The loading bot in the shop’s warehouse places the second auto bot next to the first on the flatbed truck. Metal striking wood rings out in the large building, but the truck holds. Both bots are a delivery for a patron of Gen’s store. And the trojan horse for my next job for Prism. The SD card Evangeline gave me burns hot in my pocket. A flare of danger and questionable legality that will throw me into a different realm of life if I go through with it.

  If.

  As if there’s a choice. I lost the ability to choose when I agreed to work with Prism, passed the test, and took the SD card. It’s a battle over how far I’m willing to go to get what I want. Doing something semi-illegal is the line. I want to trade the sign for the electric bike Evangeline promised me, so I have to load the program onto the customer, Dev’s, computer. The wanna-be mayor who allegedly cheated on his wife.

  A soap opera could be written better.

  I sigh and lean against my cane. The pain has continued into another day. I’m popping NSAIDS like candy. My shoulder, the one not using the cane, has joined in on the fun. It’s a constant wail of agony no matter how much I stretch, and my hip is starting to mimic it. Gen should be thankful I’m here at all today. At least the bots take the brunt of the work.

  Beeps of the loading machinery echo in the still warehouse air, bouncing off the bright red corrugated walls and the rows and rows of bots and bits. A gust of wind pushes into the side, causing the whole building to creak and the bitter air grows colder. A promise from winter that it will be here soon and drive out the passing fancy of autumn. I shiver, wishing I wore my winter coat, but I am in denial that it is needed.

  “Az, how long until the next dose of meds,” I ask the bot. He stands behind me in his large form, communicating intentions to the loading bots.

  “You have two hours until you can take more meds,” he replies.

  I sigh. “Great. Today sucks, bud.”

  Az’s posture deflates. “I am sorry.”

  He means it too. If he can’t help me, it means his programming isn’t sufficient. I might as well have kicked a puppy in front of him. Hell, he might as well have been the puppy I kicked. I reach over and pat his arm. He cheers somewhat and rises.

  The loading bot picks up the third auto helper bot and starts a slow trek towards the flatbed truck. “Az, there’s no easy answer to this trade. What they’re asking me to do isn’t great.”

  Az blinks azure, processing my words, neural networks firing through possibilities and past conversations. “No logic to use.”

  I pat his arm again. “It’s all right, lil’ bud.”

  While Az is advanced, he’s still not human. He doesn’t have morals and ethics outside of the bot laws built into him. Az can’t tell me if the trade is worth it, no matter how much I want a second opinion. There’s no human to confine in either. Gen would blow a gasket. Mel would be supportive, but disappointed I kept it from her—worse than anger. And I have no clue what Dom would do.

  The loading bot places the third auto help bot down. Three auto helper bots for Dev’s garage. I hope he’s appreciative of the loading configuration. The flatbed is going to be a bitch and a half to drive through ‘Cuse. Not that I’ll be doing it. That’s on Az. But he’ll have to recalculate turns and accelerations with all the added weight.

  Sucks to be him.

  I stick a holo disk to the turquoise arm of the third bot. It blinks red, alerting anyone behind me to the load. Easy peasy. I love tech.

  I lean heavy on my cane. “Az, time to go. Power down.”

  Az picks an out of the way spot along the wall and crouches. His body cracks open and I scoop out his core. I teeter over to the cab of the truck, making a silent prayer to whoever that I won’t drop Az and crack his glass on the cold, hard cement. It’s the last thing I need today.

  I make it into the cab without incident and chuck my cane into the other seat. With Az hooked up, heat blasts free from the vents. My face tingles, fingers pulsing in retaliation of being left out of the pain circus of the day. I hadn’t realized how cold I had gotten.

  My holo pings. A shiver tiptoes the length of my spine.

  Blake

  Jacqueline. Do not mess this up.

  I roll my eyes and growl. The illegal acquisition of my data is getting old. First my medical info. Now my phone number. It’s invasive; not that Blake cares. Then there’s her message. If I mess this up I’m the one that’s going to have to deal with the fine. Not to mention destroying the only trade I have for the sign. A harsh sigh rips free from my throat. I didn’t need this.

