Grey Rollins - When There's a Will, There's a Way

Illustration by Steve Cavallo

Talk about Americas love affair with cars.

I used to be human. Now my mind resides on a NeVPROM chip under the hood of an Icarusone of the sleekest, fastest, sexiest cars on the road.

I arrived at the dealership in late February, and spent four days out on the lot getting dusty before I was able to talk one of the salesmen into getting me polished up and put on the showroom floor where its nice and clean.

She came in three days later. Within seconds, I had spun all my eyes towards her.

Why am I still interested if I dont have a you-know-what? Call it force of habit. Call it esthetic appreciation for the finer things in life. Call it what you like, but I still enjoy looking at women.

She was coming at me like she already owned me. A purposeful walk, heels tapping a steady beat on the tiles. She stopped about five paces away and cocked her head, studying my lines.

I come equipped with top-of-the-line De Armond seats, I told her. Fourteen individual, leather-covered, pneumatic cushions that contour to fit your body like a fine glove.

The way you say it, that almost sounds suggestive.

Live a little. I popped the door latch and gently swung the door open with my C-4 hydraulic extensor. Get in, I invited.

She hesitated, then slid behind the wheel.

Roger Tarker, one of the salesmen, arrived on the scene. Hes big, obnoxiously handsome, suave, and ultimately as shallow as an ashtray. Maam, you and that Icarus were made for each other. You look good in it.

She turned and looked him over with a neutral expression. My names not Maam, she said evenly, its Alexis. But you can call me Mrs. Hanson.

I took the hint and slammed the door in his face. Now we were alone.

I spoke quickly. The sticker says sixty-two-five, but theyll take fifty-six if you push; the model hasnt been moving well.

Why are you telling me this?

Because I want you to want me.

Her eyes narrowed.

I had that sickening elevator-drop sensation. Id been presumptuous.

But then she nodded ever so slightly. Fifty-six, she said softly.

Get out and kick my tires. Find a body panel that doesnt fit just right. Ive got to open up before they decide Ive gone renegade and pull my module. I opened the door, neatly clipping Rogers thigh with the edge as it swung past.

Please give the lady room to get out, Mr. Tarker, I said politely.

The look he gave me was decidedly strange, but he let it ride. He thought his attention, both professionally and personally, might be better focused on the woman standing before him.

Show me the engine, she commanded Roger.

He blinked. After all, even in this day and age, few women are interested in the mechanical portions of an automobile, especially those who come in dressed, as she was, in an elegant suit that must have cost upwards of five hundred. But he rallied nicely and leaned past her to trip the manual release to the hood. I beat him to it.

Opening the engine compartment, Mrs. Hanson.

The corner of her mouth twitched as though she was trying hard not to smile. You can call me Alexis, she said, glancing my way.

She listened attentively to Rogers canned sales spiel about my vital parts. I tactfully kept quiet. Its not polite to sing ones own praisesbetter to let others do it for you.

Wheres the personality module? she asked.

Roger leaned deeper into my engine compartment. Here, he said, fingering the reinforced box that protects my NeVPROM. Flip the catches so and so, and the top comes off. There are four chips in here, but the personality module is the big one on the left.

Alexis leaned into the engine compartment, squinting at my chip. She was whispering numbers under her breath Nine, six, six, three. Youre mine, fella.

It sounded like my serial number.

Roger smiled smugly behind her, not having heard her whisper. Theyre easy to replace if you dont care for the personality that comes with the car.

Oh, I dont think that will be necessary, Alexis said calmly as she withdrew. A man with no spunk isnt worth having around. I cant imagine a car like this, her fingertips brushed my fender lightly, with the personality of an accountant. Something like an Icarus needs to be a bit of a rogue. Anything else would be a waste.

Roger forced a smile to his face. Of course.

She sighed. But the car is expensive.

They went into his office to dicker. I dont think he took her entirely seriously until she began to count out one thousand dollar bills on his desk. Money talks, but cash screams, and he was being deafened.

She finished counting and looked at him. Well? Do you want to sell me that Icarus? She pointed out the open office door towards me.

But Alexis, thats only fifty-six thousand, he said hoarsely. His eyes never left the bills.

Thats correct. I have no intention of paying full list priceand my name is Mrs. Hanson.

He nodded, chastened. Uh yes, Mrs. Hanson. Excuse me, Ill need to talk to the sales manager.

After he left, she turned and gave me a slow wink. There was a half-smile on her face. I made sure no one was looking, then opened the drivers door, ever so quietly. Only an inch, but the invitation was unmistakable. She discreetly gestured for me to close it, then composed herself.

Roger returned with the sales manager. Unfortunately, they closed the door, so I had no way of hearing what was said, but when the door opened again, Alexis was smiling.

Since it was our first time, Alexis drove. Once I knew where she lived, Id be able to do it on my own.

Oh, sure she could have told me the address, I could have looked it up in my internal maps, queried the Global Positioning System, and driven her there myself, but that would have taken all the romance out of it. Besides, there would be all the time in the world for me to drive herlet her have this one symbolic trip.

How do you feel? she asked.

Im glad you bought me.

You mean, me, specifically?

Of course.

A thoughtful pause. Why me?

Youre beautiful, classy, and intelligent. If I were still a flesh and blood man, Id be doing my damnedest to invite you to dinner.

She laughed gently. So what kind of man were you?

I dont know.

What?

When they transfer people to chips, they pare away the memories. It wouldnt do for me to suddenly make an unplanned right turn, just to see if my old high school is still there. Its part of the price you pay for a second lease on life.

She sounded subdued. So you remember nothing at all about being human? No favorite foods, no birthdays, no loved ones?

Im afraid not.

Id heard that, but I didnt believe it. You still seem like a whole person. Isnt your personality formed from your experiences in life? How can you still have a personality if your memories have been stripped away?

Anything thats a distinct part of your personality may have started in response to a particular event, but it becomes habitual. Your personality can survive being deprived of the memories that gave birth to it.

Sounds as though your personality is frozenalmost fossilized.

No, Im free to grow again, to acquire new memories, develop new traits. At least until this car gets scrapped. Then Ill start over again.

Oh, no you dont! she snapped. Ive already lost you once, and I dont intend to lose you again.

Alexis, I dont

You were my husband, and God help me, I still love you.

As far as Alexis was concerned, I was simply suffering from amnesia. Thats not to say that she thought I could be cured; she wasted no time on futile efforts to try to help me remember things that were forever beyond my grasp. Her plan was to create a rich bed of new memories that would serve as a foundation for another phase of our relationship.