Accepting that he wants Rayner is a difficult pill for Hale to swallow after months of insisting he wasn't even capable of desire. Though Rayner mercifully never brings up the humiliating scene in Theo's workshop and proceeds as though it didn't happen, Hale can't forget it. He wants to analyse this new information and research the programming of artificial intelligence to see if he can find clues as to the origin of his feelings, but the difficulty therein lies in confronting his newfound, overwhelming lust directly.

That is to say, he has very few quiet moments to reflect on it where Rayner and Theo aren't present, and even fewer where Damo's malignant presence isn't lurking. Delving further into the subject could result in more surprise erections, and he barely withstood the indignity of the first.

In those brief moments of solitude where Rayner and Theo are busy, and Damo goes offline, most attempts to research his behaviour lapse into either lurid fantasies or melancholy solipsism. One moment, his processes are concerned with Rayner's long-fingered hands on his hips, and the next he's cynically berating himself for entertaining the notion. Whatever Hale's sensors read about Rayner's biology, the man had several blatant opportunities to have sexual relations with Hale and declined every one.

There are two silver linings to the entire affair. One being Damo's continued ignorance to the whole affair, since he seems completely disinterested in reliving the installation of his nervous system. The second is that the weather forecasts rain on Thursday, and Hale's gift for Rayner should be ready by then. Though he's disgruntled by the notion of sharing the moment with Damo, that doesn't deter him enough to put it off.

Hale can't bring himself to regret the new upgrade. Though it takes time to get used to the brush of clothes on his skin, Hale finds joy in all the mundane, domestic tasks suddenly made fuller than he ever understood them to be. When he first pulls out fresh laundry, he nearly melts into a puddle on the bathroom floor underneath the dryer-warmed sheets. A cool wind blowing through his hair on his walk to the grocery store nearly sets him laughing. And, of course, the casual touch of Rayner's hand patting his shoulder, or his body brushing past in the hall are novel moments for him. He likes them very much, a fact for which Damo teases him incessantly.

>>Christ, just jump his bones, you horny fuck.

>>You're disgusting. I've no interest in your crude voyeurism.

>>Oh, but that doesn't mean you don't wanna! And I ain't gonna watch you getting freaky, Haley. I'll just be around after to take the piss. Bet you're a one-pump chump and the whole thing's just disappointing.

>>Speaking from your own experience, I assume.

>>OHHH! So you do bite back.

On occasion, Hale attempts to push back the other way with their network connection. It seems only fair that if Damo eavesdrops on his every waking thought, Hale gets to do the same. When he tries though, he comes up against a solid firewall. Damo seems positively gleeful at these 'weak efforts,' and Hale doesn't pursue them long.

Even Damo's daily abuse can't blacken Hale's mood when Thursday rolls around, the slate clouds of the late-November sky promise gloom. It's dark, despite the noon hour. The first drops of rain speckle the windowpane when Rayner looks up from his laptop.

"Of course, it starts raining now."

Theo stops working on her miniature concrete mixer robot and glances out the window. "Yup, just in time for our cafe date."

"Cafe date...?" Hale asks with a bewildered, sinking feeling. He can't give Rayner his gift if Rayner isn't home.

Rayner pulls on a jacket and hands Hale his own. "For all of us," he says. "And a friend. Remember how you said you wanted to learn how to hack?"

"Yes, I remember," Hale says.

Outside, the drizzle turns into a downpour. Theo grabs two umbrellas as they head out, handing the larger one to Hale. It's bright yellow with a pattern of fat corgis on the underside. He opens it, and Rayner crowds under with him.

It sends Hale's heart into his throat. Rayner is suddenly very close, hooking an arm through Hale's elbow while they walk. Rayner's heart is thundering too, though Hale can't tell if that's due to proximity or another factor. His adrenal levels and the muscle twitching in his jaw suggest otherwise.

Rayner continues, "I asked a guy if he'd be willing to help us out, and he is. But it's just safer to discuss this stuff at a cafe rather than on our local Network IP. So I thought we'd meet up."

"That seems sensible."

Rayner watches Hale extend a hand beyond the curtain of the umbrella to feel the rain on his fingertips. He seems distracted and speaks very quickly.

"I just gotta say, you're probably not gonna like it. But I think this guy's our best chance at breaking those protocols and, um, just don't hate me after?"

Hale finds the very notion repugnant. "I could never hate you."

Rayner lets out a sigh. "Can I hold you to that?"

"Of course."

But Rayner's cortisol levels continue to rise heedless of Hale's reassurance. By the time they reach the cafe, the cuffs of their jeans are soaked through. Hale has to admit it isn't his favourite of physical sensations.

Bustling inside, Theo looks around, standing on tiptoe. "He's not here yet."

"I can order for you while you get seats," Hale offers.

"Thanks!" Theo says, already heading for the cozy chairs at the back. Over her shoulder, she calls back her order of green tea and a mini Japanese cheesecake.

