Interlocking Hearts (20 page)

Chapter Nineteen

It had gone off without a hitch. Other than the look Ben shot her when Jon was busy laying out overly complicated details about robotic systems in terminology that kept the magistrate a half-step behind him throughout the conversation.

Ben knew the script. With the synthesis between these two, it probably took very little practice to work a job. Paisley wasn’t as practiced. So when Ben began looking at her feet, then slowly sliding all the way up to the lace at her thighs, she suddenly felt warm all over.

He knew what she looked like naked. She could feel the reflection of her night with the men in Ben’s eyes.

He stared at her for at least thirty seconds, and a hint of that one-cornered wicked grin crept on his face before he erased the wave of sexy and picked up on his cue in the script. It was a good thing they hadn’t let the magistrate talk then because Paisley would have completely missed all the notes.

She had no idea how many times she’d crossed and uncrossed her legs during that meeting. She was supposed to be working on this program. This was serious, and all her two co-conspirators did was take turns undressing her with their eyes. Paisley was pretty sure Ben had an unusually large bulge in his pocket by the end of it. He’d placed his suit jacket over his arm in front of himself as they began to file out, so Paisley couldn’t tell for sure.

Even if she was imagining his arousal now, she could vividly remember how it had looked in her hand the other night. It wasn’t even a memory. The man’s dick was so hot he’d burned the image of himself naked on the backs of her eyelids.

Paisley handed the guys the printout of her “notes” and handed the actual transcript to the magistrate. She hadn’t had time to review the documents she had downloaded to the drive while keeping up with the program prompts. Luckily, by twirling her hair between her fingers, she could use the touch screen to move between files without the magistrate noticing. But there had only been a tiny moment where she could get what
she
needed. They weren’t writing her off, and she wasn’t leaving Coral’s safety in their hands. She might be human, but that let her cough to interrupt their script long enough to send the copies to the protected file folder in her desktop module.

She handed the thumbdrive to Jon.

“Thank you for your assistance, Paisley.”

“Anytime,” she said. She needed to go back and check on her own download.

The magistrate leaned out of his office as the three of them exited. “Didn’t you need some files from me, Paisley?”

She smiled her sweet smile. The wide-eyed look she gave with it allowed everyone around her to underestimate her. “I completely forgot which ones I needed. I’m heading back to my desk to get the information.”

“I’m booked solid for the rest of the day,” he said.

She knew that already. She’d snooped in his calendar earlier and breathed a sigh of relief. “Darn. I’ll send your lovely secretary a request to get into your schedule as soon as possible. Hopefully she has all those glitches under control.”

Tabitha glared at her. It didn’t matter. Paisley was about to do what she did best and walk away. She wasn’t meant to work with these government types.

She wiped her hands on her skirt to get the bit of adhesive off. The magistrate had wrappers and all kinds of other things in his jacket pocket. The bug she’d glued there wouldn’t be noticed.

Chapter Twenty

After a night sleeping on the community transit system with her bags under her legs in case anyone tried to steal them, Paisley wanted to do nothing more than stop by Coral’s house and hide. But her friend had never responded to her. Paisley had walked out mid-shift. She’d ignored three calls from Quinn. One was about apartment hunting, the second wondering where she was, and the last message was scolding her for not responding.

After not knowing what to do next, Paisley did what her body had done at 6:00 a.m. for years. She got off at the exit that took her to the most secure gate in the country.

The palace seemed bigger than it had the day she left. She wasn’t sure what would happen when she stepped in front of the camera, but Matilda immediately buzzed her in.

Paisley took the coffee Matilda gave her and let it warm her hands. Forcing a smile, she wrapped her bravado around herself and hoped she could start to believe her own hype. Being homeless didn’t hurt her chances of the older woman taking pity on her. Paisley could work some puppy eyes when she had to. She’d emailed the information on the bug in the magistrate’s pocket to Coral. For some reason, her robobestie wasn’t responding to texts. She must have been working harder than even Paisley thought. Or Quinn had told her not to call.

“I feel like no time has passed since I first showed up here and you gave me coffee,” Paisley said to the mug.

“My bones say it’s been a long time. Move over.”

Matilda slid next to her. Paisley’s coffee looked almost white next to Miss Matilda’s as the palace coordinator took out her e-cigarette and puffed a cloud of vapor into the air.

“You know they have determined that the chemicals in those cause you to have your lungs encased in metallic dust,” Paisley reminded her.

“Maybe they can work on a cig that will make them turn to metal faster. Then I can have lungs like Coral.”

Miss Matilda wasn’t a lady who missed things. Sure, her hair was wiry and gray now, and her wrinkles seemed to deepen when she frowned, which was all the time. But those deep-set eyes saw things three floors up and half a palace away.

When she said Coral’s name, Paisley cringed.

“Why are you here, Paisley?” she asked again.

She wasn’t trying to get her to leave. In fact, with how she blocked the way out of the dinette at the moment, she was practically ensuring Paisley couldn’t run away.

