Glass Eyes

2HOP

Handshake to Handshake, the public was a walking renaissance painting; A GIF depicting life in Manhattan as it was in that year. It was electric if you observed it as an absolute Outsider.

(Defined: Somebody who doesn't intermingle with society, never has, and never will.)

Noran's headphones were run through the torso of his jacket and into the phone in his pocket. To anyone listening it seemed like he was just on a phone call- a quirky and pale teenager wearing blue reflective fly goggles and talking to their tucked-away little gadget.

"Do you think they'd ever do anything in public?"

You're not quite that important. Besides, they can't even find you most of the time.

"I guess. Can't help but get the feeling I'm being watched."

"You are. Check that second-story window, three o'clock."

His blue eyes flicked to his right and up to see a shut window with drawn blinds, the undeniable blinking red light of a camera was tucked away in the pupil of a grinning woman; her skin was plastic and every so slightly translucent.

"They never did quite get over that uncanny valley hump, did they?"

That's what made you such a breakthrough.

Noran smirked. Templar was right. It was hard walking around without being smug, knowing he was worth more than the entire city block he stood on. Such smugness was replaced when he remembered he was owned by the government and valued as raw parts more than a person- but as more windows lit up with the little red dots of watchful eyes, he shoved the existential crisis to the side for later- a skill that even the most advanced modern AI might have trouble doing.

Templar pinged coordinates to Noran's visual hud- a tangle of blue lines and data that might fry any other CPU given the sheer mass of gigs that were forced through such narrow and finely woven circuits. Noran's pace picked up, his black converse flew across the pavement in a flurry of movement to reach the annotated safe zone.

"How do you feel about your answer now?"

The Watfchul eyes became opening doors, strange and uncanny humanoids dressed in heavily concealing clothing slinked onto the sidewalk to join the dredges of normal humans, all now in pursuit of Noran.

Keep walking.

Noran pursed his lips and broke into a sprint, reaching into his hoodie pocket to withdraw the small chip that could be inserted into the back of the thumb- he was going to need it.

The safe zone was about three hundred feet away when a door in front of Noran opened up and out stepped one of his pursuers- Gen 2 bots, poorly developed and uncanny. It was clear they were made with the intention of looking human but everything about their face was wrong. Translucent skin, far too big of eyes, a long beak like nose and teeth that were white like porcelain.

"Hi there." the bot chirped. Without a second of hesitation, Noran slid the chip into the back of his thumb and as the light formed in the palm of his hand, he held the glowing blue pistol to the forehead of the creature- with less than a whim, the hollow light pistol activated and the things head popped and sizzled, its soft plastic eyes overheated and melted in their sockets as it collapsed to the ground. Noran could hear the collective gasps of shock from the crowd as the thing slumped to the ground, rigid like a corpse. He was already sprinting away from the scene with no intention to stick around.

"That'll show'em."

The safe zone was an ice cream parlor, which Noran threw open the door of.

It'll show them alright. Show them what they need to prepare for next time.

"I'm the world's most adaptive AI. I'll stay a step ahead."

You're the world's cockiest teenager.

"Let's not get too ambitious."