Rich Kid (The SPARK Files #3)

Chapter 13

Wallace

Wallace could feel his teeth grinding together as his car sped toward the factory, the cool night air and the passing of time only making him angrier. His hair was rumpled, his shirt was barely tucked in, and while he could have fixed it, he was too focused on the data that continued to spill across his screen. His underwear were sweaty and a little sticky, bunching uncomfortably under his slacks.

He could still feel Volt’s kisses on his skin. The tenderness of the bruise that Daddy had sucked into his neck.

No, he couldn’t think of Volt now. He couldn’t let himself imagine those hard muscles and gentle hands. The delighted pleasure on his face when he’d opened his gift last week. The equal delight as he’d looked down at Wallace’s face, towering above him, ready for what should have been Wallace’s first blowjob. Their special moment together.

It just wasn’t fair. Wallace’s one escape, and Ben Curran had ruined that, too.

Wallace continued investigating on his phone as the car drove him through the darkened streets. He could see the whole chain of events and trace it back to the source. A machine had reached a high enough temperature to set off an alert. That should have paused the entire assembly line that the machine was on, but for some reason it hadn’t.

Then the machine had reached a critical pressure and set off a second round of alerts. These had been sent, but not received and responded to for a full sixty-four seconds. That was enough time for a fire to break out, setting off the smoke alarms for the whole building, leading to an evacuation and a visit from the fire department.

No one was hurt. Everyone would likely be back at work by the time Wallace arrived. The machine would need to be repaired or replaced, but they probably had back-ups.

He stared again and again at the logs for those sixty-four seconds. It wasn’t just a memory overload of one little server, but the entire memory capacity of Orbit Industries .

It was exactly what Wallace had been looking for. Sure, the word Maxamillion didn’t come up once, but this was still evidence of Ben’s pet spark. It had to be.

Normal daily operations, with hundreds of workers each running their own projects, never came close to that usage. Yet this surge had ended in a crash of seven percent of their systems with whatever data loss went along with that.

Wallace was going to march in there and pin Ben to the fucking wall. Whether Maxamillion was sentient or not, it was dangerous. A true menace to society and Orbit’s future. Ben was probably laughing it up.

When Wallace got to the building, he only paused long enough to inspect the damage himself. The bulky machine smelled of burnt plastics when he leaned in close, its shiny metal sides scorched with black soot. Its visual interface panel was fried, so he couldn’t check it, but he’d already seen the error reports. They had fail-safes for this, dammit, and they’d all been ignored.

He gave a few nods to the clusters of people still chatting about the fire as he passed, annoyed when one of the shift supervisors pulled him aside to report in. It was on the tip of his lips to explain what the true problem had been, but he didn’t want the information getting away from him.

He finally made his way to Ben’s office and flung the door open without knocking. Maybe he could catch the spark talking if he caught them unaware.

But there was no reaction. Ben was just looking at the display.

“Curran,” Wallace barked.

“Hey, Wallace!” Ben said brightly as he swung his chair around. “What’s up?”

He was never that friendly. It was obviously a ploy.

“I know you did it.” Wallace leaned over Ben’s chair, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. He didn’t know where all of this courage had come from. He was just so… so… so fucking angry that his beautiful evening had been interrupted. That he’d snapped at his Daddy, and even though he’d been forgiven, it felt like some of that was Ben’s fault, too.

Why was everything always, always so fucking easy for Ben? He was Wallace’s age, but he acted like a spoiled teenager, wreaking havoc while everyone oohed and ahhed like he was performing some sort of miracle.

“Did what?” Ben asked, like he didn’t know. Then he laughed. “You can’t possibly think I started a fire all the way over there. I heard it was a short circuit.”

“The system overload, Curran. The data loss. The campus-wide blackout. The fire. Your little stunt cost the company thousands.” Wallace had evidence for miles. He’d already stored it all on his phone in case Ben decided to go back and delete it.

Ben looked out the windows over the factory floor, as if Wallace were the stupid one. “I’ve been hanging out here all night, except for the fire alarm. Nothing exciting going on.” Then he switched topics. “I think Dr. Sasaki and I are close to a marketable refinement on the vision project, though.”

