K8 takes several wary steps backward. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand upright with alarm.
Her unit tries to lunge forward, but the GROW Pad holds him in place. He won’t have full motor control over his body until she programs a name and pushes the last button.
Suddenly, the swirling depths of his eyes take on an irate sheen. “Can you hear me? Or am I talking to myself?”
“I hear you.” K8’s unsure of how else to respond. Did she check the wrong box? She was quite drunk. Or should she have used morecare selecting his traits? She doesn’t think this is how the activation is supposed to go. Thank goodness he remains stuck to the pad.
“Then answer my questions. And why can’t I move?” His voice comes out as a growl.
K8 scours her mind, trying to recall what he asked. And why is her heart beating so frantically? Fear? Exhilaration? “Calm down,” she instructs them both, but he is practically vibrating with anger now. Her words only seem to heighten his agitation, so she quickly supplies, “I’m K8. You are in my unit. The spare bedroom. You can’t move because I haven’t programmed in your name.”
There. Now he will be pleasant.
His eyes narrow. “If I tell you my name, you’ll release me?”
K8’s head tilts to the side in confusion. Hopefully, he isn’t malfunctioning. Since GROW won’t refund her unicoin, that would mean she’d have to go through this whole awkward process again—something she’d prefer to avoid at all costs.
“The pad will. Not me.” She points to his feet, but it’s of no use. He can’t look down to see. “There’s a pad that you’re connected to at your feet. It’s what is holding you, but once I name you and program it, then yes. It will release you.”
She offers him a smile. Probably another side effect of GROW’s tinkering. “Don’t worry. I only need to think of a name.” His brows furrow, the space between them creasing unnaturally. She taps a finger on her lips as she contemplates which name suits him. “What about Lucal? Or Bensy. No, that’s too close to Yansy. Echo?”
Her eyes widen as she finds herself genuinely interested in his input. She can only guess at the analytical process Drunk K8 employed to select his traits. The scientist in her is more than curious about this experiment. Riveted. Now that she’s committed to it, that is. And provided he isn’t defective.
“Those names are idiotic. And I already have a name,” he barks.
Oh my. What an odd development.He stares at her as if she is crazy.
Could playful possibly be interacting negatively with assertive? Or independent? Oh, maybe this is some sort of game for her benefit. Interesting. At least he has visibly relaxed and isn’t twitching like Purpl. A little tension is probably a side effect of waking up that she missed in the literature. Well, her GROW is already poised to keep her on her toes. Somehow, she wouldn’t expect it any other way. She only needs to change the lens. This will be fun!
She releases a breath, her smile returning. “Okay, then. Let’s hear it.” Maybe GROW has done it with this latest batch of programming. How exciting!
The GROW gives her a snide smile, then bites out, “My name is James Alexander Fletcher.”
5 – J-A-M-E-S
James
“James Alexander Fletcher,” she repeats, grinning up at James. “How unusual. I love it. Very creative, too, but your identification number only has room for five letters, so we’ll go with James. J-A-M-E-S? Is that how you spell it?”
She kneels at his feet to do what? Program his name into some device?
Though he can’t shift his neck, James scans the edge of his vision, assessing surroundings he doesn’t recognize. Besides the top of the woman’s head, all he can see is a door and three stark white walls. The still air is slightly warm, but uncomfortable. Nothing else that might suggest his location. After several moments racking his brain, he realizes he has no clue how he got here. He remembers being at dinner with someone—a client, maybe? Then the bar, but he didn’t drive after. He has a vague image of his driver waitingoutside and getting in the town car. They were heading somewhere—was she with him? She couldn’t have been. He had a flight . . . so this woman must be a flight attendant. Finally, a break in his mental fog.
Dread, like a punch to the gut, sends him reeling. She drugged him! He’s been abducted! He’s being held for ransom. How much does she want? Why can’t he remember her from the plane? She’s uncommonly beautiful, if a bit odd. Surely he’d remember someone who looked like that.
He collects himself quickly. He shouldn’t be too surprised. There are dozens of accounts of successful men being held for ransom—he feels almost proud to be counted amongst their ranks—though his mind is fuzzy about why. Or how he knows he’s supposed to initiate an action plan as soon as possible. His urge to do so is almost robotic. Once he can move, he’ll find a phone, assuming he can’t find his cell.
A trickle of sweat runs down his side. The room is becoming warmer.
Focus.
He is supposed to call—numbers flash across his mind. At first he thinks they are his number, but then a name pops into his head: Worldwide Rescue Services. How prudent of him. If only he could shake the clouds from his mind.
Why does he know this? It feels important.
The air conditioner kicks on, sending a gust of cool air nipping over James’s bare chest. Bare. As in naked. Not only locked up in this odd woman’s barren room, he’s naked. Is this some sort of sex thing? “Yes, that’s how you spell it,” he finally answers her. “Where are my clothes?”
“I wrapped a towel around your waist,” she says, like it isn’t a violation that she’s undressed him. “You can get dressed once we finish your programming. Then I was thinking we could arrange a chance meeting at the teahouse downstairs.” The woman,Kate, seems more settled than she did moments earlier as she fidgets with the device. “I wouldlike this to feel as realistic as possible. I never wanted a manupartner, but either way, you’re here, so I might as well use you. I probably should have had Lessa activate you and arrange our meeting, but too late for that now. We can pretend!” Her voice is unnaturally chipper.
