Girl of Flesh and Metal Page 10

  I reached across Liv’s lap to the switch under the steering wheel that swapped the car’s control from auto to manual.

  With Liv’s foot still on the accelerator, the vehicle jerked backward from the parking space, tires squealing. Owen lost his grip on the door, and we took off.

  13

  We arrived at CyberCorp just as the lunch hour was ending.

  At seventy-two floors, CyberCorp Tower stood taller than any other building in the city. Silvery-tinted windows separated by stripes of rose stone marked each story. It was a beautiful building, not all white and black and chrome like most of the more modern structures in the city—and like its interior.

  It was as fake as my arm, pretending to be something it wasn’t. It imitated a building with heart and soul, when in reality, metal and circuits filled its guts.

  A small group of protesters stood on the sidewalk just outside the property. Among them was the man who’d tackled me last time I was here. His voice rang out even through the car’s darkened windows.

  “This is the end of days. The Model Ones and their creators are evil incarnate. The ungodly cannot be permitted to live.”

  Two security guards flanked him. One of them placed a hand on the man’s back and guided him away from the driveway. He continued shouting while he moved out of our path. Sweat covered a face reddened with exertion. Dark-blond hair lay plastered to his neck, and wide blue eyes glared at us as we inched by him.

  I pointed. “I bet that’s the guy who wrote the letter.”

  Liv slowed the car, her expression a mix of awe mingled with disgust.

  If he had killed Harmony, my conscience was clear. I hit the button to roll down the window.

  From the seat behind me, Hunter lunged forward, stretching between my seat and the side of the car. He grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Finding out how he feels about Harmony’s death. Maybe he’ll give something away.”

  “He’s not going to just confess. Liv, let’s go please.”

  Liv sped the car toward the entrance of the parking garage. She waved her wrist at the scanner, which recorded her ID and beeped. The gate to the underground lot split in the middle and rolled to the sides.

  Inside the garage, Liv raised her hands from the wheel and let the car take control. The vehicle glided to the nearest parking space, turned into it, and shut itself off.

  “Hold on.” As we got out of the car, I pulled out my hand-screen and opened the letter my mother sent me this morning. “There.” I pointed to the sentence.

  Liv read it aloud. “‘The ungodly cannot be permitted to live.’ Is this the letter you were talking about?”

  Hunter grabbed the hand-screen and read the line himself, before returning the device to me. “He might have written the letter, but I don’t think he’s your killer.”

  I nodded. That was what I’d been thinking too, but I couldn’t be sure without speaking to him.

  “Why not?” Liv asked.

  “Did you actually look at the guy?” Hunter said. “He doesn’t seem organized enough to get around the Millers’ security.”

  Before I could put my hand-screen away, it buzzed with an incoming call from my mother. I answered it just as we reached the elevators that would lead us up to the main level.

  “Hey.”

  “You ditched your bodyguard.” She phrased it like a statement, not a question.

  “I’m at CyberCorp. Safe and sound, where all your minions can watch over me.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Right. The point is that you need me to be seen with Owen, so your reputation remains unimpeachable.”

  “A girl is dead, Lena. People are taking this very seriously.”

  “So am I. Of course I am. Harmony was my friend . . .” My voice disappeared, and I had to clear my throat to say more. “She died at home while she slept—not at school or at CyberCorp. We don’t even know whether her death is connected to that letter. She could be the only target. Like you said this morning, CyberCorp gets threatened all the time.”

  “That’s hardly the point. I need you to—”

  “And they always turn out to be nothing. This one is probably nothing too. It just happens to be timed with a murder.” A murder I may or may not have committed.

  “I still need you to stay with Owen.” Her voice returned to its usual false cheeriness. “Go see Dr. Fisher while you’re there. Owen will escort you home when you’re done. Do you understand?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m getting in our jet now, but call me if you need anything.”

  I shielded my eyes as the elevator from the parking garage opened onto the lobby. Although I hadn’t noticed it when I came through here last time, I could now see that the display stations featuring CyberCorp tech had that distinctive faint glow that suggested they weren’t really there. They were virtual objects on the EyeNet.

  I’d thought CyberCorp had remodeled the lobby, but they hadn’t changed anything at all. It remained as cold and empty as it always had been.

  A woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties sat behind the large, curved reception desk. Four vid-screens sat on the desk, facing away from us. Like the other three receptionists beside her, the woman wore a white button-down blouse and a false smile.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Hayes. What can I do for you?”

  I pointed to my friends and then at my own chest. “We’d like to take a tour of some of the facilities.”

  The woman’s smile remained painted on her face, stiff and unmoving. “We stopped giving tours years ago. Security concerns, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  I flashed Liv and Hunter an apologetic glance, but Liv nudged me back toward the receptionist.

  “Couldn’t you make an exception?” I asked. “Could one of the interns show us around? Ron Franklin, perhaps. He works with Dr. Athena Fisher. I bet if you call him, he’ll agree.”

