Interlocking Hearts (8 page)

Chapter Seven

Paisley had her good outfit on. Her one good outfit. This was the one that she used when she had to do something professional. Which was a whole lot of never.

Suddenly, this interview seemed like a horrible idea. She would have to get a whole new wardrobe, and really, who had that kind of time to worry about the length of the hemline and modesty of the cut, and if the suit was too business casual for the position.

This would require a lot of shopping and she really, really didn’t have time for that. Or the money for it. A hall full of interviewees lined the walls around her. One person was called in at a time. They all walked out within ten minutes and not a single person came out smiling.

What the hell were they doing behind those doors? Paisley tried to peek in every time. No one else tried to look. They were all busy trying to out “proper posture” each other. One woman’s back popped as she rolled her shoulders, but she sat straighter still. Paisley turned her head from side to side and let the tendons crack in her neck. She was already tense, but this room was giving her serious issues.

It was another reason she should just leave. This wasn’t the place she was supposed to be. If she left now, she could head to the palace before lunch service and grovel for her job back. Maybe she could perform some kind of grounds work Matilda hadn’t bought a bot for. There would be very little interaction with people, which was probably for the best.

This wasn’t like the last time she started over. There was no brilliant moment of clarity. There was no earth-shattering revelation. There was no sign on the wall telling her what to do next. She was making decisions for herself based on logic. And she didn’t like it one bit.

Sitting in the hallway with everyone else in high-priced interview gear, Paisley decided she should just get out before she embarrassed herself. If all the expensive-suit people were failing miserably behind those doors, then she would make an absolute ass of herself. She stood up ready to make a run for it. She could pretend to head for the bathroom. It would have gone perfectly if—

“Paisley Compton?”

—someone hadn’t called her name for the interview at that exact moment.

She was already standing, so she walked toward the double doors of despair. She would have to tell Coral the interviewers were mean to her. Or that they didn’t want such an attractive woman working around the magistrate, because the boss’s wife would have been pissed. Something. She could think of that while she bombed the interview.

“That’s me,” Paisley said, and tried to walk with confidence, but ended up doing a horribly non-rhythmic strut she immediately abandoned when more than a few people stared. She looked like she was in the middle of a mild seizure.

“Right this way, please.”

Paisley entered a room that held a large conference table covered with robots. Some were small and on top of the table, and some were self-ambulatory.

The man who had called her name before motioned for her to sit in the lone chair on her side of the table. She was placed at a mechanical buffet. Too bad she felt like she was about to be eaten alive.

“We are doing something different for this interview, Miss Compton. As a secretary to Coral Sechshundert in the Department of Mechanical Affairs, you will need to interact with mechanical elements of all different types. Some will be bots that are owned by the building and some are beings who are applying for their certificate of humanity to become a full-fledged member of society with the rights allowed them. Please address each being in front of you as you would interact with them if they approached your desk.”

Paisley now understood why many people in the waiting area came out so quickly. Most of the smaller bots on the table were highly specialized mechanics. The general public most likely didn’t have a baseboard cleaning bot, or a window cleaner or a cobweb remover. The vacuum bot was a pretty common model, so that was the gimme of the group.

The first bot, which was sitting in a chair, didn’t have a head. That didn’t mean it wasn’t self-aware.

The first mistake people made when working with mechanics was assuming human appearance meant human inner workings.

No head did not mean no brain. No head just meant the designer did not see the need to make the bot appear more human. This bot was probably an industrial worker. Paisley noticed a speaker near where a human’s chest would be.

“Please forgive me if I’m being forward, but are you able to see me? Or should I speak with more detail if I have questions? I don’t see a visual data receptor.”

The bot immediately whirred to life. A series of clicks and an optical module ascended from the middle of its frame.

“Visual data receptor engaged. Please relay next command.”

Well, that one definitely wasn’t self-aware. Waiting for commands was a sure sign that it only performed based on a specific voice prompt and could not interpret different terminology.

She spoke as clearly as she could. “Disengage command prompt.”

The bot immediately retracted its ocular unit and slumped into a more relaxed state.

Moving onto the next bot, Paisley noticed its more human appearance. Eyes whirred to life as she moved in front of the android, letting her know it had focused on her.

“Hello. I’m Paisley. Are you being reimbursed for your time here? Or are you being forced into this?”

The bot triple-blinked and copied some of Paisley’s movements with its hands and posture. The mirroring was a tic of the artificial intelligence software gaining data.

“They have offered me an immediate review of my application for my certificate of humanity. Being that I have not been approved yet, I do not get to earn my own income.”

