The Android Chronicles Book One: The Android Defense (19 page)

Carlie quickly pushed the
wheelchair to him and he sat down. He gave his crutches to the
chauffeur.

“I’ll be waiting out here,
Mr. Foster,” the chauffeur said.

Carlie pushed Damian into
the hotel. As they entered the lobby a concierge immediately
greeted them.

“Hello, Miss Wesler. Hello,
Mr. Foster. The ballroom is this way.”

Carlie and Damian followed
him to one of the ballrooms in the lobby of the hotel. He opened
the door and they went in.

The sumptuous ballroom had
been converted into a meeting room for the one hundred board
members of Adventis Technologies. They were all serious-faced men
in business suits.

There had been loud
conversation going on in the room but as Carlie and Damian entered
it immediately fell silent.

One of the board members, a
man named Paul Shafer, stood from his chair. He began to clap. The
other board members began clapping as well, until they were all
giving a standing ovation to Damian.

“Thanks,” Damian said.
“Thanks.”

Despite the applause, the
faces of the board members were skeptical and Damian did not miss
it.

“Okay,” he said, after a
moment. “Everybody sit down. I’m already seated, so everyone else
just join me.”

There was light laughter
from everyone present.

“I know I haven’t been at
one of these things for a while,” Damian said. “You’ll have to
forgive me. I’ve been logging insane hours of physical therapy. But
as some of you might know, the climate has recently changed.
Frontier Corp. is hungry for a piece of the action. For a piece of
our market share on androids.”

“We don’t have many active
android lines in production, Damian,” Paul said. “Just the
Fantastic Domestics and the Tender Loving Caregivers.”

“Right,” Damian said. “The
only ones the FBI will let us produce. But we’ve still got the
technology for the androids. That’s what Frontier is hoping to
replicate.”

“Now might as well be a good
a time as any to address the elephant in the room, Damian,” another
board member said. He stood.

“Adventis is trading at the
lowest price than it has ever been. Our products are throwing doubt
into our shareholders. Baby monitors, automated lawn chairs, kid’s
toys? Where’s the attitude this company started with? Where’s the
bite? Frankly, some of the board members are beginning to think
you’re losing your touch, Damian. Letting things slide.”

Many of the other board
members were nodding in agreement.

“I admit I haven’t been as
present as I was able to be before,” Damian said. “Maybe the
company has watered down its products, a little bit. Tamed things.
But we should consider it a necessary step back. We need to recover
our reputation. Let’s not forget we nearly destroyed the city when
we had our attitude going.”

“You did,” a board member
said. “You did, Damian. Not us. You operated outside of company
knowledge.”

Damian exhaled.

“Alright, I did.”

“Sure, the company made a
mistake,” Paul said. “But that doesn’t mean we should go back on
the promise we made to our shareholders. We promised we were going
to be a cutting edge company. Lately we’ve been more of a blunt
edged company. And there’s a lot of knives getting
sharpened.”

“We’re not taking your
injury lightly, Damian,” another board member said. “Maybe the
company is too much of a workload for you right now. Maybe we
should appoint someone to help take some of that burden off your
shoulders, at this time.”

“You’re forgetting about the
clause I put into the company’s founding plan,” Damian said. “I
can’t be removed from my position without my consent.”

The board members looked at
each other.

“I guess it’s a question of
whether you feel the ship should go down with its captain, Damian,”
Paul said.

“Alright, the game is on!
Team Jake versus Team Miles!” Jake said at the top of his
voice.

He threw a football at Luke,
who caught it from the opposite side of the parking lot. Brigite
was standing in between them, dressed in a lime green tank dress
and four-inch sparkling heels, looking at once bemused and
confused.

Mandelie, Dr. Miles, and
Trista were warming up on their side of the parking lot. Mandelie
eyed Luke. She teasingly took a handful of asphalt dust and painted
two dark streaks on her cheeks.

“Sure you’re ready for
this?” she said.

“I’m very sure,” Luke
said.

Trista was trying to touch
the tips of her toes with an effort, while Dr. Miles was running in
place.

Jake tossed the football up
and down.

“Can you run in those shoes,
Brig?” he said.

Brigite scoffed.

“I climb up and down poles
in these shoes, Jake.”

“Point taken,” Jake said.
“Alright, let’s toss a coin to see who gets the
kickoff.”

He took a quarter out of his
pocket.

“Heads,” he said.

“Tails,” Mandelie
said.

Jake tossed the quarter and
it landed on the ground. He picked it up.

“Tails,” he said.

“Yes!” Mandelie said. She
took the football from Jake and ran backwards. She threw the
football.

It sailed through the air
and barely missed Trista’s hands. Luke tackled Trista, who shrieked
and dropped the football.

Jake swooped in and grabbed
it.

“Go, Brig, go!” he shouted
at her.

Brigite raced to the
opposite end of the parking lot, moving surprisingly fast on her
heels. The ball sailed through the air and Brigite jumped up and
caught it.

She beamed
triumphantly.

“Touchdown!” Jake said. He
rushed in and picked Brigite up and swung her around.

Chapter 7.

Gustaf Jorg had a reputation
for being isolated and misanthropic almost as known as his
reputation for brilliance in the field of robotic engineering. He
had begun his career by designing an android that had successfully
tunneled into an avalanche in the Himalayas and saved four hikers.
He had followed that success by joining a world-famous magic show
and designing robotic stage props for the performers, and then by
overseeing the construction of an automated ship piloted by robots
that crossed the Bering Strait.

Despite his colorful
achievements he was colorless and brusque in his appearance and
manner – a long, pale man with pale hair and even paler eyes. Soon
after the ship was built he had announced that he was taking a
break and had retreated to a cabin in the mountains of Colorado,
venturing down to his office in Boulder only occasionally to
collect his mail and speak to his staff.

