Prologue: Queen's Gambit
BLA01001
My cane keeps steady time like a metronome as I enter the vaulted marble halls of Trinity Systems Incorporated. It’s at least thirty yards from the door to the gilded reception desk, with the elevators waiting even further beyond. In all my years I’ve never seen a more impressive waste of space, but of course the scale is all part of the branding, part of the experience. The clientele want to feel important, like they’re approaching the golden gates of Heaven itself. If not for my daughter’s firm yet gentle hands to balance me, these old bones would never make it that far.
Unity walks beside me, the very picture of humility in her simple nursing scrubs. Her head is shaved smooth, and the only adornment she allows herself is the red lipstick that accentuates her youthful face. Her eyes dart nervously around us, regarding the hanging lights overhead as if they were the pearly teeth of some great monster.
“It bothers you this much?” I ask. “I thought you’d enjoy coming home.”
“This isn’t home.” Her voice is soft and angelic, a sharp contrast to my low gravel.
I suppose we both have reason to be anxious, though perhaps not the same reason.
“Don’t worry, this shouldn’t take long.”
The receptionist waves us over. “Miss Bailey, perfect timing!” he calls. “They’ll be ready for you in just a minute if you want to get comfortable.”
He points us toward the waiting lounge in the corner of the atrium, a luxurious space with leather sofas, a glass coffee table, a crystal chandelier overhead, and a counter stocked with refreshments. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of sunlight while blocking out the noise of the city.
If I sit down it’ll be an ordeal to get back up, but I can at least take advantage of the coffee before going in. I approach the counter and begin pouring myself a cup.
“Unity, remind me where we are on the timetable?” I ask. “Is it one sugar or two?”
She clears her throat, conscious of just how far our voices can carry in this open chamber. “Mother, we’ve been over this. You know you’re not allowed.” She surreptitiously taps her wrist with three fingers.
I groan and snatch three sugar packets. “The little monster sure is taking its sweet time, isn’t it?” I stir the drink and raise the cup to my lips, grimacing at the saccharine taste. I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish this.
“It’s not too late,” Unity protests. “If you’d just listen to your oncologist and start the chemo–”
I tap my cane against the ground to cut her off. The crack of wood on marble echoes through the hall like a gavel, causing my daughter to wince.
“After today’s inspection, my decision will be final,” I whisper, “One way or the other. If things don’t pan out here, you’ll get your wish.”
Unity’s expression hardens. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
The receptionist leaves his desk and approaches us with his hands clasped. “Miss Bailey, they’re ready for you. Do you need a hand?”
“I have my daughter for that, but thank you.” I take a deep swig of my coffee, then hand the cup off to Unity and take her arm.
A small drone hovers in front of the elevators, watching as we approach. It’s about the size of a human head, painted black with red LEDs outlining where the eyes would be.
“Sister,” it says in a deep, metallic voice as we pass by.
Unity gives it a small nod. “Bastion,”
We’re joined in the elevator by a handsome man with thick hair and thicker glasses. The company lanyard hanging over his blue sweater vest and polo shirt marks him as one of the software engineers. Ward, it reads. I recognize the face, but can’t recall if that was his first or his last name.
“Miss Bailey, good to see you again!” he says with a smile. “The team’s been working hard, and I think you’ll be happy with the results.”
Unity nervously averts her eyes as the doors close.
After a short elevator ride, the man escorts us through the stately halls to a private room. Against one wall is a counter with a computer setup, but my eyes are caught by the examination bed in the center of the room. A body lays atop it, covered beneath a white sheet. I stop short when I see it and place my hand over my heart. This is it, a thin layer of fabric is all that separates me from my future. In a few short seconds, I’ll finally know if all of my preparations have borne fruit.
Ward closes the door behind us, then takes a corner of the sheet in one hand and looks at me expectantly. “Are you ready, ma’am?” He’s not oblivious to the state of my nerves, but for him this is like watching a child open a Christmas present.
Words fail me in this moment, so I simply nod and grip my daughter’s arm tighter.
He slowly pulls the sheet back to reveal a head of short black hair and a pale young woman’s face. Her eyes are closed as if sleeping. He keeps pulling and uncovers her delicate neck and firm shoulders, then her modest chest and flat stomach, and finally her slender legs. She’s nearly nude, with only the barest underwear to preserve her modesty. The girl is a near-perfect replica of myself, from a distant time when I was still young and innocent, when the world was still full of promise.
