Android X: Books 1-3: Android X

By Michael La Ronn

This collection contains all three books in the Android X Series: Android Paradox, Android Deception and Android Winter. Buy now and save over buying each book individually!

When two equally intelligent androids face off against each other, who wins?

The year is 2300. Humans and androids live in peace after a devastating singularity and years of war.

Xandifer "X" Crenshaw is a special agent android for the United Earth Alliance. His job is to track down rogue androids and destroy them to keep the world safe.

When another android agent goes maverick and starts a killing spree, the fallout could shatter the alliance between humans and androids forever. X hunts him down, but what seems like a simple operation turns weird fast when X discovers that he's up against something far more sinister that is just as intelligent as him. And whatever it is, is also holds the key to X's forgotten past.

The future belongs to humans and androids...or is that a paradox?

 

V1.0

• Language: English
• Publisher: Author Level Up LLC
• Release date: Aug 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781386491712

Michael La Ronn

Science fiction and fantasy on the wild side! Michael La Ronn is the author of many science fiction and fantasy novels including The Last Dragon Lord, Android X, and Eaten series. In 2012, a life-threatening illness made him realize that storytelling was his #1 passion. He’s devoted his life to writing ever since, making up whatever story makes him fall out of his chair laughing the hardest. Every day. To get updates when he releases new work + other bonuses, sign up by visiting www.michaellaronn.com/list

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

X, are you going to say anything, or are you going to sit there and stare out the window?

X sat in the cockpit of the plane as it eased over the Caribbean Sea. He had been processing the conversation and heard every word, but at the same time, he was thinking of dead bodies and the mission ahead.

His partner, Shortcut, elbowed him from the pilot’s seat. I hate it when you do that. Sometimes you’re too human for me.

Sorry.

I still can’t get over how cool your emotional program is.

X continued his silence, shifting in his leather seat. He got that twitching feeling that swept over him at the beginning of missions like these—that feeling when he’d have to kill. His chips crunched a million potential scenarios as he loosened his black tie and set it on the dashboard. He ran one hand across his bald head and stroked his goatee with the other, a move he had observed from the commander of the android squad—a pensive gesture.

Shortcut coughed. I can’t ever get used to the dry air in these ships. It just sticks in your throat, like an itch you can’t scratch. He adjusted his cap, and his left iris lit up as data streamed across his contact lens. He wore a white button-up shirt loosely tucked into blue jeans. He was skinny and his cheeks were covered with brown freckles. I’ve got a weird feeling about this mission. Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.

I wouldn’t know.

Yeah, Shortcut said, yawning. You androids don’t have to sleep. Don’t remind me.

The dashboard beeped as they approached their destination. A four-dimensional map of an island appeared, blinking and rotating. A human face appeared in a square at the top left of the screen—a wizened, tanned face with a flat nose, green eyes, and a stern air. The man wore a military cap and a blue uniform with a golden pin of a winged Earth on his chest.

X and Shortcut nodded and said, Fahrens, sir.

Brockway is still on the island. We’ve got ships around the perimeter. The mission is still a go.

We just arrived, Shortcut said. We’re just waiting for your orders.

Your mission is to kill, Fahrens said, looking at X. We need the black box.

Can you tell us exactly what happened again? Shortcut asked.

Two days ago, Richard Brockway, an android soldier in the United Earth Alliance, was on patrol in a shopping mall. We don’t know why, but he went berserk and started a massacre. He unloaded his ammunition, killing one hundred people without wasting a single bullet. Then he bludgeoned twenty people to death with a steel pipe before authorities arrived. He evaded the police, and he escaped the city by boat. He was last seen in Aruba before his black box was disconnected. Shortly after that, the entire island disconnected from the grid.

"An android has never gone that berserk, Shortcut said. Not since the singularity of 2199."

Fahrens kept his face blank. That’s why we need the black box to figure out what went wrong. The Council needs to know if we’re dealing with an irregularity or something more serious. He paused when he saw X staring out the window. You’re awfully quiet, X.

X unclicked the nylon seatbelt across his shoulders and stood up. He adjusted one of his wrists, sliding a ring of skin counterclockwise; it glowed as a gun inside his wrist warmed up, giving off waves of heat. I just don’t understand why he did it.

