Read Online Girl From Above #3: Trapped by Pippa DaCosta - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Pippa DaCosta
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and leaned against the wall. “I just came by to grab something of Fran’s.” I knew exactly which panel to remove to find the phencyl , but I couldn’t tear my gaze from #1001. “Can she hear us?”
“If she chooses to.” He still hadn’t looked around at me. Whatever data filled his screen was far more interesting than I was.
“She must trust you, huh? To let you go in like that.”
“Into her programming you mean?” He lifted his head and then turned slightly in his seat. “I’d like to say yes, but she’s monitoring everything I do. It’s not so much trust as confidence.”
When he talked about her, he lost his nervousness. When he’d first joined us, everything about Starscream had frightened him. Some people aren’t made for travel in the black. The unending vacuum just a few panels away, the isolation, trusting me to fly him straight—it all terrified him, but she didn’t. He talked about her like some people talked about love. But he hadn’t seen her hold a gun to my head or take out a pimp’s thugs in a back alley. He loved the idea of her but had no idea of the reality.
I nodded and he went back to monitoring his screen.
“How’s she doin’?” I asked, running my gaze down the length of her body. The sweats were too big for her lithe frame, too long in the arms and too baggy around her waist. It made her look small and vulnerable. Such a fucking contradiction.
“Okay. Her episodes have stabilized. She’s managing them. And I think I might have a way to break open the protocols keeping her from reporting her findings from Chen Hung’s towers. I’m just testing a new routine now, actually.”
“Y’know, I wanted to ask you something …” I cleared my throat. “She’s not like the others. She’s not programmed to behave like her benefactor. So whatever she does, whatever she says and thinks, that’s all her, right?”
“I suppose we can safely assume as much, given the data we have. But knowing which elements are sentient and which are programming isn’t straightforward. She’s designed, from the code-level up, to imitate humans.”
“Yeah, but … she’s different. So ...” This was where it got awkward. “When she er …” How to describe the handholding incident without the doctor knowing how freaked out I was by it? “When she touches someone, like holding a hand, as an example, hypothetically.”
His shoulders tensed and he asked coolly, “What about it?”
“Is it real? Is it her, her past, or what?”
He twisted sideways in his seat so he could see me and #1001. “She experiences the world in streams of data. A normal synthetic is programmed to respond to external stimulation like a human being does, but One doesn’t work that way. She seeks out data, such as touch, taste, and smell, because she enjoys the resulting influx of code. I suppose we’re the same. When we eat, we’re biologically programmed to assess the substances we ingest to determine whether they are acceptable for consumption. Our taste buds send our brains chemical data, and we respond by eating more or spitting the substance out. One is the same. She’s experiencing the world, learning what she likes and doesn’t like, the same way we learn. At least as far as I can ascertain.”
“So you’re saying it does or doesn’t mean anything?”
“She told me she wants to feel.”
“She told you that?”
He hesitated. “And it’s what I’ve been able to confirm through my own observations.”
“You’ve seen her seek out physical contact?”
“Something like that.” He tapped on his datapad, a flush of red darkening his cheeks.
Holy shit, him and #1001 had been all up close and personal? I laughed, short and sharp. The image of it was absurd. She’d eat him for lunch. “Doc, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s not like that,” he blustered.
“Fine. Whatever. I mean I would. She’s hot. And probably has the kinda stamina that’d keep you up all night.
“If she chooses to.” He still hadn’t looked around at me. Whatever data filled his screen was far more interesting than I was.
“She must trust you, huh? To let you go in like that.”
“Into her programming you mean?” He lifted his head and then turned slightly in his seat. “I’d like to say yes, but she’s monitoring everything I do. It’s not so much trust as confidence.”
When he talked about her, he lost his nervousness. When he’d first joined us, everything about Starscream had frightened him. Some people aren’t made for travel in the black. The unending vacuum just a few panels away, the isolation, trusting me to fly him straight—it all terrified him, but she didn’t. He talked about her like some people talked about love. But he hadn’t seen her hold a gun to my head or take out a pimp’s thugs in a back alley. He loved the idea of her but had no idea of the reality.
I nodded and he went back to monitoring his screen.
“How’s she doin’?” I asked, running my gaze down the length of her body. The sweats were too big for her lithe frame, too long in the arms and too baggy around her waist. It made her look small and vulnerable. Such a fucking contradiction.
“Okay. Her episodes have stabilized. She’s managing them. And I think I might have a way to break open the protocols keeping her from reporting her findings from Chen Hung’s towers. I’m just testing a new routine now, actually.”
“Y’know, I wanted to ask you something …” I cleared my throat. “She’s not like the others. She’s not programmed to behave like her benefactor. So whatever she does, whatever she says and thinks, that’s all her, right?”
“I suppose we can safely assume as much, given the data we have. But knowing which elements are sentient and which are programming isn’t straightforward. She’s designed, from the code-level up, to imitate humans.”
“Yeah, but … she’s different. So ...” This was where it got awkward. “When she er …” How to describe the handholding incident without the doctor knowing how freaked out I was by it? “When she touches someone, like holding a hand, as an example, hypothetically.”
His shoulders tensed and he asked coolly, “What about it?”
“Is it real? Is it her, her past, or what?”
He twisted sideways in his seat so he could see me and #1001. “She experiences the world in streams of data. A normal synthetic is programmed to respond to external stimulation like a human being does, but One doesn’t work that way. She seeks out data, such as touch, taste, and smell, because she enjoys the resulting influx of code. I suppose we’re the same. When we eat, we’re biologically programmed to assess the substances we ingest to determine whether they are acceptable for consumption. Our taste buds send our brains chemical data, and we respond by eating more or spitting the substance out. One is the same. She’s experiencing the world, learning what she likes and doesn’t like, the same way we learn. At least as far as I can ascertain.”
“So you’re saying it does or doesn’t mean anything?”
“She told me she wants to feel.”
“She told you that?”
He hesitated. “And it’s what I’ve been able to confirm through my own observations.”
“You’ve seen her seek out physical contact?”
“Something like that.” He tapped on his datapad, a flush of red darkening his cheeks.
Holy shit, him and #1001 had been all up close and personal? I laughed, short and sharp. The image of it was absurd. She’d eat him for lunch. “Doc, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s not like that,” he blustered.
“Fine. Whatever. I mean I would. She’s hot. And probably has the kinda stamina that’d keep you up all night.
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