Page 11 of Nolan
What is happening to me?
It’s difficult to focus. I try to rein in these rogue emotions, fixating upon my friend. Apollo and I are part of the weekend crew with three other men—Booker, Travis, and AJ—with Thursday through Sunday, oncall twenty-four-seven. Everyone calls us the Weekenders. During that time, we stay bunked at the station so we can race out whenever an emergency comes through Belmont County dispatch. Breakfast every Monday morning at the Royal Empress Café is their ritual, their tradition, and they’ve brought me along every week for almost a year. That’s how I met Apollo’s wife, kids, and his extended family.
All I’ve seen of Mia before tonight was a photo. Apollo said she’d been fifteen years old but didn’t tell me how long ago that was.
I was expecting a gangly young woman, maybe freshly out of college or something.
The woman I saw last night is anything but.
Luscious fawn complexion, pretty brown eyes. Thick black hair. Slender and graceful body. But it’s her smile that I keep revisiting in my memory banks, over and over again to feed the way my gratification drive clings to her. Like a rat in a lab, I keep hitting that play button. I don’t even have dopamine to spike, but if this is anything like human hormones, I pity all mankind.
I can’t think of anything else.
Where the hell was Apollo hiding her?
I need to relax. Reboot. So as we drive back to the fire station, that’s exactly what I do in the passenger seat—quietly, so as not to clue Apollo in that something might be going on with me. When I come to again, he’s still talking about the tickets to the New Carnegie Barons game he’s procured, and how he can’t wait to take Jessica and the kids.
“You should come too,” he says. “You’ve never attended a game before. It’ll be a good time.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” I reply, but my processes are focused elsewhere.
When we arrive at the station, we head to the common living area for the men on duty. Being bionic, I’m able to stay alert even when I’m in sleep mode, so I can listen for the station-wide alarm when it goes off. It wakes up everyone, but I like being the first one ready. Apollo and the others encourage me in this. They’ve told me many times that it inspires them, knowing I’m there not just to do my job, but to keep them safe.
Booker is already dead asleep, snoring on his bunk. AJ is building a deck of cards carefully on his back just to see if he can while Travis watches. Evenings are often full of activities like this. There’s also a large TV, which is currently on a news station.
“Pro-bionic students are showing up in force to protest the national android curfew, which is scheduled to come into effect next week,” says the reporter. “Often accompanied by their bionic assistants, tempers ran high when the group clashed with a Humanity First student club on campus this evening, though no major injuries were reported . . .”
“Can you believe this shit?” Travis mutters, craning his neck to watch the TV with me. “You’re out here saving everybody’s life, and they’re saying you can’t walk around the city past ten p.m.”
“Without an escort,” I reason, though I don’t like it any more than he does. “So long as I’m with one of you or in the truck, I should be fine, right?”
“That’s the hope,” Apollo mutters.
“We got your back, Nol,” AJ says as his house of cards topples when Booker shifts in his sleep. “NCPD can try to apprehend you, but we sure as hell won’t let them.”
“NCPD is the least of my worries,” I remark dryly. I know the bionic detective working there with the Artificial Crime Unit, or ACU. Goes by the name of Ezra. When fires or other emergencies arise due to criminal mischief, and that mischief has to do with androids, well, it’s usually him or his companion, Detective Deion Washington, coming to chat with us. Somehow, I can’t picture either of them showing up to give me a hard time and confiscate me—although that miserable bastard on their team, Weaver? Now, him I wouldn’t trust, not as far as I could throw him.
Even though I’m pretty sure I could throw him really far.
I tune out the discussion around me and let the boys know I’m going to move into sleep mode until I’m needed, citing my battery needing a charge. Technically my battery is at 79%, and there’s no risk of my energy running low. I have my own area in the station—my own “bedroom,” but I don’t always spend time in it, for the sake of comradery, rapport building, and just plain socializing.
I wasn’t meant to hide away in an attic somewhere. I was meant to interact. There’s comfort in listening to my brothers, my friends, chat about things they find interesting. Football, weekend plans, jealous girlfriends.
But my gratification drive has only one thing on its stubborn little mind.
And that’s Mia Bennett.
I told her I’d contact her soon. True to my word, I open my crisp texting interface across my internal optic screen and send a quick message to the number she gave me. It’s been a few hours since we spoke, and it’s nearing midnight. Maybe she’s asleep, or maybe it’s too fast, even for “soon.”
But I want her to know I’m interested. Hi. It’s Nolan. You can reach me here.
She doesn’t respond right away, and in the quiet that follows, I let my thoughts wander elsewhere, to women I’ve been romantically involved with in the past. I’ve had my share of dates, though nothing extremely serious. It’s hard for me to be serious when I’m dedicated to protecting and serving the community. I had to end things with several prospective girlfriends because they couldn’t handle my hours or how my life just couldn’t revolve around them.
Maybe Mia is different. She’s Apollo’s sister; she has to know how hard he works, the sacrifices he makes. My hopes are tentative, and my curiosity is sky high.
Thirty minutes pass, and the boys are winding down, crawling into their bunks. Just when I’m about to tell myself it’s late and better luck tomorrow, a message flits across my optic screen with a cheery little bell sound, something only I can hear.
Sorry, I came home, wolfed down dinner, and then I fell asleep! Is it okay if we chat tomorrow? I’m exhausted.
