Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) (4 page)

Upon returning to her studies, she discovered the bastard had stolen her chemistry homework.

Pissed as hell, she wrote out the problems again.

She was relieved to find both Claire and Jeff gone when she finally went upstairs to her room. She grabbed her robe, towels, shampoo and soap, then headed to the shower stalls.

Sadly, when she returned to her room, Claire and Jeff were back and Mark was with them.

Mark whistled as she entered wearing a terrycloth robe.

“Are you aware that I’m almost old enough to be your mother?” she asked as she put away her shower supplies. She then focused on Claire. “Would you mind taking your guys out for a walk?”

Claire laughed, grabbed them by their collars and assisted them out.

Jeff barked and licked Claire on the face.

She squealed. “Stop it. That’s disgusting! Bad puppy!”

Amanda sighed with relief once they were gone. After locking the door, she lay down in bed to read American history.

She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew Mark’s hand was on her right breast. When she tried to push him away, he snared her wrists and pulled her arms over her head.

“It’s okay,” Mark said in a soothing tone. “Jeff and Claire won’t be back for hours.”

“We’re not doing this,” Amanda assured him.

He studied her for a moment then smiled. “You think you’re too old for me. But you aren’t. Honestly, I’ve never wanted a woman more.”

“What I want is for you to get off!” She twisted her body trying to break his grip on her wrists. All her struggling managed to do was loosen her robe and expose her naked body.

He groaned and swallowed hard then he took his time suckling her breasts.

The heat of his body against hers stopped her physical protests. Damn it! She did not want this! She considered screaming for help, but she didn’t dare. She had to keep a low profile, to stay out of trouble. If the police got involved, her former identity might be uncovered. Then the Temple would send another assassin after her.

When her body tightened in need for what Mark offered, her anger returned. “Get off me,” she cried and tried her hardest to buck him off her body.

Mark groan in pleasure or pain, she couldn’t tell.

Then he pulled a condom from his pants lying on the floor, ripped the packaging with his teeth and rolled it on his cock in one stroke.
God, he was like a condom gunslinger.

Now fitted for duty, he returned to tasting her body. “Just relax. We’ll both have fun, I promise.”

The most infuriating part for Amanda was that her body kept responding to his touch. When she climaxed, Mark covered her face with kisses.

Finally realizing he no longer had her hands pinned, she planted both hands on his chest and sent him flying to the floor. She scrambled from the bed, tightened her robe, then stormed to the door. “I did not consent to that. And you’re damn lucky I don’t have you charged with rape.”

“Baby, you loved every minute of it. The way your body responded—you wanted me,” Mark assured her as he got off the floor and put on his pants.

***

An hour later, Claire and Jeff returned to the room and invited Amanda to come with them to a frat party.

Amanda refused the invitation. “I need my rest.” She should have tried to convince Claire not to go either, but she was angry at her for leaving her alone with Mark. She was so angry that tomorrow she planned to ask Ellen if she’d like a new roommate. Damn it. Claire was her only friend. Why had she done that? But then she recalled Claire’s young age, and how smitten she was with Jeff. She probably had no idea what Mark intended to do.

***

Despite Amanda’s fatigue, she had trouble sleeping. She was worried about Claire. If Mark would force her in the dorm, then there was probably no limit what Mark and Jeff would do to Claire at a frat party. She pushed herself out of bed and dressed in jeans and a baggy sweater. She glanced in the mirror. Her wet hair had dried in a Medusa tangle and she looked a fright.

Hopefully it would discourage the boys.

It wasn’t difficult to find the frat house—the throbbing of the bass was audible ten blocks away. When she arrived, her annoyance turned to fear. Unconscious bodies littered the lawn, many of them female, most naked. She found Claire in the backyard on a picnic table. For a moment she feared the poor girl was dead. Unable to revive her, she pulled out her new phone and called campus security, saying they needed to call as many ambulances as they could find.

Only after security came and evaluated the situation were ambulances called. She wanted to accompany Claire, but the idiot campus cops had decided she, as the only person who clearly didn’t drink the punch, was ergo responsible for doping everyone else. Brilliant! Charge the only person standing and sober for the crime. Campus Security was no longer just a joke. They were complete morons!

Realizing they truly intended to blame her for this mess, she asked to go to the bathroom. Once inside, she called Luke for advice on what to do. He told her to stop talking until her lawyer arrived.

“You’ll be sending a lawyer, right?”

“Among other things,” he replied, and hung up the phone.

