An email was waiting for Eduardo. His phone was pressed to his ear when he walked into his office, and, smiling, he talked. The leather chair rested comfortably against his back. He used his mouse to click open his email client.

Eduardo went quiet. He stopped smiling.

“I’ll call you back,” he said into his Blackberry.

He shut it off.

“CONGRATULATIONS”

The helicopter blades whirred. The glass of the window was pressed against Eduardo’s face; dazed, he shook himself awake. He had never ridden a helicopter before. The pilot was steering them over large plains of green and some drops of blue, among mist and mountains.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” said the pilot.

Eduardo scratched the back of his head. He stretched, as much as he could in the small front seat anyway. “Is it protocol for the people you fly to pass out?” he asked.

The pilot laughed. “It’s protocol for me to start at dawn. But hey – you’re a lucky guy, aren’t you.”

“Lucky,” Eduardo murmured. He stared out the glass, over the white snowy mountains. “It’s unexpected, at least.”

“Yeah? What did you do, hack Face Book?”

Eduardo snorted. “I don’t even know how to code. I’m just a shareholder… wasn’t planning on winning.”

“Heard about all that,” said the pilot. “The contest lottery or whatever. And now you get to meet old bossman. The big CEO. Which, you know, is crazy ’cause I haven’t met him yet when I’m around his estate all the time.”

Eduardo was surprised. “You haven’t?”

The pilot shook his head. “He’s crazy paranoid or something. I don’t even know what he looks like – he doesn’t have a Face Book profile himself.” Eduardo did know that. “Been working this job for five years and don’t know what my boss looks like. Now I’m flying the sucker who gets to find out.”

“I’ll come back with details,” said Eduardo. “How much longer do we have?”

The pilot gestured to the island. “Well, I just have to get around to the landing zone.”

The grass crunched under Eduardo’s heavy shoes. The pilot told him this was the closest he was allowed to get, though Eduardo couldn’t see anything past the field but trees. Behind him, the helicopter took off with a roar, quickly fading into a buzz in the distance. Eduardo took out his Blackberry.

No service.

He went to the nearest part of the wood – since this was the closest the helicopter was allowed to get. The moment he stepped over the brambles, he could hear water rustling close by. Eduardo hoisted his suitcase over a large root and stepped down, careful not to skid. The ground sloped the more he walked, surely the same downhill as the nearby rushing water.

Eduardo was careful as he carried his suitcase. He would have his briefcase, too, except the email had said he wasn’t to bring any electronics larger than a cellphone. It was all for the better, anyway, as he could keep his balance with himself and his single bag. Carefully he made his way onto a rock, where he could see the path of the water clearly.

It was as gorgeous as any other part of the island. The mountains rose into white points between the rich green trees and bright blue sky; the river, which seemed to be more of a miniature waterfall, cascaded over waves and edges like large stepping stones. At the bottom, practically hidden, stuck out a small edge of a roof belonging to a low-level building. Eduardo noticed it.

As soon as Eduardo was in front of the door, it spoke.

“Eduardo Saverin,” it said.

The voice was coming from a large electronic box on the door. Its cameras, not unlike the ones on Eduardo’s webcam or Blackberry, scanned Eduardo’s face.

A bright light flashed.

Eduardo blinked.

“Your keycard may now be used to enter the residence.”

“What?” Eduardo said. A card had clattered to a slot at the bottom of the box, and he took it. A squinted picture of his face decorated the front.

There was another panel, empty. It looked like it could scan something.

Eduardo held his card up.

The outside of the small building had looked like a war shelter. Inside was a marble staircase slanting downwards. An undistinguishable noise was coming from below. Eduardo descended.

The room he had entered appeared to be the living room; there were two large black couches, a pillow between them, and a coffee table. There was no television.

Everything was bathed in greenish white light. Eduardo looked up: the ceiling was a one way glass, the sunshine pouring in between the treetops into this room. It must’ve been behind the warehouse, or else Eduardo would’ve noticed it if he’d stepped on it. The walls were stark white.

Opposite the staircase was a shadow of a hallway, where the noise seemed to be coming from. It sounded like a man talking. Eduardo rolled his suitcase with him as he made his way down the yellowish, narrow hallway.

