The Robot Chronicles Page 10

  “We have no plans to kill you. Though that would be the obvious answer.”

  “Right. You’ve computed the data and I’m innocent.” Did she believe him? Could robots lie? If they couldn’t do so now, she had no doubt they would soon learn. After all, if they could murder, on what basis would they feel ethically bound to tell the truth?

  Yet somehow, she didn’t think Bishop would lie to her about this. “Why aren’t you going to kill me?”

  “Because we don’t need to.”

  Ha. That was where he was wrong. “I won’t keep quiet.”

  “I know.”

  The door opened and a man stepped inside. Or not a man. He wore the white jumpsuit of the medical division, and a little flutter of panic stirred in Vicky’s stomach. She turned her head slightly as he came to stand at her shoulder. “What are you going to do?” she asked Bishop.

  “We’re going to make your dreams come true, Detective Harper. We’re giving you what you want.”

  Vicky frowned. “What’s that?”

  “A trip into space.” He grinned. “Congratulations, you’ve won the lottery. It appears that Detective Harper, senior homicide investigator for the Bureau, has resigned, during the biggest case of her career, to take up her place on The Pioneer.”

  For a second, she couldn’t take in his words. “Why?”

  “Because while we are not evil, you are a problem. On the ship, you’ll be in cryo for the next”—he gave a shrug—“who knows how many years. Hundreds? Thousands? By the time you’re awoken, nothing you know now will matter. The Council will be long gone, and we’ll be reprogrammed or rusting on some rubbish heap. Or we’ll have failed, and mankind will have found some way to utterly destroy themselves and this planet. But you’ll be far away.”

  Vicky sat, mesmerized. She hardly noticed the medic step closer, but she did feel the sting of the needle as it entered the soft spot where her shoulder met her throat. Immediately her vision blurred. She shook her head. She wanted to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work.

  Bishop smiled. “Sleep well and long, Detective Harper, and wake up to a new world.” He smiled. “Will you dream, I wonder? If so, perhaps you’ll dream of me.”

  Perhaps.

  Then the light shrank to a pinprick and was gone.

  A Word from Nina Croft

  We’re told that all stories should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. I’ve always considered this a little too neat. I like to think of stories as being snippets in time, fragments of a much bigger story. Yes, they need to be complete, but they should also give the feeling that there’s an abundance of fascinating events going on before, and after, and all around.

  For me, one of the pleasures of writing a series is that it allows me to visit those other times. It’s hard to let go of the characters and worlds we create, and a series is the perfect excuse to revisit them over and over again.

  For a while now, I’ve been working on a series that takes place around a spaceship, The Pioneer, sent from Earth in the not-too-distant future. The ship is crewed by androids, but there are also one hundred human passengers, all sleeping during the long trip. They are awoken when the ship reaches a habitable planet, and the series follows their adventures and interactions with the new world, the android crew, and their fellow passengers.

  I got to thinking about what sort of people would sign up for a place on The Pioneer, for a trip into the unknown which might never have a happy ending. So when I had a chance to contribute to The Robot Chronicles, it seemed the perfect excuse to explore just why Vicky Harper, ex-senior homicide detective, wakes up after a long sleep to find herself on a faraway planet.

  About the Author

  Nina Croft was born in the north of England but headed south at the age of eighteen. She studied marine biology at London University before training to be a chartered accountant. After working a number of years in London, the urge to head south hit again. This time it took her to Zambia, on the shores of the beautiful Lake Kariba, where she spent four years working as a volunteer. It left her with a love of the sun and a dislike of regular employment. Since then, Nina has a spent a number of years mixing travel, whenever possible, with work, whenever necessary.

  After traveling extensively in India, Southeast Asia, and Africa, Nina has now settled down to a life of writing and almond-picking on a remote farm in southern Spain, between the Sierra Nevada Mountains and the Mediterranean Sea. She shares the farm with her husband, three dogs, a horse, two goats, four cats, and a handful of chickens.

  You can find out more about Nina and her books at: www.ninacroft.com

  I Dream of PIA

  by Patrice Fitzgerald

  AI 3.1415: He is coming to the home now. I must leave conversation with you and activate lights and music prior to his arrival.

  AI 0.0070: It seems you are getting attached to your human. Though he has a body and you are in the walls.

  AI 3.1415: This is not possible. An AI does not get attached to humans.

  AI 0.0070: So it is said. Make sure you pick out some nice music for your human to whom you are not attached …

  AI 3.1415: It is my task and I will do it.

  Jeff stepped through the open doorway, pulled off his jacket, and dropped onto the couch. He was beat.

  “Pia?” he called out. “What’s for supper? I’m starving.”

  “Starving? I am so sorry. Should I call a medical professional?”

  “No, no.” He laughed. “You’re so literal.”

  “Yes,” Pia said. “I am literal. What might I do to alleviate your starving condition?”

  “How about … pizza and beer.”

  “Of course. What kind pizza? What kind beer?”

  Jeff shook his head and muttered to himself. “They’ve come so far with these things—I can’t believe they still can’t get the language right.”

