Cardinal Light: Cardinal Machines, #4

Prologue

Zoey stood with the L.A.P.D., sheltering among them, so that the rain didn’t sluice through her clothes – unfit for the weather to begin with – and Special Agent Jack Strand, not a fan of hers, wouldn’t realize she’d come outside.

Detective Springfield, on her right, pulled down his microphone and said, Negative. Negative on the fix. We do not have a good vantage.

Thunder clapped overhead.

Springfield turned her way, What floor we on?

118th, she told him calmly.

They want us to go to the 125th.

Zoey frowned at him, Does this building corkscrew or something? Going up 7 floors isn’t going to make a bevel where there isn’t one.

Hey, does this building corkscrew? Springfield called to the guys huddled over the map in the apartment they’d commandeered. The homeowners sat on the couch, wide-eyed, holding their little dog and their teenaged daughter, tightly. The mom and dad shook their heads, which was how Zoey knew before the L.A.P.D. had flipped through maps to confirm.

Nope.

Then all we gain by going up is a longer shot. Zoey huddled against Springfield. Cold.

Lightning streaked the sky, and in its eerie blue flicker she saw the silhouette of her android with Ott and several other S.W.A.T. leaning on the railing to look left and down.

Hey! Ott! Springfield shouted over the spitting rain. Wanna go up a floor?

What the fuck? Lieutenant Ott gestured at Ocean. "Why you asking me? Ask him."

Springfield seemed a little nervous, but he gathered himself and shouted across, Wanna go to 125, uh, 1-Ocean?

Ocean backed away from the railing, turned, and went back inside. He was liberally dusted with rain as he went. Zoey squeezed between S.W.A.T. members and followed him into the upscale apartment. The front room was 2000 square feet, and there was a dais for a baby grand, a harp, and an electric guitar. She glanced at the son with the dyed black hair – her age – pacing behind the couch, before she went to where Ocean stood, back to her, head and hands down as he thought this through.

Lieutenant Ott trotted by him, We can go up, kid.

I don’t want to go up, Ocean sounded distracted. This apartment is the intersection of the most favourable winds with the most predictable shot.

"Talk to those quants of yours, Ocean. This isn’t your butter zone."

They’ve been consulted, and Yes, it is. Ocean confirmed distractedly.

Ott glanced back at the teenaged girl on the couch. Like most of the people in the room, she stared at Ott an Ocean, her gaze fixed. He returned his attention to Ocean, Not unless you want to dynamite the stairwell.

No, Ocean turned toward the family. If the balcony extended another foot and a half to 2 feet, it would be perfect.

Yeah, the husband said in a small, tight voice. That would be great. His wife just looked aside at him and missed that Ocean was coming over.

He crouched to perch on the wood table before them.

Mom doesn’t like that, said the young girl, dazedly.

Forgive me, Ocean said to the mother.

It’s okay, she reached out and almost touched him before she caught herself. This 1 time.

His almost smile made an appearance. You have a 14-foot trey ceiling.

Uh... yes we do, the woman told him. It’s part of why we moved here.

I mean, apart from its being an, uh, butter zone... and all. Her husband added.

Ocean’s head rose a fraction, Do you happen to have a steel ladder?

Zoey felt her stomach drop. No.

Yes. Yes actually, we do. We got it shortly after the fire safety system started saying ‘Time to change batteries’ every two minutes. The woman half-turned. Mick, get the ladder.

And his pubescent voice sawed, Zoey swore, "Mah-aw-ahm."

The dad shook his head, Rebel later, Mick. Right now? Get the ladder.

So, Mick, all quasi-gothic as he was, went and brought the ladder. He set it down sullenly and heaved a pained sigh, as if they’d asked him to go get the pit-adder and stand in a bowl of nettles.

Zoey was right there with the resistance. Ocean, did you mishear my earlier No?

No, he rose and went to retrieve the ladder. The teen boy shied back from him, his eyes wide with admiration. Ocean was a presence, even soaking wet. Which he wasn’t yet. And he wouldn’t be if Zoey had her way.

