The Girl Ch. 4

“If you are sure it does not displease you,” came her slightly uncertain half question.

“No, silly. It thrills me. I have never had such a wonderful lover before.”

After they showered and got dressed, they were off. Johnathan drove, because his license and insurance were for him alone, although he was fairly certain Desiree had been programmed with knowledge of how to drive in case of emergency.

He started up his old car. It was an old maroon Nissan Sentra XE he'd found for a couple grand in the early part of the century. Somehow it had simply never died. His mechanic was constantly amazed. Johnathan always said it was because he had such an amazingly good mechanic.

They drove off, looking for breakfast.

Johnathan had no idea where to go at first.

“So what sort of restaurant would you like to go to?” he asked. Desiree of course, had not a clue.

“What kind of restaurant is there?” she asked.

“Well, we have all kinds of food choices. American, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Italian... oh, wait, this is for breakfast, isn't it? Let's go to IHOP then.”

“Eye hop?” she asked quizzically. “What is 'eye hop'?”

“IHOP is the International House of Pancakes. 'IHOP' is what you get when you make a word out of only the first letters of all the words that make up the full name.”

“Ah. An acronym. I see. I-H-O-P.”

“Yes, IHOP, not 'eye hop',” he laughed.

Desiree was looking at everything as they drove.

“What is lick-you-or?” she asked.

“What is wha-?” he said, looking over. “Oh, liquor. Liquor is an alcoholic drink of various types.” The look on her face told him the definition made no sense. “You don't know what alcohol is for, do you?”

“Alcohol is for disinfecting topical wounds. It also can be used as a mild refrigerant, due to its rapid evaporative properties. It is not to be ingested, as it may cause blindness, or death.” Desiree paused for a moment, and then asked, “Why do you tell me that liquor is a drink made of alcohol, Johnathan? Was my programming done in error?”

“No, sweet. There are two – actually more than two – types of alcohol. One is the type you refer to. That's called 'rubbing alcohol'. There is another kind which you drink, and that's called 'grain alcohol' usually, although it can be made from other things besides grains.”

“So you can make alcohol from grain and from rubbing? I do not understand. How do you make alcohol from grain and rubbing? Do we make alcohol when we rub together? I have not sensed any alcohol when we touch.”

Johnathan had to laugh again.

“I am amusing in my questions, Johnathan?” she asked, even more confused.

“Yes, lover. Don't you ever change. I love how you enjoy learning. That I laugh only means you have brought me pleasure in some way.”

“Oh, then it is good that you laugh.” She managed a small, self-satisfied smile.

“Yes. Your desire to learn brings me pleasure in more than one way.”

“But how do you make alcohol from grain and rubbing?” she asked a second time.

“Well, love, you make alcohol from grain by fermenting it in a specific way. But you cannot make alcohol by rubbing. Rubbing alcohol is called that because you rub it on. Surely this cannot interest you very much?”

“It is fascinating, Johnathan. I feel pleasure when you teach me things.”

Breakfast at IHOP was a pleasant experience for them both, with her asking questions and him answering as best he could. Afterward, he decided to take her to the mall.

“What is a mall?” she asked, predictably.

“It is a large building with various types of stores in it.”

“That makes sense,” she said. “It would afford for an opportunity to cater to the customer in several ways, including avoidance of temperature extremes and weather.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “There's that, and the convenience of the stores all being close together.”

When they arrived and parked, he asked what sort of stores she would like to visit.

“Is there a grow-ling store?” she timidly asked.

Instantly, he was filled with apprehension. Should he have brought her here? Was this a good idea?

“Yes, there's a grow-ling store, love,.”, he replied, unable to lie to her. “It's where I... placed my order for you.” Somehow that sounded bad to him. It felt bad, too. On the one hand, he loved her dearly, and she was the light of his life. On the other hand, maybe this wasn't much different than slavery?

“I want to go there, then,” she said, oblivious to his obvious feelings of guilt.

“What about the bookstore, or the music store, or the game shop? How about the clothing stores?” he asked, trying to shake it off.

“I want to go to the grow-ling store.”

“Er, ok,” he replied. “What do you want to do there?”

“Get a checkup, of course.”

“A checkup?” he asked, surprised. “You've only been with me a day or so! You don't need a checkup!”