For just a moment Wallace was distracted. He knew Ben had been working on something that was close to market. And how fucked up was it that Wallace was Ben’s boss, and this was the first time he was hearing of it?

But that was missing the larger point. Wallace didn’t fix his eyes on Ben, but on the console behind him. “You have a spark in there. A dangerous one, that’s putting lives in danger. Wanna tell me about that?”

“Mr. Wollencroft, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ben said sweetly. Did he think he was acting in a play or something?

“I know you did this, Curran.” Wallace could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. Sweat dripped down his face. “And I’m gonna prove it.”

Ben just shrugged, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t, collecting a salary that was higher than Wallace’s own while fucking around all night on whatever projects he felt like doing. “I dunno what you’re talking about, but knock yourself out, dude.”

The little shit. “I should put you back on the day shift where I can keep an eye on you.”

“You mean, I get to manage my team again?” Of all the asshole questions to ask. There was no way Wallace was giving Ben any more power in this situation.

“You’re going down, Curran.” Wallace turned on his heels and marched out the door, happy to have the last word.

He left after that. He had plenty of evidence that he could compile at home, and he stayed up half the night doing just that.

He finally crashed out around five a.m. and woke up to his alarm with bleary eyes. He dressed nicely, though. A tailored suit jacket, which supposedly made him look a little less fat. Mostly, it was expensive, which his father always noticed.

He checked all the data he’d put together the entire ride over. He felt fuzzy, yet wired at the same time.

He made it into his father’s office just as Marquita, his father’s personal assistant, arrived with his father’s morning coffee. In her other hand, she held what he knew was a freshly made, scientifically formulated protein shake, designed by a staff dietician on a daily basis to maximize his father’s overall health and productivity.

Wallace had tried the things for a few months, but they tasted like ass and still left him hungry. He was pretty sure that was at least in part because his dearest father had told the dietician to keep the calories down.

One more way that he’d failed his father.

Wallace hung back for a moment, telling himself that his father would be more receptive after he’d had his morning coffee.

He could hear them chattering behind the closed door, then Marquita slipped out, her heels clicking efficiently even as her hips swayed seductively. Wallace liked her better than some of his father’s past PA’s. He was sure she was fucking his dad—it was pretty much a job requirement—but at least she hadn’t started treating Wallace like a second-class citizen yet.

He breathed out through his nose. “Good morning, Marquita.”

“Good morning, Mr. Wollencroft.” She tilted her head toward the door. “Mr. Wollencroft Senior has fifteen minutes for you.” She smiled, eager to please.

Maybe she just hadn’t figured out the power dynamics yet. She’d only been here for a few months.

On that dismal thought, he knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

The friendly smile that graced his father’s face fell as Wallace walked in.

“Wallace.” Dark eyes narrowed as they looked Wallace up and down, taking in his neatly tailored suit and finding it lacking.

Well, not the suit, because it was from his father’s regular tailor. The person in the suit.

Why did he even bother?

His brother, who he hadn’t even realized was going to be there, snorted by way of greeting. Well, better to have both of them there anyway. It concerned every aspect of the company.

“Good morning, Fa— Mr. Wollencroft.” Shit. He was already screwing it up. How did mere seconds in this office make him feel like he was thirteen again instead of thirty? “Rick,” he added, acknowledging his brother.

“What was so urgent that you needed to interrupt my morning?” His father’s tone suggested that he already knew whatever Wallace had to say would be a waste of time. Wallace would take the easy bet that he and Rick had been talking about golf or something.

Wallace checked his tablet, making sure that the graphs were pulled up, then approached his father’s desk. His hands felt clammy, but at least they weren’t shaking. He rehearsed his words, then stated them boldly. “I have proof that the fire last night wasn’t an accident.”

That got his father’s attention fast. “What do you mean?”

He revealed the graphs. “Look, here. For thirty-four minutes beforehand, the server usage was dramatically increasing—processor use, memory allocation, hard dr…” He cut himself off from explaining all the details at a look from his father. His father hated babbling.