  Az pulls out of the warehouse and onto an empty street. We’re far from the hustle and bustle of ‘Cuse, though the neon lights slink from the city and infect the land around us. I love our world and society, but I do wish it wouldn’t take so much from nature.

  An hour later, after too many show tune songs and several curses from me, Az pulls up next to an auto shop. It’s on the far side of ‘Cuse, and the drive offered little enjoyment. That would have been the case regardless. Traffic in ‘Cuse is terrible when the weather sucks.

  The outside of the building has been painted bright yellow around the large windows and rolling garage doors. It’s a color that draws the eye. Even in our neon world. A flashing sign breaks through the gathering gloom of the day and proclaims that the building is Dev’s Autoshop, just in case I doubted where we were with the large rolling doors and the fleet of cars parked in the side lot.

  I slam the truck door behind me, leaving Az in the truck much to his rapid red blinking complaint. It’s hard enough moving with the cane and the pain. I don’t want to have both hands full. Not with my nerves tangling my thoughts together. I chew on my tongue with every step towards the rolling doors. I can do this. It’s a job like any other. Treat it like that, and I’m golden.

  Yeah, right.

  It’ll be a miracle if I pull this off. I’m about as smooth and suave as a goat. This spy shit is far out of my wheelhouse. There’s no reason for Blake to assign this to me. Unless it’s another test. Any courage I’d worked up left with the arrival of her text.

  A man of middling years with thinning gray hair and a beer gut stands by an older auto machine, taking apart an engine. Rock music, about thirty years removed from what’s bright, blasts over the speakers of the shop, causing me to have to step into the man’s line of sight to get his attention. He waves his holo, and the music cuts out. My ears ring in the vacuum created.

  “Dev?”

  “He’s in the office, straight back,” the man says, voice gruff and final. Score. No small talk.

  “Thanks.”

  The music resumes, masking my cane and footfalls. Around the main path ,there is a variety of bots working on e-cars and trucks. The scent of oil hangs thick in the air, dancing a quickstep with the sharp acid of electricity. It strikes my heart, throwing me back through the years to the leaning, rotten barn crouched in the natural green trees where my father kept his projects. Where Az was born from a kit I got for my birthday. It’s the perfume of nostalgia. Of a home lost. Not because I’m not welcome, but because I’ve moved on. Gone are the days of running through fields of grass and spying the rare star. Of braiding wild flowers to decorate a scarecrow, Az who waits for birds. I’ve run towards more—to the city—to chase wilder dreams. And I’m on the right track.

  I have to be.

  I drum my fingers against the cane, willing myself to knock on the door. Once I talk to Dev about the bots, Prism’s plan is set in motion. I could not put anything on his computer. And I can kiss my dream goodbye in doing so. I take a deep breath and knock on the heavy faux wood behemoth of the office door. Probably needed to block out the music and general machinery ruckus. A man, a few years older than me, yanks it open. He’s backlit by a light flickering through the color spectrum. The colors bleed across his gray peppered blond hair, which falls over light eyes and pale skin.

  He leans out of the door and cups his hands around his mouth. “Jeff! Turn that down!”

  The music drops to a respectable level.

  “Sorry about that,” he says “How can I help you?”

  “Dev? I’m here with your bots.” I jerk my thumb towards the truck.

  He smiles wide, the type he expects to win over hearts, and the type of smile people return. A politician’s grin. I’m too tired to pretend it works on me, even for Gen’s reputation. I head to the flatbed, assuming he’s following. My legs are wooden from nerves, each step an awkward gait, even without the cane. Breath strangles my lungs. I keep drawing in and in and in, unable to breathe it out because I’ll deflate. The escaping air will steal the little resolve I have to do this, and I’ll lose any progress I’ve made on this task. And my heart, a cursed thing that betrays me like my joints, beats double time in my chest. I run my tongue along my teeth, searching for courage. Or an answer for what to do. A promise that this will all be all right.

  I peel off the blinking holo on the last bot's arm and start releasing the ratchet straps.

  “Thanks for getting these to me so quick. I was shocked to find them on the website. A new one costs double what your shop is selling them for.” Dev says.

  I throw the strap onto the bed of the truck and head to the second one. Best to ignore what he said. I’m not in charge of pricing and don’t want to say anything that makes Gen upset. “You have a machine to unload them, right? You didn’t pay for that so I didn’t bring one.”