Paisley turned toward the man she was probably supposed to impress with this interaction and frowned. “You’re forcing a humanoid to be present like an exhibit without compensation? That’s shitty.”

The man sucked his lip in between his teeth and wrote something on his clipboard before he responded. “Might I remind you, Miss Compton, that you are here to interview for a position. I asked you to interact with the mechanics. I do not recall asking your opinion of our process.”

Paisley turned to the humanoid and, looking it straight in the eye, repeated, “That’s shitty. If I were you, I would keep track of the time you have spent in here for this project.” She leaned in, and once again the robot followed. “The government uses what they call consultants. They won’t employ robots officially until the laws are reviewed, but working here all day—I am assuming without a break—you will rack up some serious hours. I bet they would just pay you rather than address a lawsuit were you to sue them.”

The robot held still for a moment, and then replied, “All of that is duly noted. Thank you, Paisley Compton.”

“You’re very welcome.”

She went to the next chair without looking back at her interviewer. She’d probably already pissed this guy off. There was no need to continue the interview for the job, but she could show the dude up. Once a bot could tell it was being screwed over, treating it like an appliance was cruel.

The next robot was a simple serving bot. Most of the bot’s body was made up of welded points that showed no ability for additional movement. Artificial intelligence wasn’t installed on immobile units. They usually responded to basic commands.

“Power up,” Paisley said loudly.

The machine booted. “Service mode or removal mode?”

Paisley turned back to her interviewer. “Did you want me to offer you a drink?”

“Not necessary.” He took more notes.

“Power down.”

The bot turned off.

Paisley was at the end of the table. She could stall and make her interviewer more uncomfortable, but she needed to get out of here before she got Coral in trouble by association.

“Did you want me to try and run diagnostics on them? You only have one bot with artificial intelligence who would be a candidate for a certificate of humanity. A bot you aren’t compensating for its time.”

At that, the aforementioned bot leaned forward. “I gender identify as female.”

Paisley nodded. “That you aren’t compensating for
her
time.”

The interviewer held his ear, frowned emphatically, but his disapproval obviously didn’t matter, because he tilted his head as if someone had yelled at him and nodded.

He hung his clipboard on the wall and gestured toward a door on the opposite side of the room from where she’d entered. “After you, Miss Compton.”

Paisley looked at the solid door with a small translucent window. The glass was frosted and contained metal reinforcements. It looked like something that would keep troubled people locked away from sharp objects.

“You first,” she said.

The man sighed heavily and opened the door. He stepped through and held it open for Paisley. “Come on, please. This is heavy.”

Paisley walked through and saw Magistrate Ralph Winters himself seated at a long table, facing what was a two-way mirror. He had been watching her. So she not only annoyed the interviewer, she probably was going to be arrested or fined for messing up their deal with the droid.

“Have a seat, Miss Compton,” he said.

A heavily armed guard wearing mirrored sunglasses stood in the corner behind the magistrate, but other than that, they were alone in a soundproofed room.

“Oh hey, look, I didn’t mean to be so confrontational. It’s probably some kind of social disorder. I’ll get it checked out right after I get out of here.”

The door clicked shut. Her interviewer had escaped.

“I really don’t appreciate having to repeat myself, Miss Compton. Please have a seat.”

Looking around, Paisley saw the seat was alongside him rather than in front.

“Did you want me to move the chair?” she asked.

“No, I’d prefer you have a clear line of sight to watch the next interview. I want your opinion of what I’ve had to watch all day.”

Sure enough, one of the men Paisley had been in the hallway with stepped into the room she had just vacated.

“Can they hear us?” she whispered.

“No, the intercom you see is set up as a one-way communication. When I yelled at Mitchell, I pressed this button.” The magistrate pressed the button he pointed to, and spoke into the microphone in front of him. “Mitchell, please conduct the interview exactly as you did for Miss Compton. Don’t offer assistance to the next one.”

The man on the other end of the glass touched his ear and nodded.

Paisley never had more of an urge to help a fellow human. The person being interviewed immediately started sweating and then asked the baseboard machine if it was in need of any refreshments. Paisley shook her head, then cringed as the man tried to shake hands with the serving bot. He pulled with too much force and the serving hand attachment disengaged. You’d have thought he slit a human’s throat with how horrified he looked.

“Are they all this dumb when it comes to mechanics?” Paisley asked out loud. She thought she’d mumbled, but the magistrate heard her.

“Every damn one of them.”

Paisley kept facing forward but slid her eyes over to keep tabs on the other two men in her peripheral vision.

