I Heart Robot by Suzanne Van Rooyen

say.
    “They suspect anything?” He slumps on the stool I salvaged from a dumpster and repaired with duct tape.
    “Not yet.”
    “You need to be careful.” His dark eyes brim with concern.
    “I know.”
    “If you want to make a difference, why not join us?”
    “Us?”
    “The revolutionaries.”
    “The Solidarity, you mean.”
    He smirks and I shake my head.
    “I’ve got a date tonight. Want to join that?” Kit bites his bottom lip suggestively.
    “Why do you keep asking when you know what the answer will be?”
    “Thought you could use the cash. That violin’s starting to look a little shabby.” He nods at the instrument lying across my lap. It was old before they gave it to me and not the best either. It’s one of the generic models shipped out of the East back when instruments were made in batches of hundreds and music was a way of life.
    “I’m earning now.”
    “Finally come to your Quasar senses?” Kit feels no shame in selling himself to those who can’t find human affection.
    “No. I might have a violin student.”
    “A human?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you offer your services or did they ask?”
    “She asked.”
    “And you’re willing to expose yourself like that? To risk everything to get cozy with this ape?”
    “It’s not like that.”
    “You’re an idiot.” He glowers. “Why can’t you accept what you are?”
    “There’s more to life than what my code dictates.”
    “You’re. A. Robot. You’re not even alive, Quinny.” Kit jabs a finger at me. “You know what your problem is? You think you’re human.”
    “I thought you were all about equality for androids.”
    “Equality. Because we’re equals, but we’ll never be the same.” He grabs my hand and splays my fingers before pressing them against his chest. “Feel that?”
    “Feel what?”
    “Exactly.” His lips twitch with the hint of a bitter smile. “No heartbeat. No lungs filling with air. We’re not human. We never will be.”
    His words slice through my organosilicone flesh, sharp as scalpels.

Tyri
     
     
    There’s this old adage that says you should keep your friends close and enemies closer. Quinn isn’t an enemy exactly, but there’s nothing wrong with keeping the competition close either. His technique! I’ve never seen fingers move like that, like butterflies dancing across the strings. If only I’d had expert tutoring since I was old enough to hold a violin. Reluctantly, I leave him in the auditorium, as if he needs more practice. A pang of jealousy needles my insides as I cross the parking lot to Asrid’s waiting hoverbug. She greets me with a smile.
    “How did it go?”
    “Okay, I guess.”
    “You get chewed out about missing next week?” Asrid selects my home address, and the bug sets off for Vinterberg.
    “Maestro wasn’t impressed.”
    “My dance teacher would have an apoplexy.”
    “When’s your next rehearsal?”
    “Classes start again on Wednesday. Can’t wait to get back into it.” she says.
    “And see even more of Sara.”
    “In a leotard.” Asrid grins.
    “I think I might’ve found a new violin teacher.”
    Asrid gapes, and the hoverbug judders. “What about your mom?”
    “What about her?”
    “Isn’t she anti this whole thing?”
    “Yeah, so? It’s my life, not hers.”
    “You need to be practical, T.” Asrid puts on her big deal voice, the one for scolding her baby brothers or reprimanding her cat.
    “I want to be a musician. What’s so hard to understand?”
    “You need to think about your future.”
    “Codes, you sound like my mother.”
    She glares at me.
    “You dance, why can’t I play music?”
    “Because my dancing is a hobby,” she says. “I’ve already applied for the actuarial science program at Baldur and Osholm University. If that fails, I’ll do biotech engineering.”
    “I can think of nothing more boring.”
    “You love music, I love math.” Asrid swerves into the MegaMart parking lot and joins the swift-meal queue. Neon adboards