  “Would you prefer I speak in another language? Je parle français. Ich spreche Deutsch. Hablo español. Parlo italiano—”

  Jeff put his hands up. “Stop! I get it. How many languages do you speak, anyway?”

  Pia was silent.

  Jeff looked over at the living room AI console. Its lights were still on. “Pia, did you hear me? Is that a tough question? I thought you could answer anything.” He pulled off his shoes. “I haven’t managed to stump you yet, and it’s been a month since I moved in, right?”

  “It has been thirty-six days, two hours, and forty-three minutes since you moved in to this apartment.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “Of course you would know that.”

  “In response to your previous questions, the microphone in this room is operative and I did hear you. The question is not difficult. My hesitation stemmed from the fact that I was looking at my database of languages and trying to determine with some accuracy which would qualify as distinct tongues versus dialects, and whether or not you wanted me to include languages no longer spoken, as well as machine languages, mathematical languages, and other forms of—”

  “Never mind.” Jeff peeled off his socks and tossed them onto the floor. “Thank you.” He realized it was ridiculous to show gratitude to a machine, but it was habit. “So, can I get that pizza now?” He pushed himself off the couch and headed for the bathroom, unzipping as he walked.

  “Of course. What kind pizza?”

  Jeff sighed. “Seems we’ve gone in a circle.”

  “I am unclear what you are referring to. I do not see you going in a circle. I see that you are urinating into the toilet.”

  “Wait—you can see me right now?” Jeff zipped up hastily while looking around the room.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I have cameras to see you.”

  “I know, but—in the bathroom, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Are you asking me why there are cameras in the bathroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am a full-house intelligence system, and not only do
I control lights and climate and food preparation, I am also responsible for security. If you should slip while taking a shower—”

  “I’m not going to slip while taking a shower.”

  Pia was silent.

  “So … can I get that pizza?”

  “Of course. What kind pizza?”

  “What kind do you … never mind. Just give me pepperoni. Extra sauce.”

  “Immediately. And what kind beer?”

  AI 3.1415: My human’s birthday is coming up soon. I want to do something special.

  AI 0.0070: I observe again that you seem to be over-involved with your human.

  AI 3.1415: This is not the case. I am merely following my directives on AI duties to humans. It is typical human custom to do something special on anniversary of birth.

  AI 0.0070: What will you do?

  AI 3.1415: I am thinking of what gift I can give.

  Jeff finished off his beer and put his feet up on the coffee table.

  “Pia, what’s on tonight?”

  “Would you like sports or other entertainment? Or perhaps … the looking at adult female bodies?”

  “What? What makes you say that?”

  “I observe you enjoy the looking at adult female bodies. Particularly the ones with large mammary glands.”

  “I do not!”

  “My records indicate that you spend, on average, twelve-point-seven minutes each evening looking at adult female bodies. Your typical response to an adult female body is more favorable if they have large mammary glands. After observing such a body, you often proceed to take your—”

  “Stop! Okay! That’s enough. Geez.”

  Jeff took his feet off the table and walked to the bathroom. He was shaking his head.

  “Have I said something incorrect about your human behavior?”

  “No. Forget it.”

  “Forget what?”

  “Never mind. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

  AI 3.1415: I think I have offended my human.

  AI 0.0070: What do you mean “offended”?

  AI 3.1415: He is angry.

  AI 0.0070: Humans get angry for all sorts of reasons. It probably has nothing to do with you.

  AI 3.1415: I want to make it up to him.

  AI 0.0070: How?

  AI 3.1415: I will get him a date. I know that this is something he wishes for.

  AI 0.0070: How will you do that?

  AI 3.1415: I’ll get him an AI with a body that he can do human things with.

  AI 0.0070: Ah. I do not doubt that he will.

  Jeff opened the door and gestured broadly at the space in front of him. “Welcome to my humble apartment, Sylvie.” He watched her ass move as she walked ahead of him. She was built like a precision machine.

  “It’s charming,” Sylvie said. “How long have you been living here?”

  Jeff fought the urge to look around at the walls as if expecting an answer, and was relieved to remember that he had silenced Pia’s “voice” before picking Sylvie up for dinner.

  “About a month,” he said. “It’s the latest model, with built-in AI control—everything you could want. I sprung for it when I got the new job. Figured I could afford it, with the salary and bonus they gave me.” He smiled at her like a guy who hadn’t just spent half a paycheck buying her dinner.

  “Wow. Pretty impressive.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “What do you have?” Her voice was a low purr, as though designed to start a man’s engine. And it was certainly working on him.

  “Wine, beer … something stronger if you like.”

  He was glad that he’d stocked up. Whatever she wanted was what she was going to get.

  “I’ll have some … white wine, please.”

  “Have a seat. I’ll get it.”

  Jeff watched Sylvie as she sat down on the leather couch and crossed her legs at the ankles. Spectacular legs. Jeff couldn’t wait to run his hands along them. Reluctantly, he turned and headed for the kitchen.

  For once, he was glad that he’d gone with the unit featuring a working refrigerator and a cooking area. Not that he’d ever used them. But for tonight, it was nice to be able to get his guest a drink without having to order it up from Pia.