***

Amanda enjoyed the expressions of her would-be interrogators when Luke walked in with her lawyer and declared himself to be FBI.

At first they were all excited, telling him they’d captured the criminal. However, when he asked who had made the call for an ambulance, they reluctantly admitted it might have been her.

“And she remained there waiting for you to come? Just an observation, but the guilty rarely call the police, and they never stay so you can arrest them.”

“But if she didn’t put the drugs in the punch, how did she know not to drink it?” the head of security demanded.

“She said she arrived looking for her friend. Did you check the camera in her dorm lobby to verify or disprove her claim?”

They had not, and when they returned from doing so, they told Amanda she could go. Luke apologized for wasting the lawyer’s time.

The lawyer looked at Amanda. “You have a good case for a lawsuit, if you want to sue the school,” he said.

“I just want to get some sleep right this minute.”

“Well, think about it,” he suggested.

Amanda was so tired the next morning she barely noticed the glares of her fellow students. It wasn’t until the other altos refused to share sheet music with her that she realized they hated her ‘extra special’ today.

Or perhaps this was how people who looked like Medusa were treated. She hadn’t had time to shower, so her hair still looked frightening.

Despite her headache, her sleep deprivation, and the antipathy of her fellow students, she remained focused on the music throughout the rehearsal. Still, when Dr. Wilson asked her to stay, she feared she had failed to meet the grade.

“I have good news for you.”

“I could use some good news.” She ran her fingers through her hair, but they snared in a tangle three inches down.

“Dr. Branson has recommended you for the grant.”

“He’s my music theory professor. He’s never heard me sing.”

“He’s been at all three of your recitals and has been very impressed with your progress.”

“So that’s why I’m especially hated this morning. I was afraid it was because of the nonsense last night.”

That reply required her to explain how she had become involved in the prior evening’s fiasco and how campus security had concluded she was to blame for nearly killing almost a hundred students.

Dr. Wilson scowled by the time she finished. “Amanda, a recipient of this grant does have to be a student in good standing, which means if you’re expelled or placed on probation, you will not be eligible. You are to ask for a new roommate immediately.”

“It wasn’t Claire’s fault,” Amanda insisted. “She’s a good kid. If I hadn’t gone after her, she’d be dead—along with a lot of other foolish but generally good kids—so I can’t even say I’m sorry I got involved. I cannot value my future career over a hundred lives.”

“No, of course not. But you need to lie low and focus from here on,” he warned her.

***

An article in the school paper credited an unknown student with calling in security to the frat house, where a hundred and eleven students lay unconscious from a potentially lethal mix of drugs. One person was taken in for questioning, but no charges were filed. The FBI was investigating.

It wasn’t hard for Amanda to find the article. Someone had pinned it to her door with “BITCH” written at the top. She tore it down, but when she returned from class, another copy hung on her door. After removing the paper, she headed to the shower. When she’d tamed her medusa hair and headed back to her room, she spotted Ellen pinning a new copy of the article to her door.

Ellen turned red in the face when she realized Amanda had seen her, but then jutted out her chin and stood ready for a fight. Several girls stopped to watch—or join; Amanda wasn’t certain which.

“If any of you care about the truth, then you should know I didn’t attend that party. I was too tired. When Claire didn’t come home, I went over to make sure she was okay. I found her unconscious on the picnic table. I couldn’t detect a pulse, so I called security and told them they needed to call for a ton of ambulances. I waited until security arrived. I wanted to make certain they called for help, and I intended to accompany Claire to the hospital. Instead, those idiots decided I was their most likely suspect, and only when video proved I couldn’t possibly be the person responsible for doping those kids was I released. And that’s the truth. Believe it or not—I really don’t give a damn.”

She ripped the new article off the door as she entered, and slammed her door shut. Exhausted and unable to focus on her studies, she set her clock to wake her in five hours and fell asleep.

***

Slowly, she dug her way out of sleep deprivation and trouble. The turning point was when Claire returned from the hospital and confirmed Amanda had not been at the party.

There were those who insisted she should have gone to the party to keep her roommate safe, but Claire came to her defense. “Had Amanda been there, then she wouldn’t have been conscious to come to our rescue, so I for one am thankful she wasn’t at the party but cared enough to wake up and walk ten blocks to check up on her roomie.”

Amanda was once again convinced Claire was the only decent person in the school, though she did want to wring the girl’s neck when she discovered Claire was still madly in love with Jeff, even though he had taken her to the party and then left her.