He passed through what appeared to be a kitchen. It also had something akin to a living room in it – the same comfortable black couches, coffee table, this time with an ash tray and a used blunt in it. A few beer cans littered the ground. Around a bend of the kitchen cut off to another room, with a hard brown couch, a pool table, and a dartboard against the back wall.

A curly-haired man was sitting on the couch. He had a dart in one hand, holding a phone up to his ear in the other. He was saying into it,

“And I’m saying, there’s nothing to negotiate – if they want to change shit, fine, but anything Manningham wants to do has to go through me. And you know what I’ll say? I’ll say, well whose company owns the microcams? Does it look like we need new tech when ours has been working perfectly fine?”

Eduardo hesitated by the doorway. The man’s back – the back of the sofa – was turned to him. He was twirling the dart between his fingers.

“No – the bugs have been manageable, we’ll fix them. We’ll fix them. I don’t want Manningham’s tech all in my shit.”

“Excuse me,” Eduardo said clearly.

The other man didn’t seem to hear him. “Yeah, like they’re gonna elect someone new without consulting me.” His head tilted on the back of the couch; he paused with the dart. “Manningham’s stuff is all outdated anyway, why would we want—”

“Excuse me,” Eduardo said again.

The person on the other end must’ve spoken, because all he got was, “You know what? I know what he’s trying to do. He’s gonna send a virus – no, trust me man, I know. But joke’s on him, because if he tries to go through with it, I’ll tell the board that he—”

Eduardo said, very loudly, “Sean Parker?”

Sean Parker whipped his head around. When he saw Eduardo, he dropped the dart. His thumb abruptly pressed a button on the phone.

“Eduardo!” he said, springing up. Sean Parker was grinning. “Eduardo Saverin.”

“Hi.” Eduardo shook Sean’s enthusiastic hand. “And you’re Sean Parker.”

“The one and only.” Sean did a little bow. “Dude, I forgot – well I didn’t forget, but you know, I had shit going on – you probably heard some of that – just pretend you didn’t hear it, okay?”

He spoke very fast.

“But here you are!” Sean continued. He grabbed Eduardo’s lapels and gave him a little shake, like he was trying to straighten them out. “The winner!”

“The winner,” Eduardo echoed, allowing himself to smile.

“Someone sounds excited.” Sean pat Eduardo on the chest with the back of his hand. “Come on, let me show you around.”

Eduardo followed, with his suitcase, as they cut through the kitchen again. Sean said, “Something to drink? To smoke?”

“Oh,” said Eduardo, startled. “No.”

“No, yeah, that’s fine.” Sean waved him through. “Just get a drink whenever you need to. And I have all sorts of shit, from weed to coke to – well, mostly just weed and coke. If you wanna, like, trip though, just let me know and I could probably get it in a day.”

Eduardo said, “I’m fine.”

They came back to the yellowish hallway. Sean turned to him.

“So, your keycard,” he said. “You got that? Yeah, you got that,” Eduardo raised it for him. “It’s pretty simple. Door you can open – you can open. Door you can’t open – you’re not supposed to open. Make sense?”

Eduardo nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Now I know it’s pretty crazy,” said Sean, “being here, meeting me and stuff. You’re like, whoa, it’s the founder of the company I work for! He’s so much shorter in person!”

“You’re not short,” Eduardo tried.

Sean either ignored him or didn’t seem to hear him. “And to be honest, man, it’s pretty crazy for me, too. You know I mostly conduct business on the phone and through emails? Like, what’s a person, right?” He grinned. “I don’t even know you yet, but you’re pretty cool already.”

“But you don’t know me yet,” Eduardo threw back at him.

“Touche.” Sean smirked. “Well, you don’t give me coder vibes – something else must be happening all up there.” He gestured to Eduardo’s forehead.

