Inga

The Genitix Factory was located in Massachusetts, but the company’s Chicago headquarters had a sophisticated smaller scale lab on the 10th and 11th floor of their office building. They entered through the basement carpark and took the lift up to the tenth floor.

Redfern was nervous. He didn’t see how he could deactivate the robot without getting himself killed and had started to think his best option would be to try and sneak away to make a phone call to 911.

“It’s right through here.”

He swiped his security card for the fourth time since they entered the building and they walked through a final set of heavy glass sliding doors into the sterile confines of the 11th floor.

Both Inga and Ivan looked around in wonder. The ‘lab’ took up nearly the entire floor. An enormous space, filled with desks and work pods that contained an assortment of computer equipment and mechanical devices.

This is not what caught their attention, though. Much more interesting were the many humanlike figures, in various stages of completion, around the room. Some bore skin but were absent of hair; others were nothing but bare metal chassis.

“Follow me; we’ll go to my pod.”

Redfern took the lead. Ivan felt a little on edge, the silent building and the half built robots more disconcerting than he would have admitted. They passed what was clearly a feminine shaped robot chassis, its bulbous white eyes staring starkly from its skinless, metal skull.

Ivan almost jumped when Inga’s hand grasped his. His senses zeroed in on the place their skin touched. Her hand was warm and soft, just as he would have expected the hand of a real person – a real girl – to feel, but here in this place, it suddenly seemed artificial. He tried not to look at her in case her face revealed something he didn’t want to see, but in the end, he couldn’t look away. Her touch called too loudly to him.

Inga was smiling at him, a subdued smile, but a smile nonetheless. He smiled back, hoping it didn’t appear forced.

“You are tense, Myfriend.”

He nodded.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

Redfern glanced around at them, doing a double take when he saw that they were holding hands. The big man glared at him, and the technician turned away again.

This will be harder than I thought, he’s grown attached to it.

He reached his work bay, thankful that there were no parts lying around; the big guy looked spooked enough as it was.

Redfern’s work bay was a space about 14 by 14 feet, partitioned from the ones around it by a low modular wall. A long desk lined the perimeter of the square space, an array of screens, computer equipment and other gadgets that Ivan didn’t recognize spread along the top of it. The technician pulled a pair of disposable gloves from a box on the desk and then gestured to what looked a lot like a dentist’s chair in the center of the cubicle.

“It should sit here.”

“She,” grunted Ivan.

“Pardon?”

“She should sit here.”

“Oh – yes, she...”

“It’s okay, Myfriend,” said Inga, releasing his hand and sitting down in the chair.

Redfern watched the robot appreciatively. She certainly was a beauty, definitely the most beautiful custom order machine he’d seen Genitix produce.

When he glanced up, he saw the big man eyeing him with a frown. Redfern cleared his throat and turned quickly to grab a cable from his desk.

He held it up for Ivan to see.

“This is just a cable; I am going to plug it into her so that we can run the diagnostic check.”

Ivan nodded then reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. He sat down on a nearby office chair and rested the weapon casually on his knee.

“Go ahead, but remember what I said.”

Redfern pulled the lead across to the chair and leaned over the robot. Inga turned her head to the side, so he had easy access. He lifted her soft hair and pushed her ear forward with one finger, locating the micro USB port. He was just about to plug it in when she spoke.

“What’s your name?”

“Tom,” he said, surprised again by the robot’s strange behavior.

He slid the cable home.

“Tom. That is a nice name.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Are you able to lift your head a little?”

She did as he asked and he lifted the hair behind her head and located the card slot. It was just below the sutured wound on the back of her head but didn’t look like it had sustained any direct damage. He turned back to the desk and picked up a pair of tweezers.

“Now, after I remove this card, I will have you restart,” he said, as he bent over her again.

“Yes, Tom.”

“You may feel a twinge if your PhysSens software is still running.”

“Yes, Tom.”

Ivan sat forward in his seat.

Redfern placed his hand on the top of her head and pushed it forward gently. Inga reached up and held her hair out of the way for him.

“Thank you,” he said, not registering the helpful act. He lifted the tiny flap of skin hiding the card slot with his forefinger and then delicately clasped the card with the tweezers and eased it out.

He held it up to the light.

“That’s the little fucker that’s been causing all the trouble.”

He dropped it into a tray on his desk. He knew the guys in forensics would want to reverse engineer it.

Inga dropped her hair and looked at Tom.

“Shall I restart now Tom?”

“Yes, do that, then I can run the full diagnostic for you.”

“Don’t look so worried Myfriend,” said Inga. “I will be awake again in a minute or two.”

Again Redfern’s eyes widened. He had never heard a robot speak with such humanlike nuance. The big man nodded, but still looked as wound up as a guitar string.

Inga’s eyes closed and after a few seconds, Ivan could hear a faint humming sound. The hum stopped after about a minute, and he watched her peaceful face as he waited for the hum to begin again. Thirty seconds passed by. Then a minute. As the heavy silence stretched on, Ivan’s face grew darker and darker. He glared at the technician.

“I’m sure it will just take a second,” said Redfern, hating the shrillness in his voice.

Finally, just when Redfern was about to suggest he restart her manually to circumvent the big man’s anger, the low humming began again. The technician sighed in relief and went to stand over the robot. He found himself pushed out of the way by the big man.

Inga’s eyes opened and for just one or two horrible seconds, Ivan was sure she didn’t recognize him.

“Myfriend,” the robot said. “Was I asleep for long?”

He took her hand, his earlier doubts completely gone. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

“No, not long at all,” he said to her and looked up at Redfern, who was watching him with a concerned frown. “Start the diagnostics; I want to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

“Sure.”

Jesus, this guy has tin dick bad.

‘Tin dick’ was the derogatory term the technicians had given to describe the love that some clients began to feel for their female robots.

Redfern went to the computer he had started upon their arrival and hit a few keys. Lines of coding began running across the screen, soon filling it as the diagnostic program trawled through Inga’s hard drives and programming.

Ivan didn’t leave Inga’s side. Redfern licked his lips nervously. He needed to call 911 somehow, or the creep would walk out of here with her in the next ten minutes.

Andre shook his head at the Russian’s luck. Hedley Whittaker, being a supreme nerd, had a fully kitted out workshop in his basement. Within fifteen minutes of performing open heart surgery on the smashed device, he had triumphantly held up a small chip to Andre.

Now, as he perspired over his keyboard, a map of Chicago appeared on his bank of monitors, a telltale blip flashing intermittently in the heart of the central business district.

“Whatever the device was tracking, is right there,” said Whittaker, pointing at the screen.

Andre recognized the address; he had taken his boss there several times. It was the Genitix building.

“Excellent. Do you have another device I can use to track them myself?”

“I could rig something up, but it would take me a good few hours…”

“Don’t bother. Can you monitor this screen and call me if they go on the move again? I will pay you double the normal fee.”

Andre could almost see dollar signs rolling in the FBI man’s eyes.

“Sure!”

Just a few minutes later, Andre and the others were speeding into the city.

“We have located them,” he reported to Molenski over the phone.

“Good. Remember I want them alive. When you have them, bring them straight here.”

“Yes, Boss…”

“And Andre?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t come back without them.”

“No, boss.”