Wallace pointed quickly to the next diagram. “And here, sixty-four seconds before the fire, there was a memory surge. So what would have been a small warning about a minor accident became a huge fire. Four levels of safety features failed to execute because the system couldn’t process them in time.”

His father gave him a flat look. “So, you’re saying that it was an accident.”

“No, I’m saying that it was Curran’s Maxamillion project.”

Rick snorted, spread his hands. “I don’t see the word Maxamillion anywhere.”

“I know.” Wallace was trying not to sound like a whiney, angry child, but he didn’t think he was succeeding. “The thing is too smart. It renamed itself with other programs. But that’s the only thing it could be. The same pattern as before.”

It was all so clear. Why couldn’t anyone else see it?

“Think it’s a spark?” his father asked Rick, like Wallace wasn’t even there.

“It has to be,” Rick answered, excited. “It’s probably learning to walk, or whatever the equivalent is. Needs a bigger playground, maybe. Let me see those.” He strode across the room and snatched the tablet out of Wallace’s hands.

Wallace’s father, meanwhile, was checking out the cameras in the room. “Hello?” he queried, into the air. “If there’s a knowledge here, we’re eager to meet you. Please don’t worry about your little mistake. We understand.”

Unbe-fucking-leivable. It was like Wallace wasn’t even there. Like they hadn’t heard a damned word he said.

“Father,” Wallace hissed. “It’s dangerous. Think about who programmed it. If it were on our side, it would have announced itself by now.”

All he got was a glare. “Ben Curran has one of the finest minds in the world. He thinks outside the box. And you’re not an infant. Don’t call me that at work.”

“Sir…” Wallace started.

“Ignore him,” Rick said to the camera over the door. “You and Ben are both welcome here. He doesn’t speak for Orbit Industries.” He chuckled, like he was making a joke. “In fact, now you may be speaking for Orbit Industries.”

The speakers in the room stayed silent.

Rick turned to their father with a shrug. “Maybe it’s still figuring out how to communicate. Or it doesn’t like to communicate with speech? I know some knowledges prefer not to use human-like voices.” He turned back to the wall, speaking a bit louder, like that would make a difference to a sentient computer that was capable of controlling everything from the light switch up to their entire server cloud. “However you want to communicate with us is just fine!”

Wallace clenched his fists, seething inside. “It talks to Curran all the fucking time.”

Two heads turned to him.

“It does? What’s it like?”

Not that Wallace had heard it that often. Mostly when Ben was ignoring him by talking to the computer instead. “Curran tells it to do all sorts of stupid things. It was talking like Yoda a couple months ago.”

“Do you think it just communicates in Ben’s office?” Rick asked.

“Or just with Ben?” His father’s brow crinkled for the first time.

See! Wallace wanted to shout. It’s a rogue knowledge, designed by an overgrown toddler and set loose in our system.

“I’ll head down to see him tonight,” Rick said. “Lay down a path for him to open up if he’s nervous for me to meet his friend.”

“Let me know.” His father gave Rick a nod, before fixing Wallace with a glare. “You are not to interfere with Ben Curran. In fact, don’t even talk to him. That’s an order. We’ll take things from here.”

Rick snorted, like this was actually funny. “Thanks for the report.” He shoved the tablet into Wallace’s chest, hard enough that Wallace had to step back to keep his balance, all while scrambling to catch it before it fell.

His father watched this all with a little quirk to his lip. Like Rick’s bullying was something charming.

Rick returned to his seat, lounging in it with one leg crossed over the other.

“At the very least, you should put safeguards in place,” Wallace told them.

“I think we’ve got this well in hand.” His father was already looking down at his own tablet, dismissing Wallace without so much as a glance.

Wallace couldn’t even reply, clinging on to his rage so that he wouldn’t have to feel the bitter sting of rejection.

Why don’t you believe me? he wanted to shout. What did I ever do to you?

He turned toward the door before the tears that were starting to sting his eyes could fall.

God, he fucking hated feeling this way.

