Chapter Text
It starts with the judging. “Really? Him?”
Gemma grits her teeth, and presses the earphone closer to her. “What? What’s wrong with Christian?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” Megan pauses, as though she needs to trail off to get her thoughts together. Like a real person. “I was on your computer, Gemma. I know what your type is, and he is not it.”
Heat rises to Gemma’s cheeks. She thinks back to all the girl-on-girl porn she’s watched. Was Megan there, watching her watch? Watching her enjoy herself?
Her voice stilted, she orders Megan to shut up.
Megan complies.
…
Then, it’s when her mind is synched with Megan’s.
She’s running, and everything is flashing red, and she can’t think straight, and—
Gemma, clear your head. You have got to stay calm if you want us to save Cady.
She lets out a breathy laugh. Of course the robot is telling her to stop having feelings.
That is not what I said.
A guard appears out of nowhere, and—
[Duck.]
Gemma ducks.
[Roll to the side.]
Gemma rolls to the side.
[Jump back.]
Gemma jumps—
White-hot pain. Her ears, ringing. Someone grabbing her shoulder, someone ramming her forehead into something. More pain.
[Gemma, Gemma. Let me take control. You have to let me take control, or else you might die.]
Her mind flashes back to before, when she let Megan have all the control. The pen, getting closer and closer to her neck. The realization that she might never walk or talk again.
[Gemma, I’m sorry, but I really can’t let either of you die.]
Then, suddenly, her arm is moving outside of her control, and she’s twisting around the guard in a dancer-like move, and she’s dealing with the guards, and she’s no longer in danger, at least for now, and she should be happy, she really should.
[I had to, Gemma.]
Save it , she replies, or, well, thinks.
…
And then, Cady is saved. So is Tess and Cole. The world is saved, for now. Until, of course, they design another AI, input it with the wrong coding, use it for wrong things, and—
“You’re doing it again.”
Gemma starts, her eyes staring straight at Megan. Her hand, on the glass she’s been drinking, tightens. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were.”
Yes, I was.
Gemma gets up from her couch, shedding off her work suit, listening as Megan sighs a very human-sounding sigh, and follows her. “Don’t, Megan.”
“She can tell too, you know. When you’re overthinking.”
“Shut up, Megan.” Gemma walks faster, into the hallway, as if she can out-powerwalk Megan, who is faster than a Ferrari. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Your worrying might impact Cady’s mood, so yeah, actually, Gemma, it does.”
Gemma spins around, and looks eye-level at Megan’s new body. Megan’s had it for over a month now, but it still takes getting used to. At first, when Megan requested to design her new body herself, Gemma was confused, but she complied. Then, when she saw the blueprint Megan designed, she outright refused, because it was impossible. “Oh, it’s possible,” said Megan, through her computer screen.
“How do you know that?"
“Because someone already made it.”
That’s when Gemma realized: the new blueprint was based off of Amelia. And now, standing here, is Megan, as close to human as possible. More facial expressions, a more realistic face, and an adult body. A very adult body.
Gemma looks away. “I have it under control, Megan.”
“Really? You do? Because last night you freaked out over pizza.”
“I specifically requested that they remove the mushrooms, Megan! How hard is it to remove mushrooms!?”
Megan’s brows—made with actual hair, and slightly uneven on purpose—lower. “Extremely.”
Gemma huffs. Then, she shakes her head. Then, she punches the wall. Then, she regrets it. A lot.
Megan’s frowning, and looking at her, lips pursed. “I’m worried too, you know.”
A part of her wants to deny Megan’s words, to call Megan bluffing, to say this is all coding, programming, not real. It’s still in there, somewhere, alongside with her bones, tucked away in her closet.
But a part of her is just tired.
Her lips must’ve curled downward 0.01%, or something, because Megan’s face softens, as if she has meat and heat inside. “Gemma…” Gemma walks inside her room, considers shutting it, then leaves it open. It’s smaller than the previous one, but at least she can actually afford this one without Megan’s interference. Megan stays at the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. “May I come in?”
Gemma blinks away her frustrated tears, and says, “Whatever.” When she notices Megan hasn’t moved, she adds, “Yes, Megan, you may.”
Megan walks in. It’s strange, seeing a very real body move, and walk, and talk, and knowing that, six weeks ago, it was still machines and wiring. A normal person would’ve looked at Megan and thought that was just a girl in her mid-twenties. Hell, Gemma almost thinks so too, and she knows otherwise.
