CHAPTER TWO
"This is David 8. He has all the previous functions as the generations before him, but more." I suppressed a yawn as the speaker went on. Even for this, father couldn't be present for the launch of his newest creation. There was always something more important. He was most likely watching all of this on a screen and already taking notes for David 9. He always saw every flaw. It didn't matter what or who it was.
No one was safe from his brutal analysis. My sister and I had to live our entire lives without him, all except his "days off" where he spewed out a string of "constructive criticisms" before being called away, again.
I never missed him when he was gone. He was a stranger who didn't even see us as human beings. It was as if we, too, were nothing but synthetics to him – something to take apart and rebuild.
Despite growing resentful of him, we continued to futilely try to gain his approval. It was pathetic. We'd stoop to the lowest of the low to make him proud. None of it ever amounted to anything because his David always did it better.
We were the human subjects he used to improve his little pet project. He modelled David to our species, but sought to eliminate all our human flaws. We were the guinea pigs and David was the ultimate goal.
"Any questions?"
There were many from the audience. Their excited chatter was giving me a headache.
I closed my eyes and didn't open them until he walked out. Whereas the other Davids were still very obviously mechanical, David 8 didn't glide. He moved in a way that was very human.
It didn't take me long to realise that David 8 was different from all the other Davids. There was a child-like curiosity in him that was almost endearing. Almost…
We had been put in charge of him as a test run and he touched everything he could get his hands on, including sticking his digits into boiling water that alarmed me at first until I remembered that not only was he not human, he was also made of stronger material that didn't easily bend to the elements.
With David here, father visited far more frequently to check on how the synthetic was doing. I despised them both for it. Not only did father become more vicious with his remarks, he did it in front of a stranger. Even the simplest actions warranted criticism. I didn't boil water properly. I opened and closed the doors too loudly. I didn't enunciate enough. Every little thing that no one would even care about, he'd find a way to deconstruct.
I had to live with the perfect boy who could do no wrong.
I hated him.
I hated him so, so much.
I hated him even more when he witnessed my most shameful moment. Shane and I had just broken up and I was devastated. He had been the first person I had ever given my heart to and he carelessly tossed it into the ocean like I never mattered. I never realised how quickly his eyes could wander.
Now, I was in my room sulking with tears flowing unstoppably down my face. My hair fell messily down my shoulders, greasy and disgusting. I had completely let myself go after we broke up. I didn't think anyone hurt me like that.
My fingers strummed moodily to a discordant tune. My mind was swimming with sadness and regret. He had been my first love, my first kiss, and my first heartbreak when I pushed away his constant advances for something more.
It wasn't because I didn't want it. I did. I most definitely wanted him in the most intimate way possible, but I had to know how committed he was to me. Would he leave me once he got what he wanted?
Clearly, it didn't seem like it mattered in the end. Five months and twelve days was all he could take. What was five months without sex? Had it mattered so much to him to toss me aside? I had given him everything else.
I let out a scream of frustration and threw my pick across the room, hitting an unsuspecting David in the cheek. His eyes widened ever so slightly and it was the first time I had ever caught him by surprise.
"I – " I wanted to apologise to him, but then I remembered that he was nothing but a stupid synthetic. He didn't know pain. All he was was a cold piece of machinery that was made to entertain an old man – to make him feel important.
"There is no need to apologise." He bent over and picked up the small triangular piece of plastic.
I narrowed my eyes. "Who said I was even going to apologise?" I huffed, tossing my guitar down on to the bed, ignoring the hand that he extended out. The pick looked so small and insignificant in his large, pale hands.
Turning stubbornly to the side, I wrapped my arms around my knees and suppressed a sigh. Now, I couldn't even have any privacy in my own room.
An experimental chord sounded from behind me and then, I heard the complicated melody that he weaved. It sounded like nothing I had ever heard from a guitar. He was playing classical pianomusic on it.
I wanted to stay angry at him, but the soft tune seemed to sweep away all the pent up emotions. It held me in its comforting arms, pushing away the heartache.
I found myself watching his long fingers dance along the strings as if it was a piano. Perhaps that was his choice of instrument. I had never heard him play anything before, but clearly, he was fluent with some or all of them. Was this something programmed into him?
Slowly, his fingers stopped and he looked at me. "I've learned that music can ease the emotions in certain individuals."
Had he actually been… trying to comfort me? It seemed so out of character for him. The David I knew couldn't care less if the house burned down and everyone on this building died. At least… that was my impression of him. Had I been wrong? No, I couldn't let these new thoughts erase what I already knew. He was a synthetic. They didn't feel. They didn't care. They were made to perform human tasks that were typically too difficult to do.
I snatched away the guitar. "Who said you could touch it?" I grumbled, clutching the shapely wood against me.
"I apologise. I thought it would help. Perhaps you'd like to speak about what's troubling you, instead?" He looked patiently back at me with his hands in his lap.
I pursed my lips, a sudden anger filled me. "Stop pretending like you're human! You're not! And you don't care about me. You don't even know me! Stop pretending! I'm sick of it!"
And suddenly, I saw the change in him. His eyes darkened and for the first time, I feared him. This wasn't a side that I knew about. All this time, I treated him as if he was nothing more than a mindless robot that followed anything and everything. Maybe there was more to him, after all, and I wasn't sure if I liked it.
His hand shot out and grabbed me before I could even react. With a sharp tug, I had half fallen on him.
