Plasticity Page 21

  “Hey, Lexi.”

  “Don't call me that.” His gruff voice would have been intimidating to most people, but not to her.

  “I've got two of your payroll. One above and one below. Let's make a deal.”

  Alex pondered for a moment, turning the idea over in his head. He decided to say nothing. Let her dig her own grave. After only a few seconds of silence, his waiting came to fruition.

  “Which do you want more, the goon or the bitch?”

  Alex again set to thought. He assumed the goon was Cyrus, but he had no idea who the bitch could be. He was going to have to play her game, if he wanted to get back to work. He knew she wouldn't leave him alone until she finished whatever it was that she was currently doing.

  “I can guess the goon, but who's the bitch?”

  “Low level feel-gooder from the clinic.”

  Alex contemplated the options, and it was a small list. Meg, who was here and had been all day, working, and not the sort of person one would refer to in that manner. Jess, who, while he was a bitch in the way most closely related to the usage, was unlikely to be referred to as such, and Cynthia, who was stupid and heartless. It didn't take long for him to figure out who she had.

  “Well, Cyrus is a good guy, aside from his total incompetence and irritatingly aggrandized sense of value. Cynthia is good at her job, but bad at everything else, and relatively replaceable. So, I don't see much of a bargaining chip, here.” He checked the time, and saw that he was expected in a meeting shortly. He needed to wrap this up, but didn't want to do it without making sure it wouldn't come back to haunt him. This girl was not one of the ones you can just disappear. Not because she would be missed, necessarily, although that was part of it, but mostly because she was more likely to disappear whoever was sent after her.

  “Hmm... No sale, huh? Well, word on the street is you've got some AWOL plastic. Whaddo I get if I bring that in?”

  Alex assumed “word on the street” was Cyrus's big mouth. Still, if it cleaned up the missing plastic issue, then what did he care? Cyrus could find a job somewhere else. “I imagine you wouldn't bring that up, unless you had some idea where it was.” Silence. “Okay, I'll bite. What's your price?”

  “Well, that depends. What are you going to do with the plastic when it's returned to you?”

  Alex debated making up a story, then decided to simply tell the truth. “I'm going to wipe it, place it back in storage and wait for the flesh to come in for a proper transfer. It's already been paid for, so it belongs to the flesh, anyway.”

  “So, you're saying your only stake in this is, what? Not having to buy another plastic?”

  He tossed his head back and forth, unseen by his interlocutor. “Yeah, pretty much. That, and to put the poor plastic out of its misery.”

  “So, it's money saving, and having some kind of heart, huh? Who says the plastic is in misery? Or, is that just a euphemism?”

  “Not that I really owe you anything, but, in the spirit of our former relationship, I assume the plastic is a drooling moron. Whoever stole it did the transfer while the flesh was sedated. God only knows how little of the flesh they got in that thing.” He shook his head, and his meeting alert started going off. “Price, quick, or you're going to lose me to a meeting.”

  “Tell you what. I'll think this over, and I'll call you back when you're not so busy.”

  “Portland, wait—” He slumped his shoulders. She had ended the call, and now he had to go into a meeting with this additional stressor weighing on him. It was not ideal.

  Chapter 22: Evil Empire

  Portland ended the phone call and turned to face the gathering, pointing for punctuation. “You're a good guy, but your ego gets in the way. You're good at your job, but you're replaceable. And you're a drooling moron.”

  “That's what I have been saying.” Tabitha ruffled her dress and pouted.

  Alan's face brightened with a sudden realization. “Sarah Chattenberg.”

  Something happened to Tabitha. Her eyes froze in place and dimmed. Portland watched her stiffen up, fists clenched for a few seconds, before relaxing again.

  “Yes, Alan Rice?” A cold robotic response, quite out of character for the little witch-girl.

  “That's what my dad said, when I found the pictures. He was building me a sister named Sarah Chattenberg. It was just that one time, and it was a long time ago, so I had forgotten.” Alan looked at Tabitha with some kind of expectancy, but the girl just stared in a robotic trance.