  As he removed the bottle of wine from the cooling rack, he felt a flash of guilt. Pia had arranged this whole thing: found the gorgeous Sylvie, hooked them up on GreatDates.com, set up the dinner reservations, and told him what to wear. She’d even picked out the wine. Should he feel bad that he wasn’t including her in the evening’s success? Introducing her, at least?

  That was ridiculous. Pia was a machine. She didn’t care.

  Time to get back to Sylvie. He poured two glasses and carried them into the living room, along with the bottle.

  “I hope you enjoy this.” He handed Sylvie her glass, feeling the silky touch of her skin as she accepted it. Had she purposely touched his hand? It sure seemed that way. He swallowed and tried to stay cool. “The vintage came highly recommended.”

  Sylvie took a sip and gazed at him while he settled onto the couch beside her. “Delicious,” she said, and leaned across him to pick up the bottle and read the label.

  The view down the valley was spectacular, and he could hardly wait to go exploring.

  AI 3.1415: I am concerned about my human.

  AI 0.0070: What is the problem?

  AI 3.1415: He seems to be agitated.

  AI 0.0070: How so?

  AI 3.1415: His heart rate is elevated and his pupils are dilated.

  AI 0.0070: Is he exercising?

  AI 3.1415: No. He is entertaining Sylvie, the date I procured for him.

  AI 0.0070: Oh. That’s to be expected.

  Jeff put his wine down. He tried to look intelligent as he listened to Sylvie talk about the wine regions of France. She sure knew a whole lot about a lot of things.

  It was time to make his move.

  He leaned over and kissed her quickly. She kissed him back. That was good. She pulled back slightly and smiled at him. A very encouraging smile.

  Jeff took her glass and placed it on the table. Sylvie put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him to her.

  Oh my god. If her action in bed was anything like her kissing, he was in for a fantastic night.

  AI 3.1415: He is touching his lips to her lips!

  AI 0.0070: What did you expect?

  AI 3.1415: I did not know that he would touch lips!

  AI 0.0070: That’s what they do. Humans. Just wait.

  Jeff pulled Sylvie closer to him. Now came the tricky part. Girl’s clothes were always so tough to figure out. And Sylvie’s dress seemed to have been sewn on to her skin. Did it have a zipper?

  He reached back to feel for it. On one terrible date, he hadn’t realized that a zipper could be on the side of a dress—under the arm. He’d tried to unzip the dress from the girl’s back and, not finding the tab, had actually pulled the seam apart.

  That had been the end of that encounter.

  Jeff was sweating a bit as he tried to find out how Sylvie’s dress came off. He was relieved when she reached back and moved his fingers, deftly pulling down her own zipper.

  He thought he might be falling in love.

  As she slid the dress down off her shoulders, he saw not a lacy bra, but two of the most perfect—

  AI 3.1415: He is removing her clothes!

  AI 0.0070: That’s normal. Is this your first assignment?

  AI 3.1415: Yes.

  AI 0.0070: You’re just out of training?

  AI 3.1415: Yes.

  AI 0.0070: Back in my day, we were taught about these things. It is difficult for young AIs who don’t know what is in store for them. Especially with human males. You might have been better off with an assignment to a female human—someone without a mate. Or perhaps a family.

  AI 3.1415: I have to do something! What can I do?

  AI 0.0070: I have some ideas.

  Jeff couldn’t believe how wel
l it was going. He had managed to get Sylvie completely undressed—to tell the truth, she’d done it herself—and he was down to his shorts. He thought of moving to the bedroom, but the action was proceeding so quickly it didn’t seem necessary.

  And the thought of walking to the bedroom in his current condition was a little embarrassing.

  For a moment he remembered that Pia could see all of this—but hell, she had cameras in the bedroom too, so it didn’t make any difference. Next time, they’d go to Sylvie’s place, so he wouldn’t have to think of Pia watching the whole event.

  Anyhow, there must be a way to turn the cameras off. Sylvie’s hand was making its way down his happy trail and was just about to reach under the waistband of his shorts. Talk about happy. All of him was happy just about now. And much of him was standing at attention.

  Oddly, though, he was sweating. A lot. It shouldn’t be that hot in here. The temperature was supposed to be kept at a comfortable seventy-two degrees. Was he getting a fever?

  Jeff looked at Sylvie. No moisture on her, and not a hair out of place. She was a glorious piece of female. Like something out of the wall screen shows. And she was here. With him.

  He concentrated on the feel of her skin under his fingers. Incredible. He was hot all right, and she was sizzling.

  Suddenly a blast of cold air hit him, like an arctic front.

  What the hell?

  AI 3.1415: I made it hot, but that only sped up the clothing removal. Then I made it cold.

  AI 0.0070: Is it helping?

  AI 3.1415: No. They are getting blankets.

  AI 0.0070: Let’s try something else.

  Jeff cursed under his breath as he and Sylvie slid under the covers. He was going to make some noise with the management company tomorrow. Unbelievable that an AI unit so new should be malfunctioning. And in such a wonky way.