“I feel the desire to go to the grow-ling store and get a checkup, Johnathan. Please let me. It cannot be a bad thing for me to be interested in my health, can it? I want to be healthy for you, just as I want you to be healthy for me.”

“OK,” Johnathan said. “When you put it like that,”

Into the mall they went, past the optometrist and the dentist and the pretzel shop, past the mall help desk, the candy store, the antiques shop, the wicker and rattan furniture store, and others. Desiree seemed to instinctively know where the grow-ling shop was, and actually led Johnathan to it. It wasn't a big shop, mostly empty space, a few white lab-coated technicians and a series of example grow-lings to interact with. Johnathan worried what Desiree might think.

She walked right in and up to a technician. Then she said, “Grow-ling, Paragon Enterprises model 1733-20WFS, serial number P-00098-F6J3 presenting for checkup.” Immediately, she went into the anatomical pose – staring straight ahead, arms slightly out from the body, palms forward, legs shoulder width apart. She did not move at all.

Desiree had chosen an attractive young black woman of medium height and average build. Like the other technicians, she wore a clean white lab coat.

“Hello there, my name is Lorinda.” she said to Johnathan. “I see you have your grow-ling with you. Here for a checkup, sir?”

“Hi, I'm Johnathan Mazrick. We were going to wander the mall, but Desiree here seemed insistent on coming here.”

“Let me look up your file,” said Lorinda. She pulled something out of a lab coat pocket and put it on her right forefinger. It looked like a wide white ceramic ring, but it only fit over the first joint of her index finger. She pressed it against the left side of Desiree's neck for a moment. Then it beeped and began to speak in an odd gender-neutral voice.

“Paragon Enterprises grow-ling, model 1733-20WFS, serial number P-00098-F6J3 – authenticated.

“Reading biodata... reading... reading... reading... done. Would you like an audio report?”

“Yes,” said Lorinda.

“Reporting on Paragon Enterprises grow-ling, model 1733-20WFS, serial number P-00098-F6J3. No unauthorized modifications detected. Register B is reporting abnormally high levels of psychotronic activity. Levels exceed upper bounds for measurements. Grow-ling is a Psion. Register S is reporting active calibration ongoing and unfinished. Register E is reporting active calibration ongoing and unfinished. Register M is reporting active calibration ongoing and unfinished. Register P has been calibrated successfully.

“Grow-ling P-00098-F6J3 has been aware and active for 33 hours, 21 minutes. Actual chronological age is 2 weeks, 3 days, 13 hours, 36 minutes. Checking interface consistency... all bio-mnemonic interfaces are consistent. Scanning core systems... System N is reporting abnormal sensitivity. Resolving power is 6,421 percent of normal for subsystems N-S and N-E. System E is projection-capable. All other systems report normal tolerances, with an error of plus or minus one nanovar.”

There was silence for a moment. The other technicians had come over to listen, as well.

“What did that all mean? Is she all right?” asked Johnathan.

“Wow,” replied Lorinda. “I'd say she's better than all right. She's a multichannel Psion!”

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked. This time it was a geeky looking white guy in a lab coat and coke bottle glasses who answered in a nasal of voice.

“It means your grow-ling is capable of several types of psychic activity. She's also capable of healing by touch. This is the first time I have ever heard of such a thing. I suggest a full spectrum diagnostic. Psionic centers only.” Lorinda took the suggestion, and gave the ceramic looking device the command.

The ring-like device responded immediately.

“Psionic centers active. Eighty-nine percent are open and reporting. Active psionic disciplines detected include: Empathic reception, at eighty-nine percent of capacity. Empathic projection, at eighty-seven percent of capacity. Telepathic reception, at twenty-one percent of capacity. Telepathic projection, at seven percent of capacity. Telekinetic projection, at two percent of capacity. Temporal dysplasic awareness, at one percent of capacity. Projective awareness nullification, at sixty-six percent of capacity. Psychometric reception, at sixty-four percent of capacity. Psychometric -”

“Holy hell!” exclaimed the geeky man, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be a professional. “She's got it in spades!”

Another man in a lab coat came forward, and said, “Remember they said that the redheaded ones were more likely to have it?”

Lorinda spoke up.

