Isaac

  The moment I step over the threshold, the entryway lights up.

  I slip off my shoes and slot them upright into the shoe cabinet. The unit seals itself and the internal sanitizing cycle kicks in.

  I take one step into the hall. I touch my Personal with my thumb and pinky, hold, then twist my wrist to the left. The door’s timed lock engages after five seconds.

  Two Robodomes roll out of the service room and stop beneath the moving staircase.

  “Welcome back, Isaac,” they say in perfect unison.

  “Thanks,” I answer, trying to sound normal.

  Their carbon-fiber shells gleam under the home’s LED strips. They’re identical; I can tell them apart only by the laser-etched name centered on the chest beneath the Syrium logo.

  Barefoot on ivory linoleum, I pass the kitchen and bathroom on my left, the dining area and Dad’s closed office on my right. The staircase lights up as I approach. I switch it off—I’d rather take the steps myself.

  “Your system indicates you should consume lunch, Isaac,” says RD128431B, the one on the left.

  “Yeah, thanks, Ar-Dee-Bee. Bring it to my room in twenty minutes, please.”

  I taught them that, nickname.

  “Of course, Isaac.”

  I climb the ten steps. On the landing wall there’s a timed frame. I swipe it and the photos scroll: me at four beside Mom’s belly. Elis as a newborn in my arms, with Dad helping. And then Grandpa, in his white lab coat, outside Sector 4.

  I exhale. Then I step into my room, right after Elis’s.

  “Newton, start the shower.”

  “Welcome home, Isaac.” A brief pause. “I’ll prepare it and set your preferred temperature.”

  Water starts running in the shower stall of the en-suite bathroom.

  I open the closet: four blue school suits, and seven in the same blue, just lighter for free time. I grab one and head into the bathroom.

  The shower box lights up and opens as I approach. I slide the Personal off my forearm and set it on the sink. I undress, run a hand across my chest—barely any stubble. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

  I ball up the uniform and toss it into the laundry port.

  I step into the box. Water sprays from every direction. I drop my head, close my eyes, and let the heat wrap around me.

  I tap the green sensor; the flow eases, and cleanser rains down from the head. I lather my hair—light foam, no scent.

  In the Cloud there are no smells. No flavors. Everything is hollow.

  Rinse cycle. Then warm air jets from every side. I open my arms, spread my legs, let it dry me like I’m a mannequin.

  I step out. From the wall recess I take the two blue deodorant spheres and swipe them under my arms.

  I pull on a suit, slip the Personal back on, and as I step out—right before the bathroom door seals—the hygiene compartment clicks.

  The arachnobot starts cleaning.

  I drop into the reclining chair.

  “Newton, turn on Holog.”

  “Right away, Isaac.”

  Biometric recognition scans my eye and the display activates. I split it into four panes: exterior cams, the school activity feed, perimeter-antenna readings, and the 3D build model of my custom Personal.

  The moving staircase hums. A moment later Ar-Dee-Bee stops in my doorway.

  “I’ve brought your lunch, Isaac.”

  “Thanks. Come in and set it here on the desk.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Under the pre-packed container, the robot has a rubberized pad, which it sets down carefully to protect the desk from the heat. A slit opens in its abdomen. A cylindrical utensil slides out and it offers it to me.

  “Enjoy your meal, Isaac.”

  “Thanks. You can go.”

  I glance at the whitish rectangular monoblock with pinkish gradients. Nothing about it looks appetizing. I dig the paddle in, carve off a piece, and chew—rubbery.

  Three-quarters of the way through, I’m starting to feel full. I’m about to raise one of the last pieces to my mouth when my Personal vibrates:

  INCOMING CALL — ALEXIAN HARRINGTON

  Alexian’s hologram snaps into crisp focus in front of me. She’s wearing the pink home uniform, her blonde hair down. Perfect, of course.

  “Hey, genius. How’d it go today?”

  The monoblock piece wedges in my throat and I don’t answer.

  Alexian opens her arms.

  “So—are you not talking, or can you not hear me?”

  I nod, still trying to swallow.

  “Yes—meaning you can’t hear me?”

  I thump my chest twice and finally the killer bite slides down.

  “If I couldn’t hear you, I wouldn’t have answered…”

  “Then why were you mute and punching yourself?”

  I cough once, pulling in a better breath. “I had a piece of lunch stuck in my throat.”

  She laughs. “You could’ve said that right away!”

