"Are you able to access the footage without exfiltrating it from their environment?"
"Yes, Sir. Shall I provide the footage from yesterday containing images of Miss Rose?"
"Show me," I said. Footage appeared on the display, looking down on customers from a ceiling dome camera. My stomach twisted the moment I recognized her meandering through the produce department, inspecting the display of cherries. I watched her select three bags and place them in her cart, then appear to stand still while looking at nothing. I shook my head, knowing she was wondering whether to go for a fourth bag. Of course, she went for another one. As she returned, a figure I recognized stepped closer to block her path. It was Kurtis Bates of Fulton & Associates. He appeared to say something to her. "Mantha, is audio available? I want to hear what they're saying..."
"Audio footage from the Trader Joe's camera is not available. Shall I attempt to read their lips, Sir?"
"I never programmed—"
"Miss Rose uploaded lip reading software to enable me to assist individuals who were unable to—"
"Yes, just do it," I grumbled, knowing Rose had done it also as one of her persistent jokes about my appreciation of HAL. I was not in a mood for jokes. As I waited for Mantha to process the lipreading interpretation, rage and the need to control the situation began boiling within me the moment I saw Bates on the tape. I saw how he had looked at Rose in the meeting, the same look he was continuing to give her in the footage. In the store, though his face appeared casual and pleasant, in his eyes I recognized the predatory hunger of one who controls others in order to be served. It was a narrow distinction, perhaps, from one like myself who attempts to control in order to serve others, but an important one. Bates was attempting to control Rose because, in his mind, she was simply something of value. It did not make sense that Rose would flee because of an inept paramour. I had seen her evade many without even appearing discomfited. No, this was something else.
I watched Rose shrink away from him, shock and fear on her face. Bates took her upper arm, yet another control maneuver. Touching the shoulder is sufficient to draw another's attention. Touching the hand or face, more intimate gestures of drawing attention, also effective when seeking to seduce one into a consensual encounter. Taking the upper arm restricts movement, controls the subject.
I saw Rose react in anger to what Bates was telling her. Rose almost never reacts in genuine anger when in the company of those with whom she does not share an intimate relationship. Bates adjusted his grip on her arm, appearing to apply painful pressure to the intercostal and medial regions of the brachial nerve. This was confirmed as I saw Rose's hand tremble as if losing strength. Bates, then, used his other hand on the intercostal nerve cluster under her rib cage, bearing the smile of one being served by exerting control. Rose's eyes lost focus as she attempted not to react to the pain. The arm restraint was enough to control Rose and prevent her from leaving. The rib maneuver was performed because Bates found inflicting pain on her body to be sexually stimulating.
A man intervened, introducing variability to the situation, and Bates' hand was removed from her intercostal nerve cluster at the rib cage. Rose used the opportunity and broke free of Bates' remaining physical restraint on her arm and escaped after creating a diversion. The footage ended when Rose left camera range.
Mantha ran the footage again, this time providing a lipreading translation of the interaction, providing factual details to my correct interpretation of their body language and micro-expressions. Mantha was using her default voice for Bates' dialogue, and a synthesis of Rose's own voice. Mantha's approximation of Rose's voice was usually nearly perfect, but this time it rang false. Rose's words were still curled with the usual flirtatious hooks, her tone as warm and promising as ever. Mantha had not sampled Rose's voice when she was truly frightened. My Little One, my Rose, had shown me yet another oversight in my programming... of what use could it be as a caretaker, if Mantha did not understand the composition and effects of mortal fear?
I swallowed, staring at the now blank display. Bates attempted to use her connection with me to coerce Rose into sexual slavery. He had threatened her with public humiliation and financial ruin. He had frightened her enough to disappear without even speaking to me. I was surprised to discover that my mouth had filled with blood. Upon probing, I found that I had bitten myself and both my inner cheeks were bleeding freely. I was distantly aware of feelings in my body: pain, nausea, wrath, panic, fear and shame. I was strangely disconnected from them. One thing alone, a cold, primal, and reptilian thing remained clear and present: my intellect, no longer fettered by connection, feeling or any sense of morality.
Rose's intuition, as good as ever, was proven right again. It was best that she had not returned to me immediately. There was work I needed to do alone. I would make Rose safe again. I would teach Mantha what fear sounds like.
***
Sloan leaned forward and brushed a bit of nonexistent lint off his shirt, before he spoke without looking at either of us. "As of this moment, the only footage of the encounters between Rose and I exist only within Mantha's servers. Kurtis Bates has retired from the venture capital industry, Fulton and Associates has dissolved, and Mantha has a wide array of emotional samples that I would not have wished it to learn from Rose: ranging from slight unease to mortal terror," Sloan explained with a look of cold satisfaction on his face. Sloan didn't explain exactly how he made that happen, but I chose to imagine that it involved Bates dangling from the habitat ceiling by his balls and being used as a pinata. Sloan looked up at Lake, his expression changing to one of absolute longing, "I waited for you to return when the news of Fulton's dissolution went out. You did not," he said.
"I... Sim—" Lake began, looking red-faced and taking a step back.
"I did not understand why you did not return. Not at first. You see, I was still so focused on what I wanted and needed, namely to be able to breathe again knowing that you were safe, that I was still not capable of thinking critically about all the data that you had given me. In the end, it was our child that discerned the answer."
"Mantha?" Lake asked, looking up.
