Because I could make that person.” He sighed. “I’d been working on the schematics for an android for years. That night, I drew up my first.”

My eyes widened as I listened.

“However, in order to create a single-sided person like I wanted, I would eventually wind up making two people.” He snorted. “Which I now realize is just more proof you were right all along.” He lifted his head as he recalled the past. “In effect, the two androids I created that night were one angel and one demon. One wolf... and one very deadly tiger.”

Tiger, tiger, burning bright, my mind recited. I stared at Nicholas.

And stared.

“But… Nick, we were seniors in high school. You hadn’t even graduated. You hadn’t even produced your first android prototype yet.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “They were in effect my first prototypes.” He paused, perhaps for effect or perhaps because the gravity of what he was about to say deserved the pause. “Lucas and Malcom were designed before I even thought about creating FutureGen. Years before FutureGen. And I honestly never intended either android to run through production. I just wanted to design them.”

I must have blinked fifty or sixty times, as if the eyelid motion helped me order my thoughts. Then I asked, “So… what exactly did you do with the designs?”

“When I finished that night, I realized I had a long way to go. So, I stored them,” he told me. “They went into the system that would eventually carry every other android design. Over the next few years but still long before I started the company, I tweaked them to add necessary programming. But eventually I was finished with them and they were sealed away for good. They were stored as non-production prototypes with the added contingency coding that dictated if they ever were produced, their programs would only run once. They were then locked down in encrypted files. I don’t know what I was thinking when I started making them, exactly,” he said as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “To be honest, it was like something came over me that first night…. And I guess there was a part of me that knew I was acting like an idiot but still dreamed I’d one day bring them to life and show them to you.” He shook his head. “Just to prove you wrong.”

He took a deep breath. “But once they were complete, I recognized that I could never go through with their production. Not with those two models. Or, at least not with… the tiger.” He sighed. “And then as the years continued to go by and we moved on, they went on a backburner. We went to Stanford, we graduated, you left and I created FutureGen. When I didn’t hear from you again,” he gave me a look of reprimand, “and I couldn’t find you either, I more or less forgot about them altogether. And I got on with my life.” After a beat, he added, “For the most part.”

I processed what he’d told me.

I’d gone out of my way to make it impossible for anyone to locate me after we both graduated. I’d done so because I didn’t want the wrong people getting their hands on the things I was designing. The best way to do that was to stay completely off the grid. But now, staring up at him, I could see that Nicholas had been hurt by that lack of communication. Maybe a lot. And regret flooded me.

Until I realized something and temporarily forgot about regret.

“Wait,” I said. “You called IRM-1000 ‘Malcom.’” My eyes went wide. “And Grace called him that too, and he asked me to call him that. You gave him that name!”

Nicholas lifted a brow in obvious interest. “Yes,” he said, his interest clearly piqued by the information. “There was a line or two of coding to that effect in there….” He trailed off for a moment, his brow furrowed. “But that he told you his name and asked you to address him as such…. That’s very interesting.”

He turned slowly, placing his hand at my back to urge me forward. I fell into step beside him and we continued strolling along the route we’d been taking. It was better to keep moving in this kind of cold.

“In truth, I named both IRM-900 and IRM-1000, and they each have three names, not one. The names were taken from five of the men in my family, going back five generations. IRM-900 is Lucas Mason Antares. And IRM-1000 is Malcolm William Antares.” He glanced at me. “It was in their matrix design that they would know their names upon ‘awakening.’ Obviously Lucas decided the three names should be truncated to one. Or perhaps FutureGen truncated it for him. And as far as Malcolm is concerned…. Again, who knows who or what made the decision to create him. But I can tell you that since Antares is the fifteenth brightest star in the night sky, that’s most likely where the name for his company came from: Vector Fifteen.”

He stopped and turned to face me, his look deadly serious. “Sammy, I have to tell you this. Malcolm most likely gave you his name because it’s similar in origin to Luke’s. It’s a genuine name, given to him at the same time Lucas received his own. He knows you are in love with Lucas. And Zero very much wants you to think of him in the manner that you think of IRM-900.” He paused and shrugged. “He wants you to call him by his name, not his number.”

