Page 18 of The Genius
Getting pregnant from one time of having sex was unlikely. But I wasn’t a risk taker by nature, so why hadn’t I stopped him?
Because a sex-bot didn’t say no. It would have blown my cover, and I wouldn’t have known how to handle that humiliation.
I ignored the little voice saying that I had found his words of shooting his babies inside of me arousing. I wasn’t the kind of woman to dream about husband and kids, so why had it turned me on? Just thinking about it made me cringe, and the only explanation I could find was that the need to procreate was a predisposition from ancient times that had served to secure the survival of the human race.
Now that my hormone levels had returned to normal, I was determined to take what had happened in that room with me to my grave. No one could know about what I’d done. Especially not Marco.
It was close to six p.m. when the hostess-bot alerted me that someone was asking for entry to our office building.
We didn’t have any test sessions planned for today, and my heart began thumping fast in my chest as I thought that maybe Marco had returned.
A look at the outside camera revealed that it wasn’t Marco but my friend Tristan who wanted in.
I had the service-bot unlock the front door and let him in before I walked out in the hallway to greet him.
“Hi there, I’m looking for Shelly Summers,” Tristan said and waved at me.
“Very funny.” I grinned and opened my arms.
Tristan almost picked me up when he squeezed me in a tight hug. “I just haven’t gotten used to seeing you so pretty, yet.”
“Are you saying I wasn’t pretty before?”
He laughed. “Your beauty has always shone from the inside.”
“Aww, thank you.” I tilted my head.
“It was just hard to see because of the imitation of a troll you had going on.” Tristan winked at me and hurried to say, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay. As long as I don’t have to do any actual work for it, I’m keeping this look.” I led him into my office, which was full of robot parts, boards with drawings and calculations, and Mindy, who stood in the corner looking like a sleeping beauty. “It would be different if I didn’t have the CBC. Beauty is superficial and nice to have but not a top priority for me.”
Tristan plunked down in my chair, lifting one leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “It’s not a priority for me either.” With a casual movement he reached up to intertwine his fingers and somehow made them seem like a comfortable pillow behind his head. Giving me a charming smile, he added, “I was just fortunate enough to be born with both brains and good looks. Sorry that you weren’t that lucky.”
Others might find Tristan’s humor mean, but my six months in the Northlands as a teenager had taught me about irony and sarcasm. It wasn’t used much in the Motherlands, but I’d become fond of it. The Nmen didn’t get offended when I said something harsh. Most times they thought I was being ironic and laughed it off.
Motlanders, however, found me too direct and insensitive.
“Thank you for your sympathy, but it’s okay. We all bear our crosses. For instance, I see you still suffer from bad eyesight and a bit of narcissism.” I gave him a sweet smile.
Tristan leaned his head back and laughed. “God, I missed you and your sharp tongue, Shelly.”
“I missed you too.” It was true. Tristan and I had first met at the experimental school on the west coast when we were both fifteen, and for years we’d been out of touch. It wasn’t until a year ago, when Advanced Technologies had hired him to lead the department for aerodynamics, that we’d reconnected.
“Why are you here, Tristan?”
“I’m here to take you out.”
“Out where?”
“You’ll see. Just close down the systems and don’t ask questions. It’ll be fun.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Fun?”
“Yeah, tons of fun.”
“Coming from you that word makes me nervous. Last time you said that, you took me to a fight club. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“You were the one who said that you’re curious to see more of the Northlands, yet you hide away in here.”