“I was living at the Main Gates Hotel.”

“That’s the nicest place in the city beside the palace. You couldn’t take the room service? It was too much of a hardship, right?” Matilda rolled her e-cig under her pinky and held it sideways while she drank her coffee.

“I was only there until I got a paycheck. It was time to get out and not be dependent on my friend.”

“Who’d you fuck, girl? You only run from that situation if you sex some guy.”

Paisley scowled. She ran away for plenty of reasons. “I’m always fucking some guy. That makes it a parallel event, not one of causality.” She drank some of her coffee. It was strong. Even with all the cream and sugar, her nerves still lit up thanks to the potency. Putting the cup down, she realized she should say what was on her mind before another sip. There wasn’t anyone else she could tell.

“Coral’s in danger.”

Despite Paisley’s state of unemployment, she still felt the weight of Matilda’s authority. Paisley leaned back.

Matilda kept close as she hushed her voice. “In danger from what?”

“Have you heard about the Anti-Mech movement that has started?”

“They have it on the news. Some people were even interviewed with their faces blurred and voices changed. One even complaining about his ex getting it on with a robot. Idiot wore his limited edition gold smart watch. They didn’t blur that out, and whoever that is probably gave himself away to everyone he knows.”

Darius had a gold smart watch.

Paisley’s breath quickened. “When did you see that interview?”

“Was just on…” Matilda puffed as she thought. “Had to have been two nights ago.”

Paisley tried to take in enough air to speak, but someone had sucked it out of the room and she couldn’t drag any into her lungs.

Darius knew she’d been with Jon. The phone call…could it have been…

The words were finally forming but Bridget came rushing in before they could make it out of her mouth.

“Holy hell. Turn on the television. I just got a text. Oh, shit. This can’t be real.”

“You’re not supposed to have phone on you,” Matilda said.

“You’re going to be glad I did.” Bridget turned on the small flat screen on the side of the island.

The reporter was in the middle of a protest. It wasn’t a peaceful one.

Paisley’s stomach convulsed and she was really glad she hadn’t gone for more coffee. It would be all over the floor right now. She chewed the inside of her cheek to near bleeding as Bridget turned up the volume.

“We’re on the scene of what started out as a peaceful protest of Coral’s Bill. Individuals who worry that we are giving too much control to the mechanics we live with every day are out en masse. Humans have forged a symbiotic relationship with robots over the last few decades, and we all know that advancements in technology have improved our lives. The people behind me fear we have started to slide the other direction.”

A woman holding a large picket sign stepped forward.

The reporter thrust a microphone in the picketer’s face and asked, “Ma’am. Can you tell us why you’re protesting today?”

The woman lowered her sign and stared down the camera. “I sure as shit will. I spent my entire life savings to purchase a fully ambulatory robot to care for my mother. Now the robot wants a paycheck. How am I supposed to pay anything when everything I had went to buying it in the first place? Artificial intelligence sure doesn’t have any kind of gratitude built in. Now I’m considered backward because I want my ailing mother to have care that I paid good money for? The world is going wrong, and all of us here want to set things right. These robots need put in their place or they need shut down.”

“How would the robot be of use to you if you shut it down?”

“At least I’d have parts to sell off. I might make back enough money to pay the medical bills. It’s not right. They aren’t human, and we have to stop treating them like they are.”

The scene changed in a second. Bottles, rocks and even phones began flying around the reporter. The camera panned quickly away to try and catch the source of the debris, but it zeroed in on something else.

The military was closing in on the scene. Huge trucks. Humans wearing the strongest armored fabrics with full gas masks and large electrolyzed shields formed a line in front of the tall black vans.

Then the image panned to the tops of the vehicles. Men and women had weapons pointed downward, but not at the protestors.

The news lady’s voice came back on.

“Do you see this? Andy, are you getting this?”

“I’m on it.”

As the camera adjusted focus, behind the wall of militia was another group. Coral was standing in the front.

“That’s… That’s Coral Sechundert. Are they really planning on breaking up this rally? Let’s go talk to her.”

Paisley glanced to Bridget and Matilda, but they were glued to the screen too. All Paisley could think was how many mechanics were in the palace. If these people were protesting at the City County Building, why would they pick Saturday? The offices were closed.

The cameraman and news anchor made it over to the military blockade, but instead of crossing, they were held back.

The signal cut out, and the broadcast was cut to a news room that was clearly not ready for the shot.

People scattered from view of the camera, and the man behind the desk touched his ear and nodded. The green screen behind him clicked to life seconds later.

“We are being told that our crews were asked to leave. Upon further questioning of the assembled armed forces, their equipment was confiscated. We will try and have more teams on the ground as soon as possible, because drones are not being allowed on the scene. The other news outlets have reported all mechanical reporters being shot down with electrical blasts.”

He touched his ear again.

“
The royal family and parliament are unable to be reached at this time, but efforts are being made to obtain statements regarding this escalating situation.”

