The Nero Protocol Read online

  "I had many such clients, yes," Ario confirmed.

  Elias's breathing slowed and he tried to keep it even. He unbuckled Ario's belt and lowered the torn jeans off his body. He turned his gaze away, but not before he saw Ario's perfectly-sculpted ass and the rise of his impressive cock. Whoever had designed the Ario series must have loved the male body. Ario was nothing less than a work of art, exquisitely created to be the ideal pleasure slave. Despite the damage to his face, he was still gorgeous. He would be even more so once Elias fixed him.

  "In you go." Elias pushed Ario into the shower and left the bathroom. He closed the door behind him, letting out a long sigh as he leaned his head back against the wood. The front of his pants was tenting and he willed his erection away. He was grateful when it wilted. Now was not the time nor the place to consider the implications of his desire for Ario.

  The door opened with a loud creak and Elias startled.

  "Elias, what are you doing?" Dad asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

  "Nothing, Dad. I just sent Ario in for a shower. You told me to get him cleaned up, remember?"

  "Oh. Okay. Come out here, then. We need to talk." Elias followed him out to the couch, where they both sat.

  "What are your plans for the synth?" Dad asked.

  "I'm going to fix him up. I have his arm with me, and his facial damage can be repaired. He's a rare model. You don't see synths like him anymore."

  "After that? What then?"

  "I don't know." Elias bent forward, putting his head in his hands. The impossibility of his situation dawned on him. He couldn't stay here with Ario. His father would never allow it. Neither could they make the streets their home, not with the Department aware of Ario's existence. He stood out in a crowd—too synth to pass as human, yet too human to pass as a modern synth.

  "The Department is after that synth. You won't get far. Perhaps you should just give it up, Elias. It's old and damaged. Maybe decommissioning is best. You can live here again, and I'll set you up for a college course and some therapy. We can move on. How about it?"

  "I'm not giving Ario up. He's my friend." Elias balled his hands into fists. How could he live a comfortable life, knowing Ario had ended up in a crusher? How could he live with himself, knowing he had killed Ario for college credits and a cozy desk job? Brynn's spirit would haunt him, not to mention his own conscience.

  "It's not your friend, Elias. It's a synth. It doesn't have feelings. You can't keep projecting your feelings onto synths. You need to work on actual human relationships, with real flesh-and-blood people."

  "Don't psychoanalyze me. You don't know what you're talking about." Elias bit his lip, drawing blood.

  "That's my final offer. Take it or leave it." Elias's father stood up. "I have a business dinner to attend, and drinks afterwards. I won't be back until late. I want your answer in the morning. If you choose to leave, I won't follow you. I won't answer your calls. You'll be on your own out there. If the Department arrests you, I'll say I don't know you. This is the last time I give you the chance to start over. Are we clear?"

  "Crystal." Elias spat the word, wishing he could throw the offer in his father's face right then, and hating himself for lacking the courage. Worse, for considering even for one second that maybe his father was right. Not about Ario—his death would be a loss—but about Elias's future. This truly was his last chance to get something out of life. It was impossible to turn it down without at least thinking it through.

  The door slammed and Elias lay back on the couch. Ario emerged from the bedroom, half-naked and glistening with water. The neon blue stripe in his black hair glowed faintly, the chemicals in it reacting to the low light even after all this time. Calling to him like a siren's song, though the siren in question had clearly seen better days.

  "I need your assistance," Ario said.

  "Sorry. I'll be right there." Elias took a deep breath and stood.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elias sucked in a tiny breath as he struggled to keep his shaking hands steady. The soldering iron trembled and Ario winced. "Sorry," Elias muttered. "I'm not as steady as I used to be." He applied tin solder from a spool, melting it and holding the severed wires together until the solder cooled. Slipping yellow tubing over the joint, he set the soldering iron in its cradle and fumbled around for the heat gun in the toolset. He turned it on, and the tubing shrank tightly around the joint, shielding it. "There. That's the last one. Can you move your fingers?" Elias watched with satisfaction as Ario moved his fingers and thumb fully. "Sensations normal?"

