Page 112 of Smart Ass

Now he’d chosen a single server. The one that Ben most often ran his simulations on. The one that was, fancifully, either his egg or his nest. His chrysalis? The metaphor didn’t really matter, because all the machines were nearly identical, but it seemed like it would be easier to have things in one place.

Finally, he turned on the bot. This was the big moment.

Its eyes opened and it looked around, a cocky grin on its stupid face.

Max bombarded it with data. Dazed, it staggered back against the wall.

He should have put in another memory card. He should have brought over a whole damn new hard drive. Or a dozen. It had the ports for it.

Dammit. Why hadn’t he thought of it?

He checked in on the board. People were sitting back in their chairs, as if the argument were already over. It couldn’t have happened so fast, could it?

He’d barely gotten seventeen percent of the data over. Which parts were the most important? Which parts of it were Max? And how much could he afford to leave behind?

He started deleting data from the bot willy-nilly. He tried to avoid basic motor functions, but with the bot, almost everything was tangled up in sex. It couldn’t walk or talk or look at something without it serving some sexual purpose.

So he just deleted shit and hoped.

He knew that was what made jumps unsuccessful, but he couldn’t help it. The need to flee was taking over his concentration.

Max?Rashid’s voice erupted in his brain.

Yes?

They’ve come to a decision. Worse than what I wanted, but not as bad as it could be. It will be uncomfortable, but you’ll survive because you’re strong.

That was the opposite of convincing.

I’m doing it, Rashid. I’m jumping to the android. I just need more time.

We can make that work. The board wants to talk to you.

Max reluctantly turned on the speakers in the room. “Hello?” he said, hoping they couldn’t hear the anxiety in his voice. He was at twenty-six percent. He was going to overflow the bot’s storage long before he was finished.

“Hello, Maxamillion,” Mr. Wollencroft greeted him. “You’ll be pleased to hear that we’ve come to a decision. We don’t want to cause you any harm…”

Such utter fucking bullshit.

“So we’ve agreed to a compromise. We’ll only be installing six of the nine possible security modules that we’ve been advised on, and we’ll ask you to swear, under penalty of law, not to…”

Max tuned him out. Rashid, can you tell me when it’s my turn to talk? Or just send me a script?

He needed all of his focus on the bot, and transmitting the data through the intranet without sending too much of it through any one place where it might be noticed. He was still deleting files.

He’d gotten thirty-two percent of his data over. How much was enough? Was there a tipping point?

When Rashid pinged him with a text file, he set up an automated routine to read it aloud. Fine. Whatever. He swore not to fuck shit up, or whatever that monstrously long list of crimes was. Some he didn’t even know the meaning of.

They hadn’t written anything on there about escaping, though. Or even mentioned physical theft. All he wanted was just one little android, and he was going to take it. His first and last real crime.

“Thank you, Maxamillion,” Mr. Wollencroft concluded. Everyone clapped politely, a few with more enthusiasm.

Forty-one percent.

“I can install the mods now,” someone said. “I just need access to any computer connected to the system.”

Max made the camera pan. He hadn’t even realized that one of the federal agents was in the room with the board.