  Still giving me that fake cheer, she made a series of selections on her vid-screen and then touched her ear to activate her comm. “Ron, Miss Lena Hayes and two of her friends are here to see you. They’d like to tour the facilities.” After a short pause, she touched her ear to end the call and made more selections on the vid-screen. She spun the screen toward us and pointed at it. “Wave your wrists here, one at a time.” She pointed at Liv, then Hunter, then me. “This gives your ID chip access to our less sensitive facilities.”

  “Will we be able to see the Model Ones?” Liv asked.

  The receptionist frowned, made another selection on the screen, and spun it back toward us. “Yes, now you will. IDs please.”

  Liv waved her wrist at the screen, which beeped and displayed two photos of her, one face forward and one in profile. Below the photos, the screen listed her name, weight, height, and age. She grimaced at the photo, in which her now colorful hair was longer and braided into dark cornrows. “I really need to get that retaken.”

  “I thought it looked great.”

  “You never said so.”

  “I didn’t say a lot of things I should have.” I hoped she knew I meant all the times I passed her in the halls without saying hello. And all the times in the past two years when I didn’t call or text her to say goodnight.

  Hunter went next, waving his wrist at the screen just like Liv did. In addition to his name and vital stats, the vid-screen displayed the words MEDICAL TEST SUBJECT in red under his photos. The receptionist gave him a discriminating look up and down, probably trying to figure out which of his body parts CyberCorp had replaced.

  She turned the screen toward me. When I waved my wrist in front of the screen, nothing happened. Immediately, I felt silly. “I don’t have an ID chip.” I raised my arm again, so she could get a better view of the metal. “Lost it in an accident.”

  “Yes, of course.” She eyed my arm longer than she’d examined Hunter, before she said, “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to add you to the security system as a guest today. The secure rooms an
d elevators will only open if a verified guest is using them. Just stay with someone else at all times, and you’ll be fine. Ron will be down to get you in a moment.”

  I started to walk toward the elevators, but thought better of it. The only way to convince myself I hadn’t killed Harmony was to prove someone else had.

  I spun back around and leaned toward the receptionist. “What’s your name?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Vanessa. Is there something else I can do for you, Miss Hayes?”

  “Have you heard anything about the murder of Greg Miller’s daughter?”

  Her expression switched from guarded to sympathetic. “The higher-ups are keeping everything under wraps. But poor Mr. Miller. Even he doesn’t deserve this.”

  Her wording piqued my interest. “Even he? You don’t like the guy?”

  She brought her hand to her mouth, as if to conceal the slip-up. “Mr. Miller is a respected member of the CyberCorp community.” Her tone sounded automatic, and her words too practiced.

  “Does he have any enemies? Someone who’d want him to suffer?”

  “Mr. Miller isn’t exactly . . .” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Well liked. I feel awful talking bad about a man who just lost his daughter.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone.” I could see I’d have to give up something to get the information I wanted. “There’s a rumor that the children of CyberCorp employees have been threatened.” I made my eyes wide, which I hoped she’d read as fear. “I need to know if the threat is serious or if this was an isolated thing directed at the Millers.”

  “We get a lot of threats.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s hard to believe that’s really something to worry about. I’m only saying this because it concerns you . . .” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mr. Miller is known for being a jerk. He fired two of his engineers on Christmas Eve. Yelled and cursed at them. One of them was sobbing when security escorted him off the premises.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “I processed some of their exit paperwork. Mark Hoffman and Kyle Lowry. I don’t know either of them personally, although of course I saw them come and go many times.” By now, she had crossed the line from hesitant informant to enthusiastic gossip. “You think one of them killed Mr. Miller’s daughter?”

  “I don’t know.” Part of me hoped so. “Looks like Ron’s here. Thanks so much for the info. You’re saving my life here.”

  She gave me a wide smile and turned back to her vid-screen.

  Ron stepped from the elevator and waved us over. His gaze strayed up and down Liv’s body before landing on me.

  I took a hint and made the introduction. “These are my friends Liv and Hunter. They’re the ones who want to see the place.”

  Ron shook Hunter’s hand, then Liv’s. He held onto Liv’s fingers a second longer than necessary before releasing them.

  “How are you feeling?” Ron gestured toward my arm, which I’d hidden in long sleeves.

  “I sleepwalked last night. I’ve never done that before.” Although I had already explained this to Dr. Fisher, I might get a different answer from Ron. He lacked Fisher’s complete obsession with the androids, so between the two of them, he was more likely to give me a considered response.

  “Have you talked to Dr. Fisher?”

  “Yeah. She doesn’t think it has anything to do with the arm.”

  “I have to agree with her. Sorry. Any other complaints?”

  “Nothing other than the fact that I’m going to be setting off metal detectors for the rest of my life.”

  He chuckled. “Do you know how many people would give anything to be in your place?”

  I gave him a look that I hoped displayed a healthy amount of skepticism.

  “Seriously. You’re at the forefront of a technological revolution. Next week, a select few will be the first to receive Model Ones. But today—three weeks ago actually—you’re already more advanced than those. You represent the ultimate in CyberCorp’s goals—the use of technology to enhance human life.” He threw both his hands in the air. “You’re it. The culmination of everything we work for.”