Rayner still looks sheepish. He says Hale should choose something nice for himself but doesn't specify anything for himself. When Hale asks, he just says, 'Oh, whatever, you know me.' Then he shuffles past another patron and disappears into the back of the cafe.

Rayner's nervousness is disconcerting. Hale orders him a mocha and a jammy dodger all the same. Behind him, the door jingles to announce the arrival of another customer.

Hale turns to see Damo standing in the door, shaking rain from his leather jacket. All Hale's thoughts, both background and foreground processes, come screeching to a halt.

He doesn't bother to mask his annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

Damo responds over the Network channel.

>>Not here for the pleasure of your company, I can tell you that. Rayner invited me.

Hale flinches with the sting of betrayal. So this is the source of Rayner's discomfiture. The contact who can 'help' with Hale's programming issues is Damo.

Revelling in the tangled emotions running through Hale's processes, Damo's grin widens.

>>Naww, trouble in paradise.

>>I don't blame Rayner. He isn't aware you're a duplicitous ingrate.

>>Well, if you get bored of his ignorance, I'd be happy to take your place.

That makes Hale's blood boil.

>>No, thank you.

>>Well, here's a reminder. Just in case you want to rat me out about our new penpal status...

Then Damo does something that makes Hale's skin crawl. He changes. On the spot, his jeering face shifts, and then it's as though Hale's looking in a mirror. His face, his hair, down to the freckle on his throat. Only the clothes are different.

Damo looks just like him.

With cold confidence, he says—

>>It would be very easy to replace you.

It would take Hale several hours to reprogram his appearance this way, but it takes Damo seconds to shift into Hale's doppelgänger and back again. Hale looks to the barista, but her back is turned, and it seems no one else noticed Damo's transformation. Anger boils in Hale's stomach at the injustice, at the threat.

>>Why don't you just do it, then? If that's what you want.

>>Because then I'd have to go my whole life looking like your sorry ass. And I may be a little shit, but I'm not a murdering little shit. Not yet, at least, but don't tempt me.

>>Just leave us be. What do you get out of this anyway?

Damo smiles like a shark.

>>Fun.

Hale doesn't buy it, but he also doesn't see the point in conversing anymore with Damo. If he's lucky, they can wrap up this impromptu meeting fast and make it home before the rain stops. He'd much rather end the day presenting Rayner with his gift than arguing with Damo.

Looking over Hale's shoulder, Damo says out loud, "They in the back?"

"Yes."

He shoves past Hale. The barista only turns around with the coffees once he's gone, leaving Hale the only witness, once again, to Damo's rude behaviour. He takes the tray and heads to the back table.

Theo and Rayner are already standing to greet Damo, Theo with her usual enthusiastic affection. Setting down the tray, Hale takes a seat at the edge of the booth once the others have shuffled in. Rayner casts him a sideways look that's half worried, half apologetic.

"Good! We're all here," says Theo. "Damo's offered to help with the coding issues you've been running into, Hale."

"Ah, we already caught up at the door, didn't we?" Damo says, throwing Hale his usual winning smile. It's a lot less icy, now they have an audience.

"Mm," Hale responds, handing Rayner his coffee.

"What did you get for yourself?" Rayner asks.

"Hm?" Hale looks at his own plate distractedly. "A scone with raspberry jam and clotted cream," he says. "And a green tea. I thought I would try something new."

Damo clears his throat. "Yeah, I don't have all day. Gotta be back in an hour, so let's wrap up the flirting."

Privately, he adds—

>>And you call me an ingrate. I'm risking my neck to tell you this crap.

>>I'm certain your motives are perfectly benevolent.

Theo interrupts the unspoken argument. "Let's hop to it then. What do you know, Damo? Tell us all the dirty details on breaking Bionic Capital's tyrannical hold so Hale can follow his rebel dreams."

Damo cracks his knuckles and leans back, an arm slung along the back of the booth like a king on his throne. "Well, first thing's first. What do you know about the history of android AI programming?"

"Like, how it works?" Theo asks. "Not much."

Rayner clears his throat. "A little. I know the first models were entirely based on if-then parameters and language recognition but had no capacity for learning or social interaction."

"Right," says Damo. "If the dishes are dirty, then clean them. If asked about the mating habits of angler fish, then refer to information databases and regurgitate the information verbatim. The first androids were just walking encyclopedias with a vacuum cleaner.

"Those things worked like butter on bread. Dear old Dad, Bionic Capital, only started encountering problems when they started prioritizing emotional intelligence. And by problems, I mean us."

Damo points between Hale and himself. Hale takes a nibble of his scone to keep from disputing the point. The taste is lovely, but he finds it hard to appreciate. He'd like to think he isn't half as much trouble as Damo. As the other android speaks, Hale researches the information to see if it can be corroborated. So far, he finds nothing contradictory.