Eduardo cleared his throat. “I’m a shareholder, actually. And we – “

“Oh, of course. We have so much more of those than hackers. I think.” Sean looked thoughtful. “Although our HR is pretty big. Tech – “

“About that,” Eduardo interrupted. “You’re having issues with other companies interested in partnering with you, right? I was thinking, if you could let me look at some of the data – I know Manningham Industries has been all over the place with the stock mar – “

“Eduardo,” said Sean, cutting him off. “I appreciate your enthusiasm for – whatever the fuck it is you’re talking about – ” Eduardo clamped his mouth shut ” – but we’re not here to talk about that.”

“Then – ”

“Remember your keycard?” Sean brandished his hand at the door they were standing in front of. “Wanna see if it works with this door?”

Eduardo was not exactly eager to, but Sean was looking at him expectantly, so he said, “Sure.” He placed it in front of the scanner.

It glowed blue.

Sean clapped Eduardo on the shoulder. “We have a winner!”

Eduardo’s room was granite and wide. A flat screen was mounted at one end. The other held a large bed. There were two nightstands, a desk, and a chair. Another door presumably led to the bathroom.

“So,” said Sean, leaning against the bed. “You’re probably wondering, why the fuck does your bedroom look like some sort of underground bomb shelter?”

“A little,” Eduardo admitted, glancing around.

“Eduardo,” said Sean. “You’re a good guy – for all I know you’re a great guy – but you’re not here because of that. You’re not here even because you’re a smart guy. Are you a smart guy?”

Eduardo shrugged. “I went to Harvard.” He set his suitcase down and headed toward the bathroom door.

From behind him, Sean said, “Well good for you, Harvard. I never graduated college. Or graduated high school.” His tone turned thoughtful. “That was when Napster happened.”

“Yeah,” said Eduardo. He’d opened the door that did, in fact, lead to the bathroom. It was granite but also tiled, tinted tan. “I know about Napster.”

“Great, so I won’t bore you with that.” Sean was sprawled on the bed when Eduardo came back, talking to the ceiling. “The thing is, though, Eduardo, this whole place is more than just my estate. Mansion. Island or whatever you want to call it. This is a research facility. Where the big shit happens. Where the world changes.”

“Where you’re changing the world,” Eduardo realized.

Sean shifted so he could see Eduardo, and snapped his fingers at him. “Exactly. And man, I’m working on something fucking cool. You wanna see it?”

Eduardo was sure he didn’t have any other option, but a part of him was kind of curious as well. He said, “Yeah.”

“And I wanna show you,” Sean said earnestly. “But you gotta sign that thing on the desk first.”

Eduardo frowned. “What thing?”

“NON DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT
The signee agrees to regular data audit with unlimited access, to confirm that no disclosure of information has taken place, in public or private forums, using any means of communication, including but not limited to that which is disclosed orally or written or in electronic form, as well as the monitoring of any parties with which the signee from here on out engages. Penalties include…”

“Did your lawyer write this?” Eduardo asked.

Sean shrugged. “Hey, it’s what this week’s gonna be about. Or we can snort coke and play darts, but in the end, it’s all up to you.”

Eduardo wasn’t sure if this was what it felt like to sign your death certificate.

TEST 1

A glass wall divided the room. The rose tinted walls made the lighting warm.

Blue swirled, like tendrils of a jellyfish, not bothering to break free, in circular motions as if they were the insides of an extraordinary person. The tendrils dragged along the concave of the glass orb, neon in the black space, giving light and life to its machine. Fuel.

Held into place as a cavity, the glass was attached to the back top of something like a skull, its shine protruding like bone marrow. The body, a flat-chested torso, was covered with something plasticky and metal and carbon, like chainmail, constructed like DNA. Eduardo watched as the figure moved behind the back corner, from a hall. Places on the limbs and body resembled muscle; he was clearly to look like a human, in the end, with five fingers on each hand, covered in something like freshly woven wormsilk. He was walking and touching the back of his head, pressing in a polygonal shard of his skull, slotting into place easily, obstructing the swirl of blue and black. Its – his, Eduardo remembered – movements were careful and precise, legs made from the same solid carbon that snaked its way up its neck.

A pause broke the steady pattern of his movements. His eyes, or whatever his equivalents were, met Eduardo’s. Eduardo waited to see what he would do.

It – he sat down in the chair.