Once again – I blushed. “I-in love?” I asked, as if that were absurd.

But Nicholas didn’t even flinch. His expression remained utterly calm, utterly serious, and his eyes saw right through me. “Believe me Sam, jealousy between brothers is like a bloodhound. It sniffs out the slightest form of favoritism and zeroes in on it – so to speak. You’re in love with him. And Zero knows it.”

I imagined that with Cole as a little brother, Nick would know about such things. I could see Cole at least attempting to seduce everyone Nick ever tried to date. After all this time, despite being the most eligible bachelor in the world for more than a decade, Nicholas Byron was still single. No life partner in sight, male or female. Surely Cole couldn’t be responsible for all of that… but I was betting he was responsible for some.

So I let out a whoosh of breath and admitted softly, “Okay, fine. I guess I might be just a little bit in love.”

In a tone that actually frightened me it was so somber, Nicholas lowered his voice and said, “Malcolm is the tiger, Sam. I’m sure at least a part of you has figured that out by now. He’s the reason I never put either of those models into production. Within his programming lie all the most dangerous traits of mankind – pride, desire, ruthlessness, cunning, apathy, and jealousy.” He looked pained now as he added, “I’m ashamed to say that they were the emotions and traits I was experiencing that night, in surplus. After all, I designed Malcolm first. And Lucas… he was an afterthought. A means to balance. Nothing more.”

I took in what he was saying. But then, more carefully, I processed it again. And when I did, the revelation was flooring. Nicholas was telling me, here and now and finally, that when he’d found me kissing Cole he had indeed been jealous of his brother. He’d experienced desire. Ruthless, cunning desire….

For me?

I glanced at up at the tall, handsome man before me – and the look in his stark blue eyes was enough to confirm my supposition. All that time, he had actually harbored feelings for me. When he’d warned me of the jealousy between brothers, he wasn’t talking about any other girl. He was talking about himself and Cole – and me.

I hadn’t found the words to speak yet when he continued.

“Worst of all is that I not only set out to design them because of you, I literally designed their physical and tangible attributes for you.”

I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, hoping I wouldn’t sound as lame as I felt just then. Softly I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Sam. In all the world with its billions of people and androids, what are the chances that you end up with Lucas?” He paused for effect. It worked. What were the chances? Remote, at best.

“I was livid that night, Sammy.” He smiled, but it was a small smile, and one that still held a good deal of regret. “How can you really not have known that I wanted you for myself?”

My chest tightened, my heart dropped into my stomach, and I felt rooted to the spot. He had come out and said it. At last.

“You… never said anything,” I said.

He paused before saying, “Actually I did once. Do you remember the sixth grade astronomy camp where we met for the first time?”

I nodded numbly. I remembered everything I’d ever done with Nicholas.

“Three days into it, the camp director instructed us to gather wood so we could learn how to build a fire in case we ever got stranded at an observatory.”

Observatories were usually located in remote places, and more often than not, cold places. And I remembered that too.

“We decided to partner up to look for kindling and smaller logs. After we’d both found a bunch, I took your pile from you. You protested, insisting that girls were just as strong as boys and you could carry your own wood.” He shook his head. “But I told you it had nothing to do with you being a girl. I told you I was carrying it for you because that was what husbands did for their wives, and some day I was going to marry you.” He laughed, and for the first time in my entire life, I saw Nicholas Byron’s cheeks darken with the hint of a blush. “Cole took the chance to ruin it of course, as usual. And you forgot all about it. But I didn’t forget, Sam. I believed we were meant to be together then, and I still believed it seven years later, when I found you and Cole kissing.”

Now blood was roaring through my ears. I only heard what he said next because I was so focused on him.

“And like the song says, I wanted you to want me. So that night I programmed Malcom with every physical element and social capacity I knew would appeal to you in a man. And then some. I’d been watching you so for so long, paying attention. I had a lot to work with.” He paused, breathing out with tangible emotion. “Then I did the same thing with Lucas.”

My mind went all kinds of places as I stood before him in the snow. My legs felt numb, but with heated epiphany rather than cold. It was almost more than I could fully take in.

