RoboNomics

Chapter 39

“s**t,” he says. We gain the steps of the Medical Sciences building and run across its concrete-covered patio. When we come out on the other side, I look around frantically at the open grassy expanse in front of us.

“Come on, I know a place.” I take Chris by the wrist. I bolt across a narrow road and onto the circular lawn at the center of campus. The grass is a young, pale green and there are still muddy patches from where the snow melted a few weeks ago. Still grasping his wrist, I head straight towards a Gothic building nestled between the curved walls of Convocation Hall and the spires of University College.

“You sure about this?” He asks me as we approach the building.

“Positive." I don’t take my eyes from the arched wooden doors. I push them open. In front of us is a cavernous room with impressive stone pillars that rise to the ceiling. A steep staircase on either side of the room lead up to sets of heavy iron and glass doors. I glance up one set of stairs but keep running.

A few idlers stand around. They are riveted to the InvisiScreens mounted in the walls. On each monitor is the scene we’ve just left. People and droids scatter from Queen’s Park. Cars have been left abandoned on the street. Smoke comes from the legislature and automated firefighters wheel towards the building. Protesters knock some of the bots onto their sides before the machines have a chance to contain our bomb. The caption under the picture reads: Vote Passed. Unions abolished as RoboNomics Police Bots break up riot.

Beyond the stairs, I turn a tight corner and speed down a hallway. I run to the very end, where there’s a blond wooden door with its single window. I silently pray it’s unlocked. Chris turns back, drawn by the sounds of shouts and screams from the atrium we’ve just passed through.

“Anderson --”

“I know,” I interrupt. I grab the door. It’s unlocked. I usher Chris through and pull it close behind us. I turn the deadbolt once we’re safely behind the door but I don’t stop moving. I run up a short staircase to an organ loft. I jump behind a wall and gesture for Chris to follow me. Now we won’t be seen from the window in the entrance.

“Where are we?” Chris presses his body against the stone wall.

“Austin and I were married here,” I explain. My glance flicks back and forth between the stairs and the chapel below the organ loft. “From what I remember, the doors down there lock from the inside. We should be okay here, at least for a little while.”

“Anderson,” Chris points at the organ on the back wall. There are red pinprick lasers glowing on its surface. I hear the metal handle of the door as the bot jostles it. “What if it breaks the door down?” He asks. I look at him. It’s the first time since we’ve met that I’ve seen fear in his eyes.

“It’s a cop, remember?” I try to find words to calm him. “Why would it do that?” But the machine does not go away. It stands just outside, jiggling the door handle. I will my breath to slow as the thin red beams crisscross the chapel organ.

“Doesn’t matter where we hide,” says Chris in a panic. “It can probably sense our body heat or something.”

I frown at him. “And what do you want to do? Give yourself up? That’ll really get your job back, won’t it?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” I say hoarsely. “I did this to get my goddamn life back, remember? And now I’ve been roped into being a criminal. Look at us. You just said it. There’s no way to trick this thing. There’s no way to outrun it. They do everything better than us, remember? So either we give ourselves up or we get dragged out. Doesn’t matter what choice we make, we’re going to jail either way. And then what? If there was a hope that we’d ever work again before this, it’s gone. You killed it with your f*****g bomb.”

“Andrea,” he uses my first name. I don’t think he’s done that before. He extends his arm to me. “Come on.”

“No,” I reply. “You know what? I might as well get it over with.” I start for the door.

“Andrea, don’t.” He follows me. “It could hurt you.” He descends the steps after me.

“Just don’t,” I say back to him. “Don’t try to--” but the words never leave me. As I reach for the door, he grabs my shoulder and turns my body towards him. He stops my words with a deep kiss before I have time to object.

I immediately pull away but I’m still in his arms. “What are you doing?”

“I just need you to stay here. I need you to be safe.” The riot bot stands on the other side of the door. The handle of the door moves vigorously as the machine tries to get to us. But Chris’ eyes are on mine and he is pulling me close. His kiss is breathless, hungry. It opens me up in a way that Austin’s kiss hasn’t for years. My husband’s kisses are comfortable, companionable. Not like this. Not as though I’m a teenaged girl again, kissing for the first time. The softness of Chris’ beard is unexpected; I’m used to Austin’s scratchy five o’clock shadow. I feel Chris’ hands as they wander across my body and I break from him.

He tries to kiss me again. “This can’t happen,” I say. “If we stop now, then it was only a kiss.

“Andrea,” he whispers. I can feel the firmness of his arms through the layers of clothing between us. His hands are in my short hair. “Why aren’t you with me?”

“What are you saying?” I ask. “This is just...it’s just stress, Chris. It’s just a weird situation. It’s just attraction.”

“Is that really how you feel about it?”

“So, what? This isn’t just about s*x for you?” I stumble over the words. The shadowy light that filters through the chapel’s stained glass makes it hard to read his expression.

“I guess not,” he says.

I don’t want to talk about it anymore. It feels like I suddenly know too much. “I’ll stay,” I tear myself from him. I climb the stairs to the organ loft. “Just don’t do that again.”

We huddle down between the wooden pews. I sit cross-legged with my back against the wood, ignoring Chris as best I can. The rattling at the door and the red lights on the organ persist, but we don't speak for a long time. Even though I don’t look at him, I can’t help thinking about his question. How do I feel about him?

“Even if I did feel something,” I say quietly, as if answered my thoughts more than speaking to him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to leave my husband. I can’t leave Austin for anything.”

He takes a shuddering breath and then is silent. I think he’s asleep until he whispers, “I know.”