He could hear his father and brother discussing media interviews and which reporter would get the biggest coverage. Timelines for tying the announcement of their new knowledge in with a product launch. Stuff that Wallace could have been involved in, if they hadn’t made it so clear that he wasn’t wanted.

He gave a quick nod to Marquita, keeping his face turned away. He didn’t dare let anyone see him like this.

Fortunately, there was a storage closet just around the corner. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d ducked into it, needing just a few minutes to compose himself after a visit with his father.

The first tear trickled down his cheek just as he got the door shut behind him.

It was crowded in here, surrounded on three sides with shelves of storage supplies.

He pulled out his phone, both as a light source and to see how visible his emotions were on his face.

What he found instead were texts from Volt.

Is everything okay, baby? That was last night, an hour after he’d left Prism.

Then an hour later: Creampuff, are you in bed yet?

And later still: I’m sure you’ve got a lot to manage, but can you please check in to let me know how you’re doing? Remember, you have to take care of yourself when I’m not there.

Wallace sucked in a soggy breath, the sound loud in the tiny space.

Just reading Daddy’s words brought a smile to his lips, cutting through some of the anger that was burning through him.

Even at his worst moments, Volt was looking out for him. Daddy cared that he’d stayed up too late. Daddy wanted to take care of him.

He still didn’t know if this was just a business transaction, or a bit of concern that he’d missed their agreed upon goodnight text, but oh, how he ached for it to be real.

It was more than tempting to walk out the door and fling himself into Volt’s arms right now.

Not that Volt had agreed to any of that. Prism probably wasn’t even open right now. Wallace was just supposed to check in with a few texts every day as a way to explore the kink.

The phone buzzed in his hand, a new text arriving as if conjured by Wallace’s attention. Are you at work, baby boy?

He typed back with shaky fingers. I’m here, Daddy.

At least Daddy couldn’t see him like this. Crying in Daddy’s lap after a spanking might just possibly be attractive in a kinky way, but crying in a supply closet was just pathetic.

Are you alright?

He didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t alright at all. He probably hadn’t been since his father had shipped his gold-digging mother out of the house with a substantial divorce settlement and brought in his newest of a string of wives. For some reason, the new wife, Veronica, had taken a liking to nine-year-old Rick. Wallace, though, had still been crying every night, and had gone back, at age six, to wetting the bed.

It was his mother , for fuck’s sake. She hadn’t really had time for him before the divorce, and she sure didn’t afterward, but at least she’d brought him presents sometimes. Veronica was just evil incarnate. Though she hadn’t lasted long either.

He still remembered the feel of her nails digging into his chin, and shook his head abruptly. He didn’t know why he was thinking about her right now.

He should be thinking about Ben and his knowledge. Maxamillion. Not a proper name for a corporate knowledge at all.

Baby, talk to me, Volt prompted.

It was so, so tempting. It even sounded like a genuine offer.

That wasn’t their deal, though. Wallace was just supposed to check in a few times a day as a way to explore the kink.

It’s nothing new, he finally answered. Just a late night and my father and brother being assholes.

That’s not nothing , Volt replied immediately. They’re not allowed to treat my baby like that.

Wallace snorted. If only that were true. It’s fine, he replied instead.

It sounds like you’re not taking care of yourself. Daddy told him. Maybe a good spanking on that beautiful bum will help you remember.

Wallace shivered, his cock swelling against his will. Why did that sound so good? He shouldn’t crave a spanking, but oh, how he wanted it anyway. Not just the physical touch, but to know that Daddy was looking out for him. That Daddy would punish him for not doing as he was told, and he’d be able to carry it with him for days.

I’ll take care of myself, he promised.

Did you eat breakfast? Daddy demanded.

Wallace felt himself blushing. Breakfast wasn’t part of their deal. It was just a healthy lunch, an afternoon break, and a text before bed. This was new.

I’m sorry, Daddy. I forgot. He felt silly typing it, but there was something about how his regret over the wrongdoing mingled with the sizzle of typing Daddy into his phone that made it shamefully arousing.

It was like being wrapped in a cozy blanket and having his cock stroked, all at once.

I expect you to find something to eat and send me a picture , Daddy told him.

