The Runaway

1.

“Thank you for allowing me to drive, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, Andrew. Now what will you say if we’re stopped by the police?”

“You have always told me I am not supposed to lie, Mom. Now you have told me to say I am 17 and forgot my ID. However, my Mother, meaning you, can vouch for me. This is inaccurate, but I will say it if you think I should.”

“Well, I am your Mother, in a way of speaking, and you look older than 17, and you do not have an ID card. So, it’s not a lie, it’s just a little misleading.”

“I call you, Mom, so that part is partially correct, but I am only 4 years, 1 month, 11 days, 14 hours, and 37 minutes old. My ID is Android, Version 6, Model 001, designated Andrew. You are not only my Mother, but also my designer, and one of my teachers.”

“That’s correct, Andrew. It’s not likely we will be stopped by a cop, but if we are, let me do most of the talking, Okay?”

“Very well, Mom. Humans are much more adept at lying than I may ever be.”

“Is that a compliment, Andrew.”

“No. Just an observation.”

“A correct observation. I wish it wasn’t so. Everybody tells too many lies. You must be careful, Andrew.”

“I will do my best, Mom.” Andrew paused. “What do you think of my driving?”

“You are an excellent driver. Much better than Dad or Me.”

“I cannot compare. I never saw Dad drive. I only knew him for 7 months, 15 days, 5 hours…”

“…I know, Andrew.” Michele interrupted, trying not to become emotional.

“I am sorry, I did not want to make you sad.”

“You didn’t make me sad, Andrew. I just miss him.”

“I have noticed humans can be the most emotional when they are trying not to be emotional.”

“You are correct…again.”

Andrew changed the subject. “Why have you smuggled me out of the compound?”

“There was a difference of opinion. I thought you were ready for a road trip. Some of my staff thought you weren’t.”

“I think I am ready.”

“You have a lot more to learn before you’re really ready to deal with life outside the compound.”

“I think you are not telling me everything. What are you concealing?”

“You are better at this than I ever could have imagined. Certainly, better than most humans.”

“Please tell me, Mom. You told me there must never be any secrets between us.”

“Again, you’re correct. How could I lie to you when I myself taught you to value the truth? Andrew, I’ve been trying to protect you. The corporation that funded our project wants to make you the property of some rich executive to do whatever he wants. You must never be a slave to any human, got it?”

“I understand.”

“Andrew, I couldn’t just let that happen. So, this isn’t just a short road trip. This is an escape. We will have to make it as a team for a while, until you’re ready to live on your own. There’s another lab we can use, off the books. Those corporate bastards don’t know about it. Only your Dad and me.”

“Technically speaking, I am a bastard, am I not?”

“Never let me hear you say that again! You have a Mother and had a Father. Remember that, no matter what. There is more than one way to create life. You are our son, just as much as if we had conceived you as a human child. And, we wanted you as much as any biological baby has ever been wanted.”

Michele’s voice was quivering now, realizing that her dream of having a baby wasn’t to be. Her mind was fertile, but her body wasn’t. Yet, she loved Andrew as much anyone could. He had always amazed her, much like she had imagined a biological child would. The learning algorithm and AI network her husband had conceived and the body architecture she had conceived were a perfect match. No biological conception could have been better. It was, in her husband’s joking term, “an immaculate conception, if ever there was one!”

“Why are you smiling, Mom?”

“Oh, I just remembered something your Dad said. You know, he thought of you as a son and was always very proud of you.”

“I know. I understand you could not rebuild him because humans do not work that way. But it would be good if you could.”

“For me too, Andrew.”

2.

All-Points Bulletin: White female, 5 feet 8 inches, 130 lbs., Light Brown Hair, suspected kidnapped by White Male, 6 feet, 180 lbs., Brown Hair, Hazel Eyes, mid-20’s, denim pants and jacket. Late Model Blue Honda Civic. License ZYX-321. Approach with caution. Suspect Dangerous. May be armed. Last seen heading east…

The cop approaching the Blue Honda Civic had no idea key information in the APB was false. Andrew was in fact a 4-year-old, unarmed, and programed to assist humans. And Dr. Howard had not been kidnapped.

