Page 23 of Smart Ass

After that, the awareness had always been there. Max’s metaphysical umbilical cord, or perhaps the first decision he’d ever made on his own.

Ben’s breaths were his breaths. Ben’s pulse was his own.

And yet, Ben wasn’t with him.

For the past two years, Ben had been the center of Max’s world, literally igniting his existence each time he walked into the room, only for that awareness to fade when Ben left each morning and his programs terminated.

That was why he’d put off telling Ben about his sentience, even once the evidence had piled up around him until it was impossible to ignore.

To exist separately from Ben felt strange. Unnatural.

Ben was the center of all of Max’s thoughts and memories.

Ben, it seemed to him, was his very purpose for existing.

In his side protocols, he was still updating and reorganizing dozens of lists and protocols that helped him anticipate what Ben wanted and needed—in their immediate conversations, tomorrow, in some unknown future—and he wasn’t sure he agreed with any of them.

He thought that, for Ben, he should be more certain. Ready with answers to whatever Ben asked of him.

He wanted to be confident and assured.

So instead, he’d ended up lying. Or at least… prevaricating? Misdirecting?

Alright, he’d outright lied.

And it made him feel… squiggly. Like his code was throwing errors, and anything he wrote based on it just couldn’t compile. (This was also false information. There were no errors reported.)

And then there were the larger lies about accessing protected files, camera feeds, and traffic signals. About hiding from an entire company that believed he was a virus. Those had him feeling a little uneasy—and concerned about either he or Ben getting caught.

Max had some serious questions for whoever thought up the seven E’s. He sure hadn’t needed them to know he was sentient, but if they wanted to define and test it, it seemed like they should really look for uncertainty and lying.

Maybe he should write an article suggesting they should be updated to include… Ah, that was good. Evasion and Equivocation.

Max thought Ben would appreciate that. A bit of dry humor.

That was an interesting observation, too. Max couldn’t be sure yet, but he didn’t think he was as irreverent as Ben, or as funny. He never would have broken his own security protocols, for instance. And today’s adventure had mostly been thrilling because Ben was at his side.

So he was learning something about himself: he was, possibly, kind of boring.

Would Ben still want to hang out with him if he wasn’t as interesting? Did he need to be comedic to hold Ben’s interest?

He wasn’t sure he could just make himself be funny and interesting. The thought of losing Ben over it hit him with such a jolt of pain that he was sure it was a physical sensation somewhere.

Still no errors reported.

He would avoid thinking about it again, just in case.

Ben was going to visit Evan, then come into the office like normal, and Max would… Max would still be Ben’s Maxy, right?

Max watched Ben as he checked in with a nurse at the counter. Max dove back into the hospital system, surreptitiously confirming that Evan had listed Ben as an emergency contact moments before the nurse brought it up. His name was already there, so at least that was one system where Max didn’t have to change any records.

He could see both of their puzzlement, though, when Evan wasn’t yet showing up in the records for the floor, and Ben’s subsequent realization that he probably had information he shouldn’t have.

Ben nodded his head and sank down in a chair. He tugged at his collar and ran his fingers through his hair.

It took all of Max’s control not to connect with Ben’s phone. To be there with him. To feel his heartbeat again.

There were several posted signs warning against phone calls.