Perfect Gravity (Wanted and Wired #2)(25)
Angela smiled. “Oh, you mean that extra arm growing out of my back?”
“You are teasing me.” She could hear the reflected smile in his calibrated-to-human voice.
“No, you’re right. Humor bad,” she said. But he’d reminded her of something else. “Hey, after you’re done with this, we need to talk about tweaking your Daniel routine.”
“We can talk now. I am capable of multitasking. What tweaks would you like to make?”
Liking this really had nothing to do with it. “When we were at the gala, your sim was good. Maybe too good. Too good of a person, I mean. You were a believable analog for a human husband, but you weren’t Daniel.”
He paused for a moment, though his hands remained steady clamps on her head, feeding instructions to her peripheral nervous system. “How shall I modify my routines to better imitate Daniel Neko?”
Hurt me. Every chance you get. “Try reviewing archival footage, record some of his mannerisms. Old vids ought to be available here. He used to…do this hey-girl smirk that really got his fan legions going. Also, use more verb contractions. And a somewhat looser walk.” She wasn’t doing a very good job of describing the nuances, but that was Daniel in summary: a wad of nuances crammed into a brittle, bitter shell.
“A…hey-girl smirk?”
“When you review the footage, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
The subdermal tickle on her scalp and the taste of metal in her mouth ebbed. “I’ve reviewed the footage,” he said. “I’m Daniel if you want me to be.”
Yeah, they were a program tweak confirmation, but those words klaxoned in her chest. Or maybe her body just reflexively cringed at having its electrical system invaded and manipulated.
No, she didn’t want him to be Daniel. But with the real Daniel gone now, she needed the imposter to be believable. Even if his imitation made her want to vomit.
At least here in the Pentarc she’d have some privacy while she got used to being near almost-Daniel.
“Great,” she said, feeling anything but. “Go ahead and keep that behavior suite loaded perpetually. No turning it off. You know what I’m saying?”
“You want me to…kill Dan-Dan?”
What a fonky way of phrasing it. “Just archive the program suite. I’d like to keep a back door available in case I need it, but generally, yeah, you can kill him.”
The diodes cooled, and the cringe dulled. The pain in her shoulder winked out of existence. Poof, like magic. She started to turn, to thank him face-to-face, but she couldn’t move her head. His hands still clamped it in place.
Then low, softest whisper: “It’s done.”
Something had just happened. A weighty something. A mechanical hiccup, seismic only to him, perhaps. Mech-Daniel had always been something of a mystery to her, coming into her life and replacing all her personal digital assistants and drone bodyguards. Hell, he’d nearly replaced her style team. In two short years, he had made himself indispensable. And she’d just told him to kill himself.
She tilted her head, pillowing it into the cool clasp of his hands. I’m sorry rose to her mouth, but she hadn’t gotten the words out before her com vibrated. Low vibration; only she would feel it. She tapped her molars together, a percussive pattern in response.
A voice invaded her head, a burst of digital input that her com translated into phonemes, routed past her cochlea, and fed directly to her brain. It registered as both female and…perky.
“Finally! Hey, tell your parental unit you need to go to the bathroom,” said the voice.
What?
“The large mech-clone currently nut-cracking your skull? We can’t talk when he’s watching. So tell Daddy you need to go potty all by yourself this time, like a big girl.”
Angela wondered if there was a com algorithm for annoying, because she was sure feeling it from her unidentified caller. Still, she had been bored and frustrated two minutes ago. At least the voice was diverting. Plus, its owner might have information she was seeking.
Aloud, she excused herself, telling mech-Daniel she was going to indulge. “You can hibernate for a little while,” she said. “Nothing in the shower stall is likely to attack me, and I want to spend some quality time with that hot water.”
He started to protest, but she rephrased as a command, and he obediently positioned himself by the door and powered down.
“Okay,” Angela said to the voice, out loud now mech-Daniel wasn’t listening. “Who the hell are you?”
Maybe she could have used a nice long sleep after all, because clearly, she was making stuff up out of thin air. Literally. The empty space in front of her sizzled, broke apart, and reformed. In the shape of a girl. Pretty girl, blond, curvy, maybe eighteen years old, barely old enough to vote and way too young to think.
The blond grinned and raised one holographic hand in greeting. “Okay, the way I see it, you aren’t here, and I also am not supposed to be here. It’s like we’re cosmically meant to be pals. Bitches. Friends! Wanna go exploring?”
Angela repeated her original question.
“Oh fine.” The hologram exhaled, blowing its hair fringe out of its eyes in a caricature of exasperation. “My name is Chloe. I’m a sentient nanorobotic collective, highly illegal and dangerous, and if you tell anybody I exist, I’m afraid I’ll have to kill you. But in the meantime, welcome to the Pentarc!”