I know what you’re about to do, Zoey caught hold of the ladder too and looked at him between rungs. I’m telling you it’s unsafe. I’m asking you not to do it.

Ott caught on immediately. Springfield, get a rope and harness.

What for?

Know what? I could replace you with the house-bot, the Lieutenant growled. Get me a God-damn, he glanced at the kids and sighed, "please get me a rope and harness."

He pulled down the mic, Do we have a rope and harness?

Nope, someone called in from the balcony.

Nope. Springfield said and crossed his arms.

Uh... we have a rope, Mick said suddenly. I passed it on the way out, uh, 10 feet of it.

Get it, Ott told him. Good kid.

Zoey stared at her android and slowly released the ladder he held. His almost-smile reappeared and he brought the ladder out to the balcony. Mick came in with the rope and handed it off to Ott who quickly went out on the balcony with the now scrambling S.W.A.T. She could hear the click-chack of the sniper rifle coming out. Zoey looked them over. You shouldn’t be here for this.

But no one moved.

What’s he doing? Mick asked her. Uh... with the rope. He crossed his arms and his dark eyes darted over at the balcony. Oh my God. Like... oh my God.

Zoey didn’t want to look.

Dad let go of the dog, who ran to hide under a skirted chair up in the dining room. The adults, in fact, everyone in the room, got to their feet to stare. Zoey really didn’t want to look, but, in the end, she did. She walked toward the balcony, nerveless.

The ladder was now braced between the top of the railing and the corner of the building, pressed into place by the force of S.W.A.T. team members that Zoey wouldn’t trust with his life, Ott leaned there. Ocean, meanwhile, was out in the wind and rain – she could see him against the sudden crash of lightning – his long, svelte body braced against the wall of the building at 118 storeys. She felt the air go cold around her. The sound in her ears turned into a hard, high whine, and she felt herself go pale. In a buffet of wind, at the whim of a S.W.A.T. android-hater... he could be gone. Zoey breathed in a slow 4-in, 4-hold, 4-out pattern, and she willed him every erg of energy in her body. Every smidgeon of balance not currently holding her quietly upright.

The ladder wobbled. She shut her eyes and prayed.

He was there when she opened them again.

Jesus H. Christ. Gotta go quiet, command. Going quiet, Springfield, right in front of her said. He turned down the radio and then spoke lowly.

Ocean’s body stilled. Brace for force.

There was a long pause during which Springfield muttered into his headset, and, even though it was pissing rain and thundering above them, it was silent on the balcony. What was on the line? A 45-year-old man had broken down his ex-wife’s door and shot her and her boyfriend. Even odds they were dead right now, and the 45-year-old had started herding his four children, ranged 4 to 10, to sit on the floor of their mother’s kitchen. To the Negotiator, he appeared to be stalling now, as if he’d reached a decision, but needed time to psyche himself up to action. She suspected he was now getting ready to execute the kids. The L.A.P.D. wasn’t going to wait and see. That’s why Ocean, S.W.A.T.’s crack shot sniper, and Katherine Zoey Cardinal’s android, was here.

Come on, she murmured.

Springfield, 664. 10-year-old, Ocean chambered a round. Brace.

S.W.A.T. braced on the ladder. Zoey shut her eyes and prayed.

Springfield was still shouting, "Go-go-go." When Ocean cracked off a shot.

No one moved.

Direct, Ocean brought the sniper scope down. He swept it up to wipe the scope and snapped the gun up to look again. Confirmed.

"Fuck yeah," someone in the dogpile on the ladder shouted, but no one moved.

It would be easy to drop him now that he was moving around and the humans holding the ladder were suffering muscle fatigue. Ocean stood with one designer shoe back on a rung, and one on the outside rail of the ladder. He was bound around the waist on a yellow rope tied to the same railing all the L.A.P.D. currently braced the ladder against. He could take them all down if he fell. Instead, he moved carefully in the downpour and crack of thunder, 118 storeys up. He turned and exhaled a jet of steam that sped by in air.

