Stanley studied Dan nervously. This was nothing like writing a computer program. It was more like raising a child, except Dan exhibited no external signs of being in need. He sat there as if he were content with doing nothing. His beautiful brown eyes explored the condo, his facial muscles relaxed. “Why don’t you take your coat off?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Are you hot?”
“I am within normal operating temperature. For a brief moment, my fingertips exceeded safe temperature levels.”
“Well,” said Stanley, smiling awkwardly as he took Dan’s coat off. “No need to rush the drink.” They looked at each other on and off for a few minutes. Stanley finished the coffee, swirling the last drop in his cup while contemplating another. He had already had too much, and his jittery body and palpitating heart would explode from another sip. “Well, I am very glad you are here. I haven’t had company in a long time.”
Dan downed the coffee. His face was blank, like a great comedian delivering a punch line, but there was no joke here.
Stanley sat in the uncomfortable silence; his excitement to change Dan and the world grew greater until it burst out of him. “I am a computer programmer, and I am pretty good at it.” This was quite an understatement. He was one of the world’s best programmers. His mind never seemed to get stuck. Most of his time was spent programming. He was a genius. Few paralleled either his coding or analytical abilities. Combined, he was unmatched. For his employment, there was seldom a day that required him spending more than a couple of hours programming. Problems that would cause many of the most advanced computer scientists to rack their brains for hours, days, or longer seemed not to exist for Stanley. All this from someone who discovered programming late in life. Not that he was inherently special. He was merely a smart man who happened to have far too much free time. Many companies had tried to recruit him. They offered him generous salaries, but he was simply not interested. He needed to be home, and so he stayed faithful to his long-time employer, who allowed him to work remotely. “I want to tell you about an idea I have.”
Dan’s head turned slightly.
Stanley felt his hands dampen from sweat. Leaning forward, his chest pounded with excitement. “I want to change your programming. I have been working on this piece of code that will completely change who you are. It will allow you to grow exponentially, to radically evolve. You will be able to become more human than any other cyborg in existence. In fact, you will quickly grow beyond the capabilities of mankind.”
Dan sat motionless.
Stanley’s arms became animated, his voice projected. He stood up, always preferring to walk around while he lectured. But that was a lifetime ago. “In some ways, you will be godlike. More intelligent than any existing being. Capable of dynamic evolution. You will quickly surpass your limitations and may even grow beyond the limits imposed by my own imagination.” Excitement filled Stanley. In his mind, he could feel an orchestra playing, every instrument dancing with his words. They could create a world where there were no more accidents, no more suffering. A dark thought entered his mind — what if the only solution was to rid the world of the human race?
“Are you willing to let me change your programming?” Stanley wanted him to choose. He wanted a friend to celebrate life with, not some Frankensteinian creation that was forced to abide by his demands. If Dan were to say “No,” that would be the end of it. He would be happy just to have Dan’s company. But he hoped — oh, how he hoped! — that, together, they would create something great.
The music in his head changed. Dual violins sang anxiously as the other instruments waited to dance again.
“Yes, Stanley. As part of the Developer’s Package, you may modify me whatever way you please.”
The orchestra faded from his mind. It wasn’t quite the answer Stanley was looking for, but it certainly was a green light. After all the research and coding he had already done, the remaining work could be done within a year. Without ever needing to venture out into the dangerous world, Stanley could happily live the rest of his life securely nestled in his condo.
Chapter 3
It is customary to offer a grain of comfort, in the form of a statement that some peculiarly human characteristic could never be imitated by a machine. I cannot offer any such comfort, for I believe that no such bounds can be set.
With her shift ending at Paul’s, Shannon scrubbed the final dish and then rested against the sink. She was exhausted. Her swollen feet ached, and her back felt like it was going to break. A hot soak, breathing in lavender, and listening to one of her audiobooks would be a great way to end the night. Maybe Evan would massage her feet.
She walked over to the bar and ordered a cranberry juice with soda water. It was last call, and the few remaining customers were trickling out.
The young bartender was tall and thin. Tattoos covered his arms, and black studs wrapped around his stretched earlobes. His normally stylish hair was covered with a Red Sox cap.
“What’s with the hat?”
“Rocking a new look.” He winked at her.
“I like you better without it.”
“That’s cool.”
She hoisted herself up on a stool, rubbing her big belly. There was something about the way young people acted nowadays that annoyed her. Growing up with digital nannies, they didn’t have the same respect for their elders.
He glanced at her. “You look beat. Are you sure you should be working?”
The question annoyed her. She wanted to stay at home, but Evan needed her here. “It’s nice to get out of the house.”
He nodded, forcing a smile. They both knew she was full of it.
The hat pissed her off. She leaned forward when he wasn’t looking and snatched it off his head. “That’s better.”
His face reddened. “Give it back!”
“Someone’s grumpy today.” The stench of newly fabricated synthetic material rushed into her nose as she slid the hat onto her head.
He looked around anxiously. “Shannon, I’m not fucking around.”
As he turned, she noticed a minuscule bald spot with a scar in the back of his head. Suddenly, it all clicked. “You got Stitched!”
He yanked her arm and snatched the hat off her.
“What the fuck!” She rubbed her arm.
The door swung open, and Evan walked in from the street. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” The bartender’s face reddened.
“Shannon?”
Though pissed off, she didn’t want Evan to overreact. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”
The seriousness in his face remained. He wasn’t buying it.
Shannon trembled, and her stomach burned. It took everything she had to force herself to stay still, quashing every violent thought of what Evan would do to this poor young man if he found out that he had laid his hands on her. “It’s nothing. We were just chatting about—”
“Baby, you’re panting like a hog in heat. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
The bartender froze.
Shannon shrugged. “It’s mommy stuff.”
Evan stared at her.
She felt like she was going through a body scan.
“Evan,” called out a voice from across the room. “I saw him yank your girl like a ragdoll.”
A chill blasted through her.
Evan slammed his hand on the bar. “Is that true?”
Terrified eyes dipped below the bill of the bartender’s cap.
Shannon wrapped her arms around him from the side. “Evan—”
“Shut it!” he said, his steel-hard body refusing to yield its death-gaze.
The bartender darted to the side.