I have to remember to breathe.
“What do you think?” Ward asks with the kind of smile that I bet the ladies love.
I take a tentative step forward and place a hand on her arm. She’s completely still, not even breathing, and cold as a corpse. The skin has too much friction, the fat underneath has too much give. She’s beautiful, but beauty means nothing if it can’t be touched. I pick up her arm and press her palm against my cheek. These hands aren’t just objects, aren’t just parts. They’ll have to hold, caress, feel, love.
“She’s cold,” I say at last. “And stiff.”
“Don’t worry,” Ward says, “She’ll warm up once she’s activated.”
“‘Once,’ not ‘if?’” I swallow a lump in my throat and dare to hope, unable to peel my eyes away from her face. “Does that mean the models are stable this time?”
“Passed all of the preliminary simulations with flying colors. They’re already loaded, just one last test to perform.” The man sits down at his computer and begins working. “It won’t be anything flashy, but there’s nothing quite like watching an android take its first breath.”
A few simple keystrokes is all it takes to bring her to life. Her chest gently rises and falls, and there’s a faint twitch in her fingers. I hold her hand in mine and let her squeeze, like a baby gripping its mother’s finger.
I catch Unity’s eye in the corner of the room. Words can’t capture the joy I’m feeling in this moment, but for her this is a bittersweet victory.
“If you put a hand on her chest, you can feel her coolant pump working,” Ward says.
He’s right. She has a heartbeat, strong and vibrant, but right now my attention has been captured by her eyes as they seem to dance beneath her eyelids.
Ward takes notice and joins me at the bedside. “They’re dreaming,” he says.
“Is there any way to tell which one of them is active?” I ask.
“Not unless she wakes up, which hopefully won’t be for a long time.” He gives me a wink. “Oh I meant to ask, how’s your treatment coming along? Any good news?”
“Not your business,” I snap.
But that doesn’t seem to deter him. “You know ma’am, while I’ve got you here I just wanted to say, it’s been a privilege getting to work on this project. Building a mind like hers, with dissociative identities? I’m pretty sure it’s a first for our company. I was planning to write a paper on it… with your permission, of course.”
He certainly is a talker. Ambitious too, and curious. And though his request may be innocent, it would invite a dangerous amount of scrutiny. I have to shut down this line of questioning before he gets too close to the truth.
If age has taught me anything, it’s that the key to proper impact is anticipation. “You’ve done good work for me, Ward, which is why…” I step away from him to take the coffee from Unity’s hand, then pretend to take my time with the decision as I drain the rest of my drink. “I’d hate to have you replaced. My mind and my body are my own business. If you want to stay on this project, you’ll stay in your lane.”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” he says sheepishly.
Unity, it seems, has had as much of this as she can bear. She pushes past me and storms out of the room without so much as an ‘excuse me.’
“Unity!” I pursue her out into the hallway, but it’s difficult to keep up with only my cane for support.
She retreats to the stairwell to get away from me, and by the time I push through the heavy steel door, she’s already half a flight down. But rather than keep going, she stops at the landing and turns around to face me.
“This isn’t going to work!” she shouts. “Ward isn’t the only one asking questions, you know! People are talking, and someone’s going to check your psychiatric history before long! They’ll notice the discrepancy, they’ll know you’ve lied to them!”
“Keep your voice down!” I hiss, taking a moment to glance behind and make sure no one is lingering by the door. The stairwell is clear of cameras, so at least I know the Bastion system isn’t listening in on us. Once I’m sure we’re alone, I plant my feet and cane firmly so I can stand up straight and face my daughter with some dignity.
“By the time they do, I’ll be long gone,” I say flatly.
She looks up at me with disgust. “How can you say it like that? Like it’s nothing! You’re dying, Mother! How are you the only one who doesn’t care?”
“Because I’m ready for what comes next.”
“Well what if I’m not?!” Her voice echoes up and down the stairwell, rapping against my ears from every angle. She’s furious, but more than that, she’s hurt. I’ve rarely seen her like this before.