On a windy Thursday evening
he stopped by the office where his assistant Ruth timidly
approached him as he was getting his mail.

“There’s a headhunter here
to see you.”

Gustaf turned his head to
see a somber-suited man standing in the waiting room of his office.
The man carried a briefcase that was stamped with the words
“Frontier Corp.”

Tucking his mail under his
arm, Gustaf walked up to the man and extended his hand.

“You wished to see me? I am
Gustaf Jorg.”

“Mr. Jorg,” the man said.
“What an honor this is. My name is Matt Darmer. I’m here with a job
offer.”

“From whom?” Gustaf
said.

“Frontier Corp.”

“I’ve never heard of them,”
Gustaf said.

Matt chuckled.

“Well, they’ve heard of you.
The CEO, Madrick Castleshank, is extremely impressed with your
feats as a robotic engineer. He’s looking to transform Frontier
into a leading manufacturer and designer of androids. He wants you
to be on his team.”

Carlie knocked lightly on
the door of Damian’s bedroom. When she heard no answer, she went
in.

She saw Damian leaning back
in his wheelchair, staring at one of his touch screens. Soft,
soothing music was flowing out of the speakers on his
wheelchair.

“The company thinks I’m
losing my touch,” Damian said, without looking at her. “Meanwhile
I’m sitting in my wheelchair, listening to New Age, watching …
cartoons.”

“The software for the
glow-in-the-dark feature just came in,” Carlie said. She held up a
box. “Want me to install it in your chair?”

Damian shook his
head.

“I’m pathetic,” he said.
“I’m watching the company I built go down in flames.”

“Stop blaming yourself,
Damian,” Carlie said. “It’s not going to change
anything.”

“I can’t believe I blew
nearly twenty thousand on this chair,” Damian said. “That’s like a
dying man spending twenty thousand on his coffin.
Pathetic.”

“You’re handicapped,” Carlie
said. “There’s a difference.”

“Don’t ever say the word
‘handicapped’ to me again,” Damian said. “I hate the sound of it
now. The rest of the world can say it to me. But I don’t want to
hear it from you.”

“Alright,” Carlie said. “I
won’t say it. Madrick Castleshank called. He wants to talk to
you.”

“I’ll talk to him now,”
Damian said. “Close the door behind you, Carlie.”

Damian pressed a button on
his touch screen. The phone system dialed a number and rang until a
voice picked up.

“Madrick
Castleshank.”

“Hello, Madrick,” Damian
said.

Madrick chuckled.

“How are you doing,
Damian?”

“Oh, I’m just fine,” Damian
said. “I am a little confused about the announcement I saw today
regarding your company though.”

“Well, it’s a free market,
isn’t it, pal? Frontier’s been refining its technology in the
artificial limb industry for years. We’re ready to tackle a
full-bodied artificial human being, the likes of which you’ve never
seen before.”

“If that’s the case,” Damian
said. “I wish you the best of luck. But android technology is a
whole different ballgame than making fake legs, Madrick. It takes a
level of skill. Finesse.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got all
the skill and finesse I need to play a good ball game,” Madrick
said. “At least I’ve got the use of my own legs. Good night,
Damian. Sleep well. I look forward to bankrupting your
company.”

Damian heard a dial tone on
his touch screen.

Chapter 8.

Despite his rigid demeanor,
Jorg was impressed by the display of wealth Madrick Castleshank
sent to greet him at Boulder Municipal Airport. A long, sleek,
actually gold-painted jet glided down the runway towards him as he
waited inside a private hangar.

His single suitcase was
taken from him by a discreet flight attendant and he was ushered on
board the private jet. There was nobody else in the spacious cabin
except for him.

He sank into a leather chair
and exhaled imperceptibly.

An attractive flight
attendant approached him.

“Welcome to Mr.
Castleshank’s private plane, sir. Would you like a drink or
something to eat?”

“A sparkling water, please,”
Gustaf said.

“Right away, sir,” the
attendant said. Despite her outward smile, inwardly she felt a
little bit chilled by the cold, uninviting atmosphere that
surrounded Gustaf. She walked away from him quickly.

Gustaf leaned against his
chair as he felt the plane vibrate beneath him in its take-off. He
produced a small computer tablet from his carry-on bag and began
typing on it.

In a bathroom filled with
steam Carlie relaxed in a marble bathtub and took a sip from a
glass of wine. She closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her
neck.

She did not often stop to
think about how shocking it was that she had gone from being Damian
Foster’s executive assistant to his live-in caretaker in a matter
of years. The thought was still hard for her to accept, months
after the fact. Her salary had gone up, of course, but nearly all
of her time was sacrificed for Damian’s sake. Her social life had
all but vanished.

“Carlie.”

Carlie sat up in her
bathtub, the waters spilling over the sides of it. Through the
steam she could see the outline of Damian’s wheelchair a few feet
away from the tub.

“Damian! Can’t you see I’m
kind of naked?”

Damian waved away her
nudity.

“So what? I used to see you
naked all the time, if you remember. You’re probably not looking
for compliments, but you still look great.”

Carlie gritted her
teeth.

“What do you
want?”

Damian rolled his wheelchair
a few inches closer. Carlie sank down in the water to cover more of
her body.

“I just had an idea,” he
said. “A way to get the board off my back. Why don’t I pick someone
myself to take over some of my job duties? Make the first move.
It’s better for me to choose someone I want and create some kind of
ceremonial and meaningless title for them, than to wait for the
board to spring someone on me I can’t stand.”