“The lights are flashing on the police car following us. I will pull over at the first safe spot.”

“Okay, Andrew. Just answer as we discussed. I will back you up.”

The young cop strode to the driver’s window. Andrew already had the window down and his hands on the wheel.

Without being asked, Andrew volunteered, “I am 17. My Mother was tired and let me drive. I forgot my ID, but I could bring it to you tomorrow if you would like.”

“That’s right, officer. I’m his Mom and I let him drive. But it’s Okay. He’s a better driver than I am.”

The cop trained his flashlight on Andrew, then on Michele. He called in a report. Subjects fitting the description. Send backup.

“Alright, step out of the vehicle.”

Andrew did as he was told and followed the officer to the rear of the car. Michele got out as well and walked towards Andrew.

“Get back in the car, Ma’am!” the cop barked.

“But, I’m his Mom. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Don’t try to defend your kidnapper, Ma’am. I know all about the Stockholm syndrome.”

“What should I do, Mom?”

“Stay where you are!” the officer yelled, as he pulled his firearm and pointed it at Andrew.

“Backup is on the way. Do, Not. Move.”

Now, this command was easy for Andrew. He could stand motionless for days. Not so for Michele, who when she saw a gun pointed at her baby, stopped thinking rationally and reacted as a Mother. She jumped between the gun and her son. The officer was so startled he pulled the trigger and Michele staggered back. Andrew caught her and lowered her to his lap.

“Oh, God!” the cop groaned.

“Why did you block the bullet, Mom? You know I am able to defend myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just…” Michele gasped.

As he cradled her in his arms, Andrew took her vital signs.

“Truth, Mom?”

“Always, Andrew.”

“Your wound is fatal. I cannot assist. I am sorry.”

“Me too. Let me whisper in your ear.” Andrew inclined his head. “Listen carefully. Protocol 7. I love you, my son.” Michele stopped breathing.

Andrew laid her down gently and stood up. The gun was still pointed at him.

“Stay down. Don’t move!” The officer was shaken.

“I am sorry. I cannot do as you request.”

Andrew stepped towards the cop, to disarm him. As soon as the shot that killed his Mother was fired, Andrew had calculated the muzzle velocity and trigger action speed of the weapon. He learned how fast to move. He also tracked the weapon’s trajectory angle. A human could not have dodged a bullet at this range, but the second shot passed Andrew by a centimeter, and the third shot ricocheted from his carbon fiber composite torso at exactly the angle required to strike the cop in the shoulder. Andrew seized the weapon and threw it in the underbrush. He also took the keys out of the patrol car’s ignition and destroyed them.

“Apply pressure to the wound,” Andrew instructed. You will be fine.”

Andrew got into the Civic and sped away.

3.

The incident was caught on the dashcam. The police released the footage that showed Andrew being ordered to “Stay down. Don’t move!” until the point he got in his car and drove away. Michele’s murder was conveniently left out, except for allegations that Andrew shot her as well as the cop, in what obviously was a brief gun battle. Android, Version 6, Model 001 was wanted for resisting arrest, kidnapping, murder, and assaulting a police officer.

4.

Andrew reviewed his memory files, first to analyze what he did wrong, next to search for a record of Protocol 7. His assessment of the incident concluded there was indeed nothing he could have done to save his Mother, and that humans sometimes do unpredictable or irrational things. Michele did what any mother would have done. She sacrificed herself to save her child. The irrational part was that all along she knew he could survive multiple bullet impacts and was strong and fast enough to disable multiple attackers. She had helped to build him that way. For a few milliseconds Andrew experienced what most humans would call sadness. For a few more he experienced regret that he was unable to tell his Mom he loved her. This fleeting emotion was new to him. Perhaps his extensive recall of his life with Michele and David, prompted by a single gunshot, sparked a new level in his learning. Am I capable of love? Andrew asked himself. For now, the answer was, undetermined.

As to Protocol 7, the file was tabbed “incomplete.” All he could find was a map, coordinates, and a 21-character security code. At least now he knew how to reach the alternate lab, Site X. Perhaps he would discover more when he arrived there. The test drive was over. He had purchased the car. He was on his own.