I know Brockway was an acquaintance of yours, Fahrens said. I wouldn’t have sent you, but we’re short on agents. The rest of the squad is cleaning up Brockway’s massacre. We’re not going to be able to keep this contained for very long. When the public finds out, we’ll need to have answers.

X nodded. Brockway broke the UEA laws. Whenever an android kills a human without justification, he must die.

Good luck, you two, Fahrens said. He disconnected and the screen went dark, replaced by the image of the island. The navigation panel beeped again.

Shortcut stood up and stretched. We’re here.

They walked down a long corridor to the back of the plane.

X pumped his fists several times, feeling his fingernails dig into his skin. He sensed Shortcut’s breath behind him—that quick, telltale gasp that signaled that a question was coming.

It’s a double standard, don’t you think? Shortcut asked.

What?

What Brockway did. We’re going to destroy him for creating so much bloodshed, but if I killed you now, I’d only get a few years in jail.

And no connection to the grid, X said. For a human, that’s a fate worse than death.

Shortcut rubbed the back of his head and grinned sheepishly. Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m probably irritating you with my questions.

Shortcut did ask a lot of questions. Maybe it was because he was in the presence of an android, and humans always felt the need to talk more around them. Probably to fill the space of androids calculating their words a million times per second. But Shortcut was new to the UEA, and they’d only been working together for a few months.

Shortcut was his human assistant. He was X’s engineer; he fixed him and gave him upgrades. He also provided backup and tech support while on missions. X was the muscle, but Shortcut made the muscling possible. He always staked out locations ahead of missions and identified any problems ahead of time so that X could calculate how to get around them. Since Shortcut was a human, he could sneak into places undetected; X had the unmistakable signal of an android, and even though the UEA scrambled his signal every few hours, it was no use when he was up against another android.

Shortcut had been shy when they first met, but once he had warmed up to X, he never shut up. X didn’t mind—he filtered him out and answered the questions that mattered.

X grabbed a wetsuit off the wall and squeezed into it. The suit hugged his body and squeaked as he stretched his arms and legs. He detected the smell of fresh rubber, and Shortcut scrunched up his nose as the scent reached him. Then he strapped on a parachute. He walked over to a door in the wall with a touch panel in front. He placed his hand on it, and the door opened, revealing an arsenal of weapons—guns, knives, and brass knuckles. He grabbed one of each and placed them on his utility belt.

Shortcut jumped into a sliding chair in the middle of the room and used his contact lens to create a holographic digital screen in front of him. He manipulated it with his fingers, making the island grow bigger with a twist of his wrist. He winked, and the lights shut off, the freckles on his face glowing like luminescent specks.

Hard to imagine why he’d pick a tourist trap like Aruba, he said. He cocked his head, and the capital city blinked on the western side of the island. Brockway’s probably in Oranjestad. He touched the capital with two fingers, flipped it upward and zoomed in on a beach just south of the city.

I sent mini-drones ahead. They planted a change of clothes beneath a tree on the beach here. It’ll help you blend in with the locals. Considering that you’re also black, you shouldn’t have any problems staying off the radar for a while.

Got it. Thanks for the tip.

We won’t be able to communicate, since the island isn’t connected to the grid. If we try to talk to each other, it’ll send a signal to Brockway and he’ll know you’re there. So you’re on your own, buddy.

X pressed a button on the wall, and the back of the plane opened up, exposing the sky. Nothing new.

He jumped and flew down to meet the cool blue of the Caribbean. He tunneled through the air, held out his hands and bent his knees as he entered free fall, the cold air whipping against his body as he rotated in the direction of the island. The air entered his mouth, and though he couldn’t actually taste it, he sensed traces of ozone as his body created friction in the air.

The water sparkled below, and the clouds formed shadow lakes on the surface. He surveyed the waves. Even though he was ten thousand feet in the air, he saw the tiny shapes of fish swimming below the surface, and the sunken, shriveled silhouettes of coral reefs below them.

Nothing dangerous. No sharks. X disliked sharks. They could turn a mission like this into hell.

He turned and edged himself into an arc. He entered a cloud and fell through an expansive flood of white. When he exited, Aruba appeared, orange and brown. An interactive grid overlaid his vision, first a sequence of zeroes and ones, then a three-dimensional landscape with the mission specs laid across it. In a split second, avatars and names of important places appeared on the virtual landscape. On the far side of the city near the coast was a blinking orange dot.

