Human Code

03 || T H R E E

"There's not much I can do as a machine, right?"

*

Wendy had fallen asleep right after her Peter Pan stories. She made me read them to her every night because they put her at ease. And once she'd shut her eyes and grab her stuffed bunny, I'd wander into the living room to charge for the night.

The night's end was normally a time of peace for me. The late hours allowed me some silence. Solace. It was my only moment to run on minimal power. I'd sink into my lowest setting, let darkness wrap around me, and charge. Think. Dream. Like sleep.

But tonight was different.

The news had been stirring the pot of tension in our house, and Mary's sudden arrival brought it to a boil. I knew it wasn't intentional—she cared. But knowing Rory, the android I was based on, was also affected by the "hiccup" made my parents uneasy. Worried. Terrified. Their emotions filled the house more than usual, and rather than charge and wait for morning, I stood outside the kitchen door.

With my back pressed against the dark wall that hid me with its partnered shadows, I listened. And tried not to feel like I should.

Sad. Neglected. Property.

"And what did Mary say?" my mother cried. "She came all this way to check him because they're breaking, Juan. They're out there attacking people! Breaking! Dying!"

"Amorcito, please, relax. You'll wake Wendy..." My father always tried to be the reasonable one, but even this time I heard it in his voice—fear. The emotion that echoed louder than his words.

"Have you seen the news? Some don't go back home. They get their commands and leave, but never go back. And Bionics can't track Javier! What if—"

"Linda..."

"—what if he goes out to get Wendy and doesn't come back? What if we lose Wendy, too? What if he hurts her? I... I can't lose her, Juan. She's my baby, and if I lose another child in my life, I'll..."

Break. Crumble. Die.

My internal device filled in the words my mother couldn't say. She never did.

I remembered when I first woke from my android state and walked to her, she was happy. She cried. She held me. Her fingers dug into my artificial skin until the fibers turned red, and her tears of joy exploded because I was so human.

I was her son.

But it took just two years for that happiness to fade. Because all of my memories never installed correctly, and no matter how close I was to my living life, I wasn't her baby. I was a "shell with his face, plastic with his skin, and God shouldn't have allowed this creation."

That's what she had said to me.

Yet, as I pressed my head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, I felt that stinging, regretful love of hers. Whatever afflicted Bionics' androids scared her.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't dangerous. That I'd never let anything happen to Wendy. Though my love may have appeared artificial, it was real. She was my sister, just as much as she was their daughter. Bionics created or legally adopted, we were family.

And families stick together.

"Amor, mira..." My father's voice returned stronger, and I had to look. Turning my head to peer inside the kitchen, I watched him just as he cupped my mother's face. It was wet with tears, cheeks tomato red. My father brushed his thumbs just under her eyes.