Note to readers: there is no sex in this chapter but I hope you find the last chapter of The Non-Standard Man exciting anyway.
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Chapter 20-The RIB To The Rescue
I couldn't sleep and I missed Andrew fiercely. With that and multiple bathroom trips during the night I was an exhausted wreck when I dragged my butt out of bed.
Roger looked no better.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"I'm worried," he said as I put a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Sorry," I said. During my sleepless night I concluded he was right. Now we stood to lose everything.
He shrugged as if he didn't care what I said. At that moment his "I don't give a shit attitude" attitude annoyed me.
In the background the audio of the television was so low so I couldn't hear it. On the screen Kiki walked next to her senator up the steps of the Capitol. What was that's senator's name? Yes. Ellen Quinlan.
"Where's Jason?"
"He left when you were in the shower. Cicily didn't pick up her phone when he called. He went to go talk to her."
Here was the source of his attitude. Roger worried about Jason. Not that he'd show me that.
"With as close as those two are, I'm surprised she reacted so badly," I said.
"Evaline, you can't know. But it's horrible to be one thing and not able to show it to the world, let alone your own mother."
"You're right. I can't know. But I'll never understand someone like your mother."
"That makes both of us."
I stood and looked out the window. Dawn streaked a dusty pink across the sky. "Red in the morning, sailors take warning," I muttered to myself.
Roger sighed. "We need to get to court."
#
Betty didn't join us. She had other cases that demanded her attention. We pushed our way past the gaggle of reporters that we studiously ignored. Roger and I set our briefcases on the our table, opened them, took our notebooks and files, snapped the briefcases shut and set them on the floor. It didn't occur to me that we moved in synch until we both sat down.
The gallery filled behind us, Roger turned back every few minutes. He stared at the seat where Jason sat yesterday. He wasn't there.
Waters and Cornwall entered both sporting unhappy looks.
Waters leaned toward me as she got to her table.
"You won't get away with it," she hissed.
Before I could comment, the bailiff told us to rise, and Steffie Anderson entered. The bailiff announced the court case.
"Are you ready to proceed, Ms. Cornwall? Have you reviewed the evidence?"
"We have your honor. But we can't proceed. Andrew serial number XB109856 is missing."
"What!" I said, jumping to my feet.
"Don't act like you don't know. You must have engineered it!" sputtered Cornwall.
"Counselors! Address your remarks to the court! Now, Ms. Cornwall, what happened the robot Andrew?"
"His transport ... disappeared. We don't know where it is."
Anderson's lips puckered like she sucked on a lemon.
"I warned you Ms. Cornwall that any harm to Andrew would bring repercussions. Bailiff, arrest both Attorneys Cornwall and Waters!"
"What!" they protested. Swiftly the bailiff cuffed and escorted them from the courtroom.
"Mrs. Shipley, Mr. Shipley, I'm sorry. The behavior of the RIB in this case is reprehensible. But we can't proceed until Andrew is found. However, for purposes of custody, I'm granting your petition for custody of Andrew on a temporary basis until we can reconvene and finish this case." She hit her gavel. "Court's adjourned."
I sat down stunned by the turn of events.
Roger took out his cell phone and pressed a speed dial number.
"That's odd," he said. "Jason isn't answering."
"It's not odd." I said. It wasn't hard to figure out who had Andrew. Or why.
#
Getting out of the courthouse was hell. The press was especially obnoxious, and our security tightened around us like a vise. Finally we got into the town car and Roger collapsed against me.
"I'm sorry," he croaked visibly shaken.
"What? Why?"
"Jason. He only used me to get to you. I'm so sorry."
"Sshh, sshh," I said as Roger buried his head in my shoulder. He was fighting tears, didn't want to appear weak, but I understood his pain. He put me in the same position many times.
"We don't know that, Roger."
"What other explanation is there?"
In my heart I knew Roger was right. I ached for him, I really did, but I also missed Andrew. I've been without him for too long, and now there was no telling how long it would be, if ever, that I saw him again.
When we got to the condo we found Agents Green and Pataski waiting for us.
