Alexa paced up and down the living room floor. “You can’t be serious!”
The outburst earned her nothing more than a sideways glance from her father, who paused in his work long enough to straighten his papers. “I’m afraid I’m never anything less than serious with you, dear. I’m well aware that you’ve got enough mental circuitry in there to see through my little jokes—which makes them not nearly as fun.” He couldn’t totally conceal the pride in his voice.
It was the kind of remark Alexa normally would have appreciated, but she was in no mood for it. Pacing was doing nothing to calm her, so she gave up and turned to level him with a glare, instead. “But it’s stupid! It’s worse than stupid, actually. It’s—It’s—” She was so incensed the words wouldn’t even come.
Papa finished for her by offering up suggestions. “Humiliating? Demeaning? Opportunistic, perhaps?”
Alexa huffed. That was why she could never beat him in an argument: he always came up with exactly the same arguments and counterarguments and complaints she would have used herself. It often made her wish his programming hadn’t been quite so on-point.
“A circus!” she said, filling in with the one word she could call her own.
She reached over and snatched his lead pencil away, forcing him to quit scribbling in his lab notes. “It’s exhibitionist! It’s treating us like we’re objects on sale, and it’s beneath us. It’s beneath you, Papa! I thought you had more respect for us than that!”
She knew she had scored a point. Her father’s shoulders slumped and he breathed a sigh, removing his glasses to swipe at his eyes. They had been looking tired lately, but it wasn’t until now that the weariness bled over into his voice, making him sound shaky and ten years older. “It isn’t about respect. You know I don’t want this any more than you do, Alexa. But I must consider your well-being. If I may be perfectly frank—and I know I can be with you—I must consider your safety. And if that means causing some temporary discomfort, then it’s a sacrifice I must make.”
Alexa knew he was right but couldn’t let it go that easily. “It’s safer to auction us off to the highest bidder on the black market?” she said stubbornly.
That was another reason she could never win an argument against Papa, though: he knew when she knew she was beaten. He smiled sadly. “I won’t be able to protect you girls forever, and you know how it is with Jemma.”
He was right. She did know, though she didn’t like thinking about it. No one ever would have known it now by looking at her beautiful blonde sister, but Jemma had struggled with cancer on and off all her life. There was no saying how long she would be there to care for her four (very unemployable) younger sisters.
Papa shook his head. “Meryton isn’t big enough for the four of you anymore.”
“Five,” Alexa said automatically. “Jemma would never stay here without me.” It was the only point she could refute him on.
She didn’t wait for an answer because she knew he didn’t have one. She turned and stalked out of the room. If her eyes could have cried tears of frustration, or any other variety for that matter, they would have.
She headed for her room at first but then veered off toward the basement stairs. She needed to be alone in the laboratory, to get her hands on some chemicals or lost in a microscopic specimen. To remind herself she was a thinking being and more than a novelty to be put on display. More than a hodgepodge of parts to be collected or taken apart.
More than a robot.
***
Jemma stopped on her way down the row to tuck back a strand of Alexa’s long, caramel-colored hair. She had refused to cut it in a bob for tonight, to match the 1920’s flapper costume, though she somewhat regretted it seeing how accurate and perfect Jemma looked dressed as a Regency-era young Englishwoman.
“Try to relax,” Jemma instructed. Then, maybe realizing that that was too harsh, she smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I know I don’t understand how you feel. It’s just that I hate to see you like this.”
Alexa’s eyes slid away, but Jemma took her chin gently and turned her face back toward her. Her blue eyes were serious and intense. “If we have to go in there, let’s go in with a smile. Let them see how gorgeous you are.”
Alexa didn’t want to, but she could never say No to Jemma and her overarching sweetness. She forced a smile and squeezed her sister’s fingers. In her cold ones, they were warm and alive. Human.
Jemma was Dr. Babbage’s first daughter and the only one who wasn’t ‘adopted’—aka, built in his own laboratory. If it bothered her at all that Alexa had risen to be their Papa’s favorite, she never showed it in look, word, or deed. “Jemma is my flesh and blood,” he always told Alexa privately, “But you’re my mind.”
At the end of the row, Libby, who was dressed for the night as a probably-more-skimpy-than-the-real-thing ancient Egyptian princess, succumbed to a fit of giggles. “Alexa, relax,” she crowed. “Alexa, smile!” She must have overheard what Jemma had been saying.
Alexa rolled her eyes. ‘Alexa do this’ jokes were the only ones she had ever learned, unfortunately.
