Page 30 of Atticus
For all that reputation and influence, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’ll tell me what she thinks. I dress in comfortable pajamas and wander into my compact living room.
“Are you hungry?” Atticus asks from the kitchen, where he checks on the meal he’s put together in the oven. It took a while to teach him that there’s no such thing as too much seasoning, but he’s finally got the hang of cooking food with flavor in every bite. What’s more, he seems to enjoy my instruction and never complains.
Ugh. He’s so perfect. Chill out, ovaries. He’s not even capable of making babies, but with the way they’re exploding, they certainly don’t care.
“Not at the moment. My stomach’s a bit...off,” I admit, my face heating.
“Are you unwell? Would you like medication?” he asks, brow furrowing with concern.
“I’m really fine. I think I just need to talk to a friend of mind, blow off some steam.” I give him the best reassuring smile I can manage, trying to ignore my heart skipping a beat in my chest.
“Very well. Perhaps after that we can continue managing your stress levels through physical touch,” Atticus suggests. “Is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime?”
I hesitate, trying to think of something that doesn’t sound infantile and stupid, likecould you go into the other room and not listen to my conversation?But that just seems silly. Suspecting he’ll see right through my ruse,
I shift in place and avoid looking him directly in the eye. “Do you think you could walk down to the convenience store on the corner and get me a few of those bottled teas?”
“That is all you want?” He sounds unsure.
“Yeah. Raspberry green tea, please?”
I try not to cringe. Atticus is an android that probably costs more than a luxury car, and I’m treating him like an errand boy and sending him to a gas station. Granted, I’m not sending him to fill my refrigerator; it’s a few bottles of tea. He’s synced to my wallet so it’ll be a painless wave of his hand over a reader. And it’ll buy me a few minutes to gush my heart out to the one woman who gets me, at least.
The moment Atticus is out the door, I pull up Amber’s contact information and call her personal cell. After a few rings, she picks up. Selecting the video option, my smartphone shimmers and projects her face three-dimensionally above the screen. Amber’s long, thick black hair is pulled up in a bun atop her head, and she’s working on putting on her makeup for the day.
“Amber Rivera—oh, Lucy, hi! I was going to try to get a hold of you this weekend when I had a free moment.”
“Busy already?” I ask.
“You know how it is. The moment I touch back down in the States, there’s more work to do. It never ends. I love it, though.”
“I’m just relieved you can answer. How was your trip to Russia?” I ask. “It was so weird not being able to send a text or even a meme. You’d think with technology these days, we’d be able to communicate regardless of country or location.”
“Where’s the money in that?” Amber replies wryly. “And it was exhausting but in a good way. Sobering. I really hope this peace with Russia keeps up, but I’m not counting on it. Not with androids in the mix now.”
“You don’t think anything will come from that, do you?” I ask.
“I mean, I hope not, but with how our two countries insist on continuing on this neverending dick-measuring contest at the expense of people’s lives, it’s hard to say,” Amber says. “But I wouldn’t worry too much about it now.”
“Any other tea I get to hear about first?” I love hearing Amber talk about her stories. She’s so passionate about it. And what with her being the most prolific journalist for theNew Carnegie Times, it makes me feel a little special, like I’m getting the exclusive scoop first.
Amber hums. “I’m about to blow up theTimes’s feed with that big BNP99 story from BioNex. People are gonna lose their minds.”
“You really think so?”
“Having housekeepers is one thing, but a bionic police officer? Yeah, everyone is gonna have an opinion.”
“What about you?”
“Off the record?” Amber applies her mascara. “I think it could be a good thing, if it’s gone about the right way. Imagine an entire force of androids who aren’t easily threatened, where they can’t be taken down by bullets instantly like a person. I think we could see a real positive downturn in police shootings.”
“But that’ll never happen, I suppose,” I muse.
“Course not,” Amber agrees. “It’s good to hear your voice again, though. And see you smile. Tell me what’s going on with you? How are you? Are things getting better? You holding up okay?”
Holding up okay?Now that’s a loaded question. Amber knows everything about me and my life, my hopes, my dreams, my disappointments. My heartbreaks. I knew it would come up, but much to my surprise, that painfully stiff, shot-through-the-heart ache in my chest is muted, not nearly as strong as it used to be.
Coming to St. Morgan for this teaching job even when it drives me crazy to meet Atticus—maybe it was the right move after all. It’s progress. I’ll take it. “I’m fine. Well,sorta. I’m dealing with some drama at work.”