  Ario's hand cradled Elias's face in a tender motion, and Elias felt himself leaning into his touch, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes. Your skin is soft," Ario remarked.

  Elias felt a sense of loss as Ario pulled his hand away, and busied himself with the task at hand. He pulled a color swatch from the case, matching it to Ario's skin tone. He followed up with a sheet of rubberized skin in the right shade, covering Ario's joint. The heat gun made it meld together like magic, taking only the skin needed to fill the gaps where the old skin had torn. The result was slightly uneven, leaving a visual not unlike a scar, but no casual observer would know Ario's arm had been torn off. Ario flexed it and nodded his approval, making Elias smile at a job well done. He would have been a good synth tech. The best. His father's offer floated in the back of his mind. It would take some arm-bending, but his father might still allow him to finish his course. Being a synth tech was a respectable career… if he could keep his activist bent to himself. A lot of techs were quietly in favor of synth rights; it took a love of synths to repair them, much the same as a doctor's desire to help sick people heal. The cost, though. The huge cost. No, he couldn't bear it. Elias's silent struggle played out as he moved onto the next task.

  "Now we're going to work on your face. I think I can put some padding between the rubber and skull so that you'll look mostly normal. Ideally, I would get inside your skull and hammer the dents out, but I don't have the equipment for that. We'd have to go to Mariko's place, and I don't trust her, not really." Elias shook his head.

  "Is she the girl who was with you at the house? Why don't you trust her?"

  "Mariko is an old acquaintance. Sometimes I don't know whose side she's playing for. Her father works for the Department, but she claims to want more synth rights. We met at college. Before I dropped out. It was a long time ago. I can't imagine she'd let anything get in the way of her business. She loves being a synth tech more than life itself. If it came down to it, she would sacrifice a synth to keep doing what she loves. That's… that's why I can't trust her." Elias rubbed his forehead, battling the sensation that he was committing a great hypocrisy with every word he said. His father's offer loomed large, like a monster in the back of his mind. He wanted nothing more than to slay it, but he was tired. Tired of sucking off strangers for petty cash and dumpster-diving for dinner. Tired of feeling like he was in danger all the time. Of feeling like he was old before his time, his soul jaded from seeing too much, too young.

  "Elias." Ario clutched Elias's wrist with the strong grip of his repaired hand.

  "Yes?"

  "I heard what your father said. The offer he made." Ario looked directly into Elias's eyes. "I think you should take it."

  "And live out the rest of my life in comfort, tormented by the knowledge that I killed you? I can't do it, Ario. I can't send you off to die."

  "I'm not really alive, Elias. I may react to you, but that's only programming. I am designed to please my clients. Perhaps to you, it seems like I truly have feelings, but I am, in the end, just a synth. You have an opportunity to live a normal life. If you want it, then I want you to have it. Even if that's just programming, that's my wish."

  "What about my wishes? I'm not just an armchair activist, Ario. I believe synths are people who deserve fundamental rights. Maybe you're not alive—whatever that means—but you are aware, aren't you?. How could I live with such an act of hypocrisy? Going against everything I believe? Literally
allowing you to die for my own personal comfort? How would I ever look at myself in a mirror ever again? Everything I've ever done would unravel. The things I've seen and done and cared about. The synths and people I've fought and cried for. Everything Brynn and I fought tooth and nail for… Ario, don't make me do something I couldn't live with."

  "If you feel that strongly, I won't try to dissuade you." Ario kept still while Elias deactivated his facial sensors. Elias carefully peeled back Ario's torn skin, revealing the metallic face beneath. He pulled some padding from his synth set and pressed it into the dents, gluing it down when it was in the right spot. He stretched the rubber skin back into place, sealing it to Ario's skull and filling the gaps with the heat gun and spare material.

  "There. Much better." Elias grabbed a mirror and handed it to Ario.

  "Thank you. Even if I am decommissioned, it will be nice to go with some dignity."

