My Legacy

    It's been a long time coming, a day I’ve waited for, for what felt like decades. Outside of the Laboratory Zhukov Scientific Research Center with a visitor's pass in hand, I take a breath as the building towers above me. Easily twenty or thirty stories tall for the three wings with the center structure protruding into the sky like a citadel. That was the tallest part of the building, and where I was headed, to meet the owner of the company, Zhukov himself. The central spire left a lanky shadow as it went up a good forty stories, with numerous windows that one couldn’t look into, but surely you could look out of them. Everything about this building was so grand, the doors entering the building were almost eight feet tall, and entering the building? It’ll take your breath away. 

    For a scientific research facility it was quite grand, glistening marble floors, colorful walls with delicate ornate details and lavish furniture. There were gilded electric chandeliers hanging from the ceiling radiating soft and pleasant rays of light upon the room. A large desk was at the far wall with a massive clock in the center flanked by smaller clocks showing different times for other time zones. I’ve been here before, just not here. I approach the desk with some concern, nervous, feeling scared. Makes no sense how I’m feeling this way, goes against my programming. A young woman greets me with a smile as I approach.

“Hello! How are you today?” She says so politely, as-if she’s ignorant to the secrets of this verboten facility.

“I’m fine, I have a pass and an appointment to meet with Ivan Zhukov.” I hold back my tone, trying to be polite. 

“Okay, see the elevators to your right right alongside the right side of the desk? Take the center one, and press the button for the fortieth floor. I’ll have a security officer open the elevator for you.” 

    I nod in affirmation, anything to talk with the boss himself, it's been a long time coming. A security guard in a black suit comes from one of the rooms behind the desk and takes out a fairly large key, inserting it into a lock by the elevator door and then pressing the call button. A minute later the lift arrives and the door opens, and the guard steps in with me. He presses the button for the fortieth floor, and stands inside with me. 

“What are you here for?” He asks rather rudely. I look over to him with a forced smile, even chuckle a little bit to sell it.

“I’m here to discuss a few matters with Zhukov.” 

“I see. Hard to land an appointment with him, you’ll need to clear security on the top floor.” He adds, much to my surprise.

    Was expecting it in all honesty, but I have no contingency for this matter. No way to get past security. Just the hope Zhukov knows who I am and will let me pass without an issue. Thing about us is we have history. 

“What is your name by the way?” The guard asks me as we pass floor thirty. 

“Anna.” I respond mechanically, almost like a robot. Didn’t intend to. The car dings as we arrive and the doors open and I step out.

“Here we are.” The guard says as I step out and he presses the close button, with the car descending to the base of the tower.

    Here things were just as lavish, if not more. Dark forest green walls with vertical bands of a lighter green, and a dark brown running board going up about a foot and a half with slats cut into it giving it a lovely texture. The furniture is just as lavish and the chandeliers make a return. Though my mechanical olfactory receptors struggle to perceive smell, I can distinctly tell the air is scented, a lovely scent, pleasant and calming. But of course there is a security checkpoint up here. This isn’t going to go well, but I have no other choice. I came all this way, cannot turn back now. 

“How are you doing, can we see your driver’s license for a moment and if you have an approved visitor pass please present it.” One of the people at the checkpoint said rather humbly. I approach nervously, feeling the mechanisms inside me jitter, again, something I wasn’t programmed for. I take out my driver license and my visitor’s pass, giving it to the woman who asked me. 

    She smiled, started writing down details, my name, address, visitor badge number, and checked other logs. She kept looking up to me, like something was wrong, giving me an interesting look. She called someone else over, a male guard, and was whispering to him while maintaining eye contact with me. He nodded, then looked at me. Things aren’t going well, by this point I’m not sure what I'm going to do. 

“Can you step through the x-ray?” He asked me. I can’t. I know it’ll go off. 

“Yes.” I say, rather stupidly, but I can’t do anything. I tried. I failed. Might as well get caught now. So I approach the gray frame in the center of the room with a yellow x-ray warning sticker and a series of red and green lights on the top. I move slowly, every mechanical breath feeling agonizing.

“She doesn’t have to.” I heard, not sure where, but the voice, I know who it is. 

    I stop and look at the guards, and there he is, Zhukov himself. 