The guard barely breathed, and the magistrate didn’t look at her. He clicked a few buttons on the portable panel in front of them. The sound coming into their observation room stopped.

Then he turned to her and she was really unsure what to do next, so she scooted her chair back a bit as she turned toward him. He wasn’t a small man, and she could definitely beat him to the door if he tried to have her arrested.

“I don’t like you,” he finally said. “Your priorities are not congruent with following government policies. I doubt I could get you to show up on time without a driving service picking you up.”

The guy had the nerve to say all of this while staring blatantly at her legs.
Men.
But his obvious internal monologue wasn’t as offensive as what he’d said.

“I know how to have a good time, but that doesn’t mean I’m irresponsible,” Paisley said loudly to redirect his gaze. “And you’re just as annoyed with all those paper pushers coming through those doors, aren’t you?”

The magistrate didn’t look at the interviewee sweating as he tried to use voice commands with the artificial intelligence droid. The droid was purposefully making it difficult on the douchebag. The magistrate was focused on insulting her work ethic.

Paisley had been at this song and dance before. “Shit. Those are exactly the type of people you want. I don’t know why you don’t just hire a bot. Then you could program them. Just make sure you don’t spring for the AI. That OS would learn to outmaneuver your shit in a second. If you want to label people by their appearance, you are no better than those idiots who can’t tell the difference between a service bot and a fully ambulatory humanoid.”

“Feisty, aren’t you?” Magistrate Winters stood and handed her a card with a ball chain attached. “You get debriefed tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. If you think I have false impressions of you, prove me wrong.”

He left through the interview room. Paisley watched the idiot interviewee stand at attention like a soldier. He shook the magistrate’s hand. After saying a few words to both men, the magistrate wiped his palm on his pants and left the room.

The Mitchell guy with the earpiece looked from the way the magistrate left to the room she was in. His lips formed the words, “No way.”

Paisley couldn’t blame him for being in shock. She was pretty damn surprised too.

She’d gotten the job.

Chapter Eight

A drop of wine splashed out as Paisley brought the glass up to her mouth. It was a bad idea to drink during the day in a very posh hotel. But when she thought about what she was going to do tomorrow, Paisley needed some serious liquid courage. Or at least she needed liquid “try not to think about it until morning”.

Her strategy of saving her money wasn’t as desperate, since she was now employed.

She tipped five dollars on a ten-dollar glass of wine. But the tip put a little more in her glass the next time. If there was one bit of knowledge she could give the next generation, it was give the bartender the biggest tip possible.

Normally, tipping wasn’t a big deal because it was easy to score at least one free drink at any club to make up for it. That was when she was dressed in much less and it was late in a packed bar.

There was significantly less opportunity at noon on a Tuesday. Paisley realized she probably looked like an alcoholic, but she needed something to do other than sit in her room, and she’d be damned if she’d use the gym.

“Looks like you had a shitty day,” the bartender said as he wiped up the counter next to her.

“It sucked,” Paisley said.

Tucking the rag in his back pocket, he started dusting off the glasses and restocking his station to prep for the rush of respectable people who would be in later. “Did you lose your job?”

She looked at the suit she’d have to figure out how to clean sometime in the next eighteen hours. “Nope. Got one.”

The guy was wearing jeans and a white tee, but he looked like the perfect man to be her impromptu therapist, as he mistakenly asked, “Why is that a reason to sit at a bar in the middle of the day looking like someone shot your puppy?”

“I got a government job, and I’m pretty sure selling my soul to the man is part of the initiation process.”

The guy laughed. “Yeah. I’m not cut out to wear a monkey suit every day. I like the freedom I have being in the service industry.”

This dude understood.

“See? Why don’t more people get that having the ability to go do your own thing is important to an individual’s emotional health?”

He put down the rag and leaned over. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m working on a book during the day, and do this gig at night. The people I take care of are incredible muse fodder. Is there a project you’re working on?”

Paisley could have told him she was working on getting laid tonight, but somehow she didn’t think that was what he meant. She didn’t even have a life goal. Her only mission was to earn enough money to ensure she could fund a night out and a cab ride home. Wherever home would be.

But it didn’t sound like a great calling, so she said, “I’m not ready to talk about my project yet.”

That made it sound like she was a spy or something. The guy was a writer, so he obviously formulated something fascinating to him in his head. He seemed to think they were conspiring on some big secret and kept asking questions about her life.

Paisley got a free drink out of it. She was pretty sure she just became a character in his book. Hopefully that wasn’t against the rules of working for the government.

“Little early to be drinking, isn’t it, Paisley?”