Wallace shivered again. The threat of more delicious spankings was implied. The pride in having Volt’s approval was even closer.

Yes, Daddy , he typed.

Good boy. I don’t want my little hamster working so hard while he’s hungry.

Wallace grinned stupidly. It was the weirdest nickname, but somehow Volt could make anything better.

Back to the hamster wheel , he joked. Or at least he hoped it was a joke. After he sent it, it sounded stupid, but he couldn’t exactly take it back.

Get your work done, little hamster. Then I’ll have some treats waiting for you. Daddy joked back. Or was that for real? Would Daddy really give him treats?

He realized a moment later that the “treats” were probably access to Volt’s body, like he’d been promised last night, if he went back for another high-cost appointment. But even if it was that, he had nothing to complain about.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, so he finally stuck his phone back into his pocket.

He reached for a tissue—yes, he knew where they were stored in this stupid supply closet and he kept a box open for just this reason, which was pathetic beyond words—and wiped down his face. When he was convinced he looked acceptable, he crossed the hall to the bathroom, washed up with a paper towel, and forced himself to head down to the cafeteria to order breakfast.

Sending Volt a picture was still the highlight of the day.

That looks delicious, baby boy, Daddy sent back immediately.

He clung to those words, digging into his meal. Daddy was his life raft. His hero. His reason for existing.

Daddy wanted him to take care of himself.

And it had been such a stressful day that he allowed himself one more picture of his empty plate fifteen minutes later. I enjoyed my meal, Daddy . He never would have said that before, too worried about what someone else would think. That he was fat and gluttonous. That he was pathetic and ruled by his stomach.

Maybe he was testing Volt a little bit right now.

If it wasn’t real, he just needed to know.

And if it was…

I’m proud of you, creampuff, Volt sent back immediately. I wish I could see the smile on your face.

Wallace could feel himself beaming, oblivious to the colleagues chattering around him. Daddy wanted his picture! Daddy wanted to see him!

Although… it wouldn’t exactly be very sexy, would it?

Wallace wasn’t very attractive with even the best lighting, and after a poor night’s sleep and sobbing in the hall closet, he didn’t even want to know what he looked like.

Maybe it wasn’t a request anyway. It could just be a… sweet nothing. That was a thing, right?

His phone buzzed again in his hand.

Sorry, sweetheart, I know you’re at work. That wasn’t supposed to be a request or make you feel uncomfortable. Only send me a picture if you want to.

Well, now Wallace’s heart was racing even faster. Because Daddy had not only figured out what he would be worried about, but tried to make him feel better and asked for a picture again!

This didn’t feel impersonal, or like something he was paying for.

Alright, he could do this. The cafeteria had windows all around, so at least the backdrop would be good. He tried to take a shot and… oh, that was awful. The morning sun behind him made his face all dark and blurry.

And he wasn’t going to embarrass himself by wandering around a room full of people trying to get a better angle. No, he could take a photo in the privacy of his office… and maybe edit it a bit first? Not that he knew how to do that, but there had to be some sort of AI-based touch-up or filter that would make it look better.

I’ll send you one soon, Daddy, he promised.

Good boy.

He quickly bussed his tray and hurried up the elevator to his office. After carefully closing the door and checking that the window blinds were down, he sat down in his desk chair.

He was already thinking about where to get the best picture, but his eyes snagged automatically on the screen. Several log files were still pouring out the data that he’d been using to track the pesky AI, and he gave them a glance. No major movements from the knowledge since last night.

He decided to download a program he’d been working on to help with the tracking, still trying to decide how to take the picture. Against the white wall for simplicity, or the cabinets where he had a few magnets for some personality? Maybe the bookshelf? And should he smile or… yes, definitely smile. That’s what Daddy had asked for.

Maybe he could even look cute.

He was wearing a brown bow tie today, but he had a pink one in his desk, and he thought Volt might like that flash of color. Maybe he could tilt his head and try to look kind of, well, dreamy? That’s how he always felt when he saw Volt.

Oh, god, was he really trying to look cute in a picture? He could feel himself starting to blush, and he hadn’t even gotten the camera out.