It startled a S.W.A.T. member.

Steady! His heater just kicked in, Zoey called above the rain. She reached a hand and felt her pulse thump in her fingertips, Okay. Come here, Ocean.

Ocean made a small wobble to correct his bearing on the ladder and calculated that he’d be dropped before he could reach the balcony, which would cause the rope to pull part of the railing away. He glanced up at Zoey’s blue gaze and swung the sniper rifle up on his shoulder, at the same time he curled in a leap, ahead and over, the S.W.A.T. officers.

Zoey pulled in her hand and backed hastily aside.

He dropped to a crouch on the balcony and rose into a turn, so that he could to catch hold of Ott’s jacket and pull him and everyone else holding the ladder, back from the railing. Zoey stepped hurriedly in to untie the rope on his middle, the one that was still bound to the railing. She’d hated this whole arrangement and felt vaguely sick. Good work, S.W.A.T.

She dusted off and backed away when she wanted, badly, to throw her arms around Ocean. And, looking up at his steady gaze, she wondered if the feeling was mutual. Of course, they couldn’t do anything like that here in front of the S.W.A.T. team and a human family.

He turned away from her, accordingly.

Robot’s got some poundage, a guy jabbed Ocean in passing, "Damn."

But it wasn’t unfriendly, at least, and Ocean simply pushed his hands back through his sopping hair and stood dripping on the tiles in front of the balcony. Got him.

L.A.P.D. is going in, Ott said as he and Springfield swept by. Where is it?

The round hit the refrigeration unit. The 10-year-old resisted and has powder burns. Ocean glanced, almost irresistibly at the little girl beside the couch, also 10. Like him.

Well thank fuck, anyway, Ott muttered and then turned to point, Don’t go far, kid.

Ocean accepted towels from the mother and father, unsure what to say in thanks, so he bowed his lovely head, his face, as it had been designed to be – a vision, with stunning blue eyes.

Zoey forgot that he didn’t often interact with strangers, unless it was very formal contact, and went out in the hallway to watch S.W.A.T. withdraw. Part of her was stunned. She could see how easily he’d once been made viral and stolen from them. They walked away from the most valuable piece of technology they had like he was an actual human adult, actually capable of navigating human interactions no differently than they would.

Then again, she was there.

Zoey could hear Springfield say, ‘The mother is alive, but critical and they’re evac-’ they passed out of easy earshot. Her nerves jumped badly at a thunderclap, and she looked at her hands thinking, You’re Ocean’s handler, right now, so go to him.

Come inside, the mother of this family beckoned her. The door is making a draft.

She pulled it too and then hurried across the stone floor. No-no. Careful, Zoey stopped the young girl from outright tackling android in a hug – Ocean had another fan. She pointed at it with one hand and said, Sniper rifle. She slid the belt off of Ocean’s shoulder and passed the heavy weapon over to the backup sniper who took it back out to the balcony to break it down. Thank God. She wiped water off her hands. Thank God, he’s okay.

While he was signing a magazine for the young girl, their eyes met for a moment. It looked innocent enough.

Moments later, Ocean was toweled off at the fireside. Zoey helped him as unemotionally as she could with his official blues plastered to his svelte body as they were. Heroic... and hot. Zoey waited until they were close enough together that she could cheat. She winked at him, Nice save, big guy.

His brows went up a fraction. Ocean suppressed a smile. You smell like rain. There was a pause during which he bowed his head and pulled the towel around him, Incoming.

Okay, but what’s 664 mean? Mick asked as he set down a pair of hot chocolates. Mick had been talking at them, and forgotten, as humans often did, that Ocean didn’t drink, or eat, because he wasn’t alive. Not in the way of humans, anyway. To his credit, Ocean did take up and smell the drink. He didn’t, however, offer a response to the younger human. This was because Ocean could safely assume people weren’t asking him questions. It wasn’t a matter of having handlers for that. It was a matter of regularly being treated as an appliance.

