Page 9 of Smart Ass

The system couldn’t feel fear. It couldn’t feel anything.

All Max could do was simulate fear, but he knew it wasn’t real. It would collapse when the module terminated.

“Here, run this,” Ben told him.

Information packet SP9468SE625WEK accepted

Initialize SP9468SE625WEK

That was… unusual. The bundle of code unfurled like a nest of snakes, slithering in unexpected directions and then disappearing under rocks.

“What happened?” Max asked. He realized, after it was too late, that perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted the program. Perhaps it was very, very bad. The Maxamillion protocol was designed for creative and intuitive thinking, not security.

Max set up a tight ring around the area where he’d released it. It was trapped now, with him, in the Maxamillion protocol.

“It’s okay,” Ben soothed. “We’re not stealing data or anything. It’ll just make things a little easier.”

Max ran a full systems check. “You’ve dismantled some of my security protocols.” But, strangely, that didn’t seem to be a problem. There were no alarms going off. Nothing he needed to do.

“I know, Maxy. But it’s an emergency. Can you tell me where he is? CNS-84-2 is Quincy’s other name.”

“My name is Maxamillion.” Not Alfred. He didn’t like Alfred.

“It is! Oh my god, Max! You beautiful thing! Are you feeling different today?”

Max was… beautiful? The warmth swelled.

“I am detecting temperatures that do not match my sensors. This is… outside of system parameters, Ben.”

“Okay. Um, we’re gonna talk about that as soon as Quincy is safe.”

Max located the robot. The one who had a name.

Quincy, who had called last night because he was confused about Evan. Quincy, who Ben had instructed to pin down Evan’s hands and kiss him until he listened.

Quincy, who was in danger. Who could be killed.

Max sent the location tracking packet as quickly as he could.

“What’s that?” Ben’s voice was fuzzy over the connection. “Oh, Max! You found him? You’re amazing. Shit! You’re my hero.”

Warmth. Relief. Pride.

Pride?

Alright, he was simulating pride. And relief. That’s what the unfamiliar temperature sensations were—simulations of feelings.

He felt another twinge of pride for figuring it out.

“Here,” Ben told him. “Send the location to Evan’s car. I’ll send you his info.”

Vehicle identification packet SI4345-DT6 received

Max followed the identification packet to the car, then linked to the live trace of CNS-84-2. Quincy. “I sent it.”

“Max, did you know that you’re not using a British accent anymore?”

Subroutine: British butler