  Not that one would fit with the three turquoise colossi loaded onto the flat bed. Each is the size of a large car stood on end with a thick base to keep them rooted. Curled arms, twisted to stay close to the body during travel, sport tool after tool, forming misshapen fingers.

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  “Yeah, lemme send them out.” He fiddles with his holo.

  I’ve got the second strap off and am working on the third when a hunkering electric blue bot with four legs and arms to match lumbers out to the truck. Another bot, blue as well, follows on large gravel crushing wheels fit for towing. It has one crane arm, perfect for unloading giant bots and keeping them secure.

  “You all right if I start unloading?” Dev asks.

  “Yep,” I reply, hiding my nerves in a tough pull of the strap, and the downturn of my mouth. I still don’t have a plan. If I miss this opportunity, I may not get another. Come on, self. Get it together. It’s not the time to be a dumbass.

  The two bots work in tandem to get the first of Dev’s auto helper bots off the truck. Each of the arms from the hunkering bot wrap around the core of the auto helper bot and lift it off the truck while the tow bot’s crane arm steadies the lift. Jesus. Outside of commercial settings, bots don’t have that type of power, let alone mobile bots. She, because I refuse to call a bot it, places the turquoise colossus on the tow bot. The wheels sink half an inch into the gravel, as if the earth wishes to swallow the whole contraption, but is finding it hard. The crane piece of the auto bot tightens, and away the two bots go, crunching over the gravel, leaving rocks molded to sand in their wake.

  I lean against the cab of the truck, easing my weight into a different angle to relieve pressure on my hips. A burn restarts in my knees, but I grit my teeth and put up with it. Moving too much will draw suspicion. The bots crest the entrance to the garage, the first auto helper bot lifeless against its new siblings.

  Oh.

  Oh.

  “Say, were you going to hook them up to your shop system right away?” I ask, careful to keep my voice casual.

  “In about a week. Bit too swamped at the moment.” He raises both hands as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

  He could shove it for cheating on his wife, to start. But I shouldn’t say that.

  Customer service or something.

  I wasn’t listening when Gen told me.

  “I have time to do it,” I say with a shrug. Offering it up like I don’t care one way or another. But I very much do. I need direct access to his computer to hook the bots to his shop. “It will take me half an hour, and then you don’t have to worry about it.”

  Dev rubs his chin. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I set my own hours, so my boss won’t even mind.” Not a lie. I’m the one who tries to keep to a schedule, but Gen has been late a lot more with her siblings living at her house. Taking an extra half hour here will go unnoticed. And if it doesn’t, I can make up an excuse about it being work-related.

  “Sure,” Dev says with another smile. “I bet you’re better with all that stuff.”

  It’s a nice compliment, but it bounces off the diamond-hard coating of stress lacing around my body.

  “Thanks.” Politeness oozes from the word. Every once in a while, I’m not an asshole. “I have to wait for them all to be unloaded and in place.”

  “Shouldn’t be too much longer,” he says.

  He’s right in that regard. I’ve finished my lunchtime cig, lit when they started unloading the second bot, when the loader bots make their way back for the third and last auto helper bot. We follow them into the shop. Cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I can do this. I have to. I want that electric bike.

  “I’ll need access to your computer,” I say. My hand twitches against my side. I shove my free hand in my pocket and tighten the other around my cane.

  “Right back here.” Dev leads the way to the office. The room is little more than a shoe box containing two cadmium plastic desks and chairs. The holo by the door is newer than the one we have in the shop, and, to my relief, it’s already on, so I don’t have to try to suss out where they’ve hidden the power button on this model. I lean my cane against the desk and sink into the chair. It’s hard and unyielding, but still my body relaxes, the pain easing.

  “Give me half an hour,” I say.

  He nods. “I’ll be over here doing holowork.”

  Dev settles into the chair behind me. Dammit. I wanted him to leave. Would have made this a hundo times easier. With a sigh, I pull up the command window on the holo and type in a bit of code. The SD card sits like a rock in my pocket, threatening to pull me straight to the earth’s core. I’ve never done anything like this. The most illegal thing I’ve ever done was skip school. Evangeline was right that it’s a gray area, but when you’re not used to putting a toe out of line, any shadowy action screams treachery.

