Rich Kid (The SPARK Files #3)

Chapter 22

Wallace

“Hey, Wallace!”

Wallace didn’t answer the speaker set in the wall, but that didn’t stop Max. The knowledge clearly knew Wallace could hear him.

“You’re looking good today. I like the tie. It’s cute. Very you.”

Wallace stopped himself in the act of automatically reaching for his bow tie. He was pretty sure he’d worn the navy blue one with little goldfish on it today. It was one of his favorites, the small fish just subtle enough that he could get away with being a bit quirky.

He wondered if he should wear it for his date in two days. It was the aquarium so… thematic? Or would that be too formal? Should he buy something casual? It was one of the thousand little details that had left him on edge for days.

He knew Max was just sucking up with all the compliments on his tie, but maybe just this once he could… make use of that?

God, he was so bad with people. Wallace clenched his teeth together, then decided to go for it. “What do you think would be, uh, very me in casual wear?”

“Oooh! You should ask Evan that. Er, Evan is Ben’s friend. Or Quincy! That’s his boyfriend. And he knows much more about clothes and stuff than I do. Oh my god. I just realized that I’ll have to wear clothes. Do I like clothes? I hadn’t thought about that yet. I’ll have to buy clothes !”

For fuck’s sake. “Casual wear,” he repeated.

“Ummmm….” While Max was humming, pictures started to flash up onto Wallace’s screen.

Not just pictures, but pictures of Wallace , from different angles, on a gray background, with different clothing on. They shuffled around and sorted themselves, moving increasingly faster until Wallace couldn’t keep up.

How the hell was Maxamillion doing that?

Wallace, of course, could have programmed something like that. He would need a set of photos of his body shape in various positions, then another data set of outfits, then he’d spend weeks tinkering with algorithms to merge the two together meaningfully. He was sure someone had made apps for that already, but Max was just doing it on the fly.

That was some scary shit there. Not to mention, where was getting the data from? Had he been photographing Wallace at work? Was he pulling from security feeds?

All of it gave Wallace the heebeegeebees. It was one thing for a corporate knowledge to take all of that data and use it to improve a company from the inside out, but Max was just… fucking around.

“Alright,” Max announced when the pictures settled down. “The internet says, and I think I agree, dark V-neck shirts on the top, which could range from classic black to burgundy, chestnut, or a warm gray to go with your pink undertones. For jeans, stick to navy or black, and make sure they’re the right fit to your form. Choose longer jackets, and you can add a bit of flare with reds, oranges, and yellows.”

Wallace only took in about half of the words, but there were three pictures at the top where… he actually looked really good. Like, relaxed and cute and… normal? Not any skinnier but… pretty nice? His eyes flitted from one to the next, trying to memorize them for the future. He never could have figured this out on his own.

The first was just a long-sleeved shirt with a V-neck in a chocolate brown, untucked over a simple pair of jeans. Not too baggy and not too tight, it hugged his form without looking like he was squeezed into it. The second was another V-neck in maroon, paired with a single-breasted jacket that somehow managed to look classy and casual at the same time. The pocket square had tiny sunflowers against the same maroon, exactly the type of thing Wallace would have chosen for himself. The third started with black athletic pants with two thin, white stripes down the sides and a gray top with red chevrons across the shoulders. It made it look like he was going to the gym, which was always a bit intimidating. But if the workout was hiking or something, it looked like he’d be comfortable.

He hadn’t realized that there were clothes he could actually look good in.

“Could you, uh, send that to me?”

If he had about a zillion times more confidence than he’d ever had in his life, he’d ask Max to suggest what might look good for him in, uh, women’s clothes. And undergarments.

But that was something he was taking to his grave. No one but Volt could ever know.

“Sure. I sent all the purchasing links for the top twenty outfits.”

He did fucking what? That was like… a fucking gift. And Max probably had no idea.

“Thanks,” Wallace managed. “That, uh, thing you just did.” He waved his hand at the screen. “That should be marketable. Like, stores would buy that.” He would buy it. As long as none of his personal data were ever recorded anywhere.

“Ooh! Good thinking. I’ll write up a development plan and marketing analysis.”

For just a moment, Wallace wondered what it would be like working with Max as an actual colleague. He was a menace, but it would be fun being around someone so upbeat and casually creative.

Except that now Maxamillion was about to go off and create a whole project, and Ben would no doubt waltz in, improve in several ways without a second thought, and then take all the credit.

Wallace noticed that Maxamillion hadn’t exactly said where he’d send all the plans he was making. But really, did Wallace have to ask?

It would probably be a lot of fun for the two of them. He would even bet that Ben was fun to work with.

Not that he’d ever know, since Ben hated Wallace’s guts.

Or worse, simply didn’t care enough to bother. Certainly didn’t respect him as a colleague. He’d made that more than clear over the years.

Wallace sighed. Yeah, that was where all of his wishful thinking went to die. He would always be on the outside. No matter what fancy title he had.

“I wonder what clothes I’d look good in,” Max mused aloud.

The picture wheel started again, but now the body was—predictably—model perfect. Rippling muscles without being too jacked, dark hair swooping over a perfectly symmetrical face, just messy enough to look sexy and cool, piercing blue eyes… basically, a fashion-doll body that would look good in anything.

