Sinthetica (3 page)

4

While he waited for Molenski to finish showering, Ivan began to think about the delivery. He was curious to find out what it was. No matter how clever his boss was at hiding his emotions, Ivan had known the Russian long enough to realize that whatever it was, he was more excited about it than he had been about anything in a long time.

After dressing again, Molenski and Ivan went down to the first floor, what Ivan thought of as the main level of the huge home. It contained entertaining and dining areas, offices, servant’s bedrooms and a galley style kitchen. It also contained a receiving dock, located behind the kitchen.

Ostensibly the dock was for deliveries of fresh produce and groceries, but, unsurprisingly given its owner, it was also used for the discreet delivery of contraband, both large and small.

Even before they were down the stairs, the delicious aroma of freshly baked pumpkin pie wafted up to them, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning, Dimitri Molenski thought of his wife.

The night before, he had ordered Isabella, his cook, to bake Tatiana a pumpkin pie as a welcome home from her trip to New York.

Tatiana, twenty years younger than Molenski and only freshly arrived from Russia, had certainly embraced her new American lifestyle. Strangely, pumpkin pie was her American dish of choice, although, being fickle, it was more than possible his wife had decided she hated it while she was away visiting her cousins.

“Good morning,” said the pretty Hispanic woman, as they entered the gleaming kitchen.

Ivan smiled and nodded at Isabella, but Molenski ignored her as he looked at his TAG Heuer. 11:23 am, Tatiana was flying in at 2:30 that afternoon.

That would give him plenty of time to check out his new toy, but he would probably have to wait until later tonight before he played with it. It crossed his mind that perhaps Tatiana, who was much more open to his more sinister pastimes, would be interested in playing with it too. No. There was no way. This was something personal to him, and he intended to enjoy it all by himself. 

“Pumpkin pie, dah?” asked Ivan, who had quite a liking for the cook. “Perhaps save me a slice?”

“Perhaps,” she said, noncommittally but smiling.

“Come, Ivan,” Molenski said, over his shoulder as he headed into the dining room and towards the balcony that looked over the rear of the estate.

Ivan smiled at Isabella and shrugged before hurrying to catch up with his boss.

Through the floor to ceiling glass, Ivan could see Marina, Molenski’s personal assistant, enjoying a cup of coffee on the balcony that overlooked the estate and the city beyond its walls. The attractive brunette held a small tablet in her hands.

“What do you have there, Marina?” asked Molenski, sitting down at the table next to her.

Marina was dressed immaculately in a gray business skirt and crisp white shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

“It’s the control tablet for…”

She stopped, looking over Molenski’s shoulder at Ivan.

“It’s fine. He’ll see soon enough.”

“Okay. Well, it’s the control tablet for your order.”

The item looked more like a small sheet of glass with words printed in on it than any tablet Ivan had ever seen.

She held it out, and Molenski accepted the wafer thin object. He read the text on the screen then turned it over, watching as the print on the screen moved and then flipped over to be right side up again.

“Clever. But not practical. What happens if I drop it?”

“Genitix guarantees the control tablet for two years, sir, the same as the machine itself. The tablet, like the machine, is supposed to be invulnerable to all but the
heaviest
abuse.” 

His eyes narrowed at the emphasis. She looked at him levelly.

Without breaking her gaze, he suddenly raised the tablet and smacked it against the table they were seated at. Marina flinched and involuntarily clapped her hand over her mouth.

Her boss held the tablet up and inspected it. It was undamaged.

He put it on the table as if bored.

“So, no problems with the delivery?”

“No sir, the tech was reluctant to deliver the machine without running through a demonstration, but he didn’t argue when I told him it wouldn’t be necessary. I think it might have been his first delivery; he was very nervous...”

“Come, let’s go and look at it,” he said interrupting her and picking up the tablet again.

Ivan led the way; Marina followed him and Molenski brought up the rear. The Russian was in a good mood and watched Marina’s ass appreciatively as they walked through to the dock. Molenski was a man of many appetites, and he had a feeling that that one day soon he might have to show the serious young woman a few of them.

The mainly empty dock consisted of a raised horseshoe shaped platform that delivery trucks could back into. At the rear of the dock on the raised platform stood a tall timber crate. The unmistakable circular Genitix logo marked all four sides of the crate and just in case one missed it, G E N I T I X was also stamped diagonally in large black print across the front and back.

Molenski, for once, his excitement unrestrained, stepped past Marina, handing her the control tablet as he went. He pushed by Ivan and stopped in front of the crate.

“Pass me that crowbar, Ivan.”

Once it was in his hands, he didn’t waste time. He slid the claw end into the top corner of the crate and began to jimmy it open.

“Grab this edge and pull,” he snapped at Ivan. He then moved the crowbar down a foot and jimmied it again.