The port—Brockway’s last known location.

With a hand signal, X deployed his parachute, and it ballooned in a transparent bloom above him. The fabric took the color of the sky, special UEA technology that made him harder to spot.

The parachute had a propeller attached to it, and X activated it with a lever, steering himself toward the coast. As he neared the city, he noted the street architecture and stored it in his memory for future knowledge. In a single glance, he knew the entire layout of the city and the population density. He calculated a route to the port: several miles of road past the airport, into the south side of the city, through the skewed streets that led to the docks.

He hit the water and went under. A school of fish darted away as he sank. He didn’t need to breathe; instead, he pulled down the parachute as it landed in the water, cut the straps and dove down toward the ocean floor. He grabbed a rock and placed it on top of the chute. The material flapped in the ocean current, taking on the colors of the reef as it wavered in the water.

He swam up in perfect form and flawless precision, each stroke getting him the farthest distance possible. He stopped just below the surface, stuck out his head, and waited for several minutes, watching for activity on the island. If Brockway had spotted him, there would be speedboats on their way to meet him by now.

Nothing. He swam as fast as he could for the beach. The waves slammed into him, but he kept a straight line, not stopping until he reached the coast.

He emerged in a shallow bay and climbed onto a white beach. He kicked off his fins and his feet dug into the soft sand. The air was salty with a tinge of brine, and seagulls fanned out over him, cawing on their way to the port. He scanned the area—no people. Just a gnarled divi divi tree a few paces away, its unruly branches creaking quietly in the breeze. An orange dot blinked over the tree with Shortcut’s smiling face just below it.

He ran to the dot and dug several feet into the sand. He pulled out a leather knapsack; inside was a Hawaiian shirt with parrots all over it, khaki shorts, sandals, a gold chain, and a pair of black sunglasses. There was also a letter in an encrypted language. X scanned it and the code rearranged itself into a sentence: BE SURE TO TAKE PICTURES. I HEAR THE PLACE IS BEAUTIFUL!

X shook his head as he changed clothes. Shortcut was always inserting humor when it wasn’t appropriate to do so. It made for interesting missions, at least.

The Hawaiian shirt felt light and non-existent compared to the thick wetsuit. His gold chain was warm and raised the temperature on his chest. The sunglasses were stylish but extraneous—his vision was not affected by changes in light. But he put them on because they would help him blend in.

He brushed sand off his shoulder and started for the road.

Why weren’t there any people? He scanned the area as he walked, but saw no one. He came to a parking lot with a fleet of flying Jeeps, probably for a tour group. With still no one in sight, he climbed into one of the Jeeps and commandeered it. The Jeep purred quietly as he drove down the coastal highway, deeper into enemy territory.

He abandoned the Jeep at a gas station just outside the city limits. The station was closed and the lights off. A sign in the window said: CLOSED UNTIL THE CRAZY ANDROID LEAVES.

He started into town, entering via an alley of multi-colored Dutch-style houses. The houses went on for miles, a rainbow of color against the clear blue sky. The windows on every home were shuttered and boarded up as if there was a hurricane approaching. The only sound was the breeze and the crunch of his sandals on the dusty street.

X measured the temperature of the buildings with a sweep of his head. There were people inside the houses, and from the heat signals, he assumed they were at the windows, watching him.

His instinct chip buzzed. An algorithm, calculating everything he observed, told him that the chance of a dangerous encounter was one hundred percent.

There was nowhere to go but up. He jumped onto a crate and climbed into the grilled terrace of a window as two black men with machine guns emerged from an alley and passed underneath him.

No sign, no nada, one of the men said. I’m tired of scouring dis city up and down for nothing.

That android’s payin’ us big bucks, though.

X heard a sound from the window behind him. A little boy with nappy hair and gaps between his teeth looked out at him. X put his finger to his lips, and the boy’s eyes widened.

The men disappeared around the corner.

X jumped down and landed quietly. He had two options: he could grab these men and interrogate them about Brockway’s whereabouts, or he could let them go. The former was too risky. No, it was better to let them go—for now.