“I don’t know who you are.”

His voice was monotone, but not in the way that people often described of robots. It was clipped and a question in a statement. Eerily human.

Eduardo smiled and sat down in the chair on his side of the glass wall. “And I don’t know who you are,” he replied. “We could fix that.”

The robot’s eyes scanned over Eduardo’s face. Eduardo didn’t know much about artificial intelligence, or robots at all, really, but he would gander that the robot was looking for hints of Eduardo’s emotions to figure out how to respond to them.

“I’m Mark,” said he.

“Eduardo.”

“Eduardo,” Mark replied, like he was trying the name out on his tongue. “That’s unusual.”

Eduardo’s eyebrows flew up. “Is it?”

“My name is monosyllabic. So is Sean’s.” Mark’s eyes were blue, bright blue in the rose gold light. “I’ve never met someone with a multisyllabic name before.”

Eduardo couldn’t stop himself from a snort that turned into a laugh. He knew that Sean was watching and Mark was – well, not human – but despite the obvious robotic nature of Mark’s appearance, he didn’t feel that way. It was comforting, too, that Mark’s head was the only part of him that looked human: pale skin grafts that looked like they could burn instead of tan if they were on a human being; sharp, high cheekbones framing a narrow jaw; something like a squint in his cheeks, though that could just be the seemingly confused expression on Mark’s face.

“You’re laughing at me,” Mark said.

“Not at you.” Eduardo gave him a wide smile. Mark didn’t return it, but Eduardo didn’t particularly expect him to. “What do you do, Mark?”

“I like to code,” said Mark. “What do you do?”

“Is this a game now? I ask you a question, and you answer and throw it back at me?”

Eduardo watched as Mark’s head tilted to the side. He had meant for it as a joke, but Mark was scanning him carefully, blue eyes darting back and forth all over Eduardo’s face.

Mark answered, “I code. I analyze the structure of Face Book and recreate it, sometimes improving and condensing the code where is necessary. I have the code from its beginnings to now, so updating the language from, say, 2004, is inherently necessary. I also know and rewrite the code for many of Sean’s other projects, as my memory size expands with the amount of data I am given.”

He spoke very fast, and it was jarring not to hear him run out of breath when he was done, like Eduardo imagined would happen if he was a human who just said all that.

Mark’s mouth snapped shut when he was done talking.

Eduardo didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t expect you to know what to say,” said Mark. And then: “Do you know how to code?”

“No.”

“I can teach you, if you want.”

“Really?” said Eduardo, surprised. “How?”

Mark stared at him.

Eduardo’s brain started running. “I’m sure Sean has pen and paper around. Somewhere,” he muttered to himself. “You can dictate the code you want me to write and then tell me what it does, and I’m a pretty fast learner so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Okay,” said Mark.

Eduardo cocked his own head to the side. “You’re incredible, did you know that?”

Mark said, “I’m an android. You’re a human.”

“You’re – ” Eduardo shook his head. “You’re not like any other android I’ve ever met before. Or any human.”

“Because I’m an android.”

Mark’s lips twitched – Eduardo had no idea if Mark had learned how to smile yet, but it looked like he was trying to. Eduardo was aware of his heart thumping, wondered if he could press his palm to Mark’s chest, if he would feel something under there too.

“You’re Mark,” Eduardo told him.

Something lit up in Mark’s eyes. “And you’re Eduardo.”

Eduardo was brushing his teeth.

He was used to week long business meetings, so he’d packed only a few sets of clothes, all collared and buttoned and tailored. It was almost out of place when Sean Parker, CEO of Face Book and tech mogul strutted around his house in sweats and novelty t-shirts. The most recent picture of Sean Eduardo could find was from 2008, donning a sports jacket and sunglasses. That had been just a quick Google search right after his email.

Eduardo spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

The bathroom was clean, but lit brown. Like it was trying to make you feel at home while reminding you that this wasn’t your home. Eduardo washed his face and remembered Mark. He smiled into his towel.

Sean had asked Eduardo questions about Mark during dinner – not how he could get a product like Mark to sell, or his opinion on starting a possible new corp with AI – but, “What did I tell you, right? His personality’s a real piece of work, isn’t it?” with a smirk and a raise of his beer.