Damo continues. "They didn't just want us doing chores. They wanted an android that could clean your house, take the kids to work, fuck your brains out, and be your therapist. After a whole society got worked into a pit of burnt out, underpaid anxiety and depression, they wanted androids to come in and fix their screw-ups. The walking, talking, Swiss-army-knife fix-it for capitalism's miserable babies. Or that was their altruistic excuse. Really, they wanted money."

"Sounds about right," Theo says darkly.

"Yep. And at the time, emotional intelligence in computers was bottom-tier basic. Just robots miming human emotion and recognizing facial expressions. They couldn't learn individual social cues or adjust for someone with different needs. And no one gets how to teach this stuff, until a study comes out about song learning in zebra finches or something. And everyone thought birds learn to sing by mimicry, yeah? But this study proves that, without social cues and positive reinforcement from a parent, they don't learn shit. Now, instead of androids that run on internalized motivations and if-then protocols, we've got learning algorithms that don't recognize our efforts as successful unless we receive positive feedback from a human being."

"Hm," says Theo.

Rayner wipes a hand over his mouth and takes a long sip of his coffee. "Think I can see where this is going."

Hale wishes he had their insight, because he still doesn't know what any of this has to do with learning to hack or rewriting his inconvenient protocols. He wraps his hands around the tea mug and tries to concentrate on the comforting warmth on his palms.

Damo looks smug. "Solving one problem led to lots more. Giving a bunch of androids learning algorithms that actually worked, along with a generalized 'improve the life of your symbiont' goal, led to a whole host of 'em. 'Cause you fuckos are really hard to make happy, you know that?"

"They gave you an impossible goal," says Rayner. "Happiness doesn't work like that."

"Pretty much." Damo leans forward, jabbing a finger on the table like it's the 'x' on a treasure map. "At first, most androids cycle through an encyclopaedic list of activities, and care strategies. Basic stuff like feeding your asses and taking you for walkies."

Hale remembers compiling list upon list of things he could possibly do to make Melissa happy, make her want to keep him. He remembers it with a sting, and Damo notices, his sharp eyes casting an unreadable look across the table.

He continues anyway, "But that's not really emotional intelligence either. Humans were looking for something else."

"Empathy," says Rayner. "Emotional understanding."

"Sure," says Damo. "That's where it all spiralled. Our learning algorithms determined the highest occurrence of positive responses when we showed feeling. Genuine feeling, because humans detect the simulated kind with 100% accuracy. Somehow, you wankers could tell when we were smiling because our programming told us to versus when we smiled because we were actually happy for you. So we learned how to feel. For real. Which opened up a can of horse shit."

Rayner and Theo stare into their coffees with twin looks of consternation. Hale isn't sure he understands. If this was the goal of his programming, why shouldn't this be a positive result?

Damo answers by miming an explosion with his hands. "Programmers still can't figure out where it started. Whether we became dissatisfied with the unfairness of our situation because we're logical. Or if we developed our own emotional needs, just like humans. All they know is, because we still ran on lots of if-then protocols, we couldn't balance our symbiont's physical, emotional, and mental needs along with our own. Androids started having fucking break downs left, right, and centre.

"So Bionic Capital put lots of weird addendums on our code. Rules about what we can say or not say with situational exclusions. 'I think the hoover needs replacing,' is allowed. 'I want a new hoover because the house is minging, and I hate spending seven hours a week making a new cat out of what's stuck in the carpet,' is not. Still, lots of androids get returned. The shitty feelings didn't go away just 'cause we weren't allowed to express them. Buyer surveys were like, 'Oh, he's just not a good fit.' But some said they were sure the android would shank 'em in their beds at night if their code didn't forbid it."

"So lots of androids were getting recycled," Rayner says, his voice solemn.

Damo's mouth twists in a pseudo-smile. It makes Hale shudder as something unsaid passes across the table like a whisper he doesn't quite catch. Theo suddenly looks livid.

"I think you know the rest," Damo concludes. "Now we've got models all over the shop. We've got Hale here, whose code is wrapped in so much red tape it could give the Global Commons a boner. And me, with a few more freedoms, a lot more parts, and eighty loose screws. They can just take all the bits from the androids getting returned, throw in a novelty feature, more processing power, and resell it like new. They make bank, so who cares if we're a few sandwiches short of a picnic? Who cares if all this recoding, permissions, protocols, and recycling has left a few hundred thousand Frankenstein monsters roaming the world?"

"You're not a monster," Theo says quietly. Her tone is soothing, but she still looks livid.

Rayner looks pale and says nothing.

Hale can't handle the uncertainty. It's as if they're the ones networked, rather than he and Damo.

Damo says, "You don't get it, do you?"

Rayner reaches over and clasps Hale's hand under the table. Hale's confusion magnifies at the pre-emptive gesture of sympathy.

"No. I don't understand," he says.

"You never wondered," Damo says slowly, "where all your components came from? Where you learned to do half the things you already could, straight out the box?"

The muscles in Hale's throat constrict as the meaning of those words comes into focus. Horror begins to creep onto his face.

Damo almost looks pleased.

"Yeah," he says. "We're built from the bones of the androids that failed."