Ivan slipped the fingers of both hands under the edge and peeled the lid away as effortlessly as opening a door. The nails screeched as they came free of the rough pine. Marina’s eyes widened at this display of strength, but Molenski seemed unimpressed as he threw the crowbar to the concrete. Ivan carried the panel he had just removed and propped it up against the wall at the rear of the dock. The reverse side of the panel was lined with Styrofoam insulation, like a cooler box and was heavier than the bodyguard expected. 

Molenski stepped up to the crate and Marina moved in so she also had a better view.

A film of clear plastic held back gallons of Styrofoam packing beads. Molenski jabbed his fingers through the barrier and ripped it away impatiently, releasing an avalanche of beads. The beads pooled around their feet like a drift of snow.

“Oh my,” said Marina.

Standing in the box, eyes closed and wearing nothing but white lace panties and bra, was a beautiful young woman.

For the first time in a long time, Dimitri Molenski was dumbstruck. It wasn’t just any young woman. It was Inga. His teenage sweetheart… the girl killed in front of his eyes thirty years before. The girl
he
should have been able to kill in his own sweet time. The girl who robbed him of the chance.

He drank in the sight of her, scarcely able to believe this custom designed machine wasn’t actually her. She was perfect.

Ivan looked on, amazed. Clearly, it was a machine, the labeling on the crate left him in no doubt of that. But this was like no human form robot he had seen before.

The first Genitix androids in 2020 had been easy to spot with their waxy, synthetic skin and jerky movement, but robotics and other technology had advanced a lot in the last ten years. The new generation Genitix robots had lithium-ion batteries that could last for 20 years without charging or replacing, and their skin was living tissue that could bleed and heal just like the human skin it was modeled on.

Ivan was certain that if he didn’t
know
that the thing in the box was a machine, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Molenski reached out and brushed some beads out of the robot’s hair. She was beautiful, no – more than beautiful – flawless, and just as he remembered her. Helpless to resist, he reached out and poked the skin of her ripe breast, just above the curve of the bra cup. Her skin was warm to the touch and when he removed his finger, just like a real woman’s would, the indentation from his finger sprang back quickly. 

Ivan and Marina watched, fascinated. Marina smiled as Molenski again reached out, this time placing the flat of his hand against her side. He felt goosebumps break out on her skin and snatched his hand away.

He turned on Marina, grabbing her by the shirt and pulling her close. 

“Is this some trick? An actress with plastic surgery?”

“What? No, Sir… she’s not real. You saw the prototypes. They modeled her from the picture you gave them!”

He stared into her eyes a moment longer then, seemingly satisfied, released her. Marina steadied herself and smoothed her shirt.

Fuck, I so have to get a new job
…
goddam
psycho.

“We’ll see,” Molenski said, still not convinced.

He knew full well that plastic surgery had also come a long way in the last few years. He had even considered paying for a real girl to have it done, but using a real girl would have been… problematic, given what he had planned.

Molenski pulled his gun from his pants before stepping back up to the crate and jamming the muzzle of the gun hard into the soft midriff of the girl in the box.

“Open your fucking eyes or I’ll blow your guts out…” he whispered.

There was no reaction, to either the gun, which would have winded anyone unprepared for it, or the words. Nevertheless, he slapped her hard across the cheek, before finally believing she was a machine.

He took the time to study her now. His memory of her had faded in the years since, but it was the Inga he remembered. Her pretty face with its fine features, framed by the same soft, light brown hair. Again he reached out, this time prodding her alluring lips. They were soft and pliable when he pushed them open; her teeth were perfect. He turned his head to Marina, still holding the lip down. 

“She
will
feel pain, right? That was what they promised.”

“Yes sir, you specifically requested the sensitivity feature and signed the non-disclosure. It created quite a bit of controversy a year or so ago, as you know.”

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully. “And she will bleed?” he asked, waggling the lip up and down.

Oh my God, you sick fuck.

Not for the first time, Marina wondered who the poor girl he had modeled her on had been.

“Yes, sir. Superficially of course, and it’ll also bruise and heal. The RealFlesh is only a few centimeters deep, though. It’s still a machine underne…”

“Dah!” He cut her off as if he didn’t want to be reminded. “How do we turn her on?”

“Either by the control tablet or there is a button behind her right ear,” she said, wondering if he even realized he was calling the machine ‘she’ and ‘her.'

Ivan, who had been taking everything in, was barely able to take his eyes from the vision in the crate as he took the tablet from Marina and handed it to Molenski.

She, the robot, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he completely understood his boss’s initial reluctance to believe the girl wasn’t real.

The instructions Marina had been reading earlier had disappeared, and when Molenski touched the screen, the tablet began to glow softly before displaying a menu.

Instructions

Start

Activate software

Restart

Shut down

He touched his finger to the start icon and the screen changed.

Please enter your five digit authorization code