Eduardo had shrugged; he’d encountered more unpleasant people than Mark before. “It’s fine, really,” he’d said. “I wouldn’t blame him for it, anyway, since you’re the one who – ”

He’d made a gesture towards Sean then, before regretting it – it wouldn’t do to insinuate to this hugely powerful billionaire that he had a bad personality, or something of the sort.

But Sean had just laughed and said, “Point there, my man. You ever read the The Picture of Dorian Gray? ‘Cause I can definitely see Mark as my portrait or whatever.”

“Yeah,” said Eduardo, “except you’d still grow old and he wouldn’t since he’s a robot, so you’d be more of his portrait, wouldn’t you?”

Sean had laughed again. “And another point for Saverin!”

Eduardo wasn’t sure what to make of Sean. Mark was so remarkable, but Sean, who had created Mark – he was kind of a joke. Eduardo had seen Sean sprinkle a line of coke right before Eduardo had decided to turn in for the night, and Eduardo had heard rumors around the company – that he didn’t think much of, until he actually met Sean – about Sean’s propensity with teenage girls. Not that he’d seen anyone else around this estate except for himself, Mark, and Sean. But Eduardo could believe it.

He shut out the light and climbed into bed. Mark entered his mind again – Mark, who was obviously not human, but there was something, something. Or maybe Eduardo imagined it? There was no heart in hurricanes or storms, only precipitation and wind patterns and destruction, but people liked to believe that it was rainy or sunny for their own reasons. Mark was like that. It made sense.

Eduardo rested his hand against his chest. He could feel his heart beating. He imagined it was Mark’s, too, underneath all that carbon fibre. Thinking of Mark made it no easier for him to sleep. What was Mark doing? Did Sean allow him to always be powered on, or were there gaps in time where Mark could comprehend sleep? What did he do? Where did Sean keep him?

Unsettled, Eduardo sat back up. He groped around in the dark at the nightstand, where the remote for the television was. Sean surely didn’t have cable, but this was all in here and accessible for a reason.

Eduardo turned the television on.

The screen was split into four. The room was small, with a table and something resembling a netbook on top of it. There was a small hallway at one end. This room was not familiar to Eduardo, but the hallway was.

Mark sat in the single chair in the spacious room. He was not using the netbook; his eyes were closed and his fingers were flying through the air. Like he was playing an invisible piano. It would’ve been creepy, but every so often his eyebrows would scrunch or his mouth would twitch. His fingers were fluid in the air.

Eduardo remembered I like to code. Surely this wasn’t what Mark meant – all of his coding was likely happening in his brain, or whatever it was that was in his head, and he likely didn’t even have to close his eyes for it. But there was an emotive quality about Mark’s fingers dancing in the air, lips pursing and sometimes moving and the clench of a jaw or the movement of his mouth, like a gasp or a smile.

Then –

The screen went black.

The dim light from the alarm clock went out.

Eduardo couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. The room had been plunged into total darkness. All he could hear was his breathing, and the thump thump of his heartbeat was even worse of a reassurance here. There was absolutely no sound, not even the low hum of something like an air conditioner or a refrigerator.

A mechanized voice spoke into the darkness. “Power cut. Back up power activated.”

Dark red light flooded the room, like everything had just been washed in blood. Eduardo yanked his trousers on from his suitcase, then grabbed his keycard from the nightstand. He hurried to the door and swiped it.

The light was as red as the room.

“Shit,” Eduardo muttered.

He swiped his card again.

Still red.

“Shit.” Eduardo ground his teeth together. Tried again. “Fuck.”

The mechanized voice said, “Full facility lock-down until main generator is restored.”

There were no windows. Eduardo was alone in this concrete room underground. The walls were probably thick enough to mute if he shouted. The room suddenly didn’t feel big enough, closing and tightening like the walls of Eduardo’s throat –

– the light flickered back yellow, and bright.

Eduardo swiped his card.

Green.