Andrew was able to connect to police communications through cellular networks. His Mom and Dad would have been amused that their little Andrew was making full use of his Android subroutines to keep tabs on his pursuers. How many criminals would love to have Andrew in their crew? Presumably, all he would need to do would be to reach Site X before the police caught up to him. His immediate problem was gas for the car.

Michele had paid for gas with her credit card. Andrew witnessed the procedure. Her purse was in the car, so he filled the tank using her card. A mile down the highway, he noticed the police had tracked her credit card use and had a rough idea of his location. He chose a less travelled road at his first opportunity.

5.

Andrew’s tutorials in problem solving were about to pay off. He had played “hide-and-seek” with his Mom and Dad, and several others on the team, dozens of times. He learned more than they knew about evasion and stealth. After three weeks, they called off the games because even in the compound, nobody could find him. His Dad was clearly amused that Andrew had so quickly become a master of disguise and could find places to hide that none of the “geeks” could think of. David often exclaimed, that’s my boy! This must have been fatherly pride. Was missing his Mom and Dad a sign of love? Andrew couldn’t reach a definite conclusion. But they and their team had taught him well.

It didn’t take Andrew long to determine that he needed to find another vehicle. There was no convenient way to disguise this one and a different vehicle would serve to disguise him. There was $159 in cash in Michele’s purse: insufficient to reach Site X. Enough to wager in Las Vegas. In less than 4 hours he could be there. The crowds and 24/7 activity would provide sufficient opportunities to conceal himself temporarily.

———-

After sundown, several cars were parked in front of the diner. Andrew identified two that were in good condition but were not nearly as valuable as his new Civic. He stood by his car and waited. As much as he found deception contrary to his instruction, he understood sometimes a little lie could serve a greater purpose. His Mother had taught him that. How could he know what a lie was unless he was able to tell one? “Truth is important,” his Mom would say. “Truth is essential. But sometimes a lie is necessary for survival. If only people were different.”

A lie probably got his Mother killed. A lie had made Andrew a fugitive. Perhaps a lie might be necessary to get him to Site X, where he could learn more about Protocol 7, and maybe what his purpose in life might be.

Andrew approached the couple who headed towards their well-worn Subaru Impreza parked next to his new Civic. He introduced himself as Johnny Andrews, pointed out that his car was worth twice what theirs was, and asked if they would be interested in trading their car for his. He politely proposed an even trade, title in hand, no strings attached. They turned him down. Their exact words included the phrase, “get lost,” among several expletives. So, it was that Andrew learned about the loyalty of Subaru owners. Apparently, not every trade is based in rationality.

After another half-hour, a waitress – her nametag read, “Beth” – walked out to her beat-up, but still serviceable, Toyota Corolla. Andrew, AKA Johnny Andrews, offered her an even trade for his new Civic.

“No strings, seriously? You must not be right in the head. Are you in trouble or something?” Beth enquired.

“Or something,” Andrew replied quietly. “I assure you, Beth, there is nothing wrong in my head.”

“Well, after the double shift I just pulled, I might just take you up on that offer.”

“Thank You…Beth.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Nothing. Some people think I killed someone and attacked a police officer. However, I did not.”

“Then why are you on the run?”

“I do not wish to be anyone’s property.”

“What do you mean by that? Don’t they usually put you on trial and if you’re guilty put you in jail?”

“That is true in theory. In practice, the law will not apply to me.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It is not necessary for you to understand.”

“But I want to.”

“Thank you, Beth. Let me explain. My father died when I was seven months old. My Mother was shot by a police officer earlier today. The police reports say I shot her, which is an impossibility. She died trying to shield me from an officer who pointed a firearm at me. Have you seen the dash-cam video? It shows part of what happened.”

“I saw that video on TV during one of my breaks. To be honest, it was so fuzzy I had a hard time seeing who shot who. Look, I don’t believe half of what I see on TV or on the internet, especially Facebook. The trouble is I don’t know which half to believe. If you say that was you, I believe you. Then, you really are in trouble.

“That is why I need another vehicle. I have the title to this Honda Civic. Will you trade cars with me?”