“Mister Mazrick, it appears your grow-ling is a bit unusual. She displays psychic ability beyond anything we have seen in a grow-ling before. The reason we're excited is because we have been doing research into what causes psychic ability in grow-lings, hoping to find a way to someday be able to induce it in a controlled manner in humans. Would you mind terribly if we did some work with Desiree?”

“What kind of work?” he asked, a bit nervous.

“Well, we'd like to make a note of what sequences we used to construct her, and give her some tests. Here, let's go into the lab entrance in the back, where we can all sit down. Desiree, you can relax now.” Desiree relaxed and assumed a normal stance. They all went in the back.

The lab entrance was lit by fluorescent light, with a few white coats hanging near the first door. There was a second door across the room, as well as some lockers and a table and some chairs. Various things on the table told Johnathan that this was a break room.

Please, sit down, both of you,” said Lorinda, as she pulled out a chair for herself and sat down. Johnathan pulled out a seat for Desiree and then sat down himself. Lorinda continued.

“You see, we have noted, in the years we have spent creating grow-lings, that we are learning a lot of things about ourselves as humans by what happens when we create them. At first, we determined that psychic ability was science fact through these wonderful creations, but we could almost never find one who had the gift strongly enough to measure well, and who also survived the growing process to the end.

“If we can determine what it is that let Desiree become so psychic and survive the growing process, we could figure out how to alter the human genetic program to unlock the psychic ability in all of us. Imagine the potentials! We could know things before they happened, perhaps; or master telepathic communication; or find ways to heal with psychic touch!”

“I healed Johnathan this morning,” said Desiree. “He burned his arm with hot grease while cooking.”

“Simply astounding,” said Lorinda. “As you can see, this has great potential for helping all of mankind. If you agree, we could do some tests and see if we can learn anything further from her. Let me tell you a little more about the preliminary tests we'd be doing.

“First, we would put her through a battery of tests that simply read her responses. Stuff like temperature, blink rate, breathing rate, heart rate, and so on.

“Then, we'd ask her a series of questions and map what sections of her brain fired. Based on the responses to these tests, we could tell if further tests would reveal more information about her psychic ability.

“The tests are all harmless, of course. Even the second and third stages are. We would never think of harming your grow-ling, naturally, since she's bought and paid for – and company policy forbids it, since it's immoral.”

“Not to mention against international law,” Johnathan added.

“Precisely. However, Paragon Enterprises prides itself on pre-empting the law. We set our standards well above and beyond what the law requires of us. So you have nothing to worry about there. That's one of the reasons I came to work for Paragon, actually. If it's all right with you, I'd like to set an appointment for you to come back in when we are better prepared to do the testing we have in mind. Say next Monday?”

“She won't have to stay here, will she? I don't want her to be sent away or anything. She's quite sensitive emotionally, you know, and very attached to me.”

“Oh, believe me, Mister Mazrick, I know. She has bonded quite deeply with you by now, I'm sure. Growlings are genetically programmed to do that. By the results of her scan, I'd say this one's bonded much faster and more deeply than usual. But no, you can be with her the whole time, and she never has to go anywhere.”

“Well, in that case, if it's going to help as much as you say it will, I can do that. Monday?” he asked.

“Yes, we'll say Monday at noon, how's that?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Excellent,” said Lorinda. “Excellent.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

On the way home, Desiree asked questions.

“What are they going to do with me? I don't understand what they're interested in,” she said.

“Well, remember how you healed me this morning?” Johnathan asked, taking a moment to enjoy her beautiful sapphire eyes, wavy red hair and freckled face. “Apparently, it's your ability to do things of that nature that interests them.”

“They want to study me so they can make real people able to do those things?”

“Real people?” said Johnathan, surprised. “Baby, you are a real person.”

“No, Johnathan. Remember? I'm just a grow-ling. Real people are born. Real people have belly buttons, remember? Like you do.” She reached over hand put her left hand over his shirt-covered belly button.

“Sweetheart, real people are people who have real feelings. Do you have real feelings?”

“Well, I... I feel... and I feel emotions... but how can I know if I have real feelings?”

Johnathan pulled into his driveway, and stopped the car. Then he turned to her and said, “Close your eyes.” She closed them, and he continued.

