Page 14 of Atticus
I don’t want to seek information about Lucy solely to understand and please her better.
I want to because knowing more about her pleasesme.
“Good morning, Atticus.”
Hearing my new name causes me to turn. “Good morning, Lucy. Shall I make breakfast for you?”
“You cook breakfast?” she asks in surprise.
“I am programmed with all of the cooking and housekeeping capabilities of your average bionic assistant,” I reply.
“Wow. That sounds amazing,” she says as she unties the waterproof bonnet around her head and lets her red braids down. She smells fresh and faintly of jasmine. She wears a dark blue knit cardigan, open around her crisp white blouse, light-wash jeans, and thatched wedges. This gives her an extra two inches of height, closer to my own. “But I’m too nervous about my first day of class. No appetite, not even a little bit. I appreciate you offering, though.”
“I can do far more than that,” I reply, folding my hands behind me in a default waiting position. “I can drive for you, grade coursework for you, and tutor and counsel for you too.” Her phone rests on the counter. “I can also sync with your social media accounts and cell phone to monitor calls going in and out and send correspondence for you, among other things.”
The smile on Lucy’s lips fades to clear hesitation. “I don’t think that’s wise. I know you’re registered under me, but you’re supposed to belong to the school. Having you linked to my own personal accounts would probably turn into a fucking fiasco.”
She covers her mouth quickly and curses again, this time, under her breath. “Fuck, I’ve got to stop swearing. Shit!” She sighs. “It’s really all right, though. I’m not really on social media anymore.”
Her reluctance, the way her body tenses until she forces herself to relax, piques my interest. “Any reason why?”
My question seems to take her off guard. She clears her throat. “Personal reasons,” she replies. “Too messy to go into, trust me. You don’t want to know.”
Her words have the exact opposite effect. I want to know even more now. My circuitry slows ever so slightly. It’s as though I am disappointed in her answer.
Disappointed. That should not be a capability of mine. How very strange. Perhaps it is because I am a limited edition and so in tune with human signals and emotion as a way to support the students I will be interacting with from day to day. Clearly, I must have some capabilities to experience such things myself.
I don’t like it. It’s more uncomfortable.
“Very well,” I reply, pressing no more on the matter. “But please allow me to drive you to school.”
“I don’t know,” Lucy says, pensive. “My car isn’t anything, special, but...” She shrugs, at a loss. “I’m so used to being independent, it’d be weird making you drive for me. Like you’re a servant instead of an assistant.”
I fall quiet, but only for a moment. “You are human, therefore you experience emotions I cannot. You understand this to be so?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Are you a sentimental woman?”
“Definitely,” she agrees. “Probably shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“Would you say that you feel a drive, a need, a calling, to do anything?”
“To teach,” she says quickly, as natural in her response as she can be while putting her things in her purse. “I’ve always felt that. Ever since I was on my father’s knee, listening to him read to me.”
“It is the same for me, in a slightly different way,” I continue. “If you detract the ability to serve from me, then I experience the sensation of being unnecessary, of...feelinguseless.”
“Feeling?” Lucy asks, eyes widening. “You feel?”
“I use the word to connect with you for mutual understanding,” I explain. “But in a way, yes. I do.”
“Well.” Lucy slips on a jacket. “Okay. I understand. If you want to drive me to school, that’d be fine. I can go over some notes before my class today, so you’re being a teaching assistant, in a way, right?”
“Thank you.” I open the door for her.
“You’re thanking me for letting youserveme?” Lucy meets my eyes and smirks. “You’re a funny robot, you know that?”
I tilt my head to mirror her. “I fail to see the comedic value of my response.”