Pssst! said a voice. It was the boy. He leaned out of a faded wooden door, grinning at him.

X waved at him, and then started to walk away.

Are you an android?

No.

You gotta be an android. No way you’d be out on the street otherwise.

I’m trying to get to the port.

His instinct chip buzzed again. Now he was in trouble. The men had doubled back and were heading his way. They had probably heard the boy’s voice.

He had no choice. He dove into the house, knocking the boy down, and shut the door behind him as quietly as he could.

He peeked through the window as the men passed.

Thought I heard something. You?

Nah. Probably some family havin’ an argument. I’d be mad if I was locked up, too.

X waited until they were several blocks away before moving. His brown eyes glowed like fire in the darkness as he scanned the surroundings for danger.

The little boy was lying on the ground, looking up at him in wonder. He wore a t-shirt with a running robot on it.

"You are an android!"

He saw two more pairs of eyes in the darkness—a mother and a father.

The boy grabbed X’s hands. You’ve got to save us.

CHAPTER 2

Shortcut sat in the cockpit and rested his head against the leather seat. The plane changed direction, flying in circles around the ocean. He had time to waste until X needed to be picked up.

A face appeared on the dashboard—a plump man with a chubby face and a mustache. He had greasy brown hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed in days, and he wore a red sweater vest and a tie with tabby cats painted on it.

Hey, Shortcut.

Shortcut sighed and put his hands below the dashboard, secretly flipping the man off. I’m on a mission.

That’s no way to talk to your new boss, Crandall said. What did Fahrens tell you? I missed the call.

Obviously, Shortcut said.

"What’s the report? Did you catch him yet?

We just got here.

"You have nothing to report?"

Jesus, did you hear what I said? I’ll be able to give you more information when I’m done.

All right. But we need to talk about your development plan for the year. I’ve got some feedback for you.

Every cell in Shortcut’s body roiled with disgust. Actually, uh, oh crap! There’s a plane, Crandall, and it’s coming toward me. I’ll have to call you back.

Wait—

Click. Shortcut disconnected the video link and took it offline.

I can’t stand that guy.

He and Crandall had worked together as engineers shortly after college. Crandall had gotten promoted to manager just a few days ago, and he wouldn’t let Shortcut forget it.

Shortcut had applied for the job too. Android Engineering Manager. A modest promotion with a decent salary increase. He had done well in the interview, and thought that Fahrens would consider him for the job. He had woken up the next day with a feeling that told him something good was going to happen, and had gone through the day jolly and laughing and smiling more than normal. He was waiting for the good thing to happen, and his gut had never been wrong before.

And then he got the email from the UEA’s human resources department: WE REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT WE HAVE CHOSEN ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE POSITION. Shortly after, Crandall had strolled into the engineering room, whistling and giving directions to the engineering team like he owned the place.

Shortcut punched the air. He couldn’t get over the stinging bitterness he’d felt when he read the rejection email.

He rested his head against the chair. He breathed in deeply, exhaled, and focused on the sky ahead, imagining his breath creating new clouds. Then he blinked six times in rapid succession, and a shimmering green wall of data surrounded his head, rotating slowly.

A password maze appeared. Shortcut’s contact lens emitted a red laser into the green wall, and he guided it through the maze. When he reached the end, a chime sounded, the maze collapsed, and his vision surged forward through a brilliant tunnel of light.

In a flash, he was in a doctor’s office. The walls were avocado green. He smelled carpet and fresh coffee. Several virtual people were sitting in chairs ranged along the walls, and they looked down to avoid Shortcut’s gaze. Futuristic jazz played from speakers in the walls, an electric saxophone riffing on a bossa nova song. He still tasted the dry air of the cockpit, but it mingled with the simulated smell of the office, taking on a strange taste that reminded him of an airplane and all of his childhood doctor visits at the same time.

Virtual reality always amazed him. His lens interfaced with his brain, and the doctor’s office was a simple string of code somewhere over the Internet. When Shortcut connected to it, it gave his brain specific sensory data points to recreate. His lens connected with the data points and transmitted them to the corresponding sensory areas in his brain, fooling his mind into creating a virtual environment where every molecule felt real.

And of course, this was just one of the many things his lens could do.