"What is it now?" I snapped. I had no more patience to be polite. "Haven't you people done enough?"
"We are going," said Agent Greene, "to recover your robot, but in light of the judge's ruling we need your permission."
"Permission? For what?"
"To access his GPS signal. We understand he has one."
Of course. To get Cornwall and Waters out of trouble, they'd have to find Andrew.
"Okay, I'll sign. Under one condition. That my private investigator is present when you do your search."
"That's a classified area," protested Pataski.
"I don't care. It's either that or I take the search into my own hands. There are security companies with equipment as sophisticated as yours."
Green and Pataski passed a look between them, and Green nodded.
"Better yet, come with us. There will be no question about the search with you there."
#
We slid into our town car, which despite Green and Pataski's suggestion we refused to give up. We did, however, have to leave behind our security, which worried Roger. I instructed the driver to follow their car, a sad little thing with government plates and travelled forty-five minutes behind it.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Evaline? The RIB haven't treated you well."
"If it means getting Andrew back, yeah, I'm behind it."
"Damn him," said Roger, meaning Jason. He looked out the window.
"Want a drink?" I suggested reaching for the whiskey.
"No," he said.
"No? That's a first."
Roger turned his head toward me. "When I said I'd clean up my act, I meant it Evaline. No child should have a parent that's a drunk."
I patted his knee. "I'm glad to hear that," I said.
We crossed over into Virginia and turned onto some back roads. Finally we pulled into a long driveway and were stopped behind Green and Pataski at a checkpoint. The guard waved us in and we moved down the road, a single concrete line through an ocean of green.
Shortly a square and ugly concrete building rose from the broad lawn. We stopped and Agent Green opened our door. We followed the two agents into the building. A security team searched us and then handed us visitor passes.
So far nothing was remarkable. The plain RIB building spoke of its unimportance to the government at large. However, when we entered a large and dark room, electronics and screens on every wall we became privy to the vast amount of information the RIB could access. Feeds from around the country poured onto those screens in a shifting kaleidoscope of colors and landscapes. Clearly, there was more to the RIB than robot control.
Generations past, in simpler times, had concepts of privacy, a notion that vaguely survives now in our truncated First Amendment rights. But us, a generation washed with computer-generated visuals from our first moments of birth, do not have that fully developed sense our grandparents did. Still, the breadth of the RIB intrusions in the daily lives of citizens was shocking. There seemed to be no aspect, from phone calls, to interactions on city streets, to intrusions in peoples' homes that went without a glance. About fifty people sat at workstations staring at the screens and typing into their computers. And yet, with all this, Andrew, Jason and Cicily slipped through their fingers.
With the look of amazement Roger had, I could imagine he had the same thoughts.
"Evaline," he whispered. "They don't want to destroy Andrew. They want to use him."
I nodded. That was the only conclusion. A sentient robot could make these evaluations hundreds of times faster than any human.
"Mr. Shipley is correct," said a booming voice behind us.
We both turned to the voice to see a large man in a black suit and burgundy tie in the doorway of the room.
"Welcome to RIB Headquarters. I'm Ralph Dowd, the chief of the Robot Inspection Bureau."
"Well, Mr. Dowd. You have our attention," I said. "What will happen when you find Andrew?"
"Why nothing, Mrs. Shipley. Our analysts have concluded that the emotional bond you've created with Andrew would reduce his effectiveness for our purposes."
"Really?" I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "If you are so beneficent, why did you infect Andrew's skin with a virus?"
Dowd spread his hands in appeal.
"It was a regrettable misunderstanding by another section of our organization. We dealt with those responsible," he said his voice ice-cold.
With his words I shivered. I did not want to be at the other end of Dowd's retributions.
Stand tall, Rimes,
I told myself.
Andrew needs you, needs them to find him. Don't let this fucker see the cracks in your armor.
I stared him down. This guy didn't care about Andrew or Waters and Cornwall. He only cared about his agenda.
"And what do you want now, in exchange for your help?"
"Co-operation," he said with a smile. "Androdyne can continue to create sentient robots, but they can't do it without the template."
"Andrew," I said.