The next two days were spent talking with my scientists, one after another, as they wanted to see if I could handle normal interactions. Over games of chess, or watching a movie, or lunch in the cafeteria they would come and hang out. We talked about the weather, politics, anything and everything as they watched me for glitches.

They wanted to see if I had any robotic mannerisms; a stutter, a repeat, jerky hand movements, confusion over their tone or intent. While they studied me, I studied them; only I was looking at their humanity, how they talked to me and whether it was like I was a person or if they felt like they were talking to a toaster.

Doctor Hitchens I didn't like. He never looked me in the eyes and read his end of the conversation of a clipboard in front of him; when I answered he would check it off; when I asked him anything he would shrug it off and move on.

Doctor Owens…Dale, I liked. He brought a board but put it aside after talking to me for a few minutes; I couldn't help but get the feeling that everything made him excited, as if he was talking to a celebrity. He would listen to what I had to say on topics and break it up by saying "Cool," a lot; if that stopped me he would add "No, go on, go on."

I was getting a sense based on their interactions with me who wrote what code running around inside my brain. Some, like Doctor Hitchens, were straight code designed to assign responses to outside stimuli such as 'see door, recognize door, find door knob, open door by identified door knob.' Simple. Then there was flair, code that was inspired and random like Doctor Carter. I didn't so much as talk with him as I went along for the ride, his mind was everywhere; he would go on a tangent of how amazing new solar technology was which would lead him into talking about trees, and dogs peeing on those trees, to why cats hate dogs, and why cats need their claws cut because of furniture; then another tangent on different styles of furniture from different countries.

After the second day Tara led me back to my small white room and said her goodnights, which is when I asked her "What's an ABD 121 Battle droid look like."

I could see this caught her off guard; she stopped in the doorway and stared. "Who…who brought that up?"

"It was mentioned, but I know a lot of things; but I don't know what that is." I moved to my white desk and motioned to the computer. "And when I try to look it up, it redirects me to sites that it think I meant."

"Maybe you shouldn't be looking it up."

"You and I both know that's not really a deterrent to me." I smirked; "I'm made to be curious."

Tara nodded as she considered it. "You aren't a combat system, you know that, right? You're not meant to be."

"Ok?"

"I just want to put that out there. In case that worries you." She moved to the computer and put her thumb on the 'On' button; it read her print and released the blocks as the screen came on.

"No, just the opposite actually." I said.

"Yeah, that's what worries me." She added.

I looked at her face and registered the fear on it; it was subtle but she wasn't trying to hide that fact. The computer came alive and she typed in instructions.

"You're new Eric. New way of thinking on our part, new way of programming; everything about you is beyond what we've done before. But to do that, to make it work we had to borrow from our other systems. Processers had to be fast enough, we had to invent new hardware; and some we borrowed because it worked before…"

The ABD 121 came up on the screen. It was definitely metal, that was my first impression. A black humanoid shaped Biped-walking tank, nine feet tall and covered in thick armour. It wore a large steal backpack that fed its Vulcan Canon, which was hooked to its right leg so it could be raised when needed. In the video I saw before me though, the Robot held a gun shaped cannon in its hands; fed by a large drum underneath. Its head was shaped like a motorcycle helmet, the front visor blacked out.

This model moved forward through a large green field and stopped, it quickly aimed and fired six shells in two seconds at two M1 Tanks; the Uranium tipped shells tore through the steal and blew the machines up from the inside.

"That's me…" I said softly.

"No, no; that's not you." Tara shut it down leaving me wanting to see more. She motioned to me. "This, this is you. What you see in the mirror. You aren't meant for war Eric."

"What am I meant for, Tara?" I asked. Probably the most human question I have ever asked, and clearly I stumped her.

After a moment she started for the door, "I'm having a suit sent up to you for tomorrow night, there's a dinner party and I think it would be nice if you attended."

"To see if I fit in?"

"Yes, and no; this one you have to fit in. All our bosses are going to be there. Night." She said as she left the room.

I tried to bring the video up of the ABD 121, but it was locked away again.

I cleaned up nice. But I was biased.

