Page 170 of GlitchBorn Heart

He is.

Ash leans in conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough to make the woman blush. “And between us, love, you really don’t want to see what happens when someone calls his creation an it. The last guy’s still paying for reconstructive surgery.” He makes a biting motion with his mouth.

My lip twitches with satisfaction. The look of horror on Kael’s face is priceless.

Ash raises his glass in a mock toast.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have to go make a scene. There’s a whole table of overpriced champagne waiting to be consumed, and I’ll need Dr. Ryudon to measure just how much I can drink before passing out. You know, for research purposes.”

Before anyone can protest, Ash claps Kael on the shoulder again and steers him away, murmuring just loud enough for the couple to hear, “Come on, Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s get your monster a drink before she decides to bite someone she shouldn’t.”

66

RebelHeart

Playlist: Holographic Heart - Gunship, Britta Phillips

Kael

“Where’s the whiskey?” I burst through the doors to the open terrace where the night air is cooler and safer...or so it seems.

“On it.” Ember heads to the bar; Lyra follows close behind, her holo-form flickering softly under the candlelight, catching every pair of eyes as she passes.

With Ash in tow, I pace the terrace balcony. “You people are going to make me insane before the age of thirty.” My hands find my pockets because they have nothing to do but strangle my friends.

“Yes, but we’re your people so you’re stuck with us. Next time,” Ash mutters under his breath, “you’re programming a feature where she punches people for calling her it. That’ll clear the room fast.”

I half-smile, and rub my temples; the elites inside are positively stifling, the city air out here isn’t much better. “Next time, we won’t be standing in a room full of monsters pretending to be humans.”

Before Ash can respond, the low noise of the crowd drops again. A ripple moves through the guests like an ocean wave and the sound of glasses and dishes falter. The double doors at the end of the ballroom open, revealing Vikktor, accompanied by his private security detail. Two towering figures draped in matte-black armored suits, half-human, half-machine, faces covered by high-tech carbon fiber masks.

Every candle wants to dim as he walks in. The crowd parts, conditioned by fear, not respect.

I straighten. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Inside, I’m hoping that Lyra stays at the bar with Ember. Now is not the time for inspection.

A whiskey is shoved in my face violently, and I feel Lyra loop her arm in mine.

Perfect. Just perfect.

He makes a beeline for me. “Dr. Ryudon,” Vikktor’s voice cuts through the night air. His icy stare penetrates my defenses. “I see you brought your PleazureHolo prototype.” His eyes slide over Lyra, assessing, but also admiring.

Pervert. I’ll stab his eyes out.

“So, this is the little toy that you’ve been playing with on my dime.” His steel gray eyes look over her. “She’s exquisite. Even more refined than your report suggested.” He goes to touch her, but she slides behind me. Vikktor flinches but ends up running his fingers down her arm.

He raises his eyebrows. “She looks and feels...almost too alive.” He cups his chin, pondering. “Curious to see how she sounds performing her duties.”

Never fucking happening.

A cacophony of laughs burst from the mindless suits on each side of him, their insincerity so thick, so desperate, for any kernel of validation from Vikktor. Pathetic.

Lyra’s holo-flickers once, her magic building, beginning to affect the feed. “I assure you, when I pleasure Dr. Ryudon, I sound very human.” I hate that she has to slip into the PleazureHolo role, but she’s standing on her own to Vikktor. A quality I have to admire, though it could get us both in hot water.

“Yes. More human, and that’s the whole point, isn’t it, sir?” I correct him; my tone is undisturbed but underneath my own magic is pulsing faintly from his sexist remark. “Just think how many more units we can sell a year if men actually feel as if they’re with a realistic human woman. One that looks, feels, and sounds just like the real thing.”

Vikktor’s smile is cold and robotic, but he knows I’m speaking his universal language of dollars. “Semantics,” he says. “Alive is...a stretch for a hologram.” He circles us slowly, his shoes clicking against the black marble. If I said the sky was blue, this man would say it’s red just to put me in my place.

“You’ve exceeded expectations, Kael. Congratulations, I’ll be rewarding you handsomely for the effort. Though I can’t help but wonder, how much of this brilliance is truly yours?”