"Mantha asked me why people go to college when most data is freely available on the internet. I discussed the value of the accuracy and authenticity of information that can be obtained in places of higher learning, the ability to communicate in a formal document that one possesses the discipline to complete a course of learning from beginning to end, and that many opportunities require a basic educational degree for consideration."
"Mantha, then, asked me why a student would attend California State University, East Bay and then transfer to the University of Colorado, Denver?" Sloan said, raising his eyebrows at Lake, who smiled knowingly.
"Because she wanted to switch to a double major in Computer Science and Anthropology and didn't like the idea of having professors who had probably seen me lose my virginity... You didn't take her off the internet, did you?" Lake laughed.
"No, I did not. In respect of your expressed wishes, I did not search for you actively, but... I did teach Mantha to anticipate needs and take care of people, so..." Sloan trailed away, raised his hands and sighed. Then, he crossed around my bed, blocking her in the corner. I was tempted to remind him of Lake's badass throwing arm, but he looked like he knew the risk and was taking it anyway. Lake shrank further back, seeming to know his intentions too. Sloan stopped only inches away from her, waiting. Lake was avoiding his eyes, but breathing hard. I could only dream of affecting a girl the way Sloan's closeness affected Lake. "Did you think I would keep you from finishing your education? Is that what you think of me? Is that why you stayed away?" he said in the barest of whispers, moving his face around hers without touching her, smelling her hair, feeling her breath on his face.
Lake leaned back against the wall, looking like she needed it to keep herself standing up. "It... it doesn't matter now. Please don't make—"
Sloan lifted a lock of her silken hair, the light from the window making it look like shimmering spun gold. "It matters, Little One. Anything that separates us matters to me. Why did you run from me the night I found you again? We left the bar, walked through the park in the falling snow, and I told you that married or not, I had come to spend the rest of my life with you, wherever you needed to be. You kissed me with joy in your eyes. When we stopped, I saw your eyes change and you ran from me to the bridge. Tell me what is separating us, Rose. Keeping it from me serves no good purpose," he said, leaning closer.
Trapped by his eyes, Lake bit her lips, her last resort in keeping her secret from him. Sloan saw it too, and closed the final distance between them, taking her bottom lip between his own. She jumped slightly at his touch, then melted into him. He groaned and the kiss deepened, their arms winding around each other. I could tell the moment he heard it, when he heard what she was tortured with. His eyes opened and he looked at her, concern and alarm filling his face. "What was that?" he asked, watching tears fill her eyes.
"You have the data... You saw the family history in my medical file. You know what it is. I always knew there was always a chance it would come to me," Lake whispered, large tears rolling down her cheeks, now.
"That night, I started hearing the voices. The voices of people I love - terrified, desperate, in agony. That's why I ran from you, that night in the park. That's why I fell off the bridge when I slipped on the ice. That's why you dove into Sloan Lake under the ice to find me and got lost. That's why we're both here. The voices came to me like they did to my mother when her schizophrenia began. I heard them and I knew they would take me away from you. I knew it was better to stay away than watch you struggle to take care of me through the voices, figuring out the medication, the paranoia, the cycles... everything," she whispered. "Now, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing can help it. I just didn't want you to waste your time here trying to fix me. It's better that you take care of everyone. That you teach people who come in. That you let yourself have some fun with Cake now and then. I wanted to see you happy while I still could."
Struggling with mental illness sucks. You know what sucks worse? Getting it when you're in a coma and you can't tell anyone about it. No way to get meds to help you feel better. No way to adjust your environment to freak you out a little less. Even if one of us were able to wake up and tell the doctors what was going on with her, we'd be more likely to get medicated than she would. Lake was forced to hear the voices of people she loved sounding terrified, calling for help, screaming like they were being tortured and no one could help her. She was screwed.
I had looked away to give them some privacy, but I glanced back. I needed to see his reaction, to see if he was going to be a stand-up guy with her. If he wasn't, I'd jump out of my body and kick his ass and beg Lake to let me take care of her forever. I'd run from responsibility my whole life and I didn't know how to take care of anyone, but I'd figure it out for her. Sloan had his eyes closed, like he was in pain. When he opened his eyes, there was horror and guilt in them. Fucker. I was about to do a bicycle kick to his head when he began crying, took her face in his hands, and kissed her again. "You need to get back to your body, Little One," he said, picking her up in his arms.
"Will you come and visit me when you're done with Cowboy?" she asked, looking hopefully into his eyes.
"No... I will not," he said, "I have not touched you in an eternity. I will visit Cowboy when I am done with you," he said, nuzzling her nose with a smile, then turning to me, "Practice opening your eyes and moving your body... and it would be best if you did not wait up for me."
***
A curvy woman in blue scrubs a mask and a head covering walked into the room a few minutes later. Her black hair was tied back in a messy bun. She put down a tablet on the table next to the bed and leaned over me, looking into my face. "Hi Cole! Cole! Cole! I'm Lee! Can you open your eyes for me Cole?" Lee had these gorgeous eyes that were so focused on me that I wanted to sit up, square my shoulders, and give her the openest eyes that she'd ever seen, but my body just wouldn't help me out. Despite the mask, from her sparkling black eyes, I could tell that she smiled and said, "Don't worry about it, Cole, we'll get back to that later." She picked up a pen from the bedside table and twirled it in her fingers without using her thumb, "So, you're a footballer? I loved to play with my brothers, but they always said I hogged the ball too much," she said, leaning over me and looking closely at my face. I smelled a faint whiff of jasmine mixed with her own feminine scent.