  Her green eyes look at me with something soft.

  You’re so beautiful, I think. And immediately I feel like an idiot.

  “Also—could you not call me that? It makes me uncomfortable.”

  She looks away, and knowing her, she’s ignoring the request on purpose. I use the pause to call the robot.

  “Ar-Dee-Bee, can you bring me water, please!”

  A green confirmation flashes on my Personal.

  “I like calling you that. And if you weren’t my best friend, I’d want you as a brother. Do you know how useful you’d be for lessons?”

  Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but fine. I’ll go ahead and accept my trophy for Best Friend in the Cloud. And I must’ve made a face, because Alexian starts staring at me like I grew a second head.

  “What are you thinking?”

  I shake my head. “That I already help you with lessons, even though you don’t need it. You underestimate yourself—and I’ve told you at least…”

  Eyes to the ceiling, hands open. “A billion million times, I know!” She composes herself fast. “Anyway—Professor Gregory Kalinski’s lecture today. Did you like it?”

  “You were connected. Didn’t you follow the lesson?”

  “I did, but I want to know what you think. And…” A slight hesitation.

  “‘And’ what?”

  She shrugs.

  “Didn’t you notice anything weird about the professor?”

  “Your water, Isaac.” Ar-Dee-Bee is outside the door.

  I’m so distracted I didn’t even register it arriving. I step over and take the thermos.

  “Thanks. You can go.”

  I drink and answer Alexian.

  “Honestly? I didn’t notice anything. He probably has bad days—he’s still human.”

  Alexian lifts her hands, like the obviousness hurts. “Yeah, I know… blah blah. You told me…”

  “A billion million times,” I cut in.

  I sit there a couple seconds just enjoying the dimples under her cheekbones when she smiles.

  “Now you’re going to tell me he hasn’t been acting different for weeks? Even compared to the other professors? Today he was… cold. Checked out. You really didn’t notice?”

  “No.”

  “So to you it’s normal for him to respond like that—agitated, distant?”

  “Alexian, maybe he’s going through something. Why do you care?”

  “I’m curious. What kind of problems does he have?”

  “He has worries. Either way, it’s not our business.”

  A brief silence. Alexian thinks. Too long for my taste.

  “Like the ones you have?”

  A punch to the chest. Great—now her too, besides Elis.

  “Don’t start, please. I’m fine.”

  She raises an index finger and shakes it no.

  “We’ve known each other forever. You’re like a first-gen EAI—I’d know you had a problem with my eyes closed.”

  “I don’t have anything!”

  She moves closer to the home holo-projector, and her face fills most of the frame.

  “Okay. My mom just got back. I’m coming over and we’ll talk. And we can review the lesson too.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “But, Isaac—this wasn’t a question…”

  My Personal vibrates again:

  INCOMING CALL — DAD

  “Hold on, Alexian. I’m putting you on hold.”

  I press my index finger to the Personal for two seconds and switch calls.

  AUTHORIZATION REQUEST: ENCRYPTED CONNECTION

  I let the ocular biometric scan do its job.

  AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED

  Dad’s upper body appears on-screen, seated at his desk. It looks like the same angle from the news broadcast.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, Isaac.” His voice is rough. “I’m calling now because things are accelerating. Plans changed.”

  My skin goes cold.

  “They’re reconfiguring the protocols… starting tomorrow, I won’t be able to use even this encrypted channel.”

  A lump rises in my throat instantly.

  “The protocols?”

  “An internal Council decision. I couldn’t vote against it—then I’d have had to justify why.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  He rubs a hand down his chin.

  “Did you update the Personal?”

  I nod.

  “And the rest?”

  I nod again. “Perimeter-antenna coverage is at 96%. But there are still things to fix.”

  A new incoming signal: Jameth. I swipe right and reject it.

  Not now, Jam.

  “Excellent work. Better than the 87% we predicted. It’s time to talk to Elis.”

  “Can’t we do it in a few days—when you’re back?”

  Dad shakes his head. “Maybe you don’t understand. Today is the point of no return. We can’t wait anymore.”

  Blood starts pounding hard in my veins. My stomach twists.

  Jameth again. I reject it again.

  “But Dad—we’re not ready.”

  Holog can’t hide the shine in his eyes.

  “We have to be.”

  The door chime rings through the house.

  “Were you expecting someone?” he asks.

  “No.”

  But I’m afraid I know who it is. The wrong person—at the worst possible time.