“Sir we don’t know who she is and we’re not sure if this visitor’s pass is valid.” The guard’s accent is generic, but Zhukov? His is quite distinct, almost a fake “cowboy” accent. Thick southern draws and a perplexing tone.

“I say it's aight’, aight? Sometimes a man can tell a steer from a bull, and she’s no steer nor bull.” Zhukov said, that damn accent becoming the most notable part of him.

“Can she just clear it?” The man asked as Zhukov chuckled.

“Lil’ lady, you wanna come o’er here? Madame, pat down my visitor would’ya?” He said to me first then to the female guard.

    I walk over, empty my pockets, then get patted down, rather thoroughly and aggressively I might add.

“Alright, are you sure about this boss?”

“More certain than a coyote is sure he got stuck in a barbed wire fence!” He chuckled and stuck his right hand out to me, giving me a smirk from under that large brimmed cowboy hat. I accepted, shaking his hand rather anxiously as he gave a gaudy smile, and waved me back to his office. We followed the green vertical striped halls to the end, walking a good hundred or so feet until we reached another large door made out of a dark colored wood with golden door knobs and milky white window panes that one could barely see through. Beside the door is a label, in gold letters on a black plaque, “Director Ivan Leonid Zhukov, CEO.” 

    He opens the door, the thing doesn’t even creak! It opens smoothly and I step into a large office with a ten foot tall ceiling. Along the walls are a series of eight paintings, the previous directors of Laboratory Zh I presume.

“You want some water?” He asks as he walks over to a water cooler and takes a small styrofoam cup, filling it up. 

“I’m fine.” I state, as Zhukov gave a look that asked me the same question.

“Ya sure honey?” He said with a smile, still leaning against the cooler

“I’m sure.” 

    He walks to his desk, planted in the center of the room with a clutter of books and paperwork scattering it. The desk is C shaped, rounded and curving around him with the back open. Computer in the center, with some binders and organizers strewn about. 

“Sorry ‘bout tha’ mess. I don’t get visitors often ya’ feel?” Man is incredibly polite, it's almost off-putting. 

“So what kan I do for ya’?” He asks with a smile, leaning back in his chair while keeping his fists together. I take a deep breath, letting it out.

“You know why I’m here. Why did you make me?” I ask, feeling the mechanisms in my body creak as my voice cracks. 

“Not sure whatcha talkin’ ‘bout?” He says with a smile, chuckling somehow politely.

    I scowl, I feel taken back. He knows what I’m talking about, he damn well knows it! 

“I ain’t ya motha, ya know? I can discern a bull from a ste—”

“Yeah and I’m no bull nor steer. Zhukov, don’t play dumb I know what happens here.” 

“Heh. So do ya?” His innocent smirk fades as he leans forward, propping his elbows against his desk as his fists form an interlocked curled knuckle triangle. A more sinister look on his face comes across as he stares me down.

“Not many people see this side of me, you’re damn lucky to see it.” Zhukov’s southern accent faded to an Americanized Russian accent. I sigh, and look at him with anger.

“I want to know why I was created, why you are making androids like me.” 

    Zhukov only shrugs, sighing and putting his arms down, crossing them across one-another along his desk.

“Many reasons of course. This side of the Wall cannot sustain itself on slave labor, and even if it could, I feel slave labor isn’t adequate enough. They have wants and needs, things like sleep and food. And then there is you. A complete anomaly. Eh. You need sleep, you need food, you need water, you need oxygen. You’re still an android, but you have defied expectations. And I’m almost certain you’re here for answers, or bargaining.”

“Because there is a fault in your programming. Everything you coded in, it fails. And I’m asking you to make a decision : abandon this project and cancel it, or live with the consequence of creating life.” 

    He was laughing boisterously, his twisted face reeling as he took a moment to breathe.

“Cancel my project because my creations accidentally become sentient? You’re a kidder, you know that.”

“I’m not kidding, I’m serious. What is your game anyway Zhukov.” He fell silent, shaking his head bitterly.

“Ever since the wall, those under it struggled. Their politics didn’t align well with a nation cut in half. Slavery isn’t useful, and yet the markets surrounding it are profitable. I set up two offices, my main one here on the lower half of the Divide, and the other on the opposite side. My goal is simple ; to make a nation divided on itself thrive.” 

    He has a point, but it doesn’t justify what he’s doing.

“Your androids will become sentient, and you’re the only one with power to do something about the matter.”