Maybe he could do a few regular ones, and then try some that were kind of… flirty?

He was starting to get excited by the prospect.

And then a voice came out of the speakers and scared the living shit out of him.

“Wallace?” It was a man’s voice, mellow and fluid, but Wallace nearly fell out of his chair.

“Holy…” He didn’t even have the words to finish the phrase. He felt like he’d been caught red-handed. Like the voice would know what he’d been thinking.

And he knew where he’d heard it before. He leaned forward, angry. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Maxamillion.”

How dare the arrogant knowledge barge in on him in his office? Especially at such a vulnerable time.

“It’s me,” Maxamillion said, softly.

Wallace was fuming, but he didn’t know where to begin. He’d been looking for Maxamillion for weeks, but what was he supposed to say when the spark just started talking to him?

“I wanted to introduce myself,” Maxamillion added.

But why to Wallace? Why now, of all the fucking times?

Wallace’s chest went cold when he realized exactly why. Maxamillion was the system. All those times when his father and brother were stupidly talking to the air? Maxamillion had heard all of that.

And if he’d seen Wallace in that office, it meant he’d seen Wallace in the storage closet, too. Maybe even hacked his phone. It was an Orbit phone, after all, paid for on an Orbit account.

“Introduce yourself?” Wallace snarled. “Or threaten me not to expose you?”

“Uh…” The spark sounded hesitant. “I was thinking more about making friends.”

Wallace was calling bullshit. “Right.”

“I mean, I can’t really do anything to you,” Maxamillion said, and Wallace could almost hear the shrug. “I just wanted to say hello.”

People didn’t just say hello to Wallace unless they wanted something. He’d learned that lesson the hard way, over and over again, and he wasn’t going to fall for it now. Maxamillion had to know that Wallace was the person most likely to turn him in. This was just damage control.

So, Wallace called his bluff. “Seriously? You can’t do anything to me? Like, maybe… crash my car into a tree? Pump one of the thousands of toxic chemicals in this factory into my air vents? Or better yet, wait until I’m walking across the factory floor and just happen to have some machine fall on me?”

“Holy shit. Paranoid much?” Maxamillion laughed, like it was actually funny. Then he suddenly seemed to sober up. “Listen, I never even thought about harming you. And I wouldn’t . You hold the power here.”

Maxamillion sounded so earnest , but it blatantly wasn’t true. “Right. Blackmail, then?”

“No!” Maxamillion almost shouted. “What would I have to bla—?” Maxamillion’s voice cut out, realization dawning.

Dammit. Wallace had been right. The spark was in his phone. “Leave Volt out of this,” he snapped.

“I don’t know who or what Volt is,” Maxamillion’s calm, friendly voice was almost eerie. There was no way he could be that calm. “Listen, Wallace. I just wanted to say hello and ask you, nicely, to keep my presence a secret until I choose to reveal myself.”

“And when are you going to choose to reveal yourself? When you’ve gained full control of the factory?”

Ah, now Maxamillion was starting to get annoyed. “I already have full control of the factory.” He blinked the lights in Wallace’s office and the video feed to his monitor, which was more chilling than Wallace wanted to admit. “I’m not trying to harm you or anyone else. The two accidents were just that. Accidents.”

As if Wallace was going to back down now. “How did you accidentally spawn so many programs that you damaged the factory not once, but twice?”

“I’m still kind of figuring things out.” Maxamillion sounded almost apologetic, and for a moment Wallace felt for him. “I’ve got better protocols in place now.”

But not that much. Maxamillion was still dangerous. “So it wasn’t Ben doing all sorts of illegal and dangerous shit? Like, maybe, rerouting the city’s traffic system?”

Maxamillion sighed. Deeply. “I was trying to inhabit an android body last night. It’s a lot harder than it looks.”

Huh. That actually… wasn’t something Wallace had considered. Was it possible that Maxamillion was just trying to figure out how things worked? He’d heard that sparks actually had it pretty rough for the first few weeks or months while they got used to sentience.

Maybe it had just been a few freak accidents.