"Is that what you wish?" he asked. "Does perfection upset you?"
What had I just gotten myself into?
He had become something entirely unpredictable. Did father know of this?
"Or perhaps you are still upset over Shane?" He tilted his head.
"How…?" How did he know? Our relationship had been a secret. We never met up here. I either went over to his place or we met up wherever else we decided to visit. I was sure that even Meredith didn't know about Shane.
He didn't reply. Instead, he pulled my head back and his lips crashed into my own. Tried as I might, I couldn't make sense of what was happening. My brain completely shut down.
I blinked. In that split second, I noticed how soft those lips were and how they were warm. Despite having him around for so long, I never really approached him for anything in particular. He was simply always there.
He snapped me out of my thoughts when he lifted the hem of my dress and ran a finger along the thin piece of fabric that was keeping my virtue intact.
I jolted back and pushed him away. My heart was racing in my chest. How dare he? If my boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – of almost six months couldn't touch me there, how dared he think that it was alright for him?!
He made no further advances after that, but from that day on, I had been hyper aware of his presence. He remained swirling around in my mind and I didn't know how to get rid of him.
Whatever he was doing to me, it was working. I couldn't keep my mind or eyes off him and one night, he entered my room after a brief set of knocks.
"Ms. Cassandra," he greeted me with a small bow of his head.
I frowned at him. "Just Cassandra is fine. How many times do I have to tell you that?"
He smiled indulgently at me. "Of course, Ms. Cassandra."
My eye twitched and I fought the urge to hurl the closest thing at him. When I informed father of David 8's defects, he assured me that they were all intentional, that it was progress. Needless to say, I silently scoffed at his foolish dreams. He was a dying, old man who thought he could continue on as if he had more time than he actually did.
"What do you want, David?" I tiredly asked him, slipping my feet beneath the covers and turned my back on him. I was tired and in no mood to deal with him.
When the bed dipped down from behind me, I quickly shot back up, shooting him a glare. "What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.
He had gotten behind me and proceeded to settle beneath the covers – mimicking my previous action. His warm legs brushed against my icy feet. The bed instantly warmed up to a nice toasty temperature. My toes curled happily as they bathed in the warmth and I couldn't help letting out a sigh of contentment. This was lovely. The bed was always too cold no matter how high I turned the thermostat.
It wasn't long before I dozed off into a dreamless sleep. In fact, it was the best sleep I remembered having for a long time. When I woke up, he was still beside me with his eyes closed. If it hadn't been for his motionless chest, I could've believed that he was human. As it were, he was more like a very beautiful statue or doll.
I reached out a hand towards him and stopped just a breadth's length away. He wasn't asleep. He didn't sleep. So what was he doing, right now?
My fingers twitched, but I managed to back away before I did anything stupid.
Unfortunately, as nights went by and a ritual began, the temptation grew. He'd stay in the bed until morning and I'd stare at his motionless form, wondering what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Did he have some sort of sleep function like a computer?
I was only able to hold out for so long before I allowed my curiosity to get the better of me. The skin on his face was just as life-like as the rest of him. It slightly gave way as human flesh would. I brushed my thumb across his lips. They were so soft, perhaps too soft.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. They were instantly focused on me and his hand gripped my wrist tightly.
Neither of us moved. His eyes seemed to be observing every twitch my body and face made while I stared at him in bewilderment. "L-Let go of me," I stuttered, cursing myself for squeaking like a young girl. "What are you doing?" My eyes widened as his other hand travelled down my body.
"Your heart is racing," he stated. His fingers slide down my pants. "You are moist."
I clenched my eyes shut. "Don't use that word." It was so embarrassing, especially when my body involuntarily pressed closer against him.
"Of course, Cassandra." His face was passive, but his voice was almost a purr as if he was actually enjoying this. "I believe wearing soaked clothes is bad for your health."
I let out a shriek when he ripped off my pants as if it was made of paper. His body seemed warmer than usual with my bare legs on him. "What are you doing?" I protested.
His eyes closed and without warning, he had flipped us over.
"David, stop it," I breathed, but my body was already burning with anticipation.
His hand stopped and I couldn't help feeling disappointed. "Is that what you want, Cassandra?"
"Stop saying my name like that." I tried to sound firm, but I was half panting. The heat pooling northward was distracting me. It was so difficult to think when it felt as if my body was on fire.
He blinked and then settled back on the bed with his eyes closed as if nothing had happened. It almost felt as if I had dreamt the entire thing, but my lack of pants was enough to solidify that I wasn't losing my mind, yet.
And just like that, neither of us spoke of that moment again, but he continued to slide into bed with me every night. I knew that by now, Meredith must've known what we were up to, but she never said a word about it. In fact, she was completely unfazed. The only way I knew she had known was from the initial long look she had given us when we entered the kitchen together for breakfast one morning.
"Father wishes to speak with us," she told me, one day. It had been a while since I last saw him. He had left David 8 here and this was the longest time since his last visit. I thought he had forgotten completely about the synthetic and moved on by now, but apparently, the old man also wanted to see him.
Since father requested it, we all packed a small bag to travel to his tower. It was a silent trip where neither my sister nor I had anything to say, but both of us suspected that something was up. It was rare for him to call us to his place. This was going to be big. We just never realised how big.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Thank you Love Fiction 2017 and Zerousy for reviewing!