“Yes. He has that authority now.”
Allie stared at the back door he had effectively blocked by standing in front of it.
“I need to go home, Tommy. Can you please just let me go home? Someone burned down my house, and I need to see if I can salvage anything.”
She told herself she could talk her way out of this. This man—person, whatever he was—was about her same age, and if he had lived with the Madisons all this time, he surely understood how relationships worked. Could he experience emotions? Determine right from wrong?
Good grief, she should have done more research on the subject. She really had no idea how far the technology had advanced, much less how it worked.
“You cannot go home, Allie. You are the target, so your existence must be terminated. I’m sure you understand the decision is out of my hands.”
Somehow she had to get past his sweet, boyish looks and the charm he emanated and understand that apparently he was a cold-blooded killer. She had to be prepared to defend herself.
With what? She surveyed the kitchen for a knife…anything.
Dear God…would a knife even work? Was it possible to stop him?
“I understand you’re disturbed by this news. I suggest we make this as quick and painless as possible. There are a number of options. We can discuss them if you would like, or I can choose and surprise you.”
Her heart quickened, started to pound. This was like a nightmare come to life. She wanted desperately to believe thiswas not actually happening…but it was. She was right here looking her would-be executioner in the eye.
He smiled suddenly. “I’m aware that you’re thinking there has to be a way out of this. Anyone would think the same, but please be advised that I am faster than you. Much stronger than you and far more capable at the art of strategy.”
She was screwed.
There was maybe a dozen feet between them. She stood just inside the wide cased opening that led from the living room into the kitchen area. He stood directly in front of the back door, blocking her escape. She’d made a run for it, dashing up the stairs and toward the back door, which generally didn’t have as complicated a locking system as front doors.
He’d easily overtaken her, but instead of grabbing her, he’d rushed ahead of her and placed himself in her path.
Did that mean he liked to play with his targets?
“Have you had other targets before?”
He blinked, considered her question. “Yes, but only electronic ones. My father and I played games together. Sometimes I even allowed him to win.”
Electronic games. Allie nodded. “So you haven’t ever terminated a living being?”
“No. You are the first living being, as you say, I’ve encountered other than my parents and Mr. Rivero.”
The pieces started to come together in her head. His parents had been devastated when their child died. The mother had said his father would bring him back. She made that promise because his father worked at a cutting-edge lab that was already building robots who looked human and behaved like humans.
What parent wouldn’t do whatever necessary to have their child back?
But this was not a child…this was a grown man. Was this man/machine capable of growing, or had they built a new model as needed and transferred the necessary data?
Oh God, she felt ill.
Steadying herself, she tried another approach. “Tommy, I think there are rules about robots hurting humans. Did anyone talk to you about those rules? Mr. Rivero is a bad man, and what he has asked you to do is illegal and immoral.”
“All targets are evil,” he argued. “You are a target, and therefore you are evil. You must be eliminated.”
“The targets you and your father eliminated were in games, not in real life.”
“Mr. Rivero said the games have invaded real life now. We can no longer trust what we once thought was the difference between this life and those in games.”
Well shoot. That scenario pretty much eliminated any hope of swaying him with reason. Okay. He talked about strategy. Well she had one. And only one, as far as she could see. “Your mother would not want you to do this. She was friends with my mother. You and I played together when we were children…at the other house—the one with the pool.”
He gave her a knowing look. “Targets often make up stories to mislead.”