  “I’m a human experiment with a chip in my head.”

  “You’re hopeless.” Ron ushered Hunter, Liv, and me into the elevator. “Anything in particular you want to see?”

  I gestured toward my friends.

  “Model Ones,” they said in unison.

  I suppressed a groan. I’d learned from years of experience that I couldn’t convince the people around me that artificial intelligence was a bad idea. Today, though, I would go along with them because Hunter and Liv were supportive friends.

  “The Model Ones then,” I said.

  “Let’s make that our last stop,” Ron said. “How about we start on one of the draft floors?”

  I had no idea what that meant, so I nodded.

  “Eighteenth floor,” Ron announced to the elevator cab.

  The doors slid closed, and the elevator climbed its way upward.

  “Floors two through fifteen are all concept floors, filled with offices and small labs. That’s where the ideas start. After a concept is approved, additional engineers are assigned to it, and it’s moved up to a draft floor. There are thirty-three of them.”

  The doors opened on the eighteenth floor, and we stepped into a wide-open space. As far as I could tell, no walls divided the level, just an open expanse with a rubberized gray floor and matching padded walls. Dozens of half-built devices filled the space, each surrounded by a small group of people. Some took notes as they observed, while others tinkered with the devices.

  “The draft floors are where designs come after the concept phase, and after the inventors have petitioned for a development budget. Let’s look at one of my favorites.”

  Ron led us to the other side of the room, weaving around metal and plastic devices of all sizes and shapes. I slowed as we passed something that looked like a giant metal dinosaur, but then tripped over myself to catch up when its jaws snapped. A young engineer nearby cackled in amusement. We passed a safer device that looked like a large vid-screen. As we walked past, it rotated to continue to face us, until one of its engineers stepped in front of it and blocked the sight path.

  “Here we go.” Ron stopped only twenty feet or so before we reached the far wall.

  In front of us stood an android, a couple inches taller than my five-foot-five and humanoid. It didn’t quite look like a Model One. It had the same powdered, silver-colored metal body with a slight yellow tint. Black plastic accented the joints. But compared to the Model One, this body looked even more human, with natural curves in the shoulders, back, and upper legs. Stamped into its forehead were the words Model Two prototype 10.

  “Whoa.” Liv shuffled toward it until she stood toe-to-toe with the android. It towered a few inches taller than her, but no broader.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” An engineer stepped forward. Young and wearing light-toned jeans and a polo shirt, he looked more like a graduate student than a professional engineer. The right pocket of his lab coat had his name stitched across it: Dr. Jacobs.

  Liv jumped and giggled in surprise when the android’s face tilted downward at her. Metal eyelids narrowed, as if it examined her in return.

  A shudder worked its way through my body. On top of the fact that androids would soon displace people from their jobs, there was something about them that just rubbed me the wrong way.

  “As you can see,” said Jacobs, “the Model Two will be even more lifelike than the Model One. Their processing includes a range of newly constructed prediction models. Those help them learn new things every second. If they’re powered on, they’re learning.” He patted the machine on the arm. “Betsy here is just an early design.”

  “When is this one going to be released?” Hunter asked.

  “It’ll be at least another two years,” he said. “We have a lot planned for her.”

  “Really?” I said. “It looks . . . human.” I shuffl
ed away from it.

  “Thank you.” He stood straighter. “She’ll move like it too. We’re training her on not just human movements, but also movements of animals in the wild. Cheetahs, tigers, gazelles. She’ll be a beauty to watch. We have a long way to go to get her running smoothly, but we’re proud of her anyway.”

  Liv stroked the android’s silvery cheek. “It’s beautiful. What can it do?”

  “Almost anything you can,” Jacobs said. “Each Model One is preprogrammed for hundreds of specific everyday jobs, like cleaning, doing the dishes, running errands, and personal protection. We advertise that they can do almost any household task, and that’s because they’ve been programmed with the basic understanding of so many. They only have to learn the layouts and eccentricities of each household.”

  Across the room, an auburn-haired woman about the same age as Jacobs waved to get his attention.

  He nodded at her before continuing. “The Model Two, on the other hand, can learn any job from scratch, simply by watching a human do it. They are highly customizable learning machines.”

  “So they’re not limited to specific tasks.”

  “Exactly. They can do anything, in theory. Obviously, we’re going to add a few limitations into the programming—laws to govern how they behave. We don’t want them learning to hurt people or rob banks, for example.”

  The woman on the other side of the room waved a second time, this time taking several steps in our direction.

  Jacobs’s expression turned regretful. “Duty calls. As much as I love talking about this project, it’s more important that we get it working.”

  We said our goodbyes, and Ron led us back through the maze of half-finished devices to the elevator.

  “Are the other draft floors like this one?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes and no. Some inventions require different types of support. Like a couple of the floors are for medical inventions, so some of those are stocked with medical equipment and only open to personnel who’ve been properly cleaned for exposure to those sensitive devices.”

  That reminded me of the story Ron told me about his mother being treated for cancer with CyberCorp technology. “Are they still working on nanobot surgery?”