  I reach into my pocket and wrap trembling fingers around the hard plastic case of the SD card. It comes out with little fanfare, the case not even catching the overhead light. It absorbs it and the case grows greener for it. Trying to blend in with the environment. I wish it would.

  “What’s the cane for?” Dev says. I start, almost dropping the case. At the last moment, I fumble it into my palm and clench it into my fist. The plastic bites into my skin. The pain sends a thrill of satisfaction through me because it’s there, hidden, and not on the floor with a clatter to announce its presence.

  It’s pretty rude of Dev. But it’s out there. An open sore refusing to be ignored.

  “I have bad joints,” I answer through gritted teeth.

  “You’re far too young to be sick.”

  Fuck. That. There is no age at which it is OK to be this sick. And my age doesn’t negate the fact that I am ill. It’s a degrading thing to say. He’s reducing me to my illness and focusing on the qualities I have no control over. I clench the case harder.

  This guy is getting spyware put on his computer.

  “My body doesn’t care,” I quip. I flick open the case and pull out the SD card. Where the case absorbed the light, the pink of the card pushes it away, screaming out its brilliance. It takes a few tries to tilt the card into the slot. It consumes the card’s brilliance, leaving no trace behind.

  “Why are you inserting an SD card into my holo?”

  My blood freezes in my veins, and every muscle grows taut. The chill creeps to my face and neck and pulls sweat from my pores. Butterflies break free from cocoons and flutter in my stomach, waiting for the next words to leave Dev’s lips.

  “I, uh, I have code on the card to boot things.” Most people would use their holo and feed the program through the holo connection. I hope he doesn’t question it too much. “Faster this way.”

  Dev contacting Gen because he’s suspicious would be horrible. We have never put any program on an SD card. There’s no reason to with the holos and their internal storage or the ability to pull from the cloud. If he calls, Gen’s hackles would rise, and she’d know that I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to.

  I hide my shaking hand in my lap. The holo reads the card, and a white screen pops up, asking if I want to run the program. I hesitate over the holo mouse on the desk, staring at the iridescent sheen of the projection. Cameras in the holo wait, ready to track my hand movements and either damn myself, or Dev.

  He’s suspected of cheating on his wife.

  He boiled you down to illness and age, invalidating everything else you are.

  And the pettiest reason of all. His politician smile creeps me the hell out.

  I press the run button. The white screen blinks out of existence.

  “All done?” Dev asks. His voice comes from right over my shoulder. He saw the screen.

  “The, uh…program isn’t working. It wasn’t supposed to close like that.”

  Dev leans forward, reading the icons. No no no no no. This is bad. Sit back down and practice politician things. Breath hitches in my throat, my heart pounds against my ribs, threatening to break them.

  “Do you need to run it again?” Dev asks. He straightens and shifts until his bulky body is between me and the door, caging me in.

  Caught.

  “I need to try and run it from my holo,” I say. Somehow, I keep my voice level.

  Dev’s holo lets out a small chime.

  “It’s connected here,” he says.

  No, it’s not. That’s the spyware program pinging itself to his holo and installing.

  He continues, none the wiser. “Maybe it’s the computer. Should we try the holo with the bots?”

  Shit. Shit. Think.

  If we try the holo with the bots, that will reveal my plan once he figures out that there is no connection. He’ll ask why and what the program is that I put on his computer. Why it’s not working. And I’d have to convince him it’s nothing to worry about. That’s too many lies on the spot. Better to head this off.

  “Without the computer hookup they won’t work as well. The holo app is more of a ping reader and transmitter than an actual program.

  That’s why one has to be on the computer to begin with.” The explanation is mostly true, the lie being that the bots wouldn’t work as well. It doesn’t matter how the app is installed. He shouldn’t know that.

  Dev gives a thoughtful hum. It’s almost lost in the thump of the music outside the door. It’s been steadily increasing while we’ve been in here, Dev’s worker pushing the limits of his boss’s anger. Maybe I’ll get lucky and that will distract him here soon.

  Yeah, right. And Pluto will be classified as a planet again. Best not to bank on the music option.

  “Let me try it through my holo. It will take a little longer, but the problem may lie in the SD card.” My hand shakes as I reach for the SD card. Dev’s eyes track each jitter.

