Human Code

09 || N I N E

"Emotions... a funny, yet necessary thing."

*

Memory loop. Playback saved file. Dated: July 1st, 2018

Wendy's feet dangled off the side of the porch's ledge. Her arms were pressed between the wooden fence. In her hands was a stuffed doll, elegantly decorated with small wings and a green dress. I watched her for a minute before glancing back into the kitchen, at my parents. With smiles on their faces, they spoke with the caseworker who had video-called them. In my father's hands were Wendy's adoption papers.

They looked so happy. But why was Wendy so sad?

Pushing off the open back door, I went to her and leaned over the top of the fence. Wendy looked up at me with curious eyes. "Your name is Javier?" she asked, her voice small and timid.

I smiled. She was so smart for a four-year-old. "It is," I said and nodded. "Javier Morales."

"Oh." Wendy went back to her doll, pulling at the yellow yarn that formed the hair on its head. "Mr. Juan and Mrs. Linda said you died. Car crash. Did that really happen?"

Regardless of the truth, I smiled and looked out at the open yard. The grass had been cut but was dying. Patches of dirt crowded over by the garage. I'd told my parents I'd fix it, but it hadn't been a priority. Their focuses had been on the state and adoption board.

For good reason.

"I did," I said, because there was no denying the obvious. When she looked at me, I pointed at the Bionic symbol on my neck. "Created July 31st, 2016. Just a few weeks after I died."

Wendy's lips parted, but she didn't say a word. She simply looked at me.

"Some people aren't used to it." I shrugged. "And others sort of think I'm a monstrosity. But I'm no different from the androids out in the streets—" With another shrug, I looked back at the kitchen as the caseworker on the tablet screen went over the final details of the adoption. "—and just as human as our parents inside."

"Our parents?" Wendy's brow pushed together as she kicked her feet. "I can't call them that. I don't even know if they want me..."

I couldn't help my frown. "Why wouldn't they?" I asked. "I think you're a great kid. They love you."

"They haven't signed yet." Wendy pulled at the yarn again. A strand fell into the dirt. "Most families sign and take me back. They think I'm weird. And say I talk too much."

There was a pressure in my chest. My sensors froze, unable to read her emotions and thoughts. But judging by the pink on her pale cheeks and the shimmer in her eyes, I knew her early life wasn't easy. Getting her to come here via the transport vehicle was even harder. The facility said she'd put up a fight with the android assistants.

Looking at her, I didn't see her fight as a bad thing. I saw fear. And it was a feeling I knew because I remembered waking up on the android bed, wondering why I was there at all. Change may be an inevitable occurrence, but it wasn't good. Not for everyone.

Holding onto that thought, I made myself comfortable right beside her. My legs barely fit through the gaps of the wooden fence, but I did it. And when she kicked her legs, I kicked mine. I smiled when she looked at me. "Well, if you're here with us, I'll take care of you," I said and stretched my arms through the openings, relaxing. "You'll never have to worry about a thing with me."

"Is it in your programming to protect me?" Wendy asked. "All androids are programmed to do certain things, right?"

With a grin, I leaned close and winked. "What if I told you I don't follow rules? No one can program commands for me. Not even if they tried."