The Prototype Ch. 02

"Why don't you just copy your creation and put the information on your own PC? Then, once the testing is over and you've received your reward, you can just copy the information and transfer it to the new model."

Bailey shifted from one foot to the other, "I would, except that my creation is only possible on the prototype. I don't think it would be that easy. In fact, I don't think it'll work at all."

In spite of the effort it took for Bailey to keep from giving too much information, Mr. Wicket seemed to already know what it was that he had created. And, unfortunately for Bailey (and especially Amy), the man didn't appear to care.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kingman, but once the prototype had told us all we need to know, we have to delete all personal information and program settings from it in order to begin producing more of the model. Maybe, once the prototype is of no further use to us, if you're willing to wait until it is, that is, we might be able to give it to you as your reward. Beyond that, I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do."

Bailey stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked back to his car. He felt deflated, his plan to see Kit thwarted by Mr. Wicket. Unfortunately, he was only left with one option...he would take the prototype and run. Amy might have to endure a little bit of time in the darkness of the prototype, but it would be far more preferable to being wiped from existence. He drove back to his apartment, his mind working to develop a plan for this option.

From the second he opened the door, Amy could tell that Bailey hadn't been able to talk any sense into them. He closed the door behind him and sank down onto the couch, his brows furrowed. Amy waited for him to say something.

Finally, he blurted, "I didn't even get to talk to Kit! Mr. Wicket was there, and he said that Kit was away on some meeting. I have a feeling that Mr. Wicket has some idea of what's going on, and he just doesn't care!"

Amy's crystal-green eyes looked haunted as she sat next to him. She looked straight ahead, quiet for a few moments. Then, when she spoke, she sounded as if she was as good as erased.

"It's kind of difficult to enjoy living when you know that you're scheduled to be obliterated."

Bailey turned his head, shocked, "No! I'm not gonna let them wipe you out! If I have to risk everything, I won't let them kill you."

She looked at the floor for a few seconds, and when she looked back at him, her eyes were filled with tears that she struggled not to shed.

"We'll leave now," Bailey stood up and began pacing, "If we're lucky, they won't notice until they come for the prototype, and that'll give us four days head start. I-"

Before his eyes, she suddenly disappeared, her face wearing an expression of terror. Bailey whirled toward the prototype and saw that the power had turned off. Then he felt a sudden stabbing right between his shoulder blades, and as he fell to the floor, he had time to think, they've been listening, and then everything became fluid, whirling around him. He saw Mr. Wicket's face showing disapproval, and heard him say, "You disappoint us, Mr. Kingman. You haven't even had the prototype for a full day, and you were planning on running with it. Is a girl who doesn't even really exist worth all this? She's not even real!"

Bailey mumbled, "I'll kill you if you...erase..."

Mr. Wicket's voice followed into unconsciousness, "Such a disappointing day..."

Images whirled around his mind as he dreamed, images of Amy as she had appeared at his door, her black hair, so glossy, her brilliant green eyes. Another image blotted it all out as if the memory were a moon eclipsing the life-giving light of the sun; it was the memory of the stark terror in her eyes as she vanished. This memory shattered his drug-induced slumber. He struggled into consciousness to find himself in a small concrete room, sprawled out on a cot. The spot on his back from the (syringe? dart?) needle with which he had been viciously stabbed ached dully. He felt groggy, his head spinning, the room tilting slightly.

He shook his head to clear it and struggled to his feet. He stumbled to the heavy door and pounded on it, yelling for somebody to let him out. The combination of the pounding and his yelling caused sharp pains to stab at his head, and he had to stop before he passed out again. He stood there, swaying on his feet and holding his aching head like a losing boxer only a punch from the mat. Then the door opened, and before him stood Kit Daniels. As he spoke, his voice sounded jovial, as if he had simply offered Bailey a room to stay in while he slept off a hangover.

"Well, I see you're awake, Mr. Kingman. Would you like something to drink, water perhaps?"

"Amy..." Bailey whispered, still swaying.

"Who?" Kit seemed confused.

Bailey asked wearily, dreading the answer, "Where's...Amy?"

Kit shook his head for a few more seconds, perplexed, and then a dawning shone in his dark eyes, "Ah...So you used the prototype to create a...companion for yourself. What, did you read the manual?"

Bailey had to sit down; he felt his legs trembling under him, only partially from the drug's effects. If he was too late, then that meant that Amy no longer existed. He buried his face in his hands.

"Did you...delete the information on the prototype?"

Kit shook his head, "I don't think so, not yet, anyway?" He hesitated as he considered the reasons that Bailey would ask this question, and then his eyes widened, "No, not yet. Please, Mr. Kingman, follow me."

Kit had to help Bailey, since the poor guy's legs were still unsteady. They reached a large room with a sealed door. Next to the door, a cipher-lock was mounted on the wall. It had a ten digit keypad and a slot to insert a card. Above the cipher-lock was a box with a speaker. A silver button was displayed under the speaker. Kit pressed the button.

"Diane, it's Kit. Have you erased the information on the prototype we brought in yet?"

