Stephanie Steele
Chapter 8

HARD DRIVE REBOOTING.

Steele’s visual display crackled into life.

A rare and dull morning ray of sunshine penetrated the dirty window and fell across Steele’s face, its beam catching floating dust in the air. Steele opened her eyes and raised herself from the bed, squinting against the unexpected light. I’m so pleased you talked me out of the hangover experience programme Freddy. She thought as she noted her boots standing neatly by the door. Unusual for her, let alone a drunk her, to place her boots like that. Ordinarily she’d kick them off and they’d stay where they landed until she needed them again. That was the rule for everything in Steele’s apartment and that’s how it always had been. It used to drive Uma wild as she was such a neat freak.

Steele looked at the rest of the apartment expecting to replace scattered beer bottles, discarded clothes, perhaps an electronic component or two but it was clean and tidy like Uma had been here.

The apartment was a single room which doubled as a bedroom and living area with an adjoining bathroom. No need for a kitchen. She didn’t eat so what was the point? Another thing which irked Uma, and probably why they’d hung out at her place so much.

There was only one explanation. Someone had been here. Someone had been in her apartment. She sat upright now, scanning the room and trying to decipher what she was seeing. No one had been in her apartment in a year. There should have been a year’s worth of dust and debris lying around, but it was spotless. Someone hadn’t just tidied, they’d dusted and vacuumed thoroughly. Red? Had she actually given in to Red and brought her back here last night?

Steele replayed her memories of the previous evening but could replace no record of anyone, let alone Red being brought back. In fact she had no record of how she got here in the first place. That’s the price of having the alcohol upgrade. It tended to power you down before you were ready.

She remembered seeing someone who looked like Uma. Some girl behind glass, but it hadn’t been her, how could it? She remembered that it had been raining. Her clothes were still damp so she was right about that. The last record was of her lying in the street. Someone was there. Someone was standing over her in the rain. The record ended without revealing who it had been. The mysterious cleaner? Not Freddy. He wasn’t the domestic kind. So who?

A thud! Steele was instantly alert. She reached for her pistol blaster. Her holster was empty. Her run in with Edwards and her suspension came flooding back. Suddenly she felt vulnerable. The sound had come from the bathroom. Whoever had tidied the apartment was still here. Steele stood and faced the bathroom door which was slightly ajar, but not enough for her to see into.

“Come out!” She yelled. There was silence for a brief moment then the pad of footsteps on the tiled floor, and the door slowly opened and a small sheepish form emerged.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Said Steele, surprised but relieved it wasn’t someone like Red. Someone she’d picked up in the bar last night. She’d never forgive herself if she sullied her treasured memories of her darling Uma with a one night fumble. ‘Come out here!’ Steele ordered. She was irritated for two reasons. One, that someone had set foot in her apartment, and two, that Mia of all people was here. This could get her into a whole load of shit. More shit than she was currently in.

“I couldn’t leave you in the street. Anything could’ve happened.” Mia explained in a tiny voice.

“You brought me home?”

“You were drunk.” Mia chastised.

“I thought . . . Didn’t Nixon take you home or call your parents?”

She avoided the question. “I tidied your apartment. It looks better don’t you think? It could do with a lick of paint though. I could do it for you. Free of charge of course. As a thank you.” Mia chirped, and repositioned a chair.

What was she thinking? What is going on? Why was she here? Steele wasn’t liking this one little bit. This was invasion of privacy or some shit like that. “I’ll take you home.” Steele told her.

“I’m not going back there!” Mia yelled and backed away from Steele a step.

“Well you can’t stay here. Christ, I’m in enough trouble with the chief. I don’t want to add kidnapping to the list.”

Mia began to cry. What was she doing that for? I just didn’t need this right now. Stop it now kid!

“Don’t make me go back Steele.” Mia said through sobs. “My daddy will just sell me again or pass me around his friends.”

Now Steele felt bad. She had no idea. This kid was breaking her heart here. Steele took her hand and sat her on the bed. “Where’s your mom?”

“Dead, and I wish I was too.” Her watery eyes looked up into Steele’s expressionless face. Pleading eyes, desperate. “He’ll hurt me Steele. Please don’t send me back there.” Mia flung her arms around the big android, her little hands folding tightly around her strong midriff. Her tears stained Steele’s vest. She could feel their warmth permeating through to her skin.

Steele had never had this reaction from a kid before. She was lost here. Way out of her depth. But this kid was pulling on her non-existent heart strings once more. Mia was right. How could she send her back to a father who treated her like that? She’d be condemning her to a life she thought she’d recently saved her from. No little girl should have to go through that, especially with her own daddy.

She placed a comforting hand on the girl’s head and stroked her hair. She found this just as comforting for herself. She missed physical contact of any kind with anyone, had never allowed it after Uma. This was different to holding a lover, but just as magical. This was innocence, a child’s touch, pure, simple with no expectations. Steele prised her tender arms from their limpet like attachment and wiped Mia’s wet face with a gentle hand. “You can stay until I figure out what to do with you. Maybe we can put you into care or something.”

Mia lowered her head. Her disappointment was tangible. But what else could she do for her? This was the most sensible option. Putting her back with the family was definitely not going to happen. Not if she could help it.

