Page 12 of Atticus
“That’s right.”
“What were the options?”
“Well.” Lucy taps her tablet idly with her digital pen. “It’s kinda corny, but I figured since I’m the World History teacher and our first major subject is going to be the Greeks, you should be named as though you come from one of the two major ancient city-states.”
My processors quickly pull up the cities she’s referring to. “Athens or Sparta?”
“That’s right. The results are in, and your name is...” She browses through her tablet. “Well, that’s a surprise. It’s a tie. I thought for certain Spartacus would win out, because the Spartans are the school mascot, but Atticus pulled just as many votes.”
Atticus. I like the sound of that name. I do a quick search on the name and its origins, and before long I’ve pulled up every ancient Greek book considered a classic and read through them all in a matter of moments.
I peer at the voting results Lucy displays to me. “What do you intend to do now?”
“Which name do you like best?”
Surprised, it takes my systems a moment to formulate a response. “But...I belong to you and the school. I am an object. It isn’t my place to question. Naming me should be your choice.”
Lucy shakes her head and leans on the counter with her elbows. “No, I don’t like that.”
“You don’t?”
“No. If there’s a name that speaks to you, choose it. You are artificial, but you look like a person to me. As human as the next guy. I know you’re notreal—no, sorry, that still doesn’t sound right. You’re not anorganicperson. But does that mean you shouldn’t have a choice in matters relating to you?”
Her words make little sense to me. “I’m a bionic assistant. I was created for your use. The school’s use. I’m sorry but choice is a concept I can’t fathom.”
“You lack free will?”
I struggle to answer. “Free will is a human notion, with spiritual and social implications. As I am not capable of being spiritual and spared the complexities of human society, I’m excluded from it.”
“I disagree,” Lucy says with conviction, which serves to confuse me more. “Out of the two names, which one do you like? Tell me honestly.”
“I’m incapable of dishonesty.”
“Yeah, I’m catching on to that.” She chuckles. “Tell me.”
I pause a moment before replying. “Atticus.”
She sets aside her tablet. “Your name,” she tells me with a triumphant smile, “is Atticus.” She extends a hand to me. “And my name is Lucy, and it’s very nice to meet you.”
This woman is entirely odd. “We’ve already met.”
“I know! Just play along, would you?” She directs me, and I take her hand, small and soft, within my palm. She shakes my hand with a soft gasp. “Wow, you really are warm like the kids said. I was half expecting you to be ice cold.”
“My body mimics human temperature,” I explain, despite my own befuddlement. Our touch lingers, longer than other handshakes I’ve seen as she admires my hand, turning it over to peer at my palm.
“You’re soft too,” she marvels. “Like real skin. It’s amazing. I’ve seen androids before plenty of times, but I’ve never actually touched one.”
I watch her curiously. The gentle strokes of her fingers across my palm carry pleasant tingles along my mainframe. An enjoyable sensation. I wonder why that is.
“Is there anywhere else you’d like to touch?” I ask.
She stops. “Huh?”
“I am school property, and by extension, yours,” I reply. “You can touch whatever area of me you like.”
“T-that’s—” My scans indicate her temperature is rising, and she withholds laughter.
“I do not understand,” I say after a moment. “Have I said something wrong?”
