Re-Wired Read online

  “This is a college auditorium?” he asked Priscilla as they walked around the lit corridor that bordered the raised stage. Floating ads popped up in front of them as they made their way to their seats.

  “You’re definitely not a sports fan, are you? But that’s okay, baby, we can work on that,” she said as she pinched his cheek playfully. “This is the auditorium for the Supersonics! If a college team had anything near the level of this thing, I would assume the city would have a fit.”

  They sat in their seats and Brad exhaled in relief. The anxiety of walking through the crowd had put him on edge. Priscilla rested her hand on his thigh and he lifted it up to his face and kissed it gently. She looked over at him and smiled, then snuggled into his arms. The announcer shouted out declarations of grandeur for the two teams as they began to file onto the court to begin their warm-ups.

  Soon the game started and Brad was actually enjoying it as the teams were quite competitive and the players showed off their tremendous skills. He smiled and clapped when someone sank a three-pointer or slammed the ball over someone else, but Priscilla was on a completely different level of hype. She was on her feet screaming, pumping her fists, and becoming quite emotional when their team was down. The whole display should have been obnoxious, but to Brad and a number of men in attendance, it was quite cute and attractive.

  One of the men that saw her bouncing up and down with glee couldn’t take his eyes off her, as if she had a spell on him that he couldn’t break. Brad saw him staring and began to stare back, making sure the man knew that Priscilla was his and he should find someone single to leer at. The man saw Brad staring and smiled at him, recognizing the sort of pathetic jealousy that came with a pretty girl. If Brad could have seen himself he would be disappointed and upset, but he had taken some pills before they headed out, and he assumed that this was him being confident.

  Brad tried to bring Priscilla in close to let her admirer see that she was with him. This action brought around an annoyed Priscilla who looked to see why Brad wanted to be close during a time that didn’t warrant it. First she looked at him with a slight question in her smile, then she looked around to see who was seeing them being clingy—which was a point of embarrassment for her—and that was when she saw her admirer laughing at the exchange.

  “Are you serious, Bradley?” she asked, shocked by his behavior. The home team was being demolished, so she motioned to him for them to leave. Brad was more than happy to get out of there, but Priscilla was quiet and walked ahead of him rather quickly. As they walked out of the coliseum he grabbed her hand and spun her around so that she had to look at him.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t do well with crowds and that guy was looking at you like he—“

  “Like he what, Bradley? Like he wanted to sleep with me? Guys are going to look at me, and I don’t want you trying to fight all of them for it. You’re a sweet guy so don’t act like the jerks I used to date, please.”

  He liked the way she called him Bradley; it was almost her pet name for him, just like “Priss” was what he had for her. The moniker came from a popular children’s cartoon that Brad had watched and loved as a child—even though he would still tune in whenever it was on. Prissy Missy was the name of the title character, and she was a sassy black detective with super powers. Brad loved the art and the veiled adult humor, so when he heard Priscilla’s name, it was the first thing that had gone through his mind. The jealousy was stupid, but he would be lying if he said that he would ever be okay with another man looking at her.

  “It was stupid,” he said as they slowly walked to her car, she in front, him trailing behind.

  “What’s stupid?”

  “My actions just now. I’m not sorry for staring that guy down for his wandering eyes, but I am sorry for getting you mixed up in it by trying to pull you in to kiss me. You are the most beautiful girl I know, so of course people are going to stare. I’m just not used to it; this is all a new experience for me.”

  “I’m still mad at you but I won’t lie, you make me feel like a queen. You’re different, and this is why what you did just now is so not you. Who cares if some creep stares at me? We all have eyes and I didn’t even notice it. Life is too short to be so petty.”

  She didn’t understand how Brad felt, but being with her was like being on guard duty all day long against the men of the city that overstepped their boundaries. It was the same with Tricia, and he had grown accustomed to stepping up when necessary. He felt silly for his actions at the basketball game, but if he hadn’t done that the guy would have made it a point to come over and talk to her.

  They found a cozy little shop off the beaten path to get some espressos. Priscilla ordered a Danish to go along with her coffee and Brad had a shot of espresso by itself. They sat on the outside and continued their conversation, while sipping away at their drinks.

  “All my life, I’ve seen smaller, smarter guys have their girlfriends taken away by big buffoons that liked to talk. It made me realize that I would be fighting an uphill battle with women throughout my lifetime,” he finally said.

  “Really, Bradley? You should give us women a little credit. Any woman that gives up a good man for someone like that is a fool in her own right. I think those smart guys are better off without them. I’m not a fool, so no need to go trying to fight people for me.”

  He nodded. “How’s work?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

  She let him. “Not bad, actually. Our IT department stinks, and I find myself doing my own troubleshooting daily, but that’s all I can complain about.”

  “What sort of troubleshooting? You know that’s my area.”

  “Look at you trying to play the hero again. Bradley, you got this.” She motioned at her entire body with a gesture that was almost seductive. “There’s no need to guard, hold-down, or fight anyone over me. I’m your girl, alright? Plus you haven’t noticed the way other women look at me when we’re out. I could easily assume the role of overprotective mate, too.”