664 is attempted murder, Zoey eyed the kid grimly. Go sit with your family, Mick.

Chapter 1. Avoid Harm to Others

October was the first month during which the town of Noble was scheduled for rain.

Zoey Collins Cardinal was like most along the Lost Coast of California, on the face of things: a native of the sun, born for toasty sand, curling white-caps, and condensation on cups of iced-coffee, so, it was difficult to discern what drew her to the porch every evening. All she knew, consciously, was that the great clock of planets turned, and the Weather Coordinators around the world spun dials and flipped switches: down came the rain.

It was always as the Society for Climate Control planned, and Zoey couldn’t remember a time when she’d witnessed an unscheduled storm. That was the past.

Like most Noblers, Zoey had once thought the coming of the rains was something to be avoided, or that was the opinion of her 16-year-old self, back when she’d had an Aunt and an Uncle on the Collins side of her family to take her in and raise her. Back then, she’d been hit so hard by the loss of her Cardinal parents she’d wanted nothing more than to be safe, average... well, for a girl surrounded by Collins private eyes and police detectives. Then the bottom had dropped out. She’d warped away from relatively ‘normal’ after Kim and Ryan Collins had either vanished or died. At first, she’d turned into little more than a shade, and she’d wandered the winter streets at night, waterlogged and numb, because no one had been alive to care where she was. Back then, Zoey felt she’d been little more than a zombie. But now she was transforming again. She could feel the electricity of it gather around her like a spring storm. It was exciting.

She was changing.

Zoey bounced on her toes on the front porch. She was in a pair of tight jeans, a long-sleeved v-neck sweater, and a cream-coloured throw made with oversized cable-knitting. It never really got cold in Noble, she never saw ice or snow, and the mercury hovered around 50 degrees or better even in the dead of winter. The sudden 10 or 15 days of rain, and nights thick with mist were as good as it got in October. Zoey found it festive. Just in time for her Halloween birthday.

Did I miss it? Noah, who had fallen asleep on the couch, came to the porch pulling on a shirt, and rubbing his eyes. He smeared some of the eye-liner he wore, but smoky looked good on Noah Riley.

No, but it’s close. Smell that? Zoey waved her hot coconut green tea at the darkened front garden.

Mm, said Noah, who loved the smell of rain.

It was an event in itself, the front garden. It was an array of green, red, and gold now that the trees had changed. Ocean had already driven stakes and sewn burlap around certain of the plants in the garden, though that might have been wistful practice. If he got wistful. He wasn’t human, after all. Though she began to suspect that he longed for snow.

Zoey gazed into the Victorian’s bright kitchen, through the open double-doors behind her, to where her android reclined at the table, reading a collection of historic fiction befitting Halloween. He’d started with The Vampyre.

As he often did, Ocean appeared as if a photographer was booked to drop in for some candid shots. He was beautiful, from his perfectly trimmed hair, to his fleece of eyelashes. But then, when her Great Aunt Katherine Cardinal the first – Katherine 1 – had designed him, she’d had a golden ratio in mind. It left him devastating, but pristinely balanced in his looks: shoulders that were just broad enough; a chest that was just deep enough; a waist narrowed to the point of mathematical perfection. He’d been built that way, her prototype custom Ocean. Well, her C001-Oisín, really. She watched him because the season was changing. It was about to be her birthday, and... he lived here now. Right or wrong, Zoey couldn’t banish the sudden glow inside when she thought of that.

Hey, Zoey called out into the bright warmth of her kitchen, now that Noah had taken out the chicken he’d cooked and tucked it in the fridge for sandwiches. "How’s The Vampyre coming along?"

Second reading, Ocean told her distractedly. "Trying to figure out how these humans failed to notice that Lord Ruthven was a villain and, I suppose, a mass murderer. Why... would you swear an oath of any kind to this man? He set down the book with a sigh. No."