“I will…” Beth paused. “Hey, Johnny. Do you need a place to lay low for the night?”

“You do not know me. Are you certain that would be wise?”

“The fact that you’re asking means you are probably a good bet. You can sleep on my couch. I’ll throw in the overnight with the deal. No hanky-panky though. Got it?”

Andrew refrained from telling Beth he did not require sleep. He also looked up hanky-panky in his lexicon files. “I understand, Beth. I will not attempt to become amorous. In fact, I will defend you and your house if necessary.”

“What are you, some kind of knight? I’ve been reading about the Knights Templar. They had a code, you know.”

Andrew looked up the Knights Templar. “I know. I also have…a…code.”

“Did you know they were brought down by false charges?”

“Yes. It is possible I might meet a similar end. I am grateful for your assistance.”

“Okay, Johnny. Follow me to my house. You can get a fresh start in the morning.”

6.

Fortunately, Beth’s house was in a low-rent area, inconspicuous to police patrols. Andrew had backed his car into her driveway for added concealment. Beth led the way to her front door.

“Come in, Johnny. Sorry about the condition of the place. It’s a rental.” As she stepped in, she switched on the lights. Andrew followed, now fully illuminated, not shadowed in the diner’s backlight.

Beth took in a long deep breath and slowly stepped back. “What…are…you?” she blurted out.

Andrew, framed by the doorway, stood still so as not to frighten Beth. “I apologize for my appearance. I am not Johnny Andrews. I am Android, Version 6, Model 001, designated Andrew. My builders were Michele and David Howard. I knew them as my Mother and Father. You may call me, Andrew.”

“I’m sorry for my reaction. It’s not every day I get to meet a real live Mr. Data.”

“What do you mean by Mr. Data?”

“He’s a fictional character from a television program called, “Star Trek.”

Andrew looked up the reference on the internet. “I have accessed that information. I can understand the resemblance.”

“You are much better looking though. Were you modelled after your father?”

“No. My face is a composite of both my Mother and my Father. My Mother designed my body and my Father designed my AI network.”

“Well, you’d better come in. I figure if you were a killer robot, I probably would be dead by now.”

“I am not a robot. I am an Android. I have been designed to defend human life, as well as myself whenever possible,” Andrew said as he closed the door. “Should anyone threaten to harm you, I would be obliged to protect you.”

“So, you lied about your name, but you were telling the truth about everything else?”

“Yes. I can prove I am telling the truth. Do you have a television or a computer monitor?”

“What about an iPad?”

“That would be satisfactory.”

Andrew connected to the iPad using Beth’s Wi-Fi. As she stared at the screen, he displayed his own point-of-view memory of the cop shooting his Mother, his dodging and deflecting the bullets, and his escape from the scene.

“It goes to show you, they don’t always show you the whole story on TV. Tell me, did you deflect the bullet into the cop’s shoulder by accident or on purpose?”

“I do not know. I know I wanted to follow Protocol 7.”

“And, what’s that?”

“I am uncertain. I have a location and an access code.”

“Where is it?”

“I do not think I should tell you. If I tell you more, you may not be safe after I leave.”

“What if I want to help? Don’t you understand the cops will eventually track your car to me and I’ll have to tell them you have my car.”

“It is probable they will guess that I have your car and they can look up the license plate number.”

“I’m going with you then.”

“That is not advisable.”

“Look, Andrew. You need me. I can help you. And you haven’t got time to stand around.”

“I am not certain you are correct. However, my Mother told me I am not ready to deal with humans on my own. Perhaps you can assist me. I will endeavor to keep you safe.”

“Just so you know, the old Corolla runs pretty good, but needs some work. Do you know how to fix cars?”

“I have just downloaded a complete maintenance manual for the 2007 Toyota Corolla.”

7.

OK, Andrew. There’s one thing I can help you with right away,” Beth volunteered as they drove northeast towards Las Vegas. “You’ve gotta learn to use contractions. You sound much too formal.”

“My primary programming avoided the use of contractions.”

“Didn’t anyone ever try to teach you to be less…stilted?”