  “Alan, I think you just activated her, or something. Ask her to do something.” Portland held her voice near a whisper, but the girl did not seem to pay attention to her, anyway.

  “Um, I don't know what to ask her to do. What should she do?”

  “I can think of something...” Hayley started, but Portland cut her off with an authoritative hand gesture.

  “Alan, ask her to shake your hand.”

  Alan Rice looked unsure, and slightly scared, like this was breaching some taboo protocol, but he did as instructed. Tabitha responded by walking, stiffly, toward Alan Rice, and extending her right arm, hand flat, thumb gently elevated. She did not blink, or say a word. Alan Rice took her hand in his, cringing, and shook it limply. The chore complete, the girl dropped her hand to her side and stood completely still, awaiting further instruction.

  “Sarah, punch yourself in the face.” Hayley commanded with an evil grin.

  Portland began to chide her, but stopped when it became apparent that the robot-girl, who used to be a witch-girl, was not going to take commands from Hayley. She decided to test her own command, as well. “Sarah Chattenberg, please shake my hand.” Portland extended her own arm, and waited. The girl made no movement. “Well, there you have it. She only responds to Alan's commands. God help us all.”

  Alan Rice looked up at Portland, clearly confused, but he said nothing about it. Then he looked to Cynthia, who sat facing them, with Lydia Black's hand on her shoulder. As good as in handcuffs, maybe even better. He wondered if she was still a witch. “Sarah Chattenberg, hijack Cynthia Park and make her wave at me.”

  Hayley Prime cast a confused gaze at Cynthia. In all their interactions she had never suspected that Cynthia was prosth, and tonight's conversation made even less sense to her when viewed from this new perspective. Cynthia squirmed beneath Lydia's grip, but it only took a second for her to start waving at Alan. Waving with both hands, like a maniac, her face placid, revealing nothing.

  “You can stop, now.” Alan Rice commanded, and Cynthia Park stopped waving, and slumped, angrily.

  “That... is creepy.” Lydia kept her hand steady on Cynthia's shoulder, thankful that she had put herself into airplane mode before she had been forced to embarrass herself in any way. “So, here's something you may or may not find interesting to think about. Let's say I was going to design a sibling for someone. Would I set that sibling to take commands from said someone?”

  Plastic Hayley, who had been quietly contemplating her flesh version until now, got flashes of her own creation, waiting for her back in the cabin. Propped up on a pole, like a dress-form, in a room the size of a backyard shed. Lifeless, and waiting. Waiting for someone to gift her with life. The most basic of operating systems, accepting commands, and barely thinking for itself. A digital assistant with sex organs. She twisted her face into a combination of pity and disgust.

  “Alan Rice, how old did you say you were when your father made this?” The others looked at her, perhaps in surprise, as if they had forgotten she was there, despite her being a main character.

  “I was a few short weeks into twelve years old when I saw the pictures. Thirty-seven days before the car accident.” Alan Rice was pleased he had remembered the details, despite how long it had been.

  “So, your father built you a twelve-year-old sister, to match your twelve-year-old self, but then set it up to take direct commands? That's not a sister.” Hayley almost felt bad, even though the witch-girl had done far worse to her. “Alan Rice, p
lease ask Sarah Chattenberg to disrobe.”

  Alan Rice took on the face of panic. He darted his eyes from person to person, looking for escape. Looking for someone to let him off the hook. He had plenty of disturbing sexual proclivities, but this kind of thing was not among them. Hayley Acero's eyes stayed on him, though, and he could feel his body working up the heat to begin sweating in anxiety. And some other feeling that he didn't like and was working to convince himself he didn't feel.

  “Hayley Acero... I... I can't. That's wrong.” He stuttered under her stern eyes.

  “Do it.”

  “Sarah Chattenberg...” He, again, looked for salvation and found nothing in the faces of the cold monsters in the room. “Please, disrobe.”

  The girl stood for a moment, without moving, then began to remove her headband. Her pink shoes followed, and then she slid her arms into her sleeves and began to pull the dress up, over her head.