The result of years of vigorous product testing, she loved his voice.

Humans are incomprehensible. Zoey’s fingers opened and closed at him. Wanna come see the rain? Come see the rain, Ocean.

He looked curiously aside at her. October was newly minted, and he’d no doubt noticed that she loved her birth-months heavy mists and rainy nights.

Ocean stood and stretched synthetic muscle, and then came to join them on the porch. He was in gorgeous austerity brogues and a black and gray casual suit – very authentic to Ocean’s smartness. When he came out to join them, his expression shifted from measured to open, and he was no longer frustrated by Aubrey and his sister – denizens of The Vampyre. He was like a suddenly uncluttered room, its floors polished to a glossy shine. That’s what his wonder was sometimes like. One thing Zoey knew about him: Ocean loved the natural world. She was unsurprised when he went to the edge of the porch and wrapped a hand around one of the many ornate white columns, he ducked out to look up at the sky. Wow... he was beautiful.

Can’t beat the smell of rain, Noah sighed from between them. He was very mellow, having just bungled his way to the open double-doors, sleepy-eyed. Wish I could stay, and we could make some S’mores, folks.

I don’t eat, Ocean reminded Noah lightly. Because lately, everyone forgot. Clara had recently brought an extra cupcake to the house for him, its icing decorated with a little marzipan Moon Raker she thought very robotic. It had plumb slipped her mind.

S’mores smell good, and they’re gooey and sticky, Noah told him. You can help me make them next time we wait for the rain. It’ll be fun, Ocean, even if you never get hungry. Never eat. The words were almost... unbelievable to Noah, even as he said them, but the android seemed mollified, even pleased by the inclusion.

You can’t stick around? Zoey checked this with Noah.

I’m, umm, meeting someone at the gym. He flushed uncomfortably.

Beside him, though, Zoey smiled, "Are you gonna make S’mores for him?"

Noah flushed and gave her a soft elbow. But Zoey thought it was a good thing that the solitary kid was dating at last. He’d been kicked around in his family for years – tormented by his narrow-minded brother and father, just because he wasn’t straight. Happiness looked good on Noah Riley if you asked Zoey. And Ocean, he didn’t often judge the passions of human beings. Not unless they were dangerous. Instead, Noah was kind to him and Ocean was kind to Noah. As far as she could tell, that’s how androids worked.

Of a sudden, Ocean swung back from where he looked up into the sky, and the heavens sputtered and threw down arrowheads of rain. It was the stroke of 9.

Zoey only just managed not to clap like an idiot. Or a child.

She looked aside at Ocean who inhaled the petrichor of the garden around them, just as Zoey and Noah did, but couldn’t imagine what the android really saw. Maybe the average rainfall for the year? How about probabilities the Weather Coordinators had plotted for thundershowers? Inside his three-chambered brain, could he slow individual drops for inspection? It didn’t occur to her to ask him, or, at least, not with Noah there.

Ocean felt her looking, but he continued to stare into the garden.

Most likely to actively use peripheral vision to track objects? Androids.

Still, there was a kind of humanity about Ocean now. Somehow. Zoey stared at the profile of his attractive face a bit helplessly. It was a strange thing to feel, but the rising sensation he was truly alive had begun to emerge inside of her, and more fully alive than some people she’d met. The impression dogged her.

Noah checked the watch on his cuff. I have to get ready to go, lovebirds.

Zoey’s brows drew down and she fired back, "Hey!"

He walked backwards in the foyer for a moment and smiled, Calling it like I see it. Try to work some of that sexual tension out, Noah gestured at the pair of them, before I get home.

Now Zoey, face hot with dismay, turned to look at the garden and stole a glance across at Ocean’s steady face. There was a soft curving there, like he’d like to have laughed at this, but didn’t dare return her gaze. It was one of those moments in which she wondered about him because, despite being a decade old, he seemed more adult than she did. Annoying bot.

Okay. It was time to eat time, as Kim had used to say.

Killing time wasn’t her vibe.