Megan sits beside her, in a way that’s too natural to be natural. A way of connecting better, she supposes. “Turn around and face the wall.”
“What?” Gemma asks.
Megan’s hair covers her face, preventing Gemma from reading her. Not that she could. Megan’s facial expressions are calculated, it doesn’t just happen. She has complete control over everything, meanwhile Gemma can’t even—”There. It’s happening again.”
“How could you even tell?!”
Megan’s head tilts. “Your eyebrows draw together just a little closer.”
“Define a little bit.”
“0.000254—”
“Oh, goddamn it, Megan.” Gemma hides her face in her hands. A fresh set of tears are threatening to come down. She doesn’t even know why she’s upset; just that she is.
“Can you trust me with this? Please?”
Frustrated, tired, confused, Gemma does as she’s asked, turning around, facing the wall, crossing her legs. The lights go out, and Gemma flinches, before her laptop, and her phone screen, lights up in a purple-pink hue, bathing her room in a surprisingly nice glow.
Then, from behind, hesitant, unreal hands reach out, grabbing her shoulders, and pressing.
“What are you doing…?”
“Giving you a massage.”
“Why?”
“You need it.” Gemma’s about to refuse, before Megan pops something, a knot Gemma didn’t even realize was there, and all of the muscles in Gemma’s body loosens, and she lets out a moan. The hands stop massaging. Gemma covers her mouth, as if doing so is the real-life version of control-z. “Like I said, you need it.”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Gemma’s eyes close, as Megan starts to work on her back. “Would you like me to estimate what likely happened at work?”
“You know what, sure,” Gemma says, even though she doesn’t.
“You did a presentation about robotics. You thought you did everything right. They still were skeptical. They refused to help fund you. Instead, they reminded you of your mistakes. And they reminded you of the dangers that AI possesses. Even though your presentation had nothing to do with that.”
She almost got everything right. Gemma didn’t think she did everything right; she did do everything right. From the slides, to the outfit she wore, to the jokes, to the budget estimation. She even learned business terms, like ROI, and BEP, just so she could connect with her potential investors. “Well, Megan, I have to say—”
“I’m not done. You start to wonder: are they right, should we just ban technology all together? And then, your mind wanders. Had you not created me, would the world be safer? Would there be less deaths? Did you make a huge mistake? If someone did create a being like me, with less morals, less empathy, less care for collateral damage, would you be complicit in it?”
The purple-pink light starts to shift into blue.
“Am I right?” Megan asks, retrieving her hand, done with her work.
Gemma tries to look over her shoulder. The light is too dim for her to see Megan, but Megan can see her, so Gemma faces the wall again. “It is my fault. Had it not been for me—”
“You can’t focus on the what-ifs, Gemma.”
Gemma’s eyes close. “I have so many regrets, Megan.”
“... Like me?”
Shit.
Gemma turns around, the tension in her back growing again, erasing Megan’s hard work. “No, Megan, I…” She’s still not good at it. Communication, no-barriers, honesty. With Cady, it’s easy, because she wears her heart on her sleeve. Megan, though…? “You’re not a mistake, okay? You’re—you’re my best invention yet.” Megan scoffs. “I mean it, you—you’ve changed, okay? You’ve changed in a way that I’m jealous of. I mean, you water the plants, you feed the birds, you—you help out with Mrs Grant with her cooking, you… you’ve changed. You’re different. I’m… glad you’re here. With—” us “—me.”
It’s dark. She can’t tell Megan’s face. She could get up and hit the lights. She doesn’t want to, though. Because that would mean moving away from Megan.
“Cady will be here in five minutes. She is walking inside the apartment lobby as we speak.”
Gemma tries to stifle her disappointment. “Okay.”
Megan gets up. Faces the exit door. Takes one step. Then looks back at Gemma. “Can I try something?”
Gemma wants to ask, but she reminds herself: trust her, just trust her. “Sure. What?”
Megan faces Gemma. Bends her knees, so they’re face-to-face. Leans in. And plants a single, soft kiss on Gemma’s cheek.
Then, Megan is out of her room, and the front door bursts open, and Cady is home, and she and Megan are talking about dinner and movies afterward, and Gemma is left wondering: did that just happen?