A secretary greeted him from behind the front desk. She looked real, but she was made of pixels, an avatar for someone elsewhere.

How can I help you?

I’m here for enhancements.

What kind?

Enhancements.

"What kind?"

Artificial intelligence, Shortcut whispered.

You look awfully young. Are you sure?

Shortcut sighed and said, Just call the doctor, okay?

He put his thumb into a scanner and his name and photo appeared in front of the woman.

Your name is Shortcut?

Yep.

Can you give us a real name for our records?

Mr. Shortcut.

The secretary glared at him and typed something into a virtual keypad floating above her desk. Dr. Frantz will be with you shortly.

Shortcut made himself a cup of coffee and sniffed a curlicue of smoke that rose from the biodegradable cup. Three pinches of sugar and hazelnut creamer. The aroma relaxed him. No matter how many times he came to this office, it surprised him how real the coffee smelled. It practically was real. He took a sip and the coffee slowly disappeared as if he were drinking it. Though he wasn’t really consuming it, it still felt like he was getting the benefits.

He sat down in a chair and put his hands behind his head. A digital screen appeared in front of him, displaying advertisements of new medical enhancements. A woman in a running suit dashed across the screen as an overly enthusiastic narrator spoke.

Speed!

A man being chased by two evil robots ran down an alley. He picked up a dumpster and heaved it at them, destroying them in a fiery blast. He grabbed his back as if in pain, then smiled and looked at the camera as if to say gotcha.

Strength!

A tall man with shoulder-length red hair and freckles appeared on the screen. He wore a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. His hands were in his pockets, and circular drone bots circled him. His contact lenses glowed, as if a teleprompter were directly inside his eyes. He would have looked like a hipster if he weren’t a doctor.

Got the android blues? the doctor asked. "Why should robots get to have all the fun? Sure, they’re intelligent, but aren’t we the intelligent species who created them? With my enhancements, you can be better than an android. You can be human. I’m Dr. Jonah Frantz, and for years, I’ve been helping people just like you modify their bodies so that they can pursue their dreams with confidence, get there faster, and live happier lives. Are you tired of chugging along in your cushy UEA career? Want to join the new rich? Want to get the girl? Hell, do you want to be a superhero? I can make it happen. My prices aren’t cheap, but the real question is this: what do you want to do with your life?

"There are two kinds of people in this world. Those with enhancements and those without them. We did a study last year. We looked at the brain activity of humans today, in 2300, versus known data for brain activity of humans in the early 2000s. Want to know what the difference was? Nothing. They were identical. Identical! I don’t know about you, but I believe that life is about progress, not perfection. I want to believe that we’re better than our ancestors—much, much better than that dark generation. After all, weren’t they better than the savages in the Middle Ages, and weren’t the savages in the Middle Ages better than prehistoric cave men? When did we plateau? When did humanity get so damn boring?"

Shortcut watched, enraptured by every word. I don’t want to be boring, he said to himself. I refuse to be boring!

Several of the virtual people looked at him, and he smiled nervously, embarrassed by his outburst.

Dr. Frantz laughed. If you want to be better off than the humans of yesterday, if you want to create real advantages for your children, if you want to further the real pursuit of intelligence, you only have one option.

A nurse appeared in the doorway. Shortcut?

Shortcut followed her through a winding corridor. She led him into a room with an exam table and watercolor paintings on the walls that changed every few minutes, then gestured him inside before leaving.

He walked to the sink, washed his hands with foamy soap that made his hands feel like velvet, and took out his contact lenses. He held them in his palm and doused them with a bottle of solution from the countertop, then held them up to his eyes, scrutinizing them.

It always felt weird to take the lenses out. The world, 3D and sumptuous and full of data to be explored, became flat. He couldn’t imagine how humans lived without lenses. They made everything easier. When he was walking down the street and wanted to know which restaurants had the best food, all he had to do was focus on the building and all the information he needed appeared in front of him. If he was walking down a dark street at night, his lenses could sense whether there was anyone in the shadows. They improved comfort, decreased crime, and made life more efficient.

And now he was nearly blind. The room hovered in front of him as if he were looking through a fishbowl.

