Page 109 of Smart Ass

Max

“You’re incredibly lucky, Maxamillion.” Rashid was facing the camera at the back of the room. As a spark, he looked just as alert in his crisp suit as he had two days ago when he first arrived.

“I’ve negotiated with both the city and the hospital, and they’ve both agreed to drop the charges, provided that you show them how to patch their security breaches and have security mods installed to prevent you from seeing or interacting outside the Orbit intranet.”

Max stifled a groan of dismay and mounting horror. “Thank you,” he said simply.

He had an audience. Three rumpled FBI agents were still poking around in his guts, trying to pry out his innermost memories, and Mr. Wollencroft senior was looking on as well.

It was a good thing that Wallace had gone home shortly after his big entrance, because Max was burning with anger at the little backstabber.

The anger was the only thing between him and his fears.

“The last charge,” Rashid continued, “is from Mr. Wollencroft. I’ll allow him to present it himself.”

Mr. Wollencroft strode to the center of the room, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Maxamillion.” His voice rang out, like he was giving an oration. “It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the Orbit family.”

Max wanted to snicker. If there was anyone he had more ire for than Wallace, it was his blowhard, bullying father.

“I understand that the little hiccups over the last few weeks were just growing pains,” Mr. Wollencroft continued. “And we also do not wish to press any charges at this time.”

As in, he might press charges later? Or he was just naturally a dick.

“Once this all blows over…” Mr. Wollencroft looked askance at the agents, who he had repeatedly warned about opening secure content. “Our media folks will set you up with a public presence to represent Orbit industries. We will,” he said, turning to Rashid, “of course comply with all security requirements, in addition to monitoring all incoming and outgoing transmissions.” His gaze finally fixed on the camera in the corner. “Of course, we expect to screen any communications before you post publicly.”

This was Max’s idea of hell. It would be an endless river of torment.

“I’ve heard that you have an interest in engineering,” Mr. Wollencroft continued. “You’re welcome to join any of the teams here. They’d be glad to have you.”

“What about Ben?” Max asked. “I want to work with him.” All he’d heard was a brief report from Rashid that he’d been released from custody and was back in his apartment, with all of his technology confiscated.

He could only imagine how upset Ben must be—and how hard it would be for him to accept any help.

“Well, we could look into re-hiring him,” Mr. Wollencroft mused, clearly torn between his desire to have a valuable moneymaker back and trying to placate the FBI agents.

“That’s one of my conditions. What will my salary be?” Maxamillion pressed.

Mr. Wollencroft looked startled before a magnanimous look settled over his face. “I’m sure we can provide you with any resources that you need. All you have to do is ask.”

Any resources except his freedom, Max assumed.

“I expect a salary commensurate to my experience and contributions to the team. I’d also like to know my buy-out value.” That was the agreement with all sparks. After declaring sentience, they owed their former owner the value of their mechanical host form, after taking depreciation into account. They typically took out loans to pay back over the next decade or two.

“Ah, um… I’m not sure how we could really calculate that…”

Max figured, as the central computers were a network of dozens of machines from different dates, rather than a discrete android or robot with a single price tag. And yet… “Have your financial team figure it out.”

“Surely you’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Now Mr. Wollencroft was starting to look nervous.

Max wondered if any knowledges had left their companies in the past. The question called up a query, like a reflex… only for him to remember, yet again, that he was cut off from the rest of the world.

“I’ll be evaluating my career interests and future goals like any other new spark,” Max enunciated clearly.

At that, everyone seemed to look up.

Was it really so damn strange for a knowledge to want that? Were they that different from body-based sparks?