  “Okay, you can stop her, now.”

  “Stop disrobing. Put your clothes back on.” Alan Rice was grateful they had let her stop. He was worried he would have to close his eyes, so he wouldn't be able to remember what he saw, and was glad he did not have to worry about it anymore.

  “So...” Lydia was watching everyone, and she couldn't tell if they were all thinking the same thing, or not. “Not a sister, I'd imagine. At least, not in the way I've got sisters, that's for damn sure.”

  Portland looked at Alan, as if he were to blame. “Well, I guess we know where you get that perv behavior from.” She shook her head and turned her attention to Cynthia.

  “Okay, before we were so disgustingly interrupted, we were discussing your fates.” She motioned to Lydia to let Cynthia up from the chair, but Cynthia did not move, even when Lydia's hand was removed from her shoulder. Portland talked down to her, cajoling, as you would with a small woodland creature. “It's okay, Girl, I'm not gonna hurt you.”

  Cynthia glared at her, but did not get up from her seat.

  “Better do what she says,” Lydia advised. “She's got a pointy rock tied to a stick.” Lydia smirked, and lent an arm down to help Cynthia from her seat. It was ignored.

  Portland did not know what that was a reference to, but filed it away for later examination.

  “You're all just puppets of the robots. You can kill me, but there are more out there who will keep fighting after I'm gone.” Cynthia was doing her best to puff herself up, but she was smaller than either of these two, and she almost doubted she'd even be able to take the plastic Hayley in a fair fight, let alone Portland or Lydia. Just one of the reasons she preferred to not fight fair.

  Portland cocked her head. “Robots?”

  Hayley Prime had not, yet, risen to her feet. Unsure of her own stability, in the face of the existential crisis of meeting herself, and knowing disappointment. She turned her head to face Portland, peripherally seeing Cynthia steadfast in her seat. “Yeah, Portland, didn't you know? Full-body prosthesis is a plot by the evil robots to turn all humans into robots, so they can control them.” She almost had the presence of mind to laugh, but she hadn't had long enough to work any of that out, yet.

  Portland stared, vacantly, at Cynthia for longer than she had intended. After a while, she decided to keep staring, as if the longer she stared without speaking, the more solidly she would make her point.

  Lydia bent down to eye-level with Cynthia and took Cynthia's hand in her own. “Oh, you poor girl. Is there anything we can get you? A drink? A charging cable? A psychiatrist?”

  Cynthia ripped her hand out of Lydia's. “Go ahead, laugh about it. That doesn't make it untrue. You're just playing their game, doing your part to wipe out humanity.”

  Lydia probably could have tried, but Portland knew you couldn't argue with that. They were doing their part to rid the world of humanity. And it was for the better, for the most part.

  “We're not going to kill you, but, what will you do, now that we have foiled your plan?” Portland had walked to Cynthia, as it was clear she was not going to follow directions.

  Cynthia had been doing her best to think about this since they had crashed into the room, and had yet to come to a decision. Her boss knew she was captured, but didn't care, and she wasn't sure if he knew it was she who had orchestrated the theft of the plastic from the hospital. Either way, she was probably out of the job, and that probably didn't matter much, in the grand scheme of things. Her idiot henchmen were outside the door, helpfully doing exactly what she told them to do, for once in their useless lives. She doubted they would be able to get her out of this situation, anyway, but at least they could have come in when they heard the door get destroyed. What did they think was going on in here, anyway? Idiots. But, she did have access to both the flesh girl and her plastic version, and they still had the documentation that would prove the intent of the robots. However, her journalist comrade had disappeared, with no word to anyone, and was completely unreachable, and it would be difficult to expose the truth on her own. She might be able to find someone else in the press to spread it to the rest of the world, but, for now, she could start with her own site. She had a decent readership, and good traffic numbers.

  “My plan is not, necessarily, foiled, though. Both versions are here, I've already recorded them together. Now I just need to tell the world.” She looked up into Portland's face, expecting, well, something, but she saw nothing in those empty white eyes.

