The Android Chronicles Book One: The Android Defense (17 page)

“Is that a good thing or a
bad thing?”

Damian smiled.

“Oh, it’s going to be good,
Carlie. It’s going to be very, very good.”

PART II

The Next
Revolution

Chapter 1.

The door of the drugstore
opened and a short, slender girl with dark blond hair and green
eyes walked inside. She was dressed in a green shirt, jeans, and
sandals.

She walked up and down the
aisle, picking out some bags of chips. She stopped walking when she
heard two girls holding a conversation in the aisle next to
her.

“Do you see that guy in the
parking lot? He is so hot.”

Mandelie Miles looked over
the girls’ heads and through the glass doors of the store at the
parking lot, where Luke was sitting on his motorcycle, waiting for
her. He had taken off his helmet and his blond hair fell over his
blue eyes. His lean, muscular build was visible in even his casual
stance.

“He is so hot,” the other
girl agreed.

Mandelie continued picking
up bags of food, listening to the girls’ conversation and trying
not to laugh.

“I’m going to go ask for his
number,” one of the girls said.

“Good luck,” Mandelie said
to herself.

She heard the doors open and
close. She looked around a display of candy and watched as the girl
– a tall blond in tight tank top and jeans – approached
Luke.

Luke’s face was unreadable
as he listened to the girl’s request. He shrugged. The girl turned
around and walked back to the store, feigning nonchalance. She
rejoined her friend.

“He said he rarely uses a
cell phone,” Mandelie heard her say. “He said he uses a
communication console instead of a phone. What the heck does that
mean?”

Mandelie began to laugh and
then stopped herself. She took her bags of chips to the front
counter and paid for them.

Then she left the store and
walked up to Luke.

“You certainly made an
impression on that girl,” she said with a grin. “Couldn’t you have
just given her a fake number?”

“Would you really want me to
do that?” Luke said.

Mandelie got onto the back
of the motorcycle. Luke handed her a helmet and she pulled it over
her head. She wrapped her arms around Luke and pressed her face
against his jacket.

Even though the visor of the
helmet she could see the amazed faces of the girls as she and Luke
sped away from the drugstore.

Luke’s motorcycle roared
down the road overlooking the blue sea. Mandelie felt the salt wind
streaming through her helmet, rushing around her body. She held
tightly to Luke, as they raced towards the Malibu hills where
Argonaut Laboratories was.

Luke pulled the motorcycle
into the small parking lot of the laboratory. Mandelie jumped
off.

“Wait,” Luke
said.

Mandelie turned to him. Luke
pulled her close to him and kissed her.

Mandelie was slightly
breathless when the kiss ended.

“That was fun,” she
said.

Luke got down from the bike
and took her hand. The two of them walked into the lab.

Jake Masner, the lab
receptionist, was sitting behind the reception desk, looking a
little gloomy. He wore his usual neon shirt and shorts. His
dreadlocks spilled over his shoulders.

“Got you your chips,”
Mandelie said, tossing a bag at him. “You look kind of depressed.
What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s just … Brigite,”
Jake said. “I said we’d go out tonight, but I’m running out of ways
to impress her. Like, she’s so much smarter and sexier than I am. I
don’t know how to entertain her. I showed her my Play Station and
she beat me at all the games. I took her to the movies and she fell
asleep. I’m thinking about miniature golf this time, but something
tells me it’s not such a good idea.”

“An X-droid’s attention is
hard to hold,” Luke said.

Jake looked at
him.

“Thanks. Don’t you have any
suggestions for me? You’re an android.”

“Why don’t you let her
entertain you?” Luke said. “That’s what she’s designed to do.
That’s what makes her happy.”

Jake reddened.

“What, let her give me a lap
dance?”

“Yes,” Luke said.

“Try the golf thing, Jake,”
Mandelie said. “There might be a chance she’d like it.”

Jake brightened.

“Okay. I’m going to go
outside and call the golf place.”

Luke looked at
Mandelie.

“She’s not going to like
it.”

“Jake would faint if Brigite
tried to give him a lap dance, Luke,” Mandelie said. “He’s … well,
he’s a slow bloomer.”

“I don’t know what that
means,” Luke said.

“I mean he probably wouldn’t
be able to handle a lap dance from Brigite,” Mandelie said. “He’d
probably combust.”

“I agree with you,” Luke
said. “Brigite could certainly do some damage to him.”

At that moment the door
behind them opened and Brigite walked out. She still had her bright
blue wig, but she was much more covered-up than the first time
Mandelie had met her. She wore a short black dress and
heels.

“Oh, good, you’re back,” she
said to Mandelie.

“Got your chewing gum,”
Mandelie said, throwing the gum at Brigite.

“Thank you,” Brigite said.
“Where did Jake go?”

“He’s outside planning an
evening of fun for the two of you,” Luke said.

“I wish he’d let me do the
planning,” Brigite said. “I’ve got so many ideas for fun things for
the two of us to do.”

Mandelie choked slightly on
her soda.

Jake walked back inside. He
blushed slightly when he saw Brigite, though he saw her every day
regularly.

“Um, Brigite, want to go
play some miniature golf with me tonight?” he said.

“Miniature golf?” Brigite
said.

“You’ll have a lot of fun,”
Luke said, stepping in at the right moment. “There are few things
more thrilling than the human sport of miniature golf.”

“Oh,” Brigite said. “Well,
okay, I guess.”

“Great,” Jake said, looking
relieved. “Oh, Trista said she needs you and me to help her on
something. Come on.”

The two of them walked
through the door behind the reception desk and closed it behind
them.

Mandelie looked at
Luke.