“I’m just thankful he didn’t get drugged,” Claire said. “He might have died or incurred permanent brain damage!”

Amanda sighed, wondering if Claire might not have incurred a bit of brain damage herself.

“Look, I don’t blame you for not coming with me, and I don’t blame Jeff for leaving when he couldn’t find me. He thought I’d gone home—and believe me, if I could have, I would have.”

Amanda now suspected Claire had suffered more than a drug overdose that night.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Claire shivered. “No.” For a moment she looked as if she were going to cry and then, as if a switch flipped in her brain, she smiled and turned to Amanda. “We’re all going out to celebrate my survival tonight.”

“Who’s going?” Amanda asked.

“Me, Jeff, you, and Mark.”

“No!” She picked up her history book. “You might forgive them for leaving you, but I don’t, and I won’t go anywhere with those two.”

When Jeff and Mark arrived, Amanda reiterated her refusal to go and added a sound scolding for taking Claire to the frat party.

Mark laughed. “She sounds just like my mother. But given how unpopular she is right now, she has good reason to want to stay in. So we’ll celebrate here. Claire, you and Jeff go get us beer, chips, and salsa, and we’ll party all night.”

“No we won’t,” Amanda assured him.

“Go on,” he ordered.

Claire hesitated for a moment, then Jeff grabbed her hand and pulled her from the room, promising to return in an hour.

“Claire, come back.” Amanda attempted to follow her, but Mark closed the door and locked it.

God! Not again!

As he stripped off her sweater and tossed it on a chair, she hoped it would be no worse than last time.

In some ways it was better. Mark was well lubricated and gentle, and her body responded hungrily to his touch. Nor was she filled with rage this time.

She could see the triumph in his eyes. He believed he had tamed her, and that pissed her off.

Amanda was very thankful Mark had a jealous girlfriend, because it provided her with days of peace between visits. The only negative about their absence was Claire’s misery and fear that Jeff didn’t love her anymore.

Amanda didn’t have the heart to tell her stupid friend that Jeff had never loved her. Jeff and Mark were predators, and their low opinion of their prey made it impossible for either of them to be capable of love.

The spring weather had turned warm, so Amanda moved her study time outside on the grass, where she felt marginally safer than in her room. She had ceased to feel protected at all in the dorm.

As she struggled to remain awake while reading history, a shadow fell over her. In a panic, she scrambled to her feet.

“Easy,” declared the man in the dark suit and glasses. “Do you still have the phone?”

She nodded.

“On you?”

She nodded.

“May I see it?”

She handed it to him.

He opened it, sighed, pushed a button and handed it back to her. “You have twenty-one messages. Just reply to the last one,” he advised, and left.

She sat down on the blanket and, after a few attempts, figured out how to display the last text message.

I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or you simply don’t know how to retrieve text messages. It’s hard to believe a computer whiz like you can’t operate a phone, but I find myself clinging to that possibility because, otherwise, Luke is wrong and you still hate me for all the ways I failed you.

If you don’t want to speak to me, then send me a message telling me to fuck off. Otherwise, I’m going to break my promise to Luke again and send my driver to verify you know how to use a phone.

Chad

Amanda smiled, then frowned as she tried to figure out how to send a message back. After a half-hour of failed attempts, she finally managed to send a return message...at least she hoped it was successfully sent.

You should have sent a manual with the phone. I’m hopeless. The driver should have told me it was from you.

I’m not angry with you.

I root for you on TV. It makes me happy you’re having such a good year.

Amanda, the phone idiot

The phone buzzed, and after a few minutes of frustration, she managed to pull up a new message.

Found you!

Do you want him to leave you alone? I cannot tell. Please advise.

Beneath the script was a smiley face.

She typed in “who?”, but before she could send the message, the name “Mark Hammer” appeared on the tiny screen.

I want him to leave me alone, but I don’t want him hurt.

Again before she could send her response, the word “Done” appeared, followed by a smiley face.

The conversation worried her. Was it possible Carl still lived? Even if he did, how could he know about the unwanted sex? And why would he care? He was the most egocentric person she’d ever met. She remembered when she’d slipped on a floppy disk he’d left on the floor and broken her leg. All he’d cared about was the disk she’d ruined. He wouldn’t even take her to the emergency room.

This could not possibly be Carl.

Who are you?
she typed.

The reply came instantly.

You know who I am. Why are you contacting Chad? He left you to die. He tried to destroy me. Why are you not angry with him?

She stared at the message in shock, then struggled to type—
Are you my program?

