Page 37 of Atticus
Thrills surged along my circuitry, carried through my biocomponents along my mainframe.
Lucy Warren wantsme.
My overwhelmed gratification drive nearly spun me to dizziness. I experienced so many strange new sensations at once, all pleasant. I could identify pride. Pride that Lucy, my mistress by technicality and my supervisor and coworker by career, finds me pleasing to her eyes, the same way I see her. I was also a little confused, unsure of why such a desire might be perceived as complicated or complex.
My primary directive is education, but I can’t deny that over time, my processor has adapted to hold Lucy’s comfort and care in the highest regard. Touching her, helping her relax at the end of the day, gives me more satisfaction than teaching. I didn’t think that was possible.
My directives have realigned. Lucy is now first in every aspect. My job is second.
I find pleasure and contentment in our evenings together. Lucy’s skin is soft, and having my arms around her brought a satisfaction nothing else can hope to replace or compete with.
When we kissed, every part of my body came to life in that electric moment.
All androids are built with the capability to please their owners inotherways. It’s an unspoken rule, and one BioNex anticipated, but I am different than most models. Perhaps it is because I am built specifically with the ability to identify emotions, but I have an entire software program dedicated to intimacy that lays untapped in my inner workings. Humans are ruled by their instincts, and their greatest instincts are eating, sleeping, and mating. Although, sometimes it seems that sex takes great precedence over everything else.
I am male, fully designed with male capabilities. As I’m not ruled by hormones or an overwhelming biological desire to breed and carry on a legacy, I do not suffer from what I’ve heard the young boys in my class refer to as “raging hard-ons.”My penis must be initialized, either manually or by command, otherwise it lies dormant.
Of course, the ninth graders have used more colorful vernacular than that. My anatomy has been a matter of some fascination with the students and a majority of the females on the school staff. I think they forget I have excellent hearing. No whisper is beyond me.
I tune out the students for obvious reasons. By bionic building, packaging, and marketing standards, I’m not even a year old. But I am an adult, for all intents and purposes, and no one else’s thoughts, opinions, or curiosities matter to me except Lucy’s.
The thought of Lucy acting upon her attraction has titillated me all week. She kissed me. I happily kissed her in return. I want to do that again, but she says we can’t. Her body language, something I’ve attuned myself to, says otherwise. It’s a marvel we didn’t kiss again last night when we held each other, this time with her legs draped across my lap. She even guided my hand to rest on her thigh, which was new and exciting for me.
But we can’t kiss again. Why?
I don’t understand. She enjoyed it. So did I. It doesn’t make sense. Perhaps it isn’t meant to, just another contradiction of human emotion I can’t yet fathom. Regardless, her consent is withdrawn, and I must wait until it’s given again. I can only quietly revel in the secrets her body continues unveiling to me. Her temperature continues to spike around me. When I speak to her, she avoids my gaze as her heart rate increases and color tints her cheeks. During the work day when we aren’t working together in a lesson, she finds reasons to keep her distance.
I remain conscious of it. My programming dictates I always be passive, yet receptive in such situations. I am restricted from certain direct forms of initiation. I’ve already discovered the limits of my workarounds by identifying ways to relieve her increased anxiety, but I can go no further.
Simultaneously, I’m incapable of ignoring the signals she gives me. There is energy, magnetism coursing between us at any given time. It’s been spreading between us in intensity these past few days. She doesn’t seem to understand that she gave me a directive, thus rendering me incapable of acting against it, our dynamic as owner-and-bionic strongly intact.
Unbreakable.
It frustrates my gratification drive. Immensely. It behaves as though I’m not fulfilling my purpose, even when I am.
I’munsatisfiedthis way.
“One more class, and then we get to relax until the game tonight,” Lucy says as she walks into the classroom, in high spirits. “I just finished talking things through with Trey. Did he touch base with you?”
“He did, yes,” I acknowledge. Another strange surge of energy floods my sensors. It happens whenever Lucy speaks with Trey and has ever since I witnessed their first interaction. I haven’t seen any change in Trey’s readings since then.
He’s attracted to Lucy.
I don’t like that. I can’t pinpoint exactly why or if this is a malfunction in my programming. I’ve researched jealousy, envy, the closest human experiences I can compare it to. And I dislike those things too.
I haven’t broached the subject of what I translate as Trey’s interest with her, not since I voiced my initial observation. While she’s acutely aware of Sullivan’s intent, she doesn’t seem to take notice of Trey’s signals at all. Strange, because she does like Trey’s company.
Human relationships are more complicated than physics. There are no formulas or facts I can refer to, to help me understand why they do what they do.
“Long face, Atticus,” Lucy remarks. “Everything okay?”
“My apologies,” I reply, quickly reverting to an at-rest position. “I was researching.”
“Researching what?”
Well, shit.I can’t lie.
Then I pause. Did I just say “well, shit” inwardly, to my systems, to myself?