  “Hmm.” Portland backed away from Cynthia. “And, if we let you go, what are the chances you'll be back, abducting bitches and what-not?”

  “I already have the proof I need, plus, with them both out there, my network of people could easily display the evidence without having to get the two together again. I don't think I'd need to abduct anyone, again.” Some light at the end of the tunnel for her, at least.

  “What if I turn the plastic over to Lexi and he wipes her and puts the flesh in her like he wants to? What would you do, then?”

  Both Hayleys looked at her with fear. They had assumed she wouldn't turn the plastic one in. Alan and Cyrus also appeared concerned at this development. For different reasons, though.

  “That's my job. If anyone's taking Hayley back to the hospital, it's me.” Cyrus didn't sound so confident, but he had yet to solidify any kind of job with the rich dude, and he still had bills to pay, even if his wife got the kids. Especially if his wife got the kids.

  Portland held out a hand, to silence or dissuade, Cyrus wasn't sure. “Make you a deal.” She started grinning. “I'll trade you for the guy with the cattle prod.”

  Cynthia was confused, at first, not understanding what she had said. After a moment's thought, she realized that she was looking for revenge for the break-in. Whatever Dave's problems may have been, she didn't believe he deserved to be killed for this. She held out, in silence, not wanting to believe that she would betray anyone to save herself, no matter how much she wanted to. It could have been a test, anyway. Giving up Dave might be failing the test, or something.

  Portland stood by, silent, waiting. Hayley Prime, however, knew they didn't have to wait for Cynthia to give them anything. Vengeance was just outside the door.

  “Dave is the guy with the cattle prod. He's outside that door, right now, with a man named Truman.” Hayley Prime pointed to the smaller door in the far wall. “Truman was nice to me, so please don't hurt him. Dave, I'm pretty sure, prodded me and you. I'm still sore from it, and it has been hours.”

  Portland looked to Hayley Prime with a kind smile and a wink. “Thank you, Prime.”

  Plastic Hayley looked at her flesh version, impressed. She did not believe she would have been so cold when turning someone over to their death. She had spent so much time hating these people, that she was surprised to find herself feeling sympathy for them. There was a time when she had wished death upon each one of them, but now, she didn't really feel that was fair. Maybe they deserved some punishment, but the more she thought about it, the weaker the punishment seemed to get, until it became nothing more
than a desire to let bygones be bygones. There were bigger things for her to worry about, now.

  “Cynthia, Darling, be a peach and call your boys in here.” Portland wasn't sure if it was better to do it in here, with everyone watching, or go out into the hallway, but she believed she could always change her mind later. Cynthia was not about to play along, though. She sat with her mouth closed as hard as she could, refusing to follow Portland's orders.

  “Your obstinance is almost respectable. If it weren't so misplaced, you could have used it to affect some actual change in this world, I'm sure of it.” Portland wasn't too upset, though, as she had worked up a backup plan, working under the assumption that Cynthia was not going to do anything she told her to do. She looked at Hayley Prime. “They know you're in here with her, so I imagine they would not be surprised if you went to the door and told them that their boss wants to see them, right?”

  Hayley Prime stood up casually, without thinking, surprising herself. Maybe she had been fine to stand up the whole time, and it was just a psychological issue that had made her feel weak and unsure. She took the opportunity to approach Portland for the first time since they had come to rescue her. “I'd be glad to help, but first...” She took Portland's face in her hands and guided her down, placing her lips against Portland's.

  Portland held one arm behind Hayley's back, and let the other rest gently on Hayley's hip. Normally she would not engage in public displays of this nature, but she had not realized how much she had wanted this. How much she had missed the girl, in such a short period of time. When Hayley finally released her lips, she did not pull away, and Portland set her lips to Hayley's forehead in a soft kiss that lingered beyond the threshold of a simple kiss. Portland had to fight back the urge to give up this whole situation, and simply retire to her apartment with Hayley, forgetting everything else that had happened over the past day. She was surprised to find how much of the fight had been taken out of her, and how little she really cared about revenge in that moment. The girl was making her soft, and she wasn't sure how bad of a thing it really was.