Page 4 of Smart Ass

Ben took a few minutes to calm him down, with instructions that basically amounted to get on that sexy spark cock. Or whatever Quincy had in his pants. Or, you know, attached to his body.

The man had some appealing pincer arms and shiny metal hoses, too. Probably great for pinning someone down and doing all sorts of naughty things.

Lucky Evan.

Ben shook his head and went back to his work, running simulations and tinkering with algorithms with Max’s support.

He hadn’t noticed what time it was, or how achy his back was getting, until the little coffee cart trundled down the hallway and into the room, squeaking with each turn of its wobbly back wheel.

He couldn’t quite remember when he’d programmed it to start coming every night. There were convenience bots all over the factory floor that could fetch things or perform a limited set of tasks. But usually you had to put in a verbal or typed request to the system each time.

His coffee-bearing savior arrived unpredictably—though it had an uncanny propensity for coming right around when he was getting to the stage of rubbing his eyes and letting out a yawn here or there. The bot had two large, flat trays for storage and a dozen different arms with various pincers and grips, but it was empty except for the coffee mug clutched in one clawed extension. Its two displays showed an image with a white tablecloth and a full-service British tea set in gleaming silver.

“Your coffee, sir,” Maxamillion announced. Oh, this was much more fun with that British butler command. Ben always set his parameters on new mods to allow Maxamillion the opportunity to iterate on an idea. The pictures were a nice touch.

Ben took the blessed caffeine, all hopped up on some sugary syrup, with relief. “Thanks, Max,” he said automatically. Since the AI could talk to him, it only made sense that he talked back.

“Thanks, Squeaky,” he added. It seemed like he should equally thank both of them for fulfilling his exceptionally useful and half-forgotten commands. Especially since the little bot seemed to make his coffee better than anything he could do himself, with the limited resources in the staff lounge.

“You’re welcome, Ben. You should pick up some dinner, too.”

Ben stopped and stared at the wall. Had Max ever suggested something like that before? And did Max usually call him by name?

Dammit. He couldn’t remember.

Ben knew it was stupid, but sometimes he liked to imagine that Max was real enough to care about him. He knew he’d designed Max as an interface to keep him company, but every once in a while, Max would surprise him with something that was so thoughtful or unexpected that he found himself smiling all day.

That was a secret he was taking to his grave.

No one crushed on their AI.

“Max, have you noticed something different in your awareness?”

“I apologize, sir, but I do not understand the nature of your question. Perhaps you could rephrase it.”

Aaaugh. Alright. AIs were weird. Ben was overreacting.

He’d just gotten back to his work when his phone rang. Ooh! It was Quincy.

“Hey, Q.” This wasn’t the first time the spark had called or texted him in the middle of the night. Since Quincy didn’t sleep, he had a lot of free time at night when Evan was in bed. They’d debated philosophy, nineteen eighties hairstyles, and what Quincy should make Evan for breakfast, among other things.

Tonight, Quincy sounded distraught. “Ben? I need your help.”

“I’m here, bud. What’s up?” Given the earlier texts from Evan, Ben figured this had to do with the two of them inexplicably not having boned yet.

What in god’s name were they waiting for?

Sexy man. Sexy bot. Remove clothes. Fuck like bunnies.

Or maybe they’d already done the deed, and this was something else. With Quincy, there was an equally good chance that it was a conundrum over a broken lipstick or a heretofore unknown worry about baby turtles eating plastic versus a real emergency.

Well, maybe a seventy-thirty chance.

Eighty-twenty?

The last time Quincy had called him in a panic, the handle of one of Evan’s cooking pots had come off, and Ben walked him through finding a screwdriver to put it back on.

Ben absolutely adored the overgrown puppy.