“I’ll just run away. I want to stay with you. I want to be a detective like you. You can teach me.” Mia said, breaking into a smile. An irresistible smile backed up by deep brown eyes all misted and hopeful like a little lost puppy.

Steele sighed. How could she explain that wasn’t possible? What did she know about looking after a kid? Fuck, she couldn’t look after herself never mind a child. Steele brushed hair from Mia’s face which had stuck to her damp cheek and chucked a finger under her chin. “Look Mia . . .”

“You don’t want me. Just like everyone else.” Mia sobbed and backed away from Steele.

“I’m not a nice person to be around. I’ve killed people. No one is going to let you stay with me.”

“But that’s your job. To get rid of the scumbags in the city. That’s what you do. Who is there that’s better qualified to look after someone?” Mia was pleading now. Steele could hear it in her voice.

“I’m going to take a shower. Just stay there and do nothing.” Steele ordered, stalling for time. In the shower she’d have time to maybe come up with a plan. A plan which wouldn’t involve herself ending up being a surrogate mother.

“You’re an android. Why do you need to shower?”

“I get dirty just the same as you humans. And besides, I have pleasure receptors. It makes me feel more human, and I like it. You aspire to be like me and I aspire to be like you. I know I’ll never achieve that but this stuff gets me close.”

Steele sat on the ceramic toilet bowl to release the many litres of alcohol she’d consumed the night before. Androids didn’t possess a stomach or bladder like humans so unless you had an upgrade like her to accept liquid then androids didn’t drink at all, or eat for that matter. So, she stored it in a bag, pretty much like a human stomach, and released it when it was full via a tube which exited the body where a normal human female would urinate from. The release process externally was exactly the same as a human female. Sit, pee, wipe. Simple. The intoxication process was a straight forward programme designed to cause the same effect as getting drunk in a person. A processor calculated the amount of alcohol being consumed then gave you the correct amount of stupidity to go along with it.

The shower tingled every curve and slope of Steele’s shapely body. She covered herself in lather and washed away the reek of the city’s grime. She took her time, lathering every inch of her pale skin. She remembered how Uma used to wash her in the same way, her hands slipping and sliding across her smooth skin, kneading her breasts and the mound between her legs with extra care, and her doing the same for Uma. Making love in the shower was Uma’s favourite place to do it and the feel of the hot water invited that memory right now. She felt herself getting turned on. She shook her head and told herself to stop. Now was not the time for that.

What would Uma do now, apart from pinning me to the wall and stabbing me with her finger while she pushed her tongue down my throat? What would Uma do about the Mia situation?

Steele pondered this some more as she stepped out of the shower. She leant against the cold wall tiles. The sensation of the coolness on her warm body made her tremble. She was getting turned on again. She slipped her hand down over her flat stomach and reached between her legs for the soft area where pleasure was the greatest. No! She couldn’t. Not while Mia was here and in the next room. See, there was a big problem, right there. What if I wanted to bring a girl back for sex? How would that work if Mia was staying here? It wouldn’t. Not that I was ever going to again. She’d made that promise to herself in the months she’d tried to get over Uma. But there was always the chance, and if Mia was here then there was no chance. It was being selfish she knew, but it wasn’t just not being able to bring someone back on a whim, it was everything about having a kid here in the first place. Her life style just didn’t fit, and that was the end of it.

Steele returned to the bedroom, pulling on a clean vest top. A cloud of steam followed her in. Her hair was still wet from the shower despite towelling it dry. “Listen, I’ve been thinking and I . . .” Mia was lying face down on the bed holding the photo of Uma she kept by the bed. The image moved when you touch it and showed Uma waving then blowing a kiss at the observer.

“Is this Uma? She’s beautiful.” Mia turned onto her back to look at her. “Detective Nixon said the man who hurt me killed her to teach you a lesson and because of that you wouldn’t stop looking for him.”

“It’s my job, but I promise you, I will replace him.” Steele took the photo from her and stood it back on the cabinet beside the bed. She was uncomfortable with Mia touching the picture. It was silly she knew, but it was the only photo she had of her and it meant a lot.

“If I helped you catch him would you let me live here with you? I wouldn’t be any trouble.” Mia lowered her head seeing Steele’s negative reaction.

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Mia?” Steele was suspicious. Something in her manner told her she was withholding something about Leon. She pushed again. “Mia? You have to tell me.”

Mia turned her head away from Steele. A guilty look if ever there was one. “I didn’t say before because I thought he might come back for me but I know now you’ll catch him first. I believe in you Steele.”

“Tell me Mia.” Steele knelt down to Mia’s level and took both her hands in hers. Mia turned to look at her. “What is it?”

“I pulled his mask off when I was trying get away. It just made him madder and he hurt me more.” Mia fought back tears. “I saw his face.”

Steele was shocked. She hoped this was true. If Mia had seen Leon’s face then this was the break she’d been waiting for. “Are you sure? Can you describe him?”

Mia pulled a sheet of folded paper from her pocket and offered it to Steele. “I drew this last night while you were out of it. I got an ‘A’ in art in my last assignment.”

Steele took the paper from Mia and sat on the bed staring at it. She was about to look at the face of Leon for the first time. Two years of searching and the time had finally arrived. She slowly unfolded the creased paper. The sketch was crude but here he was. The face of a murderer! The face of a rapist! The face of a child killer! The face of Leon.