Three long seconds of silence, and then a female's voice responded through the speaker, "No sir, we're about a minute away from it. Should we hurry the process?"

"No, Diane, stop the process, please. I'm coming in, and bringing the subject who did the testing."

"You've got it, sir. Testing stopped, and all exposed components are covered."

Kit pulled a card from his lab coat and inserted into the slot next to the keypad, and then pressed a series of ten digits. The red light on the slot blinked off, and a green light replaced it. The door audibly unlocked. Bailey followed him into a small, closet-sized room with fans and sprays. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, a loud hissing issued, and a cloudy gas filled the room.

Over the loud hiss, Kit explained, "Decontamination process! It'll only take ten seconds!"

Sure enough, after ten seconds, the hissing stopped and the room began to clear. Once the gas had disappeared through the fans, the inner door clicked, and Kit pushed it open. Bailey followed Kit into a large laboratory. Computer components sat in clear bags and boxes everywhere. There were seven technicians, all clad in white clean-suits, all engaged in various tasks. They looked up and saw Kit and another man they'd never seen before, slightly unsteady on his feet. One of the technicians came forward and shook Kit's hand.

"Good to see you, sir," she said. A small card hung around her neck with her picture, name, and a small chip. The card read GOODWARE, Inc., and under it, DIANE COOPER.

Kit nodded, slightly smiling, "You, too, Diane. It was a short trip, luckily. Where is the prototype?"

Diane pointed behind her at a large, clear box, which contained the entire prototype, including the mouse, keyboard, and monitor.

Kit nodded, turned to Bailey, and nodded towards the enclosed prototype, "Mr. Kingman, she's waiting for you."

Bailey took a hesitant step, completely confused. Compared to the seemingly evil Mr. Wicket, Kit Daniels was very accommodating, accepting, like a favorite uncle. He used the counter for balance as he unlatched the Plexiglass lid and pressed the power button. The computer booted, the whirring inside the PC barely audible. Then the Goodware logo appeared, and the desktop blinked onto the monitor.

"Amy," Bailey whispered, his eyes searching the screen, "Please be there."

A few gut-wrenching seconds ticked by, and then a face appeared on the screen and Bailey let out a sob of relief.

The face looked frightened for a second, and then a smile slowly spread as she recognized Bailey's face in front of her.

"It's you..." she spoke through the speakers, her hope evident as she dared to believe that Bailey had somehow managed to get to her before it was too late.

"Come out, please," Bailey managed in a choked voice, "Come here."

Her face disappeared from the monitor, and then the loud hissing from the decontamination room made everyone jump. Bailey whirled to face the door, somehow waiting the eternal ten seconds before the decontamination process was done, and then the door opened, and in stepped Amy, clad in a simple, sky-blue sundress. She appeared astonished to find herself alive and out of the darkness. She looked around the room, amazed at the whiteness after the dark.

"Amy," Bailey breathed, afraid to believe that she was really there. Her eyes locked on his, and she rushed to him, her arms out, tears in her brilliant, green eyes. He vaguely noticed that Kit had respectfully fallen back a step. Behind him, some of the technicians gasped at Amy's beauty.

Only when he could feel Amy's embrace, when he could feel her arms squeeze almost painfully, when she pressed her face against his chest, could he dare to believe that all of this was real. His arms found their way around her, his hands amazed to find that they could feel her back under them. A few of the technicians applauded; Diane had to remove the face protector from her head to wipe a few tears from her eyes, she was so moved.

While Kit had left, excusing himself for a few minutes, Bailey found out, now that he was reunited with Amy, he couldn't let go of her; as long as he at least could hold her hand in his, he would be fine. Amy constantly squeezed his hand reassuringly, understanding how close to falling apart Bailey was. When Kit returned, it was with Mr. Wicket, whose eyes widened when he saw that not only was Bailey there, but so was a gorgeous, black-haired woman in a dress. He looked at Kit for answers only to find none. Bailey's eyes narrowed and his teeth bared at the sight of Mr. Wicket, who flinched slightly. Kit noted Bailey's response and decided to get to the bottom of it.

"Mr. Kingman, my understanding is that you were attempting to steal the prototype under your care. Is this true?" Kit didn't seem upset, only curious, as if he already knew the circumstances.

Bailey nodded, "I had to protect Amy."

Mr. Wicket sputtered, "B-but she's not real! It's all a part of how the prototype works!"

Kit raised his hand, "Actually, you're only partially correct. She wasn't real. Mr. Kingman created her, followed the instruction manual, and she became real because that's what he needed."

Chagrined, "She can't be real! You can't create a person out of nothing; it's just not physically possible!"

Kit laughed, amused by Mr. Wicket's protests rather than inflamed, "Mr. Wicket, please, just give me a second, will you?" He indicated Amy, "Technically, Amy here has always existed, just as Bailey has. He only asked for her to exist with him. It's not such a difficult feat. In fact, back in the beginning, if I'm not mistaken, two were created from what seemed like nothing. Do you disagree, Mr. Wicket?"