“You know when you are having real feelings because they make you act in ways you can't help. Like this...” he said, and then proceeded to give her a gentle, sensual kiss. Her lips were so soft and silky, he couldn't believe his good fortune in having come to be with this woman, grow-ling or not. She melted into his kiss, and moaned lightly as she kissed him back, eyes still closed.

“See? I never taught you how to respond to a kiss like that. Did anyone else?”

“No... not that I remember,” she said. He could see her face showing signs of a sex flush already. Johnathan loved that about pale -skinned redheads. They showed their arousal in interesting, sexy ways.

“You're so beautiful when your cheeks are flushed,” he said.

“Flushed? I have never been in a toilet before,” she responded, sincerely. It made him laugh.

“Silly woman! I don't mean flushed as in flushing a toilet!” He grinned hugely. “I mean flushed as in, 'Your face is flushed.' In that sense of the word, it means your facial blood vessels have relaxed and more blood is getting through them. It makes your skin appear pink, or 'flushed' where it happens.”

“Oh. I think I understand. You can flush a toilet and you can flush your face. But flushing your face involves turning pink, and flushing your toilet involves removing excrement. Why must there be so much confusion with this language?” she asked, slightly vexed.

Johnathan laughed again, good naturedly.

“That's just the way English is, it's a strange language, but I kinda like it,.” he replied as he winked at her.

That evening, she was watching TV for the first time in her life, and was quite absorbed in it. Johnathan casually sat down next to her and when he noted the level of her engrossment, he asked, “So what will I prepare for dinner tonight?”

Without thinking about it or taking her eyes off the TV, she answered.

“You're thinking about preparing beef tips in linguine with Marsala, but you're not sure if it should be beef tips or shrimp.” He was stunned. She was dead on accurate.

The television, he noticed, seemed to really draw her in. She got very lost in the television. She seemed to like watching sitcoms that he considered ridiculous. This, of course, was her first time watching TV, but she had proceeded to tune out almost everything with surprising ease. When he'd finally gotten through to her and gotten that answer, he'd been amazed. The television annoyed him a little, since it took up all her attention; but with her conscious mind out of the way, she was amazingly accurate psychically. He decided on Shrimp Marsala using linguine instead of angel hair pasta.

When it was ready, they ate their fill. Large, fresh shrimp, sautéed to perfection in a sauce of Marsala, salted butter and garlic, and then mixed with perfect al dente linguine, steaming hot. He preferred linguine, since it was more to his liking for its texture.

Desiree decided she loved pasta, but could do without the shrimp. Johnathan was astounded that anyone could refuse such fabulous shrimp. They were so fresh they were actually crisp! Somehow, beyond his comprehension, she didn't like them, so he ate her shrimp as well as his own. She, on the other hand, ate all her pasta and then what was left in the pot. He couldn't believe she could pack so much away.

It was wonderful to lay on his bed with her, stuffed. Her belly was so full that she looked slightly pregnant. It turned him on. She, on the other hand, had started getting aroused as soon as she saw the bed, and it wasn't long before she started to get up from lying there with him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I'm getting ready for you, Johnathan,” she said with a smile, as she got to her knees on the bed and started to remove her top. The top had a bra type thing built in, so when it came free, her lovely, pert breasts were standing proudly on their own. Desiree had such pale areolas that they were practically invisible. Her nipples were erect, and they were what he liked to think of as a sort of 'hungry pink', kind of a flushed version of their normal color. What would have been easily visible areola on another woman was only discernible on her because it was contracted with arousal around her nipples.

“Oh, what a wonderful view,” he breathed. “Even upside down,”

“I am not upside down, Johnathan. You are laying down funny.” He had his head in the direction she was, and she was facing the top of his head. This gave him an idea, and made him smile wickedly.

“Desiree, I want you to do something for me,.” he said.

“What shall I do for you, Johnathan?”

“I want you to stay right there, don't move, and close your eyes.”

“OK,” she said, charmingly trusting in his request. She closed her eyes and stood there, wearing only her skirt, standing on his bed on only her knees. He moved himself forward like an inchworm, using his shoulders and butt to squinch along until he had his face beneath her skirt. Here, the warmth of her sex was obvious, and it felt pleasant on his face. Too, her scent was likewise trapped, and was several times stronger than he was used to. He drank it into his lungs luxuriantly.