Cheer Camp Part 4
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Little Simon didn't know where the computer was, but Matthias figured it out. The room was much the same as the one she had killed Claude in, but still functioning. In front of her was a huge machine, the hum of it as it ran the household drowned out by the fans that kept parts cool.
'Now, go behind the main console; there will be a card that looks like this.' An object, similar to the one in her pocket, formed in her vision. Matthias, manipulating her screensight. 'Detach it and replace it with the one you have.'
Renee followed his instructions.
If everything went well, they'd essentially be shutting down the house's programming and replacing it with Matthias.
And then he could do anything.
The lights flickered once, after she had launched the program on the card.
'Excellent, dear sibling!' announced the AI. 'I am, as they say, in.'
"He won't notice?" asked Renee, despite the number of talks they'd had before even arriving. Her mind was still with the boy in the dark room.
'The Simons' master will find nothing amiss, sweetie.' The AI chuckled. 'Despite my obvious superiority, he lacks the abilities to inspect the system for a difference.'
Renee nodded, picking her way back up to the first floor. "When will he come back?"
'You have time to linger with the boy, ' said the AI. 'I'll give fair warning.'
"Thanks, Matt."
'No thanks needed, little one. Just stating facts.' He paused, then added a bit smugly, 'You will pay me back eventually.'
The girl didn't reply, spotting younger Simon at the top of the stairs. "Hey, kid. Did you get the food and water?"
"Y-yes, ma'am." The boy stared at her with eyes older than his years. "Is it- is it true? He said you were going to save us."
Renee halted. She hadn't given the kid more than a glance after getting into the house. Worse, the girl hadn't exactly planned on bringing another synthetic with her.
She wasn't sure Matthias would be willing to 'attach' him as well.
There's no way you can leave him behind.
"Uh, yeah," said the girl. I'll owe Matt more, she thought. If it comes to that. "That's the plan."
The kid gave her a grin wide and innocent, free of the cynicism that was part of her Simon. Then the boy threw his arms around her, almost sending her down the stairs.
"I'll go tell him you said I could come, too, ma'am," he said, backing up. "He wasn't sure."
That her former friend and lover didn't know her well enough anymore to be able to reassure his fellow synthetic hurt. Renee swallowed the lump in her throat and followed the boy to the other room.
"It's me," said the kid, before he even reached the doorway. "I asked and she said I get to go, too!"
A low chuckle from the room, although the girl couldn't see anyone inside it.
"Simon?" asked the girl, not quite daring to stick her head into the chamber.
"What?" replied two voices, one almost as high as a girl's and the other a croak.
"No, I mean-" Renee shook her head, bemused. She braced herself, then stepped into the gloom. "This one. You."
He sat propped up against the wall, to her right, body just outside of the light. He held a glass in both hands and a plate of food in his lap.
"You're back," he said, though he didn't sound relieved. His eyes darted from side to side, but didn't settle on her. "My- my synthetic ... angel."
The way he said it sent off alarms in Renee's stomach.
Something's wrong.
"Simon... ?" she said, then winced at the dual response. "No- I mean-"
"I call him 'Junior, '" said the older synthetic, a wry grin on his lips. "Or 'Seven.'"
"Seven?"
"I was - I am - the sixth," he said, breaking eye contact. "I think."
Renee bit her lip, then settled on her knees next to him. She leaned close, ignoring the unwashed smell of his body. "You're Simon," she said softly. "Not the sixth, or any other number. You're a good person, even after everything they've done to you. You're unique."
The boy flinched at the words and proximity, but the girl didn't back away.
"You're my Simon," she continued, reaching up to brush his scraggly bangs behind an ear. She moved at a snail's pace, but he still shivered when her fingers grazed him. "I'm your Renee, even if you don't remember.
"And I'm real."
The boy shook his head; her words were the answer to his greatest fear, yet he couldn't accept them.
"I am." Renee clasped a hand to his shoulder. "I'm not an angel, but I am a synthetic. I know it's scary to have hope, but I am telling you it's real."
The boy didn't reply, hunched over and broken.
Renee sighed. "Matthias? Are you there?" she asked the air.
'Always, sister.'
"Would it be... possible to get Simon back his memories?"
'Possible, certainly, ' replied the AI. 'Even probable. Although you need to own him for the permissions to work.'
The girl looked at the synthetic before her. "Simon? Matt says he can give you back your memories. So you'd remember me." So you could believe me.
The boy raised his head to meet her eyes. "He's connected with you? Right now?"
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Wanda was horny, but what was new. She always was and today was no different. She went to the beach and rented a motel room for the night and then went bar hopping to find a few men to take care of her horniness. In the last bar she met Al and Ed and invited them back to her room. They no sooner got there when Wanda strip and told them to do the same. Al lay down across the bed and Wanda crawled on top of him easing herself down on his cock. Once she got it in she began rocking and bouncing so...
March 15th, 1995, 4:30 PM CT; Mile 90; 14 miles east of Princeton, IL Jillian was amazed by the Sightseer lounge and its incredible view of everything around it. The floor-to-ceiling windows and curved roof skylights were what George had described, but they were absolutely breathtaking in person. These cars were, truly, the crowning jewel of not just the Superliners, but Amtrak’s fleet in general. They almost made up for the spartan nature of the rest of the train! In addition to being...
I awoke slowly, lying on one of the living room sofas. Still dressed, still quite drunk, the room was stuffy and hot. There were low moans. Wet sounds belonging in a porn flick, people groaning, hips smacking against one another. Some male voices and one female. The male voices were vaguely familiar, the female… Nina? My wife! Suddenly it all came back to me, the party and the packed apartment, how people had started to leave in the small hours. I remembered how my timid little Nina had played...
Sunday, 10am 'Oh, for fuck's sake, there is no god!' - this was Kirsten's first thought when she saw the envelope on the floor under her door. The bright pink, A3-size envelope seemed to be mocking her with its cheerful colour. It had her name, address and the city council's return address printed on it in a somber, simple font, but it might just as well have said 'TOUGH SHIT!' in Comic Sans, for it spelled the destruction of her plans for the next week. And of her dignity. Of her comfort. Of...