Our social media experiment seems to have really paid off.
Carlisle still isn’t happy with her, of course. I’m beginning to suspect the principal doesn’t like Lucy at all for other reasons, and this is just one more to add to the list. Earlier this week when Toby Grafton arrived personally with his TV crew and toured the school, Carlisle was completely accommodating, all smiles. Everyone was. It was the closest taste anyone here had of being viral or famous.
When they asked to sit in on a World History class, Lucy agreed, so long as I could teach it solo and she could remain out of the frame. They wanted to interview her too, but she declined. She deliberately made certain she was never caught on camera.
“I know what you’re going to ask,” she said to me gently before I could even inquire. “I just like my privacy, that’s all.”
But everyone else was eager to be included. Some of them were even kind and chatty with me, Sullivan among them, who never gave me a single decent word in the past.
Funny how technology as simple as a camera makes so many humans act fake. And people say I’m artificial.
Now, as we wait for takeoff, Lucy watches theDaily’s finished news segment that was sent to school staff before it airs.
“What’s next on the list?”Toby Grafton narrates as the camera pans over students waving to it. “A school fundraiser is scheduled to help raise money for a new gymnasium roof. And Atticus definitely plans on being there to support his people. Back to you, Jan.”
Lucy exits the video. “That was great. You were amazing, teaching the kids, answering questions. It’s going to be hard for people to treat you like you’re just a machine now.”
My diagnostic scans indicate she’s jittery, but she’s putting on her best tough front. “Are you all right?” I ask. “Something seems to be bothering you.”
“It’s nothing,” she insists. “I told them to keep me out of sight, but they still got me a few times. It’s probably not a big deal. I doubt anyone will see me.”
“Is that all that’s bothering you?”
“No.” Lucy sighs. “Nothing gets past you, does it? I guess I’m a little worried about bringing you with me. I know it’s only for the weekend, and I got verbal authorization, but I wouldn’t put it past Carlisle to change her mind and come down on me again.”
“I wouldn’t worry. The majority of the faculty fluctuates between wanting to break me into pieces or ignoring my presence entirely,” I reply. “Social calls may not be what BioNex had in mind when they designed me, but we can say it’s free publicity if she decides to cause a fuss.”
Lucy laughs as our eyes meet then shyly looks away. I wish she wouldn’t. I want to memorize those brown eyes, every streak of amber and every fleck of gold. I continue confusing myself, trying to understand why I’m drawn to her in this way, why my gratification drive goes into overload trying to make her happy in any and every way possible.
I’m gifted with an ability no other android is inherently programmed with. Not yet, anyway. And that is to pick up on and read human behaviors and emotions. Perhaps that is why I’m suddenly so responsive and eager to please her. I know she wants me. I want her to be happy. Therefore, I want her to have me.
So much it’s frustrating me, another new and uncomfortable sensation I could do without.
I try to think of something, anything, to direct her attention back toward me as the plane takes off. She grips the armrests as we lurch into the air.
“Are yousureyou’re all right?” I ask, frowning.
“Kinda,” she manages, exhaling. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
Well, that’s a lie, and not a very convincing one. I furrow my brow. “Your vitals say otherwise.”
She bites back a groan, exasperated. “All right, fine. I’m scared of flying, okay?” She shuts her eyes and hasn’t slid open the window shade to view the scenery outside as the ground gets smaller and smaller beneath us. “It’s why I chose to drive to St. Morgan instead of let my parents pay for a moving company while I flew into Chicago.”
“Lucy,” I say calmly.
“What?” She opens one eye to peer at me and sees my hand open to her.
Hesitant at first, she finally takes it and holds it tightly. Touching her is electric and sends little sparks of delight through my entire mainframe. I gently squeeze her hand.
“It’s going to be all right,” I tell her. “You know, you’re far more likely to get into a car accident than you are a plane crash.”
“Yes,” she scoffs. “But at least you cansurvivea car accident. You can’t really survive crashing in a death trap from thousands of feet high.”
I’ll hold her hand for as long as she needs me to. “I guess you’re right. Why did you agree to visit New Carnegie if you’re so frightened?”
“I love Amber. She’s my best friend,” Lucy replies as the flight attendant hands out drinks and snacks to passengers. “And she spent a good deal of money to do this. I wasn’t going to let her down.”
“You could have told her you struggle with flights.”