“Nice timing on that
miniature golf comment.”

“I didn’t mean a word of
it,” Luke said. “I ran a data search on this thing you call
miniature golf, and the search results only confirmed that Brigite
is probably going to fall asleep on the putting green.”

Chapter 2.

The rain fell on the
skyscraper buildings of New York City, washing down the sleek glass
sides of Manhattan in sheets. Lightning and thunder crashed in the
sky. The lightning repeatedly struck the top of a towering, domed
building that looked like a clash between two different kinds of
architecture. The building was known as the Frontier Corp. Building
after the company that founded it, and the CEO of that company was
a steel-faced man named Madrick Castleshank.

At the moment Madrick
Castleshank was sitting in his office, looking out of the window at
the rain. Despite being the CEO of one of the most lucrative
companies in Manhattan he was usually dressed like a stuntman from
a spaghetti western – denim, scarves, boots, and a cowboy hat - his
clothes all the more enhanced by his tall, solidly muscular
physique. His eyes were shrewd and calculating, his face fleshy and
unshaven. He was savagely proud of his lineage which he attested
included European royals as well as Texas ranchers.

One of his directors Bernard
Card, a thin sallow-faced man in a wrinkled suit, was sitting in
front of him.

“I like the idea of taking
Frontier into the android market, Bernard,” Madrick was saying, in
his slow, contemplative drawl. “What’s the competition?”

“The only relevant other
player in the market right now is Adventis Technologies,” Bernard
said.

“Adventis,” Madrick said.
“Isn’t that the tech company that’s run by that
cripple?”

Bernard
swallowed.

“Damian Foster is
handicapped, yes.”

“I’ll run him into the
ground,” Madrick said. “Adventis has been on shaky ground with the
Feds anyway, ever since that catastrophe in Los Angeles. They’re on
the way out. What was the last product they put on the market,
Bernard?”

“I believe it was sonic tech
baby monitors. There’s also been gossip floating around that the
board of Adventis is unhappy with the way things have been going
since Foster’s accident.”

“Baby monitors,” Madrick
said. “Jeez.”

Carlie walked through the
huge, elegant spaces of Damian Foster’s villa, her heels echoing on
the cold marble floors. She wore a tight green sweater and skirt.
Her iPad was tucked under her arm and she carried a chilled glass
beverage in her hand.

She passed by a silent
housekeeper sweeping the floor and walked up the vast, sweeping
staircase to the second floor. She made her way down a long,
carpeted corridor and let herself into the master
bedroom.

It was a large, airy room
with stone floors and animal skin rugs. There was a dark wood
four-poster bed with gauze curtains, as well as a majestic bathroom
and dressing room.

The balcony doors were open
and she could see Damian’s wheelchair parked on the expansive,
stone veranda overlooking his pool and gardens.

Damian was sitting in his
state of the art, titanium wheelchair, getting sun. He had no shirt
on and wore sweatpants. His dark brown hair was longer than it was
before. Despite his handicap, his face looked as handsome as it
ever was, if a little paler, and his body was still in fit
condition, due to the rigorous physical therapy he
practiced.

Carlie walked up behind him
and set an iced beverage on the table.

“Your vegetable
shake.”

“Carlie, take a look at
this,” Damian said. He pointed to the touchscreen that extended out
of one of the wheelchair arms. “It’s a new software that you can
upload to your chair and make it glow in the dark. That is pretty
cool.”

“Why would you want your
chair to glow in the dark?” Carlie said.

“So I don’t run into anyone
at night,” Damian said. “Obviously.”

Carlie checked her
iPad.

“In the last three weeks,
Damian, you’ve spent a total of $16,437 on upgrades for your
wheelchair. Your wheelchair is now capable of playing music. It can
go up and down stairs. It’s got custom wheels. It can adjust for
walking speed, running speed, and fastest land animal speed. It has
a total of four touchscreens – one with an app designed
specifically to get my attention, one with all the cable channels,
one with basic cable, and one for the Internet and phone calls. It
has a built-in massage system, extendable umbrella, and pepper
spray gun that shoots up to forty feet.”

“That is completely
necessary,” Damian said. “You know how many crimes on the
handicapped there are these days? I’m thinking about putting in a
machine gun next. Come on, Carlie. Place the order for
me.”

“Fine,” Carlie said. “If you
put any more upgrades on your wheelchair, Damian, you might as well
start hanging out with Stephen Hawking.”

“That’s low, Carlie. That’s
low.”

Carlie made a note on her
iPad. “You’ve got your physical therapist coming in an hour. I’ve
heated the pool and your swim trunks are on your bed.”

She hesitated. “Do you want
me to help you change?”

“No,” Damian said. He
wheeled himself to the bed and grabbed his swimming
trunks.

After he disappeared into
his dressing room Carlie heard a series of loud thumps and
colorful, pained swearing. She left the room quickly.

Chapter 3.

“I don’t think the internal
temperature is right,” Trista said. She was staring at a mannequin
wearing what looked like a bulletproof vest. The heavy material of
the vest was made from a thin glass material that shimmered
slightly as though volts of electricity were passing through
it.

“What do you think it should
be?” Dr. Miles said.

“Ten degrees lower,” Trista
said. “Let’s try it.”

Dr. Miles and Trista
adjusted the temperature settings on the strange garment. Luke and
Mandelie were standing behind them, observing.

“If the objective of the
vest is to give the ability to manipulate electricity, Dr. Miles,
maybe its internal temperature should match the body temperature of
the average human being,” Luke said. “Transference.”

“Interesting suggestion,
Luke,” Dr. Miles said. “What do you think, Trista?”

Trista looked at the clock
on the wall of the room.