  “Sickness issues?” He asks.

  For once, I’m glad for someone’s being untactful about my illness. “Yep. Get the shakes sometimes.”

  I palm the SD card. It threatens to slip from my hand due to the slick of sweat on my skin.

  “Try it on the other computer? It might work there.” Dev holds out his hand for the card. There’s a glint in his eye, reflecting off the hardness captured there. He’s suspicious of what I’ve done. Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I clench my teeth while pocketing the card. “That’s all right. I’ll do it this way.”

  I am not being smooth. Screw this. I told Evangeline I’m not up for this spy stuff.

  With a flick I access the holo’s feed and send a connection request to the computer. I refuse to meet Dev’s eyes. Guilt would read within mine clearer than a neon ad at night. Not meeting his eyes probably comes across as guilty.

  Get it together and glance at him. Include a smile. Do it.

  The smile turns into a grimace.

  Dammit.

  I accept the request from the holo and poke at the screen to send the program. It blinks into existence on the screen, and with a few selections, the program runs.

  “There, we should be able to connect them all. Is it showing up on your holo?” I dare to meet Dev’s eyes. They’re still narrowed in suspicion, but drop to his holo.

  “Yes, still here.”

  “Let’s check the bots.” I rise, grabbing my cane in the process. The glass of the picture on the desk flashes in the light. Encapsulated in a candy apple frame is Dev and a young woman, at least twenty years his junior. Her dark hair contrasts with his grey-streaked blond locks. Both of their eyes are squinted due to the smiles plastered across their faces.

  “This is a nice picture of you and your wife,” I say with a mock smile.

  Dev reached across the desk to pick it up. “Oh, uh, thanks.”

  His hesitation ignites my anger. Not his wife then. Perhaps his wife was right about the cheating and wanting to monitor him. I clench the curse against him between my teeth, refusing to let it free. I’m on thin ice.

  “Right then,” I say. I glance away, searching for an out. “Shall we go?”

  Dev doesn’t move.

  “What did you say about the SD card?” he asks.

  “That it didn’t work. I’ll have to reload the program when I get back to the shop.”

  He still doesn’t move. “Odd, isn’t it?”

  A cold sweat dampens the back of my neck. “Nah, happens sometimes.”

  Dev grumbles something I can’t make out. “Let’s check the bots.”

  Finally.

  He leads the way out of the room and into the main bulk of the shop. The new bots sit as we left them, lifeless and pristine. Dev stops next to one and taps his holo to start the program. The machine beeps, and the arm twitches before rising into a working position.

  “It’s all in order,” I say. It takes all my effort to keep my voice level and slow. Don’t want to give him any idea that I’m rushing out of here, but I need to leave. Get away from the awkwardness and the semi-illegal activity.

  And pray he doesn’t call Gen.

  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair. If you have any issues, call us. We’ll come out and service it,” I say.

  Dev stares at me. It’s hard and demanding. He suspects I did something. Doesn’t trust that I told him the truth about the SD card. I’m screwed.

  I smile, turn, and let it drop off my lips with the first crack of my cane against the floor. Every muscle screams for me to run. To get away from here as fast as possible, but that would raise Dev’s suspicion even more. No. Slow and steady to the truck is the way to go. My hip is complaining enough with the walking. No need to anger it further. I round the front of the truck and slide into the cab. I let out the sigh I’ve been holding the whole walk. It does little to calm my churning stomach.

  Az blinks red from where he sits in the center console.

  “Sorry, lil’ bud. But I had enough in my hands. I didn’t want to risk dropping you.”

  He blinks red two more times before switching to pink. I’m forgiven.

  “Besides, be thankful you weren’t in there. People are terrible,” I say while sending a message to Evangeline saying that the program was installed. The holo pings to signal a message has come in. But it’s not Evangeline.

  Blake

  Well done. I’ll contact you soon.

  How the hell did Blake know? There’s no time to process the question. My holo rings and my blood freezes. It’s Gen. I heave a sigh and answer it.

  “Hey Gen, what’s up?”

  “What the hell were you doing?” she growls. “Get back to the shop.”

  She hangs up without another word. I fall back onto the seat.

  God dammit.