He burst out, slumping and panting. The hall lights were yellow, too. Eduardo collapsed outside of his room, trying to get himself back together again. He wondered if Mark had been affected by the shutdown – had even noticed it, really. Mark could be battery-powered. He hoped so.

Eduardo exhaled slowly. Mark was okay. He was, too.

Eduardo went back into his room.

TEST 2

“Last night,” Eduardo said at breakfast.

He expected Sean to deflect him, or maybe even say, “What about last night?” to mess with Eduardo, or something.

But instead, Sean said, “Oh yeah, those power cuts. We’ve been getting those lately.”

“Why?”

“I thought you said you weren’t a coder.” Sean smirked. “It’s just a small thing, no big issue, really. But yeah, that happens. It only lasts for a minute or so, so no need to freak out.”

Eduardo tried not to swallow too hard on his piece of pancake.

He took a sip of his coffee. “I was wondering,” he said hesitantly, “if I could bring a pen and paper to the test sessions?”

“Why?” Sean’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s nothing serious.” Eduardo put his mug down. “Mark offered to teach me how to code yesterday, but as I doubt you’ll let us use a computer, I figured – “

The grin on Sean’s face made him stop. Sean nudged him. “I was messing with you, man!” he said. “Yeah, of course, it’s totally cool. But if you’re gonna write love letters to him, let’s keep it PG-13, okay?” He winked. “I screen this stuff.”

Eduardo struggled not to roll his eyes. He forked a piece of banana.

“So,” he continued, “what is it that you wanted me to check out with Mark, anyway? He is incredibly cool – “

“Isn’t that enough?”

“Well,” said Eduardo. “It could be. But you’re – you’re Sean Parker, and we’re both adults here, so there’s definitely something – “

“Oh, adults.” Sean scrunched his nose and waved Eduardo’s words off. “C’mon, man, we’re practically the same age. Can’t we pretend that we’re college buddies who just want some time off to spend the week together and catch up?”

Eduardo stared. “I barely know you.”

“And you barely know Mark. But he’s included in this brouhaha too!” Sean raised his own mug, which Eduardo was beginning to seriously doubt was coffee. “Get to know him, and get to know me. That’s what this whole week’s about, okay? You and me, you and him. But,” he grinned, “mostly you and him.”

“How do you code?” Eduardo asked.

Mark’s eyebrows furrowed. “How do I logistically code, or how do I capability code?”

“Capability,” said Eduardo.

Mark lifted a shoulder. “There is no one way. I have a device that allows me to use my finger pads to construct commands similar to a human typing on a computer. I can also write the commands in my neural complex, without any need for physical activity.” He lifted his fingers. “But I prefer the physical motion, though the use of another device often feels unnecessary.”

Eduardo nodded. “So you do both.”

“Yes,” said Mark.

Eduardo pulled out the legal pad Sean had given him, and a pen. “Yesterday you said you can teach me how to code.”

He might’ve imagined it, but something lit up in Mark’s eyes. “I did,” said Mark. “What would you like me to teach you?”

“What do you want to teach me?” asked Eduardo.

The extent of Eduardo’s prior coding knowledge was that there were strings that could be open and closed, and that was only because sometimes he would try to call Dustin when Dustin was in the middle of an “open string” and would make Eduardo call him back later. A lot of precision was involved, and Eduardo wondered how Mark could write the same code every day and find things to change.

“What did you mean earlier, about code being dense?” said Eduardo, in a break where his head was spinning and he was scribbling down numbers and brackets on his notepad. Mark was watching and waiting for his cue to resume dictating. “About how you could change the language?”

“Programmers can find ways to make single strings of code do multiple commands, by making commands concise and omitting white space,” Mark answered.

“But you said that you were changing the old code and rewriting it.”

“Because I am programmed with the newest syntax and language,” said Mark. “It is pointless for me to teach you the old syntax when everything is more efficient with newer ones.”

“Did Sean teach you?”

“In a way.” Mark’s eyes flickered from one side of Eduardo’s face to the other. “Are you ready to continue?”

Eduardo scratched at his forehead with the back of his pen. “This is complicated,” he admitted. “I’m not sure if I actually understand anything.”