She was rescued by Kia, who gave Libby a hard smack on the head. She was dressed as an early 21st century Visco girl. “Oh, shut up! You always think you’re so funny! Ha, ha, ha, oh brother!”
Libby blinked in confusion. “I don’t have a brother! I have four sisters!”
Mary-Kay leaned toward Alexa with the closest thing she knew to a conspiratorial air. “That was an expression of annoyance.”
Alexa suppressed another exasperated sigh. “Yes, thank you,” she managed to say.
Of all the Babbage sisters, Libby was the least mentally equipped and Mary-Kay was the most like what she was: a machine with little sense of subtlety. It seemed fitting that she was dressed in a stiff, black Quaker’s dress. They had both been something of a disappointment to Papa, along with Kia, but he didn’t have the heart to dismantle anything sentient—making him a thousand times better than half the people in the government, who would have gladly seized them and put them out of commission. Fear of bots had risen along with their prevalence and lifelike appearance.
Kia and Libby were becoming increasingly noisy, but Jemma shushed them as the door in front of her began to open. They all stood up straighter, even Alexa. She hadn’t been able to hear most of what Papa was saying in his speech—some kind of joke about his “now-illegal daughters” and how he “wasn’t willing to give them away to just anyone,” which earned him a laugh from the audience. Mostly, though, he seemed to be talking about their “one-of-a-kind programming” and “exceptional quality.” Alexa tuned it out as much as she could.
Now, though, through the opening door, his voice boomed in her ears: “Ladies and gentleman, that’s enough talk. Give it up for…Daddy’s Little Robots!”
Another laugh from the audience.
Alexa stepped out onto the stage behind Jemma. The spotlight clicked on at that moment, blinding her temporarily, though she suspected her eyes recovered faster than a human’s would have. The crowd of staring faces swam into her vision, making her knees shake. She wasn’t used to so many people. If fact, she wasn’t used to people at all. The Babbage family was mostly shunned.
Mary-Kay almost tripped over her.
“Alexa, move!” Libby said, almost seriously.
Alexa forced herself to trail after Jemma.
The audience was already oohing and aahing before Papa spoke again. “Can you guess which is a bot and which is a girl?—for 2,000 dollars, of course. You can try, but I assure you, it won’t be easy. The difference is infinitesimal!” Papa was a scientist, but he could be a showman when he wanted to be, as well as a businessman. The chance at a cash giveaway had been well advertised.
Jemma had already reached him at the microphone. Alexa copied her, coming to stand a foot away and turning to face the room. She remembered to plaster a smile with her heavily lipstick-painted mouth.
The crowd was going wild. By the time the other three sisters had joined them, several men and women had surged forward to try and climb up on the stage, two ruffians were in a fistfight, and the hired security were rushing to quell the riot.
“I CAN GUESS!” The shout was so sudden and so commanding that even the ruffians quickly glanced up and broke apart.
The crowd parted for the newcomer as if he were the positive to their already positive charge. The spotlight swiveled to center on him. He stood there in a black leather jacket and motorcycle pants, arms crossed and eyes flashing like he was on a personal vendetta.
“I can guess which one is a bot,” he said again. His hand shot out, levelling an accusing finger. Shock sparked in Alexa’s circuits as she realized where he was pointing: straight at her!
The stranger cast a smug smile around the room before his face settled back into a scowl. “No one would build a robot that looks like that! The face is asymmetrical. The eyes are too big. The body is all wrong. If anyone in their right mind would build that, then I’ll build a sandwich out of shoe rubber.”
The crowd was split between gasps and nervous laughter.
Dr. Babbage cleared his throat loudly into the mic, silencing them. “And what is your name, young man?” His voice dripped with displeasure.
“I don’t think that matters. I’m not buying anything.”
Another collective chuckle.
Dr. Babbage quickly took control again. “Well, then, Mr. I’m-Not-Buying-Anything, I would suggest you build that sandwich and stuff it where it belongs. Alexa here is every bit a robot, and my finest creation, too. Next!”
Even the stranger’s rudeness wasn’t enough to distract the audience for long. They went back to their previous antics and security jumped in again. But Alexa didn’t see any of it, and later, she couldn’t have said when or who finally identified Jemma as the one human and won Papa’s cash prize.
She stood there frozen. Even the smile had dropped from her face. She was paralyzed, still trapped in that moment when the stranger pointed his finger and said what he did. Papa had been right: Humiliating. Demeaning. Worst moment of her life.
Jemma had to touch her arm when it was time to exit the stage, spurring her feet to action. It was lucky she was in New York and far away from home and the lab because she would have smashed every vial.