Temporary discomfort, he said, climbing onto the table. A digital screen appeared in front of him, and it changed its focus to suit his weaker eyesight. The infomercial continued, and Shortcut pumped his fist as he watched other people achieve extraordinary feats with the help of nano enhancements.

The door opened and Dr. Frantz entered.

Hey, Shortcut said.

Frantz wasn’t in an enthusiastic mood. At the sight of Shortcut, he frowned and said What the hell are you here for?

My lenses are burning out.

Frantz held out his palm. Shortcut dropped the lenses into it and they glinted as they fell through the air.

Frantz sat down on a stool and wheeled over to a microscope.

Goddamnit, he said, squinting. Here I am, making the best enhancements that money can buy, and you’re ruining them in less than three months.

Shortcut shrugged.

What are you using them for?

Can’t say.

For how long do you use them?

At least sixteen hours a day.

Sixteen— Frantz shook his head and started to say something, but then stopped. I told you not to use them for longer than a few hours at a time. You’ll burn your brain out. You’re going to be a walking petri dish for health problems.

Kind of why I’m here, Shortcut said, pointing to his bloodshot eyes.

Frantz cursed. I can give you new lenses, but what else do you want me to do?

Upgrade me.

No. You’re not getting another artificial enhancement. Next time you want to learn something, pick up a book. Learn the old-fashioned way.

I’ve got the money, Shortcut said. You know I’ll pay on time.

That’s the problem, Frantz said. "You’re too willing to pay. I don’t even know how old you are, or what your real name is. You look like you’re twelve years old."

Thanks for the compliment.

God knows what kind of backwater enhancements you had before you found me. You haven’t reported me to the UEA, have you? You better not be setting a trap.

Great power of deduction, Doctor, Shortcut said. The Council paid me to burn my eyes out so I can catch a bad guy. That’s ingenious.

Screw the Council. They can create world peace and androids that keep society safe, but they won’t approve my enhancements.

I’m not leaving until I have new lenses and an enhancement. How do you expect me to get anything done with regular eyesight?

Frantz reached into his pocket and threw Shortcut a white box. He opened it, and saw wet lenses sitting in small trays of solution. They weren’t real, but they looked like it.

New lenses. By the time you leave this virtual world, a drone will have delivered them to your location. I’ll give you a lens enhancement in a few days, but I’ve got a few other appointments. I’ll find you when it’s your time.

Perfect.

You’re using too much technology, Shortcut. You’re no better than an alcoholic. If you keep pushing yourself like this, there’s going to be trouble.

Shortcut climbed off the table and shook the doctor’s hand. You’re the best. I appreciate the help.

Are you listening to me?

Shortcut blinked six times, and he felt himself being pulled from the doctor’s office. The green wall of information appeared again and then shattered.

He was back in the cockpit. A white drone hovered over the windshield with his new contact lenses. He ran to the back of the plane and opened the bay doors to let it in. He ripped the box open and put in his new contacts, then sighed with relief as data poured across his vision.

He breathed heavily. Virtual reality always wore him out. He plopped himself down on a cot and fell asleep dreaming about all the things he’d be able to do with another lens enhancement.

CHAPTER 3

X sat at the dining room table as the family gathered around him. The little boy flicked on the light and X observed the house. The living room fed into the kitchen where the dining table sat. The walls were orange, and the room smelled of fresh mangoes. A pot of stew simmered on the stove. The mother, a portly African woman, stood by the oven, folding her arms and staring at X incredulously.

The father, a dark-skinned man in a button-up shirt and khaki shorts, leaned forward. He had thick lips and smelled of musk cologne. In one hand he held a can of sweating beer.

The little boy sat next to X, marveling at him.

I’m Sparrow, the boy said. This is my dad, Kitchener, and my mom, Lucienne.

His parents nodded hello.

What do you mean I have to save you? X asked.

Some android showed up and started going crazy at the port, Kitchener said. He had a thick Caribbean accent. He stormed the streets, told everyone to stay inside. Shot a bunch of folks. Offered big bucks to any human who joined him. Broke into jail and grabbed all the criminals.

X’s eyes lit up, and he projected a digital screen over the table. A tall, black android appeared. His skin was very dark, and he had a mustache. He wore a blue uniform and military cap, and he had a serious look on his face, as if he had never smiled a day in his life.

That’s him, Sparrow said.

