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Arrogance and cunning twisted the features of Ajur's face. "I'm working on a personal project for him. He wants to restore his sight without any type of cybernetics. I am to fix what God has gotten wrong." "I bet if you wanted to you could." Ajur smiled again. "You're right." The fork and knife found rest upon the plate and the mistress stood. She half bid, mostly maneuvered, Lez back to the sitting room. In the room her mistress kissed her with the fierceness she had used the night before, but without the callousness. When she was done, Ajur stared expectantly at her. "I love you," whispered Lez.
Her owner smiled, pushing her down into the chair. "As you
should." And though Ajur appeared not to be done with her,
Lez felt herself slip offline. # Little by little Lez began to learn more and more about her mistress. With each piece of new information she longed for Grinder to once again appear in her life, for him to take her back to that small, repulsive workroom. Four years ago Ajur could have saved her employer's sight. Four years she spent hiding and sabotaging other people's works, in order to keep herself well-paid. This kept him blind. Lez
was beginning to hate her owner. She scanned for ways out, but
felt trapped within the glass tower. The only comfort she had
was the research information she slowly pried from Ajur, all in
hopes of one day letting Mr. Lesnah know. # It was one thousand, one hundred and ninety eight activations before she finally saw the sun again. That is, Lez saw Mr. Lesnah again. His hands moved along the curves of her face. "It must not have worked," he said to himself. She couldn't find the strength to speak. Dressed in the gossamer nightgown, she was embarrassed. She felt naked. Not because of the visibility of her parts, but because of the switch he had found. He straightened himself and turned to leave the room. No, she thought. She wanted him to stay there with her a moment longer. His fingers found the glass knob and she couldn't restrain it anymore. "It did work." Lez felt her programs begin to conflict. The cane stopped its probing. He stood there tainting the room with his smell. His face was turned from her, its reflection lost in the shadow of a bureau. Perhaps he didn't remember her. "Ajur isn't my aunt," she laid down a hint waiting to see. "If anything she is my owner," Lez found it hard to say such things. She slipped the words past firewalls and programming. "Miss Nupar," he remembered her name and she smiled. But that happiness was short lived "You're a robot? Did she make you?" Lez shook her head glad he could not see her face. She filtered the sadness from her voice. "Grinder, a meek man in a tiny work room, he is my maker." His blank stare fell on her. The features of his face couldn't pick an emotion; each muscle twitched not knowing which way to go. Desperate to make him forget about her abnormality, her being, she switched the subject. "Ajur's quite cruel. Blindness has been cured many times over." Her jaw locked up. She couldn't bypass more than that. Still he stood there staring, undecided. She damned those things in her protecting the vile woman. Now there were no more words to keep him there. Or was there? One more look around triggered the words she often said to herself. "If I could I would leave." If she had the ability to make tears, she would have then. "I've wanted to so many times. Even with no place to go..." Mr.
Lesnah stepped closer to her. His hand settled on her, stroking
it like one would a child's. But he couldn't face her. Even though
his eyes could not see, he wouldn't face her. She never felt so
wretched and pitiful or so thankful for being turned off. # Offline, she was never truly off. Her programs kept constant maintenance. But she began weaving code in the backdoors, the shadow programs, and called these her dreams. She fiddled with memories, altering them. Altering images, words, like one would doctor footage of aliens visiting the White House. She hid them from her main mind, in the shadowy section of her hard drive, a place that had been corrupted possibly more than once. One
folder contained visions of freedom along with fears; three hundred
forty three files worth. The smallest, but most often viewed,
files were images of Ajur dying; fifty-nine files, forty three
thousand sixty eight views. But her favorites were just memories.
Sad memories of Grinder and on occasion of Mr. Lesnah. # More
nights with Ajur passed and after a while Lez stopped paying attention
to the count. Monotony once again fell into play until once again
there was light. It was odd that he be standing there after she was running files on him. "I was just thinking about you," she let slip out. His mouth moved. He probably didn't realize it, but she read his lips, Do machines dream? She didn't answer. "What can I do for you?" Lez was restraining herself this time, avoiding the previous time's mistakes. Again his mouth twitched, but he kept his lips far more restrained. From his pocket came a device. Data cords and a black box, it was a cold senseless machine. Oh, her lips moved, but she couldn't say it. He wanted to rip her memory. Take what he could, find his cure, and leave her be. Leave her prisoner, traitor. Still
she found herself reaching out for it. "Sure." |