Mr. Wicket paled, stammering, "Y-yes, sir, you're completely right, but this man," he indicated Bailey, who still looked ready to pounce, "this man is no Creator!"

Laughing again, Kit agreed, "Very true...but I am. And the capabilities of the prototype reflect that aspect of my power. Therefore, with such...powerful capabilities, Mr. Kingman has been granted the ability to create something, something that he needs so that he can become a better man. Thus, we have Amy, newly created, who is as real, if not more real, than any of us."

Bailey couldn't quite follow the two men's words. Amy, on the other hand, nodded as if in understanding.

Mr. Wicket, conceding defeat on the particular argument, brought to the front another subject, "Okay, but by attempting to steal the prototype, Mr. Kingman has violated the terms of his contract, and deserves no reward."

"It's true, he did intend to steal the prototype," Kit allowed, "However, there is the matter of why. Due to the creation of Amy, and the fact that you were planning to have her erased, he intended to steal the prototype to protect his creation. Amy herself warned him of the certain death he faced if he were to go through with it."

Amy's eyes momentarily widened in surprise. Then she realized just who he was, and it made sense.

Kit continued, "So, even in the face of certain death, he would have gone through with the theft. Such selflessness, risking his life to ensure that Amy would live as she deserves to, should not go unrewarded."

"But he violated the contract!" Mr. Wicket's face reddened in frustration.

Kit reached into one of the pockets of his lab coat and pulled a thrice-folded sheaf of papers, unfolded it, and looked over the contract.

"Hmm," he nodded, "Actually, nowhere on this contract does it say that any attempted theft of the prototype by the participant will violate the terms and forfeit the reward."

He handed it to Mr. Wicket, who furiously scrutinized the contract.

Kit added, "And you signed it as a witness, so you were there. So, for the successful testing of our prototype, Mr. Kingman will receive his reward as is written in the contract."

Kit led Mr. Wicket away from the others, and, out of earshot, whispered something to the man. Bailey noted with some satisfaction, that Mr. Wicket paled considerably in fear, and quickly left the clean-room.

Turning back to Bailey and Amy, Kit gestured warmly, "Amy, I understand that you have some boundaries, a certain distance you cannot stray beyond, according to the prototype. I can release you from the prototype and the boundaries if you'd like. However, stand warned that your ability to pick objects off the internet at will shall cease if I release you."

Amy nodded, tears of happiness filling her eyes.

Kit looked at Bailey, "And is this fine with you?"

Bailey nodded as well, "I don't care about that. I just want her to be with me. That's all."

As if he had expected exactly that response, he smiled, "Excellent answer, Mr. Kingman. Amy, you are now free of the prototype. Be good to each other; You both deserve happiness."

He turned to go, and stopped with his hand on the door. He turned his head and looked back at the two, "I just had a thought. As a wedding gift, you can keep the things that Amy...um, purchased. Also, your wedding, wherever and whenever you chose to have one, will be paid for in full. Enjoy, kids...and live."

After he had left, the technicians went back to work, erasing the information on the prototype. Diane explained to them, "We'll have it scrubbed and ready for the next participant that Mr. Daniels chooses, the next person in need."

Amy, unlike Bailey, had a full grasp of everything that was going on. She asked, "Is he really who he says he is?"

Diane chuckled merrily, "Oh, all that and more, dear! He had your man picked out before He even had the advertisement sent to him. You've seen the name of our incorporation, right?"

Amy nodded, "You mean the symbol for infinity in the name?"

Diane illuminated, "It was His little joke. He loves a good joke, you know? Well, technically, the infinity symbol is really only one 'O' that has been twisted to make the symbol."

"Godware... I didn't know that."

"Most people don't, and it's what He wants. You'd be surprised how many people would be offended if it was Godware instead of Goodware. They would think it was sacrilege! So, not only is the symbol useful for secrecy, but who is the only one to whom the symbol applies to? Believe it or not, it's the irony that He considers to be the joke."

Amy smiled, "Thank you for everything. And, could you thank Him for us?"

Diane winked, her gas-flame blue eyes sparkling, "I'd be honored to. Now, you kids run along home. I believe you two have some living to do."

Amy had to drive, since Bailey was still partially out of it. He only spoke to give her the directions to the apartment, and he refused to let go of her hand, not even to let her drive with both hands.

"You poor thing," Amy sympathized, "I know, it's quite a lot to comprehend. But when you think about the fact that I was created from a computer, it's quite easy to believe that it has to be God that made the computer. Now, let's get you home. You look like you need some good old-fashioned rest."

"I'm so sorry, Amy," Bailey whispered.

Amy had to think about his apology for a second, trying to make sure that he had said what she'd thought. "Why is that?"

"If Mr. Daniels...if God hadn't been there, Mr. Wicket would've had you erased, and I would've failed to save you."

"And I'm sure Mr. Wicket will be sorry for being so...stupid, but you did all you could. If you hadn't tried to save me, I don't know what would've happened. Besides, I have you to thank for creating me in the first place. And, believe me, I will make you happy that you did."

I would like to say that they lived happily ever after...it would be only fitting...but the important thing is that they lived.