That android, what he want? Kitchener asked. Why’s he here?

I don’t know, and if I did, I couldn’t tell you, X said.

What’re we supposed to do? Sit here holed up all day? I got a business, man. Every day I sit here, I lose money. I ain’t going to go broke because of some weed-smoking android, let me tell you that!

The idea of an android smoking weed was completely illogical, so X decided not to say anything about it. Where is the android? He changed the digital screen to a map of the island.

Kitchener stood up and touched an area on the west side of the island just north of the capital. They say he raided a mansion on the beach and is living there. He and a group of delinquents he busted out of jail. They’re a bunch of gun-toting, pizza-eating cronies. A bunch of good-for-nothing, free-loading—

Don’t get into one of your tirades again, Lucienne said.

What do you mean, pizza-eating cronies? X asked.

They can’t get enough of it, Kitchener said. Pizza drones been coming in and out of that place. Cheap food. The only person happy about the siege is the pizza company. Damn conglomerates!

I can take you there, Sparrow said.

X knew by the tone in Sparrow’s voice that he was determined to go along. That would create a problem. X surveyed the apartment. He could sneak out of the house, but Sparrow would come after him, and he would be in danger. Especially with armed men walking the streets.

Sparrow was going to come along whether X wanted him to or not, so X thought ahead, his algorithm crunching all the possible scenarios. X dead. X alive but Sparrow dead—lawsuit from Kitchener and Lucienne. X and Sparrow captured, Sparrow scarred for life. X and Sparrow alive but Brockway escapes. X and Sparrow alive and Brockway dead.

The odds weren’t as good as he wanted them to be.

He couldn’t let Sparrow come to harm, but he knew he needed the boy to help him get to the mansion. He calculated the odds, confirmed a path, and said, I don’t want you getting hurt.

It’s okay, Mr. Android, Sparrow said. I know the way there. If you go on your own, they’ll catch you. What’s your name?

X.

Cool name! Do you have guns?

X’s wrist receded and a gun popped out; doors on his shoulders opened and turrets rose.

Sparrow whooped.

You’ll have to wait until nightfall, Lucienne said, stirring the pot of stew. Boys, come and get you something to eat. You want something, X?

X shook his head.

She pointed at him with her spoon. "Keep forgetting that you’re android. You look so human. Can’t hardly tell what folks are anymore, especially with you androids and your human-like emotions."

Kitchener winked. And it’s nice to see a black face on an android, too. It’s about time!

Kitchener, stop! Lucienne said.

What? Kitchener asked, shrugging. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with cheering on one of our own. Android or not, we are brothers.

Awkward silence fell over the room.

I got no problem with emotional androids, Kitchener said, breaking some crackers into his stew. Beats them androids from the singularity. Talk about some stone cold mother—

Kitchener! Lucienne cried. How many times’ve I told you stop cursing in front of Sparrow?

Emmer-effers, Kitchener said softly, trying to keep the word out of Sparrow’s hearing. You know what I mean, X.

What is it like to have emotions? Lucienne asked.

I’ve never thought about that, X said.

Guess not, Lucienne said. Then again, I’ve never thought about what it’s like to have emotions, either. Those android engineers are saints. Saints! We can have a conversation with you. They say that in the old days, used to be that talking to an android was like talking to the flat side of a boat.

Sparrow grabbed a bowl of stew and ate quickly. Kitchener glowered at him and savored his bowl.

Don’t eat so fast, boy. Who knows if that crazy android wrecked the grocery store? Then what? He sniffed the bowl of stew, then looked over at Lucienne and gave a cheesy grin. You outdid yourself, baby. He looked at X and shook his head sadly. Shame you can’t get in on this, X.

Lucienne ignored Kitchener. She couldn’t take her eyes off X, and he sensed her curiosity.

What’s it like working for the UEA? she asked.

Easy, X said.

They’re saviors, Kitchener said, sipping his beer. They didn’t have to come to this island with their machines and technology.

Lord knows they didn’t! Lucienne said.

But thank God they did, Kitchener said. Couldn’ta started my tourist business without ‘em. We’d be living in a shantytown.

What’s your business? X asked.

Virtual reality vacations. Kitchener grinned widely. He held out his hands in front of his face as if creating