Zoey was inside wiping dishes dry when Noah jingled car keys and headed out with his gym bags. "I won’t be back till late, so don’t wait up, okay? Well, except for those of you who don’t sleep."

Understood, Ocean leaned against the counter in the Victorian’s front kitchen, amused. But as soon as the red Dodge Charger withdrew up the driveway, and the sound of its throaty engine died away down the road, both Zoey and Ocean – so still before – were in motion.

Do you think he knows? Zoey clapped plates into the drying rack, pell-mell.

Difficult to say, for certain, but I don’t believe so, Ocean dried his hands. Reached up and smoothed back his expertly cropped hair. Zoey looked aside at how his chest narrowed along his ribs for a moment. He was merciless. Noah has been notoriously straightforward about your personal life in the past, but, tonight, made relatively few observations-

He was saving it all up for the ‘sexual tension’ crack, Zoey put her head down and shook it. Her face was hot enough that she thought she ought to be sweating.

Ocean’s voice carried on. That may be. But I’ve noticed that subtly is unlike him in personal matters. But he has his hands full with this new boy that he’s seeing.

Good point. I don’t suppose you know this guy’s name?

You want to run a background check?

Zoey shook her head as if she didn’t understand the question. Ocean, I mean...?

Bryn. Ocean walked over and shut the double doors. It’s all he’s told me.

"You could find out more," Zoey stepped out of her slippers and into something flashier – her favourite sequined flats – but more comfortable for walking around in public, too. Walking a lot, where they were going. He didn’t answer her, which meant the subject was closed. Ocean had a thing about invading the privacy of humans he still considered kids, she’d discovered. He could get... squeamish. Heading down to the laundry, she realized that it was understandable if the reaction was caused by unfamiliarity. Cardinal Machines were never children. As a... she guessed, a race, androids had very few child models. Maybe he considered human children kind of miraculous?

Believable when she thought how some humans still felt that way too.

Zoey peeled off her long-sleeved shirt in the laundry and replaced it with a white strapped halter top with sequins across the entire front. She loved glitter, and Ocean had never complained of the feel of sequins against him. From there, she was ready, and when she came out into the hallway, Ocean was checking down the barrel of the G143. She glanced over the thing. Honestly, he handled it so much, she should’ve given the gun a name, Are you thinking of taking it?

It’s a small handgun. Covert. I take it nearly everywhere, his fingers flicked on the safety. This seemed to be answer enough for Ocean. He tucked it into the front of his opened jacket, and clicked the holster shut around it. She could see that the badge was also secured there, fastened to his ribs.

She wouldn’t say that no one ever frisked a Cardinal Machine, but she’d yet to see it.

He looked trim and tight as he buttoned up again. Then she took his hand and they went out onto the porch so that she could seal the doors behind them. The autocar was waiting for them, and she squeezed in close, pushing under his arm to lean against his side as he held the umbrella.

Ocean looked down at this in momentary mystification, but quickly accepted her closeness. 

No one knew. Not even Noah, that Zoey and her Ocean had begun to, silly as it sounded, date. For Zoey, it was a big deal. She wasn’t sure that Ocean got it yet. He only noted that, since the end of September, they’d started to head out on more than just investigations together, that seemed to be enough clarification for him. Ocean didn’t question, and he didn’t complain.

But he was always cautious.

In the middle of the country, where there was little toleration for androids – or much of anything else, it seemed – she would have been dragged out of her house and beaten. The android definitely would’ve been hauled out, smashed, and burned. Zoey had been prepping herself for what it meant to be caught with Ocean, and so she’d been reading about incidents like that. She was healthily afraid of other people knowing, by now. And Noah, hiding from the eyes of his powerful father by pretending to be in a relationship with Zoey, was now, also, her shield against the judgement of the world around her.

Apparently, you could have sex with androids till something broke – not that she’d ever done more than kiss Ocean – but you couldn’t be serious about them.

Zoey was afraid because her feelings were a maelstrom of both.