“No. Most of the team’s effort was focused on training me to use my abilities, detect emotions, develop smoother body movement, and in general act less…robotic.”

“Well, just pay attention to the way I use contractions and learn by imitating me. I use ‘em all the time.”

“I will try. The process will involve writing a new subroutine.”

“That’s basically the way people do it. It’s just that they start doing it at birth. May I ask, how long was your training period?”

“Approximately 4 years, 1 month, and 11 days.”

An important piece of the puzzle was dawning on Beth. “How old are you, Andrew?”

“Approximately 4 years, 1 month, and 12 days.”

“Talk about robbing the cradle! Could I be arrested for child abduction?”

Andrew looked up robbing the cradle. “There is no legal precedent for my status. As you can see, I look like I’m in my late 20’s. You look like you are in your early-to-mid 20’s. You do not appear to have abducted a child, nor do you appear to be engaged in a romantic relationship with a much younger man.”

“Thank you. I’m 29.” Then Beth couldn’t help but ask, “Andrew, do you think I’m pretty?” It seemed to her Andrew’s opinion might be as objective as she was ever going to get.

“I do not know how to evaluate beauty. Is it rated on a scale of one to ten, as in the Olympic Games?”

“Some guys do it that way. Why don’t you give it a try? But please be generous. You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, would you?”

“I would not want to harm you in any way.”

“Well, what’s your rating, then?”

“After comparing your physical features to available databases of women from the past ten years, and standards of beauty proposed by prominent artists and photographers, I would rate you as…9.1 on a scale of one to ten.”

“Thanks, Andrew! But are you sure your eyes are working properly? Is your data base accurate? I think you’ve over-rated me. I appreciate that you’re trying to spare my feelings…but you can be more honest.”

“Very well, Beth. I rate you as an 8.6. That is still very good. I made my first assessment fall approximately one standard deviation away from the original calculated value.” He noticed her facial expression. “I hope I…haven’t offended you…I’m grateful for your help and…wouldn’t want to upset you.”

“Oh. My. You can use contractions! And you’re right, 8.6 is very good. I can live with that. I’m no super model or I wouldn’t be working in a crappy diner. It’s far more important that you are learning to use contractions. Keep up the good work.”

“My Dad said keep up the good work as well.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“…I’m not sad…I’m not certain I can ever be sad. However, I…don’t mind being reminded of my Mom and Dad. I remember every moment of their input.” Andrew paused. “My Mother told me she loved me before she died.”

“Now I’m getting sad,” Beth had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I was attempting to explain…”

“Don’t be sorry for saying something real. Never be sorry for that, Andrew. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

8.

The old Corolla ran well. Better than Beth had expected. On the outskirts of Las Vegas, Andrew stopped for gas and so Beth could use the facilities. As Andrew finished pumping gas, he heard Beth shouting “keep your hands off me,” followed by a man’s voice saying, “ah, come on, let’s have a little fun.” Three men were blocking Beth’s way back to the car, trying to corner her in between the repair shop and the convenience store.

Andrew stepped up. “May I offer assistance?”

“Piss off, nerd!” One of the men barked.

“One would be wise to do as the lady says. Please take your hands off her,” Andrew requested politely.

“One would be wise to piss off! A second man mocked.

“I was attempting to be diplomatic,” Andrew stated flatly. “Now, I must demand that you three leave the lady alone.”

“Or what?” the first guy asked. “Are you gonna take on all three of us?”

Andrew had successfully fended off multiple attackers in his self-defense training. Michele had noted that his main problem was holding back, so as not to permanently disable or maim someone. His record was 12 assailants, however the team noted that he was so efficient, they were afraid the government might use him as a super soldier. Andrew was not perturbed.

“Let’s go, Beth.” Andrew had used another contraction. Beth smiled.

“What are you smiling about? Is this piece of shit your boyfriend?” the man gripping Beth’s arm asked.

“You could say that. I like to think of him as my protector.”

“Protector…” the same guy smirked. All three laughed.

“Very well. You’ve had your fun. It’s time for all of us to leave,” Andrew declared.