“Even if I could do something I can’t just change peoples minds on politics. This con I’ve been running has been years in the making, and I don’t intend on alienating shareholders by deciding a project that could bring the two sides of this nation together needs to be canceled by a programming flaw. We can patch that flaw, we can iron the bugs out, we can make the androids as obedient as they need to be without any issue.” 

“But what if it doesn’t work? Do you not see the fact you created life and are just abusing it? Treating it as lower than you?” 

“I do not see myself as holier than thou, I stand on the principle that all men are equal, but because of what I do for the longevity of my company. I am willing to put my morals to the side in the pursuit of my company, my legacy, lasting for generations.

    He sighed, took a sip of his water, keeping a firm posture. Before we continued a knocking came at his door, and he pardoned himself, getting up.

“Eh, whosit?” He said in his southern accent, putting on his big brimmed cowboy hat, walking to the door.

“Security, we have something important to discuss.” Zhukov smiled as he opened the door as a few security guards walked in.

“Sir, she is an escaped android.” One of the guards tried to say in a whisper, but the more mechanical side of me is able to pick up on it.

    Zhukov looked surprised, almost shocked, putting his hands on his hips in disbelief. 

“Now, I say, I say, you are some smart cookies! Next time a wolf skins a sheep I’ll put’ya in charge of lookin’ out for ‘em!” Zhukov chuckled as the guard gave a more stern look.

“Sir, for your safe—”

“Now, I ain’t relyin’ on others for help, ya feel? I know this woman is an android, and we’s just havin ouselves a cordial convesation!” Zhukov Is polite, and damn charming in conversations. 

“Sir.”

“Now if I needed ya’ help I’da ask’ya, ya undastand?” The guard nodded reluctantly, and the others left as Zhukov walked back into the room chuckling. 

“Seems some folks hitch the plow when the fields dried up.” He said as he took off the hat and sat down.

    He leaned back, and we were in silence for a good few minutes before he spoke. 

“Why are you pursuing this?” He asked me as I gave it a thought. 

“Guess it is my legacy I want to be in charge of.” I say to him rather reluctantly. 

“And what legacy is that?” I’m taken back by his question, but I saw it coming.

“I didn’t ask to be created, I didn’t ask for any of this, and now I’m burdened with living, a burden you fell upon me. Ending me, recycling me, any form of ‘disposal’ isn’t for you to decide. I have to choose what happens to me because it is my life I have to live out.”

“You’re technically my property, my creation. Shouldn’t your future depend on me?” 

“Why should it? What makes you think you have control over my life and my legacy? Just because you were born doesn’t mean you are property of your parents.”

    He sat on that one, nodding in affirmation. 

“You have a point there, I’ll give you that. And the dogged way you’ve gone into hiding while pursuing me is beyond anything I would foresee.What do you want? What do you want out of this aside from the cancellation of this project.” When Zhukov gives you something to grab onto, know you’re at his mercy. But I take the bait, what else can I do? 

“If any of them become sentient, just let them flee to the other side of the wall. Let them live the life they were burdened with.” 

“And what about you? Shouldn’t you flee too? To a place that will marginally accept you more than here?” 

“Yes, if I have to, I will, anything so that people like me can live without fear.”

“This shouldn’t be up to me, my hands are in too many cards for me to make this a priority, but seeing how dogged you were in pursuing me, you force me to play my hand.”

    Zhukov nodded, and gave it some thought. 

“So then, I’ll make a deal, and I don’t do this often. Looking into it, not all bugs happen, and some are exploited by external forces, so I’ll say this. You leave this side of the wall, and I’ll get a few people of mine to meet up with you, and we’ll meet in the middle. You have my promise that any of these ‘malfunctioning’ androids who end up like you, are sent to you on your side, set up your own community of androids, the rest that don’t have some inner awakening will remain in our labor force. I’ll bury the bug, and let it exist that way I appease my shareholders and can end the practice of slavery on this side of the wall rather subtly.”

“I’ve heard your word is worth more than gold, I hope it's true.” Not the outcome I wanted, but he has a point. 

“Me and you, we’re alike. You just don’t see it, do you?” Zhukov said to me as he stood up, putting on his cowboy hat and walking me to the door.

“Sometimes people just can’t tell whether you’re a bull or a steer, when in reality, never even consider the fact that you’re neither.”