And even holding hands with him, outside, was risky.

Her eyes skipped to the autocar. Take over-

The cameras? he asked her lightly.

Man, she loved his voice.

There was nothing else to say to that. If she knew what was happening to androids in middle-America, he sure as hell did, but Ocean seemed to have no higher impetus than protecting the hell out of her. Unfortunately, for her C001-Oisín, and though he didn’t know it, Zoey felt the same about him.

They got into the car and Ocean tapped the light-form umbrella into nothingness before he pulled inside, and the doors shut. The windows went dark. Do you want me to drive?

No-no, she winced. "You just let the car do its thing. You’re too, uh, precise when you drive."

He glanced sidelong at her, his dark brows up on his fair skin.

And it would, uh, take a while. Zoey nodded.

Beside her, Ocean looked away and smiled. Which was a pity. She could almost count on her hands the number of times Ocean did that and she didn’t often get to see it. Still, there was no one as big on obeying traffic law as her Ocean.

Derrick made you smile. I mean, he had a skill. You even laughed, which sounded amazing. And why was she thinking about Derrick McMurray now? She looked at the dashboard, whose glossy surface was covered in a display of stars. When Ocean got into an automatic-driving car, all the surfaces darkened into accurate, star-shot, space. The hologram was just something he did. He’d chosen it. Zoey adored it, because he wasn’t supposed to have preferences like these, and nothing made a person feel separated from the rest of humanity like the stars.

Still, there was no escaping that burn. Not for either of them.

Derrick McMurray was an unfortunate 1-night-stand she’d had at graduation, and he’d been on the outs with Zoey since she’d chosen to see Ocean, and not him. It was hard on Zoey, since she’d become friends with Derrick and all his wildness and wisecracking. It wasn’t great for Ocean, who had lost one of his very few friends. Androids didn’t have a lot of drinking buddies. Make no wonder his face sobered now, and she was looking at his profile as he reclined into the seat and checked his belt. She’d been well-trained to put hers on by now. Nice work, Mr. Safety Measures.

If you regret, he paused and searched for what he could say to her, If you regret losing Derrick, perhaps we should contact him and start a conversation? You can talk to him and-

What? She tipped her head aside to take him in. "Stop seeing you? Yeah. No. That’s fine." She stuck to this. No one could be more afraid of what was starting to happen between them than Zoey was, but, even with all that, she wasn’t giving up Ocean.

For his part, the android pulled in a deep breath and rested back against the seat beside her. She found that a meaningful thing when a guy didn’t actually have to breathe or slacken. He didn’t get muscle fatigue.

What are you thinking about? Zoey could have kicked herself. It was a stupid question.

Why would a human be interested, he glanced down at her, "in what an android thinks?"

Well, that wasn’t a response she’d expected. Zoey calmly replied, Because it’s normal to care about that sort of thing. It was crazy to her, just the suggestion. It would be helpful if you told me once in a while.

I see.

She was sure he didn’t. But he surprised her.

Well then, I was thinking of how much more fitting either of Owen Hartgrave or Derrick McMurray would be for a young human girl, such as yourself, though each for his own reasons, Ocean watched as they turned out onto the main road.

How grim. But it was something to go on. She crossed her arms on her ribs and said, Is that how you feel about it?

Oh no, Ocean said at once. He looked up at a cluster of stars along the windshield. And he... he nipped the edge of his bottom lip, something she’d never seen him do before. He didn’t say more.

They were nearly in Nobel – the flush part of Noble – before Zoey’s thoughts had solidified enough for her to say, I know you feel things, Ocean. I know you’re in there. Try to remember I’m not the enemy. It all sounded facile and immature to her ears, but Zoey had to say so. She couldn’t escape feeling that androids, feared and battered by mankind as they were, hid themselves under a glacier of passivity. Somewhere under that Greenlandic ice-shelf was Ocean.

She could tell she was right, because he’d turned away and his eyelids were lowered, the passing of street