As if her day couldn’t get any better, Robohippie hopped up on to the stool next to her. It took a good thirty seconds of scream cussing inside her head before she responded.

“It’s only too early if I’m drinking alone.” She put another twenty on the bar. “Give us two of something this will cover and still gives you a good tip, ’kay?”

The bartender put down the pen and notepad he’d picked up and nodded.

Two mixed drinks were put in front of her and Robohippie. She was pretty sure she’d gotten more than a cheap drink out of sharing stories with the bartender.

He cleared her empty glass and leaned over to smile his million-dollar grin at hippie boy. “What’s
your
name?”

“I don’t wish to be a part of whatever you were writing down on that paper.” He sipped the drink. “And I’m not a…what was it you wrote? A lumberjack porno waiting to happen?”

The guy looked over at his notepad halfway across the room. “How did you see that?”

Robohippie pointed to the rounded mirror that the bartender used to keep an eye on the front while getting product from around the corner.

Paisley didn’t get a chance to see the bartender run and hide his notebook from the super-sighted humanoid. She was trying to evaluate the beard and the suspenders. “The lumberjack I can almost see… It’s the porno I’m having trouble with.”

“If you’re asking for a demonstration, I don’t do that anymore.”

Paisley caught his jaw flex and the creak that told her he was grinding his teeth.

“I wasn’t implying you were a prostitute, man. Relax. Drink your free drink.” She thought for a second and grabbed his glass. “You know what…never mind. You’re being a dick. I’ll drink it.”

He held his hand over hers, and Paisley felt the same electricity she’d felt when she’d grabbed his suspenders. “You’ve had enough, and I deserve to get a little lost today too. Back off, chick.”

At least she knew he could get a buzz with her. Coral could swallow alcohol if she had to, but it was a waste of perfectly good booze because Coral couldn’t get drunk.

“You don’t get to call me chick unless you share your pecker.” Paisley laughed, because she was pretty buzzed, and she thought that pun was hilarious.

Instead of laughing or being offended, he just stared.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m evaluating the situation.”

She huffed and he did some strange inhalation making his jaw click.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She drank more.

“I’m trying to decide whether or not to discuss personal data with you.” He knocked back the glass, and swallowed his drink in one gulp, ice and all.

“You wouldn’t even tell me your name.” She sipped hers. It was only noon. “I doubt we are on a personal info level.”

“You were naked and climbing on top of me last night.”

Paisley looked and sure enough, the bartender was visible in that big curved mirror, listening to everything they said.

“This is going to end up as a sex scene in the bartender’s book,” Paisley said.

“Did you wish it to remain fiction?”

“Robohippie, you are making my head spin.” Paisley thought about the words she just said out loud. “Not that making my head spin is all that difficult right now, but still.”

“Please, you’re only at point oh five. I tested your breath. You’re not drunk. And did you just call me Robohippie?” he asked.

He tested her what?

Paisley tried to scoot away. “I didn’t mean to say that part out loud. That’s what I call you in my head. But since you won’t tell me your real name, it’s mostly your fault.”

His lips stretched in a smile and Paisley found she couldn’t stop staring at them for some reason.

“What did you call Ben?”

“Who’s Ben?”

“He’s my roommate, remember? The guy that helped you climb off me when you were naked and oiled up.”

“You keep bringing up the naked part.”

“It was the highlight of my day.”

Paisley couldn’t tell if the guy was hitting on her, or just honestly trying to explain he enjoyed being climbed on. He was mechanics, so it made the usual clues even more difficult to extrapolate.

So she decided to just flat out ask. “Are you hitting on me in attempt to have sex with me?”

Robohippie laughed. A full belly laugh, and even though it was probably at her expense, Paisley laughed with him. She couldn’t help it. Three days ago, she had been working as a maid in the royal palace. She figured she’d be there for the foreseeable future without anything interesting happening at all. Other than the occasionally kinky rendezvous if she met someone fun at the clubs, of course.

Now here she was having a conversation with a mechanical being who was applying for human status, thanks to her former roommate having an orgasm and being declared mentally sound and capable of human emotions.

Life was strange. The strangest thing being that she was wearing a suit. She was going to become a government bureaucrat and she really didn’t feel all that bad about it. Working where Coral fought for the rights of robotics who had advanced thanks to recent technology would be great. Not scrubbing toilets or having people look down on her would be great. Being able to help do something that would make a lasting impact on society was the scary part.

Paisley wasn’t used to being responsible for anyone but herself. Working with Coral on paperwork for individuals who were handing their existence over to be judged for self-sustainability gave her severe performance anxiety. There was only one part of her life where Paisley didn’t have performance anxiety.

