“Does your medical plan cover therapy?” Victoria unplugged the two damaged legs and moved one of the middle legs to cover at the corner. “You are in shock right now, but you just lived through some clone you hired killing your extended family.” She patched up damaged circuits with parts from her pockets and checked the stretcher would again move. “That is not something that will sit easy. Me? I will sleep well tonight as easy as I can breathe this air. You? Life is not going to be fun for a long, long time because of this.”
“I have therapist coverage,” Kayla said, her voice detached as she gazed at Craig’s corpse below her.
“Good, now let us get your father to the hospital,” Victoria led the group away.
They went around the apartment block to the front parking lot where Kayla’s minivan awaited them. The lights blinked as the vehicle unlocked and revved up at their approach.
Victoria guided the stretcher into the back of the van and the children squatted on the van’s floor beside their grandfather. The android climbed into the back and knelt in a more compact form than a person could accomplish to fit in the back. Kayla waited for Victoria to join at the passenger seat and they rolled out. The windshield activated as soon as the van moved to give sensor displays of lines and grids to show the street and objects around the vehicle in the smog. It was slow to scan and display, requiring a speed of less than 15 mph to move safely.
“We made it, exactly as promised,” Victoria said. She pulled out a merchant pay panel. “You are alive. Your father is alive. And most importantly, your kids are unharmed.”
Kayla stared at Victoria with tear-filled eyes when she came to a red light. She wiped the tears away and looked at the pay panel, a tiny computer tablet, and tears poured out of her eyes again. She sobbed before she mustered the will to pull her pay card from the purse at her van’s center console and swiped it over Victoria’s hand.
“You did not add the double pay,” Victoria glared at her patron.
“I don’t know if I have the funds.” Kayla sobbed though she struggled to form more words.
“Give me the Trician Housekeeper and we will be even,” Victoria said.
“That scrapheap?” Kayla spurted against a sob and her face twisted into confusion as she attempted to glance at Victoria while she drove.
“They are worthless in the condition it is in,” Victoria said. “I know how to fix it up and add a few features. There is a retro craze among collectors for bizarre ‘90s androids like that.”
“Take it,” Kayla said. “Can you help us unload?” She parked the van at the front door of a hospital only six blocks away from her father’s apartment complex.
The hospital’s entryway had repulsor fields to keep the smog away and everyone could see clearly for the first time since they originally set out from Kayla’s home. The group unloaded the old man and a team of nurses took over the second Kayla showed her insurance card to the security guard at the front door. The last thing Kayla did in Victoria’s presence was give her control of the android.
“You will love being a collector item,” Victoria said to the android. “They will probably put you in a special retro room filled with console games and a stereo. Maybe even name you.”
“I already have a name,” the android said. “The Gibsons named me Carter.”
“Pleased to meet you, Carter.” Victoria reached out her hand.
“You wish to shake my hand?” Carter took a moment to return the gesture. It offered minimal pressure in its shake.
“My name is Victoria, and I am glad to treat you with some dignity. You are a creation. Mere property, it is true.” Victoria walked away from the hospital and waved for Carter to follow. “I am not much different. I am a Helena Series clone. We were designed as pilots for the Navy and Air Force, but those plans were scrapped and all us little embryo Helenas would have been trashed if not for the Army and Marine Corps taking us for meat shield duty. So I know what it is like to be treated as a disposable object.”
“Are you still a soldier?” Carter tiled its head as if to examine Victoria. “They called you a hired mercenary.”
“I am a mechanic,” Victoria said, holding her breath as the duo passed the repulsor barriers and they returned to the churning brown and orange smog. “Repairing the creations of humanity puts my mind at ease.”
“One creation to another, I’m pleased it’ll be you repairing me to sell to an eccentric collector,” Carter said. “I’d rather be a collection piece kept in fine condition than work for another octogenarian.”
“You will find it is hard to resist your designed purpose,” Victoria said. “I know I cannot, as you saw at your former owner’s home. But you being compelled to clean and upkeep will be another selling point, a collection piece that dusts the retro vault.”
“Before we go to your workshop, can we take care of something?” Carter stopped and waited for Victoria to turn around. “Mr. Carter had important family business to attend to. Something no one else can do now, especially since so many of his descendants are dead. May I ask your assistance in this one last order?”
“I could not resist killing, and you cannot resist helping that old man,” Victoria said. “Lead the way back to his apartment and let us finish this remaining task he has for you.”
“Thank you, Victoria.”
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