I didn’t know what to say. I had absolutely no idea. So naturally I fell silent. So did he. Until at last, he placed his hand at the small of my back again, and we recommenced walking.

As we walked, my thoughts churned. I heard his words over and over in my head.

… every physical element and social capacity I knew would appeal to you in a man. And then some…

 

I’m human, animal by nature, so of course my thoughts eventually went one place specifically, and even though there was no way in hell I would give voice to those thoughts, Nicholas was a genius. When I blushed and looked over at him, somehow he automatically knew.

Beside me, he smiled his knowing smile, raised his brow in amusement again, and said, “Yes, despite the fact that they’re early models – the earliest – they’re both anatomically correct, and as Data would put it, ‘fully functional.’”

Data. As in from Star Trek, The Next Generation. Nicholas was as much a geek for classic popular culture as I was. I missed that about him.

“You’ve kissed Lucas,” he said, “So you know how he feels in that respect.”

Yes, I did. He felt amazing. His lips were the perfect temperature, soft and dry, but his kiss was firm and just hungry enough to awaken that same hunger within me.

Nick’s smile broadened and he added, “Though I suppose both models are a little more…” he cleared his throat, “generously endowed than your average male.”

I couldn’t be certain, but I had a feeling that my eyes could have been plucked out of my face just then without too terribly much resistance.

Nicholas shrugged a not-guilty shrug. “I’m a male, Sam. And at the time, I was a young male. I was boiling over with hormones and on the warpath. What would you expect?”

It was a long while before I could say anything. We strolled in silence side by side while my mind spun like a vinyl record on a forgotten turntable. At last I said, “If you never meant for Luke or Zero to go into production, then why did they? Especially Zero?”

Nicholas shook his head. “Honestly I have no clue. Someone must have stumbled upon the coding at FutureGen and hacked past it. Perhaps deciding IRM-1000 was too dangerous, they created Lucas instead. I heard what happened with him during the android revolution. He joined the side of the androids after losing his memory. So not even he knows how he came to be. Whoever brought Lucas to life either didn’t know he would wind up siding with his own kind, or they did and they planned for it to happen.” He paused, thinking. “My guess is that either way, they saw someone easier to manipulate in Lucas than in Malcolm – easier to control. I would imagine it was a different force entirely that awakened Malcolm.”

“And as to that,” Nicholas went on, “I’ve done nothing but wonder how the hell Malcolm came into being, especially since I put extra protections around his program as a security measure.” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as if to stave off an oncoming headache. “I swear it’s like he just decided to be born all on his own. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find out he had.”

Neither would I.

“He started Vector Fifteen, and rebuilt the business from the ground up. Then he expanded it.” Nick swore softly and put his hand back in his pocket. I noticed our pace had increased in speed. That tended to happen when people were agitated. But I didn’t say anything. Nicholas was venting, he was sharing, and I wasn’t about to stop him now.

“I’ve spent every single day and every single night blaming myself for his existence and his role in the continued unrest between humans and androids. But I stayed hidden away in my little cave and chose not to do anything about him. That is until you were taken by him. Which, in retrospect, I should have expected.” His expression was truly angst-filled as he turned to me. “Now I blame myself for what happened at Prometheus. His attack on your base is ultimately my fault.” He glanced with obvious emotional discomfort at the cast on my arm. “It’s my fault you’re in his sights.”

I wanted to comfort him. I knew him. I knew his heart. I wanted to bring some kind of peace to my old friend who’d only yearned to make the world a better place and had only made human mistakes in the process.

I said, “Nicholas, you didn’t bring either of them to life. But since they’re here, you need to understand something. You programmed Luke and Zero to be something that I would like. Not the other way around. You’re not at fault for Zero coming after me.” I touched his arm gently with the fingers of my good hand, and he looked down at them, his expression somehow surprised.

Tenderly, he lay his hand over mine, and used the connection to draw me closer so we could walk arm-in-arm. “I’m not so sure about that, Sunshine. They exist. And you exist.” He leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of my head. “Believe me, that’s enough.”