The palace-wide communication device buzzed loud in the silence of the news feed. Even the commercials were drowned out by the rhythmic noise.

Without thinking, Paisley rushed to the com system and picked up the earpiece.

“Royal Palace, how may I direct your call?”

“Paisley? What are you doing there?”

It was Quinn.

“Quinn, what the hell is going on? Why is Coral in the front lines of a protest?”

“I don’t have time to explain. I need to talk to my cousins. They have to do something and it’s got to happen fast. Public opinion is fickle and if we don’t act soon, they are going to see things exactly how the Anti-Mech movement wants them to.”

Paisley put the earpiece on and rushed up the stairs. It was still morning, but the king was always awake. Unless something was drastically different, he would be in his library.

Forgoing formalities, she pushed the heavy door open as quickly as she could.

His majesty was leaning forward with his head in his hands watching a screen. The king never watched television. He read and he listened to his advisors. Paisley didn’t even realize there was a TV in this room of wall to wall literature.

But there it was. The sights in that feed showed a very different view of the situation.

This camera angle was on the other side of the militia blockade. This camera wasn’t as steady and it kept losing focus.

Paisley was riveted. Guns and electronic blasters were pointed directly at the camera and the spaces next to it.

Then a voice came over the picture.

“Your majesty, I needed you to see this.”

Coral’s voice.

“I never thought it would come to this. The variables I processed put this as an extreme. I apologize for not being surer of the outcome.”

Paisley crept forward and knelt by the television. Coral was there. Coral was in front of those guns. They were going to kill the only person who ever really cared for Paisley. And the one she cared for more than herself sometimes. They were going to blast her with guns and tear her apart.

If the king was upset with her presence, he pushed it aside. Paisley gripped his hand that held her shoulder for dear life.

“Can she hear me?” Paisley asked. She kept staring at the screen, seeing through Coral’s eyes.

The picture wobbled and all Paisley could see were vague shapes.

“Paisley, I am so glad you are safe. Please stay where you are. And please…tell Quinn…”

The picture wobbled under the weight of her tears. Paisley couldn’t tell if they were hers or Coral’s anymore.

“Anything you want to tell Quinn, you are going to tell him yourself. Get the hell out of there, Coral.”

Paisley’s hands started to shake as she reached out to touch the television. She was too late. She found everything out too late. If she had just done things her way, without pushing, maybe the magistrate wouldn’t have acted so soon.

If she had been researching instead of fucking her neighbors, maybe she would have found out about the magistrate’s plans in time.

“I can’t leave, Paisley. Your majesty…” The plea in Coral’s voice was heartbreaking. “The DNA extraction they did wasn’t for lubricant type. They injected a scrambler under our skin. I have it all recorded from the bug Paisley planted on Magistrate Winters, but I only learned of it after he activated the signal.” Coral wiped her eyes again.

“It was encased in a new material that blended with my current circuitry. I didn’t know they were doing this to every applicant. The signal sent down was a death sentence. If we leave, he will activate the chips.”

Paisley knew what a scrambler was. Coral had taken one with her when she first became self-aware and was stolen from the palace. Then, it had been a suicide pill.

This time, this scrambler…it was a little microchip of murder.

“Coral, who has the programming?” Paisley knew Quinn was still in her ear, and if she had any sense she would have turned the com off, but there wasn’t time.

“The programming originates from the magistrate’s office, but they can be activated from anywhere. Paisley, please know that I care for you. I…” The scene on the monitor cleared as Coral wiped her eyes, and Paisley saw the officers mixed with the robotics and throwing items into the protestors.

They were being framed.

The noise swelled, bullhorns shouted words in all directions, but even with the amplification, it was impossible to discern individual words. The words didn’t even matter. The ones with the guns were the ones who were lying.

Was there really anything you could do when the people who were supposed to protect you were the ones who you had to defeat?

Quinn growled in her ear. “Paisley, can you hear me?”

The king was on his tablet typing away furiously. Quinn disconnected, and another call kept buzzing in the background, but no one answered it.

Paisley had to focus. She let the tears leave her eyes so that they could flood her cheeks. Crying wasn’t something she did, but she wanted to see everything with Coral. For as long as she could.

“I hear you, babe.” Paisley bit the side of her cheek to keep from sobbing. “Keep talking to me. You’re on the recording transmitter. We’ll fight no matter what. Believe that.”

Coral’s feed bounced as she nodded. “I know you will. You are stubborn.”

Paisley’s laugh was watered down, drowning under her tears.

Coral kept talking as the guns came closer. “I wanted to tell you that I love you, Paisley.”

“Oh Coral, I love you too.”

“I was never able to say the words. I wanted to be sure. I thought I needed more data, but knowing that I might cease to exist…I want you to know that I love you. Can you tell Quinn that I love him too? I always have.”

A loud
thunk
shook the floorboards next to Paisley. Quinn had arrived quicker than she thought he could.