She could make a grown man weep with pleasure. No matter how crazy her life became, she enjoyed taking that power over someone else. She reveled in taking care of them the most intimate way in existence.

She reevaluated Robohippie. Then she started asking grossly inappropriate questions that were sure to add to the bartender’s latest novel.

“I know one part is definitely visually appealing and I felt that you have some physical response to me. But how much of your physique
is
humanoid?”

Her suspender wearing comrade lowered his drink and tried to evaluate the situation before he answered. “Why are you asking?”

“Because if you were flirting with me, I want to know if you were just being a tease or if you could follow through.”

“I was flirting with you. And I can follow through, but you weren’t supposed to be interested.” He frowned at the bartender, who retreated further behind the wall. “You were supposed to be offended and huff off in that cute way you do.”

Paisley was about to ask how many times he had seen her huff off, but she remembered at least two off the top of her head just from the balcony incident. She took the cute part as a compliment and moved on. “You shouldn’t wave sex in front of a sex-starved woman if you aren’t going to follow through.”

“I somehow doubt a woman with your breasts and stunning skin is hurting for male company in the bedroom.”

“Just because I’ve had sex recently doesn’t mean I don’t want more.”

“No. I guess it just means that it wasn’t any good.”

Paisley leaned back. “I’ll have you know, all the guys I have ever been with walk away extremely satisfied.”

He leaned forward until he invaded her personal bubble to the point of it popping and dripping down her insides. His breath was warm and smelled like the cinnamon in the drink they’d had. “If it was with a real man, he would have satisfied
you
. And trust me, if you had been with someone like me, neither one of us would be able to walk.”

Paisley could really use an excuse not to walk. There was a lot of responsibility and important shit on her shoulders at the moment, and she couldn’t think of any reason not to blow it all off. She didn’t start until tomorrow. She could do totally inappropriate things with a certificate of humanity applicant this afternoon and still have time to recover.

So she did.

Paisley leaned over and before he had time to move, she placed her hand on his wide thigh to stabilize herself. Her lips touched his and the cinnamon taste amplified on her tongue when she licked him.

She used the leverage to pull herself forward and grip the back of his head. Instead of being surprised, or slow to catch on, like most men, he looped his arms under her knees and in one swift motion, slid her forward onto his lap.

Paisley’s suit skirt wasn’t skin tight, but it wasn’t made to play ride the robot. She heard the fabric tear at the hem. The skirt rode up once it ripped to the side of her hip. She didn’t really care. The bar was empty. She glanced in the mirror at the wide-eyed bartender.

Almost empty.

Sliding her hand from between her leg and his, Paisley used a second hand to try and pull her roboman back for enough air to talk. He wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around her and, with a hand at her nape and the other at her ass, he slid her forward even further into his grip.

Paisley groaned at the friction against her body. She felt him harden right beneath her pussy, and with hardware like that, even with clothes between them, it was pretty obvious Robohippie’s stogie was ready to smoke.

The alcohol and the heat between them was too good to ruin with the possibility of being arrested for public fornication. Paisley’s eyes rolled back into her skull as he thrust his hips against hers, and she felt that big package throb. No.
Throb
wasn’t the right word. Holy hell, his cock was vibrating. Paisley felt the pulse bring her clit out of hiding and her happy button went sprinting toward climax at record pace.

The spontaneity and the thrill at the possibility of being caught in public was doing incredible things for her. Not to mention her body was already going into high gear with how that beautiful mechanical cock of magic would feel deep inside her pussy.

Paisley rocked her core over him as he wound his hips in circles, hitting more right spots than she knew she possessed. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and bit. Her eyes popped open at the sudden sting, and then he kicked whatever that was in his pants into high gear and Paisley went off like a rocket. She rode one long orgasm from peak to valley while staring into his intense eyes.

He finally let go of her tongue and dialed back the robocock.

“Let’s adjourn to my quarters,” He nodded toward the back of the bar. “I really don’t want to hear the bartender jack off. With how sexy you sound when you come, I couldn’t blame the guy for doing it, but I’d rather focus on your orgasms.”

Paisley bet her next round of drinks would be made with some top shelf alcohol at no extra charge, but she wasn’t thinking about a buzz. At least, not an alcoholic one.

She wasn’t as wobbly as she wanted to be when they got to the elevator. The walls were polished metal. Not really mirrored, but fuzzy outlines of their bodies reflected back at them. Paisley could see a shadow of her bearded man’s body. His outline was so big it would eclipse her own.