  “Other girls give you looks?”

  “All the time. It’s pretty funny to me the way they flash hate in their eyes.”

  “What’s funny is that if it were me alone at these places, those same girls wouldn’t look twice at me or give me the time of day. It’s just how people are. Upset when you’re with someone and they aren’t. It doesn’t matter how that someone looks to them. It’s all so damn silly.”

  The table was small, so they were extremely close even though they sat across from one another, and Priscilla leaned in for Brad to kiss her. They stayed like that for a time, letting their kiss erase the embarrassment of the earlier hours during the basketball game, and refocus them on how they felt about one another. People that walked by and saw them locked into this kiss merely smiled, dispelling their earlier thoughts that singles disliked all couples that showed public displays of affection.

  They walked the town afterwards, taking in the people and the general atmosphere of the Seattle nightlife. They went into a bar to get a few drinks and the mood lightened when Priscilla got a little tipsy from the beer. They were at a high-top table in the rear of the near-empty bar and she was giggling uncontrollably. Everything was a joke, and the volume control seemed to break in her voice box as she cackled loudly and became a bit obnoxious.

  “CAN YOU EVEN FIGHT, BRAD?” she asked, and he looked around to see who had heard her.

  “Of course I can fight.”

  “When was the last time you got into an actual fight?”

  How about we take it back to the car, Priss? I think you’ve had enough.”

  “No, I’m okay, babe, just having a laugh. Calm down, relax. You’re too uptight.”

  He looked at her to remind himself how lucky he was to be with her but suddenly there was a flash of bright light, and he saw Tricia looking at him, plain as day. Then her face blurred and he was on the floor of the bar, looking around.

  “Brad!” Priscilla was yelling
. She came around and helped him to his feet as he held his head and looked about, wondering what had come over him. Priscilla smelled good, so he hugged her close, and took her outside where they walk-stumbled until they found a bench to sit on and watch people walk by. The night air felt wonderful. It was chilly but not to the point where it was uncomfortable, and the sky was clear, its darkness broken only by the large white orb of the moon.

  He sat and watched the people walk by while Priscilla fell asleep next to him. He wasn’t tipsy or drunk so he wondered why it was that he had blacked out and fallen at the bar. No one had made to help him, except Priscilla, who wasn’t in much better shape than he was. He let her sleep for half an hour before shaking her awake and helping her back to the car. They’d had enough excitement for one night, and while he had wanted to spend more time with her, she was worn out, and couldn’t do much more. She was leaving for Miami the next day, and they had argued. He wanted it to be different, but all he could do was drive her home.

  0 1 0

  The black car pulled up to the front of the red brick building and detective Homer Montgoya parked it down near a tree and waited. It wasn’t often that a violator of rule 59 presented himself, and he wondered what manner of pervert he would see exiting the house. He pulled up the warrant and shook his head at the charges. The front door of the red brick opened, and Professor James Leroy Anthony stepped out. He was stopped by a beautiful woman who adjusted his sweater vest and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Well, if anything, I gotta say the old man has taste,” Montgoya muttered to himself as he exited the vehicle.

  He crossed the lawn at a brisk space. He raised his stun gun at the man. “Mister James L. Anthony?”

  The man turned around, surprised to see the police officer on his lawn. “Yes, I am James Anthony…”

  “You are under arrest for the crime of mechanophilia. Please turn around, get on your knees, and place your hands on your head.”

  “I will comply, officer. What crime have I committed—besides the assumed—for me to get this level of embarrassment at my home? I am a proper citizen, and a professor. Who would make these accusations against me?”

  “You’re a pervert, professor, and our government doesn’t want perverts in society. Think about it for a minute, will you?” He cuffed the older gentleman and stood him up before dusting off the dirt that was now on the knees of his corduroy pants. “Men like you professor, brilliant men who train the geniuses of the future, should be populating the earth with your seed. If our beloved government allows you all to choose machines over warm, breathing human beings, who would produce more men and women like you? The spice-heads and drunk losers of society?”

  “I appreciate your kindness, and gentleness in this detective, and I overreacted as none of my neighbors seem to be up yet. I wouldn’t like the gossip, since none of them know about my beloved Constance. It isn’t…perversion. It’s—it’s a long story.”

  Montgoya placed him in the passenger seat, ignoring his safety protocol so that the people who would see them would assume the professor was a friend and not a criminal. “It’s a long drive back to the station, professor, so why don’t you explain it to me. Look, I can’t change our laws, no matter how absolutely stupid they are, but I want to understand. What makes a man love a machine?”

  “We all have our reasons, detective. There is no grand organization of robo-lovers where we swear off partners in lieu of androids or anything like that. My personal reason came about when the love of my life died from the cow disease. Marcy was my partner in everything, and a brilliant engineer in her own right. When I lost her so suddenly my life was in shambles, and what came of it was a partner that would not be vulnerable to diseases, poisons, or the cruelty of our humanity.”

  “How long ago did you build her?”

