Socket 2 - The Training of Socket Greeny by Tony Bertauski Page A

neck. No one said the imbed could do something like
that, but then maybe Pon was the only one that knew how.
     
    That evening, I was in the backyard doing
pull-ups on a maple tree when a car pulled into the driveway. Two
doors slammed but I couldn’t see who it was. They went inside the
house, through the front door, so I snuck in through the back. It
was Mother, all right. She was in the kitchen talking with someone
dressed in a long, black overcoat with the hood pulled up. His long
boots were cinched tight over baggy pants. He took a plate from
her. His hand was silver.
    “Spindle?”
    Spindle pushed the hood back and the red
eyelight spun on his smooth faceplate. “Master Socket!”
    “You’re alive!”
    “I am, Master Socket! I am alive!”
    “But… the last time I saw you… you were…”
    “Oh, this is not my original bodyshell,
Master Socket. I have been uploaded to a new one.”
    The body didn’t survive, but Spindle did.
“It’s not the body that makes the man…”
    “But the heart,” he finished.
    Even though Spindle was a database,
technically he didn’t exist, I still hated it when he broke
a body, especially when I did it to him. But he could cheat death
by downloading into another body.
    “What happened?” I asked.
    “I cannot discuss the exercise. The analysis,
however, is complete. Pon will discuss the results upon your
return.”
    Bright colors rippled on the surface of his
faceplate.
    “It’s good to see you,” I said.
    “Thank you for inviting me.”
    “Inviting you?”
    “You invited me to come home,” he said. “Do
you not remember?”
    “Spindle has come along for observation,”
Mother said. “He wants to experience a public event.”
    The world was different than it was a year
ago. Ever since the Paladins became known, their technology was
finding its way into the public like never before. In hindsight,
Paladins were behind every major discovery for the last decade.
Most people thought Steve Jobs and Bill Gates were Paladins.
(They’re not.) These days, humanoid mechs, like Spindle, weren’t
impossible to see in public, it just meant you were sloppy rich.
But even the wealthy didn’t have humanoid mechs of Spindle’s
caliber. Spindle could pass for a man. If he had a face.
    “Where are you going?” I asked.
    “To the tagghet game with you.” His eyelight
focused on my mother, darker colors stormed his faceplate. “Have
you not told him?”
    “I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said, on
her way to the bedroom.
    “Are you disappointed, Master Socket?”
    “Am I… no! No, I’d love for you to come. I
just… uh…”
    “What is it?”
    “I just was wondering why you’re dressed like
a commando.”
    He pulled the hood over his face. The
eyelight dimmed until it was difficult to see the featureless
aspect of his faceplate. He showed his hand, front then back. The
silver tinge sparkled, then darkened to a healthy tan.
    “It will lessen the burden of attention. We
can enjoy some privacy in the crowd.”
    He was wearing pants and a shirt, boots and
coat in South Carolina. People would avoid us, all right. The cops,
however, might want to ask some questions.
    “You look psycho,” I said.
    “Wonderful! I am so looking forward to
experiencing a public school tagghet event in South Carolina. I
have heard so much about the fan’s fervor, and Master Chute is
quite good. Currently, she holds the national record for female
taggers in assists and single-game goals.”
    She does?
    “She is currently ranked in South Carolina’s
top ten taggers. It will be quite a joy to see her play tonight,
and I know her!” He tilted his head. “I would expect you to know
these details about her. She is your girlfriend, after all.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    “Will Master Streeter be joining us?”
    “Ummm… yeah, maybe.”
    He pumped his fist. “That is great news,
also!”
    Any other day, Streeter would love sitting
next to a humanoid mech. In fact, he’d pull off