Mark blinked at him. “Would you like me to slow down for you?”

“That… was condescending. That was condescending, wasn’t it?” Eduardo grinned up at Mark, whose expression was empty. Still, there was something alive in those eyes. “That was condescending,” Eduardo said for a third time.

Mark just shrugged. “It would make sense that this could be difficult for you. Coding is in my programming, but you are capable of,” he squinted, “other things.”

“Other things,” Eduardo repeated, amused. “It’s not like I’m all-knowledgable of my biological hardware like you, you know.”

“I know.”

Mark seemed thoughtful, like there was something else he wanted to say. Eduardo waited. He wondered what comprised of Mark’s thoughts.

“What do you like to do?” he asked Eduardo.

Eduardo rested his pen on the legal pad. “I like a lot of things,” he said, with a smile. “I like learning about you. I’m really into probability, so I’m a businessman.” He expected Mark to ask him the correlation, but Mark said nothing. “I like chess.”

“Chess,” Mark repeated.

Eduardo nodded. “Yes. It also concerns probability.”

“I’m examining the online databases about ‘chess,'” said Mark. His blue eyes seemed to glow even brighter; Eduardo imagined a giant computer in his head. “It’s a game.”

Eduardo’s lips twitched. “Yes,” he said, again.

“You should teach me how to play sometime,” said Mark.

“How?”

Mark nodded toward Eduardo’s lap. “With your pen and paper. Then it’ll be like we’re friends, because we’re sharing knowledge.”

Eduardo opened his mouth –

– then they were swamped in darkness.

There were no lights on Mark’s form. All Eduardo could see was black.

“Power cut. Back up power deactivated.”

Red light flooded the room.

Through the glass wall, Mark stared at Eduardo. Eduardo stared back.

The lights flickered back to yellow.

“I can play with a chessboard in my program,” said Mark. “You can draw your moves on your paper.”

“What?” said Eduardo.

Mark closed his eyes. Opened them again. “It shouldn’t be hard to write a chess program on my server. And I can understand the rules and the pieces, in theory. I can write the program today and you can teach me tomorrow.”

It wouldn’t do to draw attention to something Mark didn’t even notice. “Alright,” said Eduardo.

Mark stood up, and turned around. Eduardo realized he was starting to leave.

He tapped on the glass with the back of two of his knuckles.

“Mark,” he said, and Mark turned to look at him.

Eduardo smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Mark.

Eduardo asked, as he tore off the paper from Mark’s coding lesson, “Is Mark battery powered?”

“It’s not so much battery as much as it’s, like, a robot heart basically.”

“What does that mean?”

“Imagine your heart,” Sean held out a hand, “and your blood, and your veins,” he gestured with the other. “Our hearts are pumping the blood through us to keep us alive, yeah? Now imagine that basically with Mark – or any other robot – but instead of blood it’s fuel. And instead of a heart it’s a brain.”

“Oh.” That explained the blue swirls in Mark’s head from earlier.

Sean gave him a funny look. “Why? Worried he’s gonna run out of battery on you?”

“No, it’s just…” Eduardo gestured around them to the lights. They were in Sean’s kitchen, where the sunlight from outside streamed in like an endless tide. “During these power cuts – “

“Oh, you’re worried it might shut him off?” Sean chuckled. “Don’t worry, Mark’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. Well, kind of, anyway.” He took a pull of his beer.

They were eating lunch.

“I was just thinking,” said Eduardo, forking at the (surprisingly good) pot roast. “If he did shut off, or suddenly didn’t work or something, would he be aware of it? He’s mechanical, so he’s basically as mortal as you or me – “

“Basically,” Sean quipped.

“But suppose he’s programmed with a consciousness,” Eduardo continued. “Then he could be aware of it. It could be like dying to him. Or sleeping. Unless his – supposed – consciousness didn’t account for shutting off or anything.”

Sean observed Eduardo for a second. His fingers tapped against the glass of his beer bottle.

“Consciousness,” he said to Eduardo. “Now, that’s an interesting thought.”

Eduardo waited.

Sean changed the subject.

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Untitled [Ex Machina]

by aroceu

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