Glitched

8. Short Circuit

After her grandfather was fed, medicated, and set comfortably onto his favorite recliner in front of the television, Isolde left with a little more optimism for the future than she had the day before. Already a major improvement.

The tower didn't look so much like a place she needed to cling to in order to keep her sanity, but she still looked forward to speaking with Z after not having done so for the first time since she'd started interning for the professor.

When she entered Sector Nineteen, the Project's intricate whirrings were the first sounds she heard before the machine himself came into view. In place of her chair, however, stood Mercer, pressing what looked like a white, expressionless mask onto the interface's front.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps and grinned in his typically merry way. "Ms. Roth, you're back! I trust your grandfather is well?"

"He's feeling better, sir, thank you." She watched him shift between one mask and another. "Professor? What are you doing?"

"Ah!" he said. "Do you like it? These are to be the faces to the bodies the Projects will be piloting by next quarter. For now, they're a bit generic, but with time, we hope to expand on facial structures, expressions, and so forth. I just couldn't decide which one better suited our friend here."

Isolde peered over his arm to the selection of blank faces, finding only slight differences between each one, eyes scanning the line until she found one with slightly less angular features. Soft, like Z.

She tapped the face's chin. "This one feels right," she said, hoping Mercer would spare her from having to explain herself.

Instead, his shit-eating grin was accented by a single nod. "If our little experiment has been going as well as I've planned, you're probably getting to know the Project better than I do, so I'll trust your judgement."

Isolde's heart sunk as she snapped her head to face Z, but Mercer only chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry about it. The interface has been shut down for the night. In fact, shortly after your departure yesterday, it asked to be put immediately to sleep."

Although the context of this was lost to her, Isolde still couldn't help but feel guilty. "Did he—it say why?" she asked.

"Not a word, though I don't blame it. It must get gruesomely boring around here without someone to chat you up from time to time. You may switch it on, however. Just a simple voice command will do." Mercer glimpsed at this watch, nodding at Isolde as he made his way for the door. "Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Roth."

Once he was gone, Isolde turned back to the interface, skimming its metallic ridges and surfaces for some hint as to the proper command for his function. After failing, she cleared her throat and decided to try the obvious.

"Uh, Z? Z, can you hear me? If—if you can, turn on, please."

The Project didn't stir one bit, and Isolde decided to put herself in Mercer's shoes for once. Deepening her voice, perhaps unnecessarily, she tried again. "Project Twenty-Six: Interface Z, awaken!"

She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but as soon as his full name left her lips, Z's familiar chiming fired up from his spot, his lights indicting that his programming was up and running. He yawned, which genuinely surprised her and made her smile.

There was a pause, as if he were taking in his surroundings, then her, and finding contentment in what he saw. "Ms. Roth, good morning." While his tone remained professional, there was a noticeable delight to his words that both relieved and instilled within her a new edge of guilt.