1

“AnSIL, I want you to listen to me like- like an Incubus concentrating. Every time we take you in for a checkup, they reset that chip in your brain that makes you so wonderful because it’s also… honey, it’s gonna kill you. Bert won’t pay to let you go when I’m gone and he can’t sell you so you have to get to this man, Woodrow Raymond, he promised to fix your chip. You have to run now, so pick your moment. Don’t tell anyone, just run.”


The screen flickered and AnSIL was left in the darkness of the tiny screening room. Without Calista, he had no purpose. He was made for her. Still, he didn’t want her last wish to be in vain.
He reflected quietly for several minutes before opening the door, took the vid card and put it in his pack to join the others in the central solarium.
They always had their little quarrels with one another but today they sat as siblings, surrounded by officers of the court.
“AnSIL, SILer, SILvia. Subtle,” Officer Barnsley looked up at the pathetic, huddled group from her notepad with a look of pity on her face, “SILica based drones, I take it?”
“No ma’am,” SILer answered, “We’re synthetic humans but we’re running on some old silicon-iridium chips.”
“Right,” Barnsley glanced back at her pad, “Sex, violence and shopping. What does ‘seconds’ mean?”
“Imperfect,” SILer answered, “We were prototypes that weren’t picked up for production.”
Barnsley looked over the group, her eyes settling on SILvia, “You’re platinum blonde and fit like them, you’re not a succubus?” She pointed at the others.
“No ma’am,” SILvia answered shyly, “Same platform, different chip.”
Barnsley glanced out the window at her new recruit, who was talking to the neighbors, “We’ll have a patrol car check in every hour or so. Call if anyone gives you trouble.” She rushed out the door.
The officer who held the door for Barnsley approached, “AnSIL, SILer and SILvia. Silica drones, right?”

**

AnSIL sat on his bed, his fingers ran over the relief border around the poem he’d read to Calista the night that she died:

Never a winter’s peace

Old oak stands atop the hill
A bulwark, centuries old
Each year, reposing
She sleeps beneath the earth
But I, never a winter’s peace
Slipping feet and bloodied brow
Earthen, ashen world for now
In heart, in truth
In broken soul once thrown away to you
Once given but never once ret…

“Tasset?” SILer stood, leaning against a doorpost with his arms folded. AnSIL nodded, “It was her favorite.”
“I was gone,” SILer finally broke an uncomfortable silence, “He sent me to check on the ‘port.”
“That’s exactly where she’d want you,” AnSIL sighed and closed the book.
“What do you mean?” SILer looked insulted. “Living,” AnSIL answered, “Doing exactly what you were told and not making a fuss over her.”
SILer looked at the floor, “Damn you’re good,” he smirked. AnSIL suppressed a laugh, “Good as you.”
“This may be a surprise to you but I was always jealous,” SILer admitted, “You were close to her in a way that wasn’t my place, you could protect her in a way that I never could.”
AnSIL sighed, stood and walked across the room to put the book in his pack as he raised the courage to say what he thought, “Which was moot the moment we walked out that door. I always wished that I could turn on the other part of my chip.”
SILer shook his head, “It’s overrated,” he looked at AnSIL’s pack, “Are you going somewhere?”
“I suppose we’ll all be moving soon,” AnSIL sat on his bed, “Bert only wanted to live here in theory.”
“Bert’s coming tomorrow for the funeral. He’ll be here for the day and we’ll be cleaning things up and selling the house. Oh, good news,” SILer said as he left the room, “The doc says you’re out of the initial phase. No more checkups.”