Page 106 of Ezra
“Only you know that,” she replies, giving me a half smile. “Sorry. Didn’t mean nothing by it, Ezra.”
“I could follow the gun purchases, the paper trail.”
“Already on that.”
“Forensics?”
“Told you, we’re all set,” Jayne insists. “Ezra. You’ve worked twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, for how many years? I think we can spare a few hours without you. Just this once.”
I flex my fingers, trying to relax my joints. Every part of my mainframe is tense. Jayne Rose is the last person I should be snapping at.
“You’ll keep me updated?” I mutter.
“Of course,” she says. I can’t stay irritated with her, even when I try. “Go take care of her, okay? Chief doesn’t need to know.”
With a nod, I quickly exit, and head for the parking lot.
I dislike being treated like I’m useless. I dislike feeling useless even more.
Everyone else in the ACU is busy. Marcus and Drustan are still at the Loft, interviewing staff and the venue owners. Others are patrolling the streets, following up on potential leads before it gets too late. I should have done more.
But that’s my programming talking. My software never stops.
I can’t force it to stop. But maybe I can guide it to slow.
Jayne is right. I’ve rarely, if ever, taken any time to myself. I enjoyed being the untiring workhorse, exceeding every expectation, barreling down every obstacle the chief and commissioner put in front of me, proving my worth time and again.
Is it so wrong for me to seek out the one person who sees something—someone—beyond my designation?
I’ve always wondered what my creator was like. Ezra Lewis. To hear Dr. Genevieve Taylor speak of him during my tune-ups gives me the impression of a remarkable, soft-spoken, hard-working man who always worked a hundred times harder than his colleagues when he was in the lab. Robert Carson may have designed me, but it was Dr. Lewis who painstakingly brought my parts together. Made me who and what I am.
But he never saw me brought to life or what I became capable of. What I am now.
Making my way to Katrina’s apartment, I wonder what he would think, knowing that despite all my usefulness, I’ll never be utilized to my full potential because of the fears of small-minded men. I wonder if he would embrace me like a son, the way Algrove Schroeder embraces his first creation, Victor. Would he encourage me down this lonely road I’ve been made for, reassuring me that I’m the only one of my kind, better than the rest, that this is a burden I must bear?
Would he approve of my crossing this boundary between machine and man, taking a woman for myself—a woman I can’t legally marry or give children to?
Androids were never made to experience burnout or loneliness. Yet, with everything else I should never feel, I feel these things the most.
Maker . . . Dr. Lewis. I’m weary.
With no hope of an answer to these prayers that can’t be heard, that can’t go anywhere, I send a message to the only person I can trust in matters of this nature.
Jayne.
She responds quickly.What’s up?
Do I deserve happiness?
I see her typing for a moment before her response flits over my feed.Of course you do. You deserve just as much of it as the rest of us.
Her response warms me. In a short amount of time, she has become a true friend.Thank you.
She’s a wonderful girl, Ezra,she replies.Don’t play around. Go get her!
Katrina is everything to me.
It hits me as I ascend the stairs to her floor. She iseverything.