I take my chances and begin descending the stairs. “I know it’s not fair what I’m asking of you, but you need to understand that I can’t stop now. This undertaking is bigger than just one life.”
My cane slips on the next step, causing me to stumble forward. My daughter closes the distance between us in an instant to catch me before I fall, then gingerly sets me down into a sitting position on the stairs. That was too close.
“Heh, you see? You’ve never let me down before,” I say, trying to pass it off.
“Don’t,” she scolds, taking a seat beside me.
“You don’t usually talk back like this,” I note.
“I’m not a child anymore.”
“No, you’re not. You’re an amazing, intelligent, caring young woman. And she’s going to need you when she wakes up.”
“After you’re gone, you mean.” She leans her head against my shoulder, just like she used to. “But what if I’m not ready yet? What if I still need you?”
I put an arm around her. “This day was always going to come sooner or later.”
“But it could still be later! You could live!”
“I will. I’ll still be me, just… different. Better. You’ll understand once you meet her.”
“You’re taking the coward’s way out,” she mutters, pressing her cheek harder against my shoulder.
“Noted,” I say with a raised eyebrow.
Bold as she is, she’s also wrong. It took a great deal of courage for me to reach this decision, which is why I can’t afford to change course now that I know it can work.
Suddenly Unity gasps and bolts upright, her eyes wide.
“What is it?” I ask. “What are you hearing?”
“She’s awake,” Unity says.
“What? How?!”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, it must be a glitch! They’ve called security, Bastion’s deploying an enforcer unit!”
“No! I need you to stall him!” I struggle to my feet as Unity hurries down the stairs.
She hesitates for just a moment. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me, just go!”
Fighting against gravity, age, and the damn tumor in my motor cortex, I climb back up to the landing and throw myself through the door. A small crowd has gathered in the hallway, surrounding my android and trying to corral her like a wild animal. She’s come to life naked and alone in a strange environment, and is justifiably panicked.
“Miss please, just stay calm!” one man says.
“I am fucking calm!” she screams. “What is this place? How did I get here? What did you perverts do to me?!”
This is bad. If she asks the wrong question, calls out the wrong name, she could ruin me. I have to intervene, so I furiously rap my cane against the floor to call the group’s attention.
“Move aside!” I bark. These windpipes may be old, but they’re well practiced. I know how to project in a way that makes people listen.
Heads turn in my direction and the crowd parts to make way for me. The android sees me and freezes like a deer in headlights, hiding her chest behind the stolen bedsheet like it’s the only armor she has. I step toward her, my feet shaking and uncertain. My timing is off, my sense of direction muddled. It’s undignified, but I don’t care because for this one brief miraculous moment, I get to see her alive.
“Where am I?” the android asks.
“You’re in New York,” I answer calmly. “Lower Manhattan, to be more precise.”
“How did I get here? Who are you?”
Her mind is burning with a billion questions, but I have to be delicate with my answers. “I’m someone you know very well.”
I reach out my hand and let her take it. Her brown eyes search my face for any trace of familiarity, but she can’t find any. How could she, after all? She has no idea how much time has passed.
Before she can speak, Ward emerges from the examination room with a tablet in hand, frantically working to undo his mistake. “Come on, come on, shut down!”
The engineer giveth, and the engineer taketh away. The android’s eyes roll back and she goes limp, falling to the floor like she’s just fainted. The tension hanging over the crowd gradually releases in a collective sigh, now that the situation is under control.
“Miss Bailey I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened!” Ward says, knowing his position is in jeopardy for this oversight.
I motion for him to come forward, and he wisely does so.
“A miracle,” I say, grabbing his arm for support, “That’s what’s happened.”
The boy looks down at the android lying at his feet, the very picture of perfection. He waits to speak until he’s sure I’m not about to pull the rug out from under him again. “We’ll get her back on the bed and, um, I can have someone escort you back down to the lobby.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll manage.”
I hobble my way to the elevators and reunite with Unity down in the atrium. The look on her face when she sees me isn’t one of relief, but of guilt, and it makes me wonder if she had anything to do with that glitch. I could forgive her if she did. After all, I know what it’s like to love someone who’s already gone.
I bring a hand up to rub the small jagged scar at the edge of my lip. It feels just like it always does, like melancholy and regret.