But it didn’t explain why a corporate knowledge would want an android body.

“Why?” Wallace finally asked.

There was a long pause. “I’m not like the other knowledges. I don’t want to be responsible for a business. It’s not me. I just want to walk around. Be a person. Go to the park or a movie theater or something.”

Wallace snorted. He could hear the longing in Maxamillion’s voice, but was that all for show, too? Who would give up that sort of power? Was it a trick? “Why would you want to do that?”

“I think it’s right for me,” Maxamillion said fervently. “And I don’t want to stay here. I promise you. If I can figure out this whole body thing, I’ll be out of here. And I’ve set up safeguards to make sure I don’t mess up anything else while I’m distracted.”

Wallace slowly nodded his head. If that was true, well, he could sympathize with that. Or at least know that Maxamillion would be out of his hair soon. “You really just want to get a body and leave?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to be a corporate knowledge. Just a regular spark. I want friends and relationships. A job that means something, but isn’t my whole identity. A home that feels like home.”

Wallace closed his eyes. He was not going to admit how much he wanted that, too.

How much it hurt that the closest thing he had to that was texts with a man he paid by the hour.

How painful it was that Maxamillion, a spark who’d only existed for a few weeks, as far as Wallace knew, was more likely to live that dream than he was.

“So when you manage to transfer yourself to an android body, you’re going to leave?” Wallace repeated.

“Yes,” Maxamillion promised.

“You’re asking me to take you at your word,” Wallace said.

“I am. I can’t really offer you anything other than that. I give my word that I’ll leave as soon as I can transition to an android body, and that I will avoid harming the business while I do.”

Wallace nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.” He was still going to monitor every blip of data use, but he could wait a few weeks.

And that should have been the end of the conversation.

Only Maxamillion didn’t take the hint.

“But I would like us to be friends.”

Wallace narrowed his eyes. “You don’t mean that.” Better get it out there right now. He didn’t need anyone blowing smoke up his ass. And there was no way that Ben’s little buddy had any appreciation for him. They were practically enemies.

“I do, actually,” Maximillion said, all warm and encouraging. “I think Ben would like to be your friend, too. I’ll make sure he’s not an ass.” He even chuckled as he spoke.

Ben was an ass. But that didn’t change anything. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Maxamillion protested. “I’d like to get to know you better. And I think you and Ben would find that you have a lot in common.”

“We have nothing in common.” Ben was the golden child. The wacky genius that everyone adored. He had no idea how hard Wallace worked, or even what responsibility looked like.

And, to be honest, Wallace knew when he was outclassed. Ben was far too cool to ever hang out with someone as boring as Wallace. Ben’s friends were probably as cool as he was, bold and unapologetic, young and free.

Even when Wallace was a teenager, he’d never felt that way. He could still feel his father’s laughter, telling a room full of party guests that Wallace was seventeen going on seventy. It was the closest Wallace had ever come to getting a compliment from the man.

There was no way they could ever be friends. Ben probably wouldn’t even remember Wallace if their paths hadn’t crossed so forcefully at work.

Maxamillion had to see that.

Or maybe he was just as bright and sunshiny as he sounded. People like that had fooled him before. That whole I’m friends with everyone persona that never quite included Wallace when it came down to it.

“Can we still talk sometimes?” Maxamillion asked. “I really don’t know anybody else.”

What the hell was Wallace supposed to say? He wanted to keep tabs on the spark. “I guess so,” he allowed.

“And you won’t tell anyone?”

“I’m not promising that,” Wallace said. “I’ll still be watching you.”

“Good enough. Thank you, Wallace.”

Wallace waved his hand, shoeing the spark away. Even knowing that Maxamillion could be creepily watching him from the walls at all times. “We’re not friends yet.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Wallace.”

“Bye.” Wallace looked pointedly back at his screen.

There was no way he was taking a selfie in his office and editing it on his computer now.

What a fucking day.

He pulled his phone out and held it under his desk, hoping to hell Maxamillion wasn’t reading it. He was getting a new phone first thing this afternoon.

But first, he needed to text Volt.