  "I thought you didn't care about dignity?" Elias asked. "Not in your programming, or whatever."

  "Regarding my clients' needs, no. This is different. The way people treat you depends on how you look, does it not?"

  "Yeah. I know all about that." Elias sighed, remembering slights from his time on the streets. People in general weren't too kind to disheveled, homeless people. They always assumed he was guilty of some major crime and chased him away. Or worse, like homelessness was some kind of disease they might catch if they came too close.

  "Okay. Now for the hair." Elias pulled out a swatch and grabbed the right shade of black synthetic hair from the synth set.

  "Wait," Ario said. His hand was on Elias's wrist, restraining him. Elias looked into Ario's eyes for a long moment. "Can I choose a different color for the missing patch?"

  Elias's eyes widened in surprise. "Yeah. Be my guest." He handed the swatch to Ario. "What kind of programming leads synths to choose their own hair color, anyway?"

  "I don't know," Ario replied.

  "You're not like any synth I've ever met, Ario. At first, I thought I was just imagining it. Projecting myself, like Dad said. But you really are different from other synths. You're expressive. You make choices. You're aware of your surroundings. Have you been modded?"

  "I wouldn't know. I don't recall all the modifications made to me over the years."

  "That's the other thing. You forget stuff. Synths are supposed to have perfect memory. It's just data storage. Maybe you were wiped at some point."

  "I can't tell you." Ario picked a royal blue swatch. "Can I have this? It goes well with my neon streak."

  "Of course." Elias took the blue strands and threaded them into Ario's scalp one by one until they looked like they had been there all along. "Looks good, Ario." He put the swatches back in the synth set and snapped it shut. "I'm exhausted. I'm going to get some sleep. We have to leave early. I want to be gone before Dad wakes up in the morning."

  "Understood. I will commence maintenance mode and see if there are indeed any missing or bad sectors in my memory. I will report the results to you tomorrow."

  "Sounds good. Good night, Ario."

  "Good night, Elias."

  *~*~*

  Ario's maintenance mode was disturbed by a whispered sob. He opened his eyes to find Elias's room dark. His internal clock told him it was midnight. Elias's bed looked used, but the covers had been pulled back and he was absent. His search of the bathroom yielded nothing, so Ario padded across the soft carpet, opening the door to the living room.

  The dark room was bathed in light from the television. The sobs came from the couch, where Elias sat watching a home video. Ario stepped up behind the sofa and observed. Elias was younger, around fifteen, sixteen or so. He sat in a suburban living room next to a Christmas tree. A long, large box rested beneath the tree.

  The sound was on low, but Ario could hear the scene play out loud and clear with his enhanced hearing. A woman he assumed was Elias's mother smiled. "Go on Elias, open it." Elias's father stood in the background, looking on with an uncertain gaze.

  Elias unwrapped the present and paused. A large grin spread across his face as a synth box was revealed. A sweet, youthful face with blond hair and blue eyes looked up at him from the box.

  "If you don't like it, Elias, it can always go back. The doctors said it might help you connect with other people, but that doesn't mean you have to keep it if you don't want it." She said it almost discouragingly, as if she might be relieved were he to turn his back on the synth and ask for a game console instead.

  "Mom, Dad, I love him. How do I activate him? What's his name?" Elias's face was painted with a broad smile, so wide it almost seemed unnatural. He was almost crying from his excitement, breaths coming shallow and fast with joy.

  Elias's dad paused. "Its name is on the side of the box, but you can choose your own, or use a number. It's—"

  "—Brynn," Ario finished. Elias looked up from the couch, the tears still in his eyes.

  "That's right," Elias said in a cracked voice, and it took Ario a moment to realize Elias was speaking to him. "Brynn was a synth. My first love—my boyfriend that I've been grieving for ten years was a synthetic. Now you know why Dad says I'm mentally ill. What do you think, Ario? Do you think I'm broken for falling in love with the only person who ever understood me?"

