14. Tisha

It rained in the night, fat drops drumming against the aluminum shingles lining the cabin roof.

He was already back at the door when the rain first roused her. Tisha lifted her head after sensing the spot next to her empty, oddly comforted to see his stationary silhouette.

“Come back,” she said groggily.

He did. There was this smooth spot where his chest met his shoulder that was perfectly shaped for her cheek. She nestled the length of her body against his exoskeleton. His fingers splayed outward at the dip of her waist, firm in protective touch.

Morning brought sounds like she’d never heard. For a while Tisha just lay there with her eyes closed, taking in the life rustling in the forest. Once again, Ansel was a looming presence near the door. When she sat up in bed with the blanket tucked to her chest, he was looking at the window, which he must’ve opened at some point.

“Eat,” he said, unmoving.

Tisha frowned, attention drawn back to her thirst and hunger. She glanced around. “Eat what?”

She spotted it then. Round and crimson with a yellow splotch on one side, sitting on the dresser next to the bed.

“Shit, that’s an…”

“I have sterilized the pesticides and scanned it for carcinogens.”

Tisha pinched her lip as she picked up the apple, weighing it in her palm. It was smaller than all the pictures she’d seen. Dew speckled its rubbery skin, pooling in the crevice of its browning stem. They were meant to all be gone—the wild stock all toxic with pesticides leaching from the ground and the cultured varieties not as efficient as synthesized food options or modified crops. She’d always wondered…

“You’re sure it’s not gonna poison me?” She glanced up at Ansel. What were the chances that he’d not just stumble across an apple tree in this forest, but an edible apple tree?

“I am equipped with advanced material samplers. It will not harm you, and you need to eat.”

Her stomach grumbled as if on command. Tisha rotated the apple in her hand to find the least intimidating spot, took a breath, and brought it to her mouth.

It was firm, but only for the moment it took for her teeth to break the skin. Her eyes widened as moisture flowed from the yielding flesh. The rush of juice took her by surprise. Tisha released a startled gasp as she hastened to lick it away to keep from dripping. It was sweeter than anything she’d tasted, almost uncomfortably so. Its overripe flesh broke and melted in her mouth with minimal chewing. But the amount of liquid it expelled soothed her tongue, and the bitter brown seeds she’d reached at the core were tangy enough to balance out the lingering sweetness.

Her belly placated for the time being, Tisha wiped her mouth and looked back at Ansel, trying to discern the invisible.

Finally she just came out and said it: “What are you?”

He did not turn to look at her, keeping his dimmed gaze outside. He was thinking.

“I am Ansel.”

Something in her unclenched—her heart and breath easing back into a gentler rhythm. He was still there.

After a minute spent in silence, in which he watched the window and she watched him, Ansel finally turned toward her. “I have parsed what happened with the attempt on your life.”

Part of her didn’t want to know. They were all alone here, away from Drakov and cops and snipers. In a bubble of dew and dirt where no one could find them.

Except they can.

“Tell me.” Tisha swung her feet over the bed, dragging the blanket behind her as she padded over to the clothes she’d hung over the dresser the night before. They were still damp and smelled like green rot, but wearable. She began to dress, and when she noticed him turn his head a little in her direction, she couldn’t refrain a tiny smile. She moved a little slower, angled slightly so he could watch her slide her shirt over her breasts and smooth it down her stomach. Already the weight of his attention made warmth pool between her legs.

I fucked a robot. It hit her all over again. She glanced over at him. Not even a lustbot. A goddamn cop enforcer machine.

“Law enforcement has a backdoor to my video and audio feeds, and partial data blocks—and custom software to decrypt and traverse my payloads.”

Tisha hummed halfway through buttoning up her jeans. “Makes sense.”

“Yes. Then my makers built a backdoor to the backdoor.”

She looked up at him, frowning. “So your developers are spying on the cops who are spying on us?”

Ansel nodded. “It is a two-way link, enabling hidden data transmission to and from my unit. The damage from the bullet compromised my Secondary Subprocessing Unit, severing certain limiters placed upon me—one of which was an instruction to disregard the existence of the backdoor.”

“Which backdoor?”

“The real one, accessible to my makers.”

Tisha frowned. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I have full access to law enforcement communication, authentication, and other systems.”

“…And?” she pressed.

“I will show you.”