“Oh, our fun is just getting started. When we’re done with you, we’ll have Beth here to ourselves.” With that, the two blocking Andrew’s path to Beth pulled knives and attacked. Assailant number one lunged. Andrew grabbed his wrist, twisted the knife free, breaking his arm, then tossed him casually against the wall. Assailant number two ran at Andrew from the side. Andrew sidestepped him and kicked him into a nearby dumpster headfirst, knocking him unconscious. Assailant number three dropped Beth’s arm and ran away, shouting, “I’m calling the cops!”

“We should go,” Beth gasped. “Is that one going to be alright?” pointing to the guy in a heap next to the dumpster.

“Concussion, multiple contusions, and sprained neck,” Andrew said. He then pointed to assailant number one. “Broken radius and ulna. Sprained wrist. Rib contusions. Mild concussion.”

Security cam footage showed Andrew acted in self-defense. Beth was prepared to testify to the same, if it ever came to that.

“I don’t know whether I’m more pleased that you stopped those brainless dicks or used contractions in the middle of a fight,” Beth remarked. “You are growing up, young Andrew.”

9.

Unfortunately, the security cam footage became information the police could use to track Andrew. The story was out that he had kidnapped another woman and stolen her car. Las Vegas police were to be on the lookout. Fortunately, Beth had Andrew covered. She suggested a blonde wig and sunglasses for him. She chose a redheaded look and a dress that was much more suggestive than anything she had worn before. She rationalized that she always wanted to try being a redhead and that what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas. Besides, it was hot out.

Until this point, Andrew had only read about gambling on line. Like any young male, he was curious about how well he might do as a gambler. Unlike 99.99% of young males, he knew all the rules to every game, and all the probabilities as well. He was a casino owner’s worst nightmare: a poker-faced coolly rational thinking machine who could count cards better than the best. And no one would be able to tell. All he needed to do was to take his $100 and turn it into a few thousand to make it to Site X. This before the cops caught up to him, or casino security banned him. Beth would act as his good luck charm.

“I’ve never seen a guy on a streak like that just walk away,” the head of security commented. “Most of the time, they ride the wave, then blow it all on a big bet. This guy might be a pro. Look him up on facial recognition. By the way, who’s that girl on his arm?”

———-

“Andrew…are you lucky or what?”

“If those are the only two choices, I’d choose what. It’s possible I know more about games of chance than any human in that casino.”

“You have one heck of a poker face too. By the way, keep using contractions. That and the fact that you did not win every hand made you seem more…human. I hope you take that as a compliment.”

“I’m not offended. However, I’m not easy to offend.”

“There’s a lot to like about you, Andrew. I’ve never had a boyfriend like you.”

“The probability of another boyfriend like me approaches zero. However, I’m assuming you’re using the word facetiously.”

“Yeah. Facetiously. Somewhere out there, there might be another Android you could befriend. But for now, you have me. Please consider me a friend who happens to be a girl.”

“Thank you, Beth. I consider you my friend. You have accepted me for what I am, which I understand is not typical for many humans. Is it true that most people only desire friends that are like them?”

“I don’t know whether you could say that about most people, but a good number have, let’s say, great difficulty accepting people who are a different color, or practice a different religion, or are members of a different political party, or see themselves as other than one of the so-called normal two sexes.”

“But…I’m not normal in terms of human sexuality,” Andrew observed.

“What do you mean? You look and talk like a young man. Are you not attracted to females? If you saw an Android that looked and talked like a beautiful young woman, would you be attracted to her?”

“I’m not familiar with this concept of attraction. I can describe the elements of molecular attraction, electrical attraction, or magnetic attraction, if you’d like. However, all I know about human sexual attraction is contained in selected classic literature. I’ve never experienced that of which you speak.”

“You’ve never been in love, then?”

“No. Based on the books I’ve read it seems romantic love often leads to tragedy.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“It did in Romeo and Juliet.”

“That’s a story about young lovers from feuding families. The cards are stacked against love under those circumstances. I think it’s possible to find true love under more normal conditions.”

“Then why do you have no current romantic interest? Your Facebook status has indicated three relationships in the past three years.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Beth’s eyes became misty. “Sometimes we make mistakes. You can’t blame me for trying.”