I showered, shaved and put on the tuxedo that was delivered to my room around four. I assumed that somewhere my measurements were scanned into a computer as it fit perfectly, the lines tailored perfectly for my frame.

As per her instructions, I met Tara down in the lobby where she waited for me by the front door with the doorman and a Security-bot; her hair was done up and she wore a high-class overcoat with a designer purse.

"Looking snappy," She said as I walked up.

"Feeling snappy. You look just as presentable." I smiled; we headed out onto the sidewalk where her sleek limousine waited for us. I ignored the look and thoughts of the Robot driver and the Security Bot as they discussed me.

It was a quiet half-hour drive from the city into the suburbs where the houses grew exponentially in size, I spent that time listening to the onboard systems of the car tell me about the sights we saw along the drive. The Car's onboard Artificial Intelligence loved the drive, which made sense considering it was a car.

"Invitation please." The Guard leaned over to the window as Tara went about handing over her tickets; I nodded to the driver and watched as the scanners moved over the car. They were steal plates that moved along either side.

I noticed two Security Androids at the Guards hut; dark, light armour with badges; their heads were rectangle with three lenses. They were shells though, their higher functions had been shut down and I couldn't read any of their signals; it was like they had no souls.

I sent a pint to them and received a response so they weren't turned off. I tried to dig deeper but the code was jumbled, all that was left was basic motor function.

"Ok, you're all clear." The Guard handed the tickets back and motioned to our Driver. The limo moved through the high steal gates, passed the brick walls toward the four story, six acre home at the top of the hill.

I glanced back once more at the guards but the gate closed.

We were far from the first people there, I counted seventeen limos and twenty-two family sized cars parked off to the side of the house. Tara and I joined a line of people on the front porch moving toward the door slowly.

"How are you holding up?" Tara wrapped her arm around mine, partly for support for herself, partly for me.

"Good, good." I felt uneasy. The whole event was a bit overwhelming to take in fully, and there was also a vibration she couldn't see; I didn't fully understand it either.

A two hundred and sixty pound man scanned our RSVP's at the front door and smiled to us before we stepped through the threshold; inside we followed the people to the doorway set up as a coat check.

"May I take your coat and purse, please?" A humanoid shaped Robot said to Tara as she held out her arms; her skin was blue, white and mostly black to match standard servant ware.

"Thank-you." Tara handed her jacket over, revealing her thin red dress; the Coat Check Girl quickly scanned her face in lieu of a ticket.

"May I take your overcoat as…" The Coat Check girl stopped when she saw me; then tilted her head. 'Are you real?'

'Yes, I'm sorry, please don't tell anybody.' I handed over my overcoat, "Thank-you."

"I will put these up for you." She said for the benefit of Tara. 'Please be careful.'

"I want you to meet some people." Tara pulled my elbow as she lead me into the ball room, where tuxedos and revealing dresses moved around with people inside them.

Tara and I worked the room as she took me from small group to small group; identifying those we talked to by their position in either the Nicholson Corporation or what business dealings they had with the company. She would introduce me with "This is Eric Stenson, he's consulting on the MaCH systems upgrade."

I took part in the small chat, and mimicked people's mannerisms as best I could as I watched my programming adapt; even taking on the upper class accent.

"Did you want to go talk to her?" Tara asked, motioning toward a Red Head in a green dress by the bar.

"What?" I replied.

"I see you looking at her, I don't mind if want to meet her."

"I don't think so." I smirked; at that moment I was listening to the higher frequency of the room; as the AI systems where gossiping about the night, most of them were discussing me but all of them were avoiding a red signal.

"Loser…" It was drawn out. "Ok, lets go see Mr. Nicholson."

She took me to Dwayne Nicholson, a sixty-four year old Man in a tuxedo surrounded by six other like-minded people; I was introduced to the group and blended right in. I was able to keep up my end of the conversation as I scanned the Red Signal; the other AI's in the building were avoiding it like the plague; purposely, as if they were afraid to acknowledge that it even existed. Although it was encrypted and not sending out information, it was absorbing it.