  "It's obvious I don't know the whole story," Ario said. "The Brynn 2020 series was very basic—capable of simple tasks, but not much else."

  "Certainly not capable of returning a man's feelings, right?" Elias clasped his hands together in his lap. "Ario, if I told you the truth, would you judge me?"

  "I've seen a wide range of human desires and emotions in my line of work. I'm not certain I would even be capable of such a thing," Ario replied.

  "What I did was much worse than any mere fetish." Elias shook his head and wiped fresh tears from his eyes. "What I did to Brynn was unforgivable."

  "What did you do, Elias? It's clearly hurting you. Tell me." Ario moved around the couch and sat next to Elias.

  "I wanted him to be more to me. To do more. To be capable of human emotions. Mom and Dad worked a lot, so I hit the books. I learned three programming languages in a year, and two the next. I learned how to bypass Cybot's synth security protocols using the Internet. I started to mod Brynn's source code."

  "Modding is punishable by imprisonment," Ario said.

  "I covered my tracks well. I was good at what I did. I downloaded other synths' modded source code from the dark web and analyzed it. I learned the patterns of code, how it worked and what its function was. I understood it in a way the original creators never did. I saw how humanity could be transformed into binary code: that we were all just ones and zeroes at heart. So piece by piece, I did it. I made Brynn more and more human. I gave him the ability to make choices of his own. I gave him feelings and gestures. Our relationship grew and I modded his exterior too, with parts I got on the black market. Soon, our relationship was intimate. I loved him. He loved me. We were happy."

  "He was fully self-aware and autonomous by then. He understood what we had, but also his position as a slave, as merchandise. Dad never liked him. He never stopped calling Brynn "it" and treating him like garbage. Brynn was tormented. Self-awareness made him wonder what the meaning of his life was, and it broke him. Nothing I could say or do would help. I even thought about factory resetting him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it." Elias clenched his hands into fists. "I couldn't erase everything we had, when it was the only meaningful relationship I'd ever experienced. After years of imitating what it was to be human and finding myself at a distance from everyone, I finally had someone who understood. Someone I cared for. Someone who didn't try to change me into someone else, but loved me for who I was." Ario reached out to take Elias's wrist, and bit by bit, Elias's trembling eased.

  They sat in silence for a few moments, and then haltingly Elias resumed speaking. "Dad caught us in bed together and the lies started to unravel. I explained our relationship away as a fetish. I told him I was attracted to synths. I
couldn't tell him the truth—what would he have said? Brynn grew more and more unstable as Dad kept us apart. I was the only thing holding him together. The day of the accident… Dad said he was going to send him to the Department for decommissioning, that he was faulty and malfunctioning. Brynn was so calm. He asked me to come with him and we went for a drive." He scrunched his eyes shut. "It wasn't an accident, Ario. Brynn committed suicide and tried to take me with him. I should have died, but for some reason I'm still alive. Sentenced to life for what I did."

  "How did you hide the truth?" Ario asked.

  "The accident scene was so mangled up that the cops had trouble determining what exactly happened. The eyewitness reports were confused as well. In the end, they put it down to a synth malfunction. I spent a bit of time in the hospital because of my own injuries, but I couldn't look Dad in the eye after that. I always felt like it was his fault—but I know it was mine. It was hubris to think I could make Brynn human. All I did was make him aware he was a slave in a world where he could never hope to become an equal."

  "Your dad never found out you modded Brynn?" Ario asked.

  "There wasn't a lot left of Brynn. His head was crushed, his neural network completely shattered. I saw it all happen and was powerless to stop it. He left behind no evidence at all. If Dad knew what I did—"

  "He might forgive you. He might be able to better understand what happened between you and Brynn."

  "I'd rather he thinks I'm mentally ill. It's easier that way." Elias shook his head.

  "You're punishing yourself through your father. You don't want him to understand, because he might forgive you. You want to be out and alone on the streets. That's the sentence you've given yourself."

  "How do you know that?" Elias asked. "Nobody knows that. Eight different shrinks couldn't unravel what's going on in my mind."