  “We’ve been together five years now. The government has been hypocritical about machines and what we can and cannot do. The military androids are not given restraints, and have routinely shown the human traits of PTSD, trouble adapting to civilian society, and much, much more. Is it not evident that with intelligence, even a machine can be cared for? Or do we need another long age of prejudice and ignorance before we realize that we are wrong in our limitation?”

  “That’s too deep for me, prof. I’m just a simple cop doing his job. What I don’t get is that the perverts who lust after our kids are given treatment and set free—void of their functional parts, of course—but we put guys like you in jail for months at a time. I would love to let you go, delete the paperwork, and pretend that I never saw you, but I guess you haven’t been watching the news. You’re part of a large scale crackdown on robo-lovers.”

  J.L. Anthony sat back quietly and thought on his long career. They would lock him up for a month, and he would lose his job at the University. Even worse, they would take Constance away from him. She would be restrained, and her memory wiped, then she would more than likely be converted into a servant. The tears fell from his eyes as he thought about life without her. She was his everything, and even though the detective was nice and respectful, he couldn’t stop what would become the end of a long and illustrious career.

  “I appreciate you talking to me and hearing my side, detective. You have a kind heart, and I wish you a long and prosperous career—“

  “Whoa, don’t be so morbid professor. You sound like life itself is over. You know that all of this is a political show, right? Some schlep is running for governor and wants to show the religious-types that he’s all about the sanctity of good ‘straight’ relationships. Consider it a month’s vacation, and then afterwards you get to go back to your life of pencils and mechanics.”

  “I wish it were that easy young man, but even an android cannot be replaced when love is involved. I am truly sorry.” He pushed open the door and jumped. They were on the topmost highway which was well above the tallest buildings in the city, and before Montgoya could react he was plummeting to his death. He fell through the midlevel and lower highways, smashing into cars as he did, and was dead before landing in front of a crowd of people looking to cross the street. The fall brought about a chaotic stampede of panic. People were not used to seeing someone die, let alone someone falling from several stories above on the secure highway.

  “Ah, damn it!” Montgoya yelled, as he thought about how he would explain the old man being in the front seat.

  He shifted gears and made to land, but there would be no explanation for the suicide. For all he knew, he was in a world of trouble due to the professor’s decision. J.L. Anthony was a legend in the robotics world, and his death would bring about a large discussion on androids. People would once again question why the laws against loving an artificial human were so harsh and wonder if the police department executed him. On top of that, the fact that many people saw the professor’s wife being an android as a minor, personal thing meant that his suicide would be deemed unnecessary and a fault of the police department and their government puppet masters.

  0 1 0

  When Brad had shown the professor his progress on Tricia, the old man had beamed with pride. At the time, Brad thought his excitement was due to him going above and beyond on the assignment, but Dr. Anthony was elated that Tricia was similar to what he had done with his wife, Constance. After the suicide, the internet went ballistic. Every other country had feedback on the United States’ record of repressive laws. Everyone knew that religion was to blame for the country’s motivation and old arguments resurfaced in the community.

  The death, and the fact that the professor had an android for a wife, brought out android activists. They rallied for Constance‘s release to them, since androids in a case like this would be sent to a chop shop to die. The peaceful city of Seattle turned violent and young people flooded the streets in protest, refusing to comply with the police until Constance was freed. Brad, tearful and saddened at his mentor’s death, joined in with the protestors and he took Tricia with him. It was the firs
t time she had been outside in a long time, and while the cause was important, she glowed simply by being a part of the experience. She loved having the opportunity to fight for her own rights.

  Every day they would march out there with signs that read “HYPOCRITE!” and scream at the police that tried in vain to keep order. Occasionally the police would fire canisters into the crowd, which would emit a white smoke that made them feel sleepy, and quiet them down for a time. People began to wear masks, and things heated up, even resulting in a few people getting shot.

  After a week had passed, Brad seemed tired of protesting. He had been talking daily to Priscilla while she was away and when she came back in town he disappeared from Tricia’s side to see her. He was so excited to see Priscilla that he told Tricia that she could freely come and go as she pleased. When he left, Tricia took the opportunity to walk around the city. One day she walked for twelve hours straight, taking in the high-rises, the quaint coffee shops, and the young vendors inside of them. It made her wish she was human, so that she could not only taste the treats inside, but hunger for them as pleasant memories of places that she’d visited.

  It was late in the evening when she rounded the block of a nice neighborhood and saw a large red brick house bordered by electric wire. The slight touch of the wire would shut her down immediately, so the sight of it frightened her and she quickly crossed the street to the other side. As she did this she began to hear a loud pinging noise inside her head that was unlike anything she had ever heard before. The pinging got louder and more painful the further she went away from the fence, so she got near it again to reduce the pain. She looked around to make sure that no one was observing her odd behavior. Please, help me, a soft voice echoed in her head, and she wondered if the fence was meant to find droids and pull them to their deaths.

  She closed her eyes and answered the voice; it was a new way of communicating for her that she did not realize she had. The fence will kill me if I get near it, who are you? She asked.