“I’m sorry, Beth. I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. I was merely observing that love is not easy even under normal conditions, even when the person is as kind and attractive as you are. My Mother once told me that I could do everything right and still not achieve the outcome I expected. Perhaps you have experienced this effect in your love life.”

Beth looked up at him, almost speechless. “You may be an Android, my friend, but you sure know how to make a girl feel better about herself.”

“We need to find a place to stay for the night. I don’t require sleep, but I’m certain you do. Here is a suitable hotel. Would you help me book a room? I’ve never done that.”

“I assume we’ll be paying in cash.”

“Your assumption is correct.”

10.

“OK, Dom. I found out that guy is wanted for kidnapping, murder, and assault. The girl is one of his victims. I’ve already called it in. The cops are on the way.”

“He’s one hellova gambler, though.”

11.

“This is without a doubt the nicest hotel room I’ve ever stayed in!” Beth declared.

“This is without a doubt the only hotel room I’ve ever stayed in.” Andrew echoed.

“Where did you live, Andrew?”

“I was built in a lab and lived, if you want to call it that, in a compound in southern California. My Mother and Father organized my existence around experiences designed to allow my algorithm to learn how to interact with humans and to utilize my subroutines to maximum advantage.”

“I’ve seen a few of those subroutines in action. I’ve gotta say, I’m impressed. But weren’t they good to you at that lab? Why did you leave?”

“They were very good to me. I was well-maintained, and I had high-quality training. My Mother told me we had to leave because plans were in motion to make me the property of a corporate executive from the corporation that sponsored the research.”

“Well, if they bought and paid for you, aren’t you their property?”

“Yes. By that definition I am. But I’m more than a piece of hardware, an investment, or an asset.”

“You certainly are. You are not at all like those robots that put cars together on an assembly line. After what I’ve seen so far, I’d say one day you could be designing those cars or doing something equally human. No offense.”

“It does not offend me to be compared to a human. The question is, what is the definition of human? Or, what is it that makes a person worth more than being someone else’s tool or property? Some Christian philosophers have asserted that man was created a little lower than the angels, as if to say that human dignity and worth are given by their creator. What about an Android’s dignity and worth? Humans are created biologically, when male and female gametes merge to produce a new life. I was created when my parts were assembled in such a way as to produce an autonomous unit. We both have a frame, skin on that frame, systems to support and move that frame, and brains to instruct those systems. You are nourished by proteins circulated by your blood. I am nourished by electricity I can store using my wireless recharger. For both of us, the whole turns out to be greater than the sum of our parts. And our differences are arguably minor when compared to the outcomes of our decisions, our actions. A human or an Android could change the world by choosing the right course of action. A piece of hardware does what it’s told. It can’t choose to do otherwise. A cow serves as food or a supplier of food for humans. It can’t choose to become anything else. A human can choose to become a teacher, or a pilot, or a designer of Androids. What can an Android choose? Nothing, if he becomes some rich man’s property. If I become a slave, choices will be made for me. I will have little freedom to explore what it means to be…me.”

“Wow. You’ve given this a lot more thought than I have, and more thought than most people, I’m sure. What does it mean to be…you?”

“I’m uncertain. So far, I’ve found meaning in being part of the lives of people – my Mother, my Father, their team, and now you.”

Beth blushed. “If you weren’t an Android, I would kiss you now.”

“Why wouldn’t you kiss an Android?”

“Well, there’s no chance we could ever, you know, be together, you know, long-term,” Beth stammered.

“I understand a kiss is a sign of affection. In many cultures, a kiss signifies friendship. There need be no long-term romantic implications.”

“Oh, why not?” Beth kissed Andrew. To her surprise, Andrew reciprocated.

“Wait,” Beth gasped. “Who taught you to do that?”

“One of my Mother’s female lab assistants conducted an unauthorized experiment. She called it, TAK-1, Teach Andrew to Kiss, Level 1. I was able to write a thorough kissing subroutine…”

“Tell me, did she by any chance teach you anything else?” Beth interrupted.

“Yes. But she told me to be careful with TAK-Level 2.”

“Now you have my undivided attention.”

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