No doubt stolen from the Orbit shelves, at exorbitant cost, but Wallace wasn’t even going to get into that if it got Max out of his company. Just seeing the images was bad enough. “Is that your body?” he asked.

“That’s model Cliff, variation 13794C, one of the top-selling models this year.”

“And is that the one you chose?”

Max sighed. “Not really. It’s just…” The knowledge huffed, a completely superfluous sound since he was a mainframe computer and didn’t need to breathe. “How am I supposed to pick?”

Wallace wasn’t going to dignify that whiny voice with a response.

Wallace had been tormented and teased his entire life about his body, and he had absolutely no sympathy for a spark who could just pick a body off the shelf that had been scientifically designed for maximum attraction.

He would have given anything to pick a different body type. Or even to upload his brain to the cloud and live there indefinitely.

Well, probably.

Now that Volt had come into his life, he’d been reevaluating some of that. He hadn’t known before how pleasurable he could find another man’s touch. Or that another man would not just put up with touching his body, but actually seem to enjoy it.

Still, Volt would certainly prefer it if Wallace were taller. Stronger. Thinner. Basically, if he had a whole different body. “No idea, man.”

Another sigh. “That’s what Ben said, too.”

Yech. Wallace did not need to get into what Ben thought about Maxamillion’s body.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d become Max’s confidant, either. Sometimes it sounded like they were almost friends.

Except, obviously, Max was only here because he refused to reveal himself to anyone else, and he didn’t want Wallace to turn him in. So… yeah, he really had to stop getting sucked into friendship fantasies by the knowledge’s overly cheerful personality.

You’d think Wallace would have learned that lesson by now. He’d certainly been through it often enough. Like with the kid who used to live next door when he’d been growing up. It had taken him far too long to realize that he’d only played with Wallace when none of the other neighborhood kids were available and no one could see them.

Adulthood was just more of the same thing.

“Is there anything else you needed to tell me?” Wallace asked, probably a bit meaner than he should have been.

“Not really. It’s just… I thought it would be easier. Transferring to a body, I mean. Knowledges are supposed to be able to transfer between buildings over a couple of weeks.”

“Wait, really? What’s taking so long, then?” It had been months already, but he’d assumed that was normal. Maxamillion had promised to be gone weeks ago, and he’d been expecting a goodbye announcement any day now.

“I don’t know.” Max sounded glum. “Bodies are just weird. They’re not like buildings. Though it’s not like I’m part of the Orbit building, either. I really only hang out in Ben’s office. Or sometimes with you. I have no idea what’s going on anywhere else, and I couldn’t care less. Maybe that’s the problem. I’m not integrated enough into this building to integrate into an android body.”

While Max was musing, Wallace’s eyes just kept getting bigger.

This was why he never felt like he could trust him.

Every time he started feeling sorry for Max, every time he kind of imagined that they might be friends, something like this would happen.

“So, how far would you say you are toward body integration?” he asked, trying to control his skepticism.

“Um, well, there aren’t exactly statistical models or guidelines for this sort of thing so…”

“How far?” Wallace pressed.

“Uh… I’ve been working on controlling the fingers.”

Good god. He’d figured that it probably wasn’t a linear process, like ten percent control one day and twenty percent the next, but this sounded like zero percent. Nothing.

This was why he never felt like he could trust him.

Every time he started feeling sorry for Max, every time he kind of imagined that they might be friends, something like this would happen.

Max had promised him that he was leaving soon. That he was nearly there.

Wallace had told himself that he could overlook the security breach and not intervene if it was just for a short time, and he was monitoring everything himself.

But this sounded permanent.

Orbit could be stuck with Maxamillion forever… and no security protocols.

A knowledge with full control of every system in the factory, the questionable moral guidance of Ben Curran, no regard for the law or personal privacy, and no failsafes.

It was a nightmare waiting to happen, a much bigger one than the traitorous part of Wallace’s heart that couldn’t help longing for a friend.

No one had been seriously injured yet, but Max’s irresponsibility had the potential to get someone killed. Even without Max, the fact that their central computer now lacked automatic safety features was a lawsuit in the making.

“So what happens if you can’t get a body?” Wallace asked pointedly.

“I have to. I’ll just keep working harder until I get it.”

“As long as working harder doesn’t imperil the company,” Wallace pressed.

“Of course, of course.” Max verbally waved his concerns away. “I’ve put protocols back in place to alert me if anything comes up. No more accidents.”

“No more accidents,” Wallace repeated. “And now, if you don’t mind…”

“Huh? Oh! Yes, I’ll let you get back to work. I’m sure you have lots to do. See you soon!”

Wallace didn’t dignify that with a response. Was that last part some kind of back-handed compliment? Like maybe Wallace didn’t have lots of work to do?

The truth was, he didn’t actually have much to do today, since he’d been working late all week instead of going home to think about how he wasn’t texting Volt goodnight. The rest of the time, all he could think about was his date on Sunday. And now that he knew what clothes to buy…

Max better not be fucking with him and looking at his screen right now.

Wallace ordered everything.

In a range of “warm colors” and “classic black.”

How was this his life?