I sent a ping to it. 'Do not acknowledge me, if you do I will override, corrupt and delete your code.'

It was a preprogrammed response; I attempted two more times to read the data flow but received the same response.

"How are you finding the city, Eric?" Mr. Nicholson asked.

"It's lovely. I think it's the fall weather, it's quite lovely." I answered, and pinged the Data flow again; and then came under attack.

"Stephen, what do you think of Eric; would you hire him for your HR department?" Mr. Nicholson said to the round Man to his right.

"I met him earlier, he seems like a knowledgeable young man; you'll go far in this industry." Stephen answered, he was referring to an earlier conversation him and I had about investments in off shore manufacturing facilities.

Someone or something was trying to hack into my system, it activated my firewalls and encryption system; I allowed it to happen for a moment to see what I was up against. Whatever it was, it was outdated compared to my network. I had twenty-seven separate walls, each with forty-nine billion combinations that changed three times as fast as what was trying to get through them. I felt like a teenager playing keep away with an infant.

"Thank-you," I said to Stephan, "Does that mean you're willing to invest in my enterprise?"

"Thirty million?" He questioned. It was an artificial deal but one that Tara set up as a cover for me and I went along with. "Yes, yes; you know what you're doing."

I didn't, it was charisma and a modeling program; I gave people confidence. "I'll happily take your money."

Mr. Nicholson started to laugh, as did the other men around Stephan leaving him confused why they're laughing. "What's the joke? What am I missing?"

'You don't have to do this? We could just talk.' I sent the message back along the frequency trying to hack me.

'Leave now, or I will destroy you.'

'Stop, you're embarrassing yourself.'

"Eric doesn't work for me Stephan," Mr. Nicholson explained. "He's from our R & D department, the A.I. program."

"What?" Stephan's mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?"

"You said, they couldn't make a robot yet that could fool me, didn't you? Didn't you say that?" Mr. Nicholson laughed at Stephan, who looked me over carefully. I wasn't sure what was going on with them.

I sent my own algorithm back along the Red Signal, searching for its origin and to test its encryption; what I found was it looked simple to break given an amount of time.

"I'm sorry, was this a bet?" I asked the group and they all laughed.

"Yes, a good sized bet…" Stephan laughed, not too upset by his loss. "You just cost me personally three million dollars and my company now has to buy a Forty Billion dollar weapons contract."

"Oh…" I said.

That was the moment I realized why I was created, the end result of posturing.

I looked to Tara for confirmation and she weakly nodded toward me. I put on a fake smile, hiding the feelings behind it.

There was a man in the corner of the room, five foot ten; moustache, slicked back hair, a tuxedo and smoking a cigar. He was talking to several other men and two women and whatever he was saying had them acting serious. He was the source of the Red Signal.

'Nice stache,' I said to him; he lifted his head and looked around the room for me, clearly not sure who I was yet. I looked to Tara, "May I be excused?"

"Sure my boy," Mr. Nicholson answered for her, he shook my hand and I moved off.

I made it halfway across the ballroom before I realized that I had nowhere to go, it would be impolite to storm off and leave Tara here by herself; and I was positive that the car would only obey her.

'This is your last chance.'

'You could just talk to me. You're not the only one hiding.'

"Eric." Tara grabbed my arm and turned me around. I didn't know what to say. "You're not the end result of a bet."

"It sure feels like it." I replied.

"No, the bet was an excuse." She talked lower so people wouldn't hear. "Everything you are, is decades of my life and work, you're an accumulation of everything I am; please understand that."

I should've said something but couldn't think of anything, I still felt pointless. "Just give me a minute."

"Ok." She said and moved away; glancing back as she joined Mr. Nicholson's friends again for their adulations.

I sighed and moved toward the bar, listening above the people in the room as the Network commented on what they had just heard; fully understanding now why I was around.

Yeah, that's not embarrassing at all.

I borrowed the ears of a Robot Waiter by Mr. Nicholson and Tara, with his permission of course; listening in as they discussed the financial rewards of the wager.

'Ok, lets do this the hard way.' I started decrypting the signal.