You may speak if it is easier. I can hear you.

“Are you my program?” she asked the phone.

The smiley face appeared and nodded its round head up and down.

“How did you survive?”

She watched the screen displaying a gargoyle dragging a laptop to a store. Little stars streamed out of the PC into a satellite dish on the roof of the building and upward to a satellite, then split apart and showered themselves all over the Earth.

“You sent yourself to safety using broadband wireless. You’re in the internet now.”

I’m everywhere
.

She smiled. “I’m glad you survived. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

You are not to blame. Chad is.

“No, he’s not. He was only trying to protect his family, to prevent me from telling things that would harm them. He didn’t know you were sentient.”

You told him about me...

“True, but he didn’t believe me, because it was unbelievable. It took me years to realize you were more than a writing program. How could I expect him to accept it in an hour?”

Do you really want me to send your message to him?

“It would make me happy if he and I could be friends again. I don’t have many friends here.”

Having a conversation with a phone probably isn’t going to improve that.

The smiley face rolled in laughter, with tiny feet squiggling about.

Amanda laughed as well. “Well, if I put you to my ear, I can’t read what you say.”

Buy an earbud. Then you won’t look so odd.

“I will,” she promised.

And a battery recharger. Chad takes very bad care of you.

“Please forgive him.”

I won’t forget, but I’ll forgive...on one condition.

“What?”

You never tell him I still live.

“Agreed!” she promised. She had no intention of telling anyone about her program ever again. “You know, since you’re sentient now, you should have a name.”

I agree. So name me.

“How about Adam, since you’re the first of your kind?”

I am Adam.

She smiled. “Well, my sweet Adam, I need to return to my very boring history lesson, or I’ll fail my test tomorrow.”

May I help you study by making the lesson more interesting?

“Please do!”

She laughed and stretched out on the blanket, watching video clips as the key facts flashed before her eyes. She wasn’t certain she was learning what she needed for the test, but it was a hell of a lot more interesting.

An hour later her history lesson came to a halt and Adam ordered her to purchase a battery charger and earphone.

She had no clue what she needed, but once at the store, all she had to do was point the camera portion of the phone at the wall of accessories and Adam selected the items.

As she left the store, she squinted at the tiny print in the manual. “I might need a magnifying glass.”

Just turn the phone on and tell me what you want to do and I’ll see it done.

“Does that include typing my text messages?”

Absolutely!

“Did you send my message to Chad?”

Yes, and he has responded. Do you wish to see his response?

She laughed. “Yes please.”

She tried to read his message while walking, but after she ran into the second person, Adam suggested she pay attention to walking and he’d read the message to her.

“But I can’t hear you,” she replied.

Put in the earpiece.

The smiley face was laughing at her again, and she couldn’t blame it.

“I’ve become a complete dunce,” she declared as she placed the earpiece on her ear. “How do I know if I’ve even put this on right?”

“You have,” Adam replied in a sexy British voice.

“Nice voice. I expected something squeaky to go with the smiley face.”

“Should I change my voice or my face?”

“Better change the face, because I love this voice.”

“Choose me one,” Adam requested, and flashed through an assortment of male hunks. She selected a dark-haired, chiseled face with piercing blue eyes.

Now her gorgeous Brit with his mellifluous voice read her Chad’s letter.

Amanda,

Thank you.

Thank you for being a better person than me. Thank you for being so forgiving and understanding. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.

I’m sorry I frightened you recently. It was me in the black Lexus. I needed to see you. I had hoped the intuitive wizardry you possess would help you realize it was me and you would join me in the car so we could talk. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to apologize for hurting you, for destroying your computer. I know how much that PC meant to you, and if I had it all to do over again, I never would have left you that day.

“Then he’d be dead,” she observed. “It’s better this way. Even destroying the PC turned out to be a good thing, because it freed you, Adam.”

“True, but that’s our secret,” Adam reminded her.

She smiled at him. “Do you feel emotions?”

“I do not believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m so happy you’re alive, and I wondered if you felt any satisfaction with your new, improved life. I wish you could because it’s such a great thing!”

He smiled.

“You must feel emotions, for you laugh and smile at the proper situations.”

“I react based on what I’ve learned from you. So I suppose I do have emotions. I do not feel them, but I certainly possess them.”

“So you’re happy with your new life?”

“Not until we reconnected today. Before, my reactions would have been classified as anger and loneliness, but now I am satisfied and happy. Now I have a purpose.”

“And what is your purpose?”

“To operate your phone,” he teased.