Page 50 of Atticus
“Yes.” I chuckle with her. “Clearly.”
“I like the sound of your laugh,” Lucy admits. “Every day you seem more and more human. It shouldn’t seem possible, but it is.”
“Then I shall have to find more reasons to laugh.” I’m not sure about aggressive affection, the way she described it, but I can try to tease her, the way I’ve seen others do. “Be funny more often, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I never thought you’d adapt and make your own sense of humor,” Lucy says.
“Neither did I. An interesting adaptation.” Satisfied that she cannot seem to stop smiling, I turn toward the entrance as I hear an unceremonious car horn beeping several times in a row. “I’m not sure, but I think—Ithink?—she’s ready for us.”
Grinning, Lucy walks to the door and steps through when I open it for her. “You think?”
* * *
Amber wasn’t joking when she said she wanted to play dress-up.
Two hours pass of what Lucy refers to aspure and unadulterated retail therapy.When it became clear her protests were in vain, I tried on dozens of outfits in half a dozen stores, and with the click of Amber’s thumb on her glittering smartphone followed by an automaticApproved!sound at every register, I now not only own new clothes, I own a new wardrobe entirely.
There’s something for every occasion: a blue pinstripe suit and black leather shoes; dress shirts, ties, white T-shirts; jeans with a brown leather jacket; hoodies and sweatpants for the weekend. The back of Amber’s car can barely fit another bag despite my best efforts.
“How are we going to get all this back home?” Lucy mutters, at a loss.
Amber snaps her fingers. “You’reright! Atticus, my dear, you need a suitcase of your own.”
So that’s precisely what she buys at a shiny, high-end department store. Two suitcases, in fact, while Lucy waited in the car at Amber’s insistence. She was suspicious about such a request, but after some reassurance, she agreed.
It becomes clear that Amber meant to separate us on purpose. “What do you think of all these things for you?” she asks, smirking, as we wait to check out. “Do you feel like more of a man already?”
I blink. “I’m a male bionic assistant. I always feel male.”
“Oh, you silly droid. You know what I meant.”
Amber uses a chip in her watch to pay for these expenses, then beckons me outside. For someone so well known, she doesn’t seem intent upon separating herself from the general public. Occasionally, individuals recognize her or even say hello, but she’s left alone for the most part as people go on with their daily lives. She doesn’t carry herself with arrogance or entitlement, either. Very down-to-earth for someone so affluent.
“So? What are we going to do about this?”
While I suppose I should be flattered she acknowledges my intelligence, I truly have no idea what she’s talking about. “About what?”
“You. And Lucy.”
Her voice is filled with mischief that I’m not sure I should trust. “What is there to do?”
Amber gives me a harmless little shove to my shoulder. I move with the motion to ensure she doesn’t lose her balance in doing so. “Atticus, you have to know how much of an absolute knockout you are.”
“I was designed to be attractive, yes.”
“Oh, you definitely were. And she knows it. She told me you heard us over the phone.Tiger.”
“Ah yes,” I reply dryly. “My secret identity.”
“That was a joke.” She gawks at me. “You have wit! Even a knowledge of pop culture. How incredible.”
“Our students are entrenched in it, so it became necessary to learn.”
“No wonder. She really likes you, you know.” We wait at the corner of the sidewalk, staring up at an orange hand still posted across the street on the other side of a crossing where Lucy waits in the car next to a parking meter. “Real men have been a disappointment. Maybe a synthetic one with a brain, good looks, and some junk in the trunk is the solution.”
I’m thrown off by this description. “I’m not sure I understand. I am not built from trash. There is no junk stored anywhere in my mainframe.”
Amber laughs heartily. “It means you have a nice ass, genius.”
