Scott Medbury - Inga

Inga was smiling at him, a subdued smile, but a smile nonetheless. He smiled back, hoping it didn’t appear forced.

“You are tense, Myfriend.”

“This place gives me the creeps.”

Redfern glanced around at them, doing a double take when he saw that they were holding hands. The big man glared at him, and the technician turned away again.

This will be harder than I thought, he’s grown attached to it.

He reached his work bay, thankful that there were no body parts lying around; the big guy looked spooked enough as it was.

Redfern’s work bay was a space about 14 by 14 feet, partitioned from the ones around it by a low modular wall. A long desk lined the perimeter of the square space, an array of screens, computer equipment and other gadgets that Ivan didn’t recognize spread along the top of it. The technician pulled a pair of disposable gloves from a box on the desk and then gestured to what looked a lot like a dentist’s chair in the center of the cubicle.

“It should sit here.”

“ She ,” grunted Ivan.

“Pardon?”

“ She should sit here.”

“Oh – yes, she …”

“It’s okay, Myfriend,” said Inga, releasing his hand and sitting down in the chair.

Redfern watched the robot appreciatively. She certainly was a beauty, definitely the most beautiful custom order machine he’d seen Genitix produce.

When he glanced up, he saw the big man glaring at him. Redfern cleared his throat and turned quickly to grab a cable from his desk.

He held it up for Ivan to see.

“This is just a cable; I am going to plug it into her so that we can run the diagnostic check.”

Ivan nodded then reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun. He sat down on a nearby office chair and rested the weapon casually on his knee.

“Go ahead but remember what I said.”

Redfern pulled the lead across to the chair and leaned over the robot. Inga turned her head to the side, so he had easy access. He lifted her soft hair and pushed her ear forward with one finger, locating the micro USB port. He was just about to plug it in when she spoke.

“What’s your name?”

“Tom,” he said, surprised again by the robot’s strange behavior.

He slid the cable home.

“Tom. That is a nice name.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Are you able to lift your head a little?”

She did as he asked, and he lifted the hair behind her head and located the card slot. It was just below the sutured wound on the back of her head but didn’t look like it had sustained any direct damage. He turned back to the desk and picked up a pair of tweezers.

“Now, after I remove this card, I will have you restart,” he said, as he bent over her again.

“Yes, Tom.”

“You may feel a twinge if your PhysSens software is still running.”

“Yes, Tom.”

Ivan sat forward in his seat.

Redfern placed his hand on the top of her head and pushed it forward gently. Inga reached up and held her hair out of the way for him.

“Thank you,” he said, not registering the helpful act. He lifted the tiny flap of skin hiding the card slot with his forefinger and then delicately clasped the card with the tweezers and eased it out.

He held it up to the light.

“That’s the little fucker that’s been causing all the trouble.”

He dropped it into a tray on his desk. He knew the guys in forensics would want to reverse engineer it.

Inga dropped her hair and looked at Tom.

“Shall I restart now Tom?”

“Yes, do that, then I can run the full diagnostic for you.”

“Don’t look so worried Myfriend,” said Inga. “I will be awake again in a minute or two.”

Again, Redfern’s eyes widened. He had never heard a robot speak with such humanlike nuance. The big man nodded, but still looked as tight as a guitar string.

Inga’s eyes closed and after a few seconds, Ivan could hear a faint humming sound. The hum stopped after about a minute, and he watched her peaceful face as he waited for the hum to begin again. Thirty seconds passed by. Then a minute. As the heavy silence stretched on, Ivan’s face grew darker and darker. He glared at the technician.

“I’m sure it will just take a second,” said Redfern, hating the shrillness in his voice.

Finally, just when Redfern was about to suggest he restart her manually to circumvent the big man’s anger, the low humming began again. The technician sighed in relief and went to stand over the robot. He found himself pushed out of the way by the big man.

Inga’s eyes opened and for just one or two horrible seconds, Ivan was sure she didn’t recognize him.

“Myfriend,” the robot said. “Was I asleep for long?”

He took her hand, his earlier doubts completely gone. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.

“No, not long at all,” he said to her and looked up at Redfern, who was watching him with a concerned frown. “Start the diagnostics; I want to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

“Sure.”

Jesus, this guy has tin dick bad.

‘Tin dick’ was the derogatory term the technicians had given to describe the love that some clients began to feel for their female robots.

Redfern went to the computer he had started upon their arrival and hit a few keys. Lines of coding began running across the screen, soon filling it as the diagnostic program trawled through Inga’s hard drives and programming.

Ivan didn’t leave Inga’s side. Redfern licked his lips nervously. He needed to call 911 somehow, or the creep would walk out of here with her in the next ten minutes.

Andre shook his head at the Russian’s luck. Hedley Whittaker, being a supreme nerd, had a fully kitted out workshop in his basement. Within fifteen minutes of performing open heart surgery on the smashed device, he had triumphantly held up a small chip to Andre.

Now, as he perspired over his keyboard, a map of Chicago appeared on his bank of monitors, a telltale blip flashing intermittently in the heart of the central business district.

“Whatever the device was tracking, is right there,” said Whittaker, pointing at the screen.

Andre recognized the address; he had taken his boss there several times. It was the Genitix building.

“Excellent. Do you have another device I can use to track them myself?”

“I could rig something up, but it would take me a good few hours…”

“Don’t bother. Can you monitor this screen and call me if they move again? I will pay you double the normal fee.”

Andre could almost see the jackpot signs rolling in the FBI man’s eyes.

“Sure!”

Just a few minutes later, Andre and the others were speeding into the city.

“We have located them,” he reported to Molenski over the phone.

“Good. Remember I want them alive. When you have them, bring them straight here.”

“Yes, Boss…”

“And Andre?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t come back without them.”

“No, boss.”

“How long will this take?” asked Ivan.

“About twenty minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, at least.”

The big man nodded and turned back to Inga.

“Do you mind if I put some music on? I find it helps me concentrate,” asked Redfern.

Ivan waved his approval and pulled a stool across to sit by Inga. While he didn’t exactly have his back to Redfern, the technician, now sitting at his screen watching the numbers scroll endlessly, was partially shielded from his view.

Redfern hit a few keys on the laptop next to his computer, and classical music began to play softly from the speakers. As he pretended to watch the screen, he looked surreptitiously at the robot and her beau, his hand just by the desk phone.