MICHAEL SULLIVAN: NEW DYNASTY

— 11 —

"Michael, open up now!" Came a voice from behind the door.

Michael frowned. He knew that voice.

Realization dawned on him and he started looking around his apartment frantically. "I need to hide you, Ava."

"Where?" Ava asked.

"The closet. Just stand really still and don't make any noise."

Ava moved toward the closet, but before she could reach it, another knock came. It was louder this time

"Michael?" Hillary's voice called through the thin wood. "I know you're in there. We need to talk."

Michael gestured desperately for Ava to get in the closet, but it was too late. Hillary's knock became more and more insistent, and then Michael heard the unmistakable sound of his door handle turning.

"Damn landlady and her broken locks," he muttered as the door swung open.

Hillary stepped inside, followed immediately by Phillip, who shoved past her aggressively.

"Where is it?" Phillip demanded, his eyes scanning the apartment.

"Where's what?" Michael tried to sound calm.

"The gift. The thing Frank gave you." Phillip began rifling through Michael's belongings, tossing papers and opening drawers. "Don't play dumb."

Michael noticed that Phillip never called Frank "father" or "dad." Just Frank. There was something cold about it.

"I told you already. Frank didn't give me anything specific."

"Bullshit." Phillip overturned a stack of books. "The others think he just gave you scraps. I thought so too at first, but that man can be a cunning fox sometimes. So I have to know what he gave you. Right now!"

While Phillip searched, Hillary stood in the doorway looking uncomfortable. "Michael, why haven't you been answering my calls? My texts?"

Before Michael could answer, Phillip whirled around. "Why are you still calling him?" he demanded, glaring at Hillary. "We're dating now, remember?"

Hillary's face flushed. "I... I was just..."

"Just what?" Phillip's voice was sharp.

"I was checking up on him, no big deal," Hillary stammered.

"Right." Phillip's tone suggested he didn't believe her.

Michael watched this exchange with growing confusion. Meanwhile, Phillip turned his attention back to the apartment, examining it with obvious disgust. "This is where you live? Jesus, Michael. This place is a shithole."

"It's what I can afford," Michael said defensively.

"Clearly." Phillip kicked at a pile of laundry. "Octavian keeps saying you have potential. Hard to see it in this dump."

Hillary had moved further into the apartment and was looking around with a mix of pity and revulsion. Her gaze stopped on Ava, who stood motionless in the corner.

"Who's the mannequin?" Hillary asked. "Please don't tell me you've gotten so desperate you're into dolls now."

Michael felt his face burn. "It's not... that's not what you think..."

"Oh my God." Hillary's expression shifted to disgust. "You are. You're actually using a love doll."

"It's not a love doll!" Michael yelled.

"Then what is it?" Hillary demanded. "Because it looks exactly like one of those creepy realistic dolls I've seen online."

"It's art," Michael said desperately. "For a friend's project."

"Art?" Hillary laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "What kind of art involves life-sized dolls in your bedroom?"

"It's c-conceptual art," Michael stammered. "W-what's it matter to you, anyway?"

Phillip had stopped searching and was now listening to the conversation with amusement. "You bought a doll and you're calling it art? That's pathetic even for you, Michael."

"I said, it's not what you think!" Michael yelled again.

"Then why is it wearing your clothes?" Hillary pointed at Ava's borrowed outfit.

"Because... because that's part of the art." Michael knew he sounded ridiculous, but he kept talking. "It's about blending artificial objects with life..and stuff."

Hillary stared at him. "You're serious."

"Completely serious," said Michael with a frantic nod.

"That's somehow more disturbing than if you'd just admitted to buying a sex doll," Hillary said with an irritated look.

Phillip had resumed his search, but now he was examining the electronic components scattered on Michael's table. "What's all this stuff?"

"None of your business," Michael said, rushing to cover them up.

"These look expensive." Phillip grabbed one of the quantum processors on time. "Really expensive. Where'd you get the money for this?"

"I've been saving."

"On a delivery driver's salary?" Phillip's voice was skeptical. "This one probably costs atleast a billion dollars."

Michael's panic was rising. "I got them secondhand."

"From where?"

"Online marketplace."

Phillip wasn't buying it. His expression had shifted from annoyed to suspicious. "These aren't secondhand. They're still in packaging."

"Look, I don't know what you want from me," Michael said. "Frank didn't give me anything valuable. I'm not hiding some treasure. This is my life. This shitty apartment, my delivery job, my weird art projects. This is it."

Phillip's face darkened. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Frank always has some hidden agenda," said Phillip as he towered above Michael. "I can feel it in my gut so spit it out, you little..."

The conversation was escalating, and Michael could see Phillip's anger building. Hillary seemed uncomfortable with the direction things were taking.

"Maybe we should go," she suggested. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

"No." Phillip grabbed Michael's shirt. "I'm not leaving until he tells me where it is."

"There's nothing to tell!"

Phillip shoved Michael against the wall. "Stop lying!"

Michael felt the familiar fear from his encounters with bullies. But this time it was worse because Hillary was watching.

"Tell me where Frank's gift is," Phillip demanded, raising his fist.

Michael closed his eyes, bracing for the punch.

But the impact never came.

He opened his eyes to see Phillip's arm frozen in mid-air, caught by another hand. Ava had moved from her position in the corner and was now holding Phillip's wrist in what looked like a gentle grip.

But Phillip's face was contorting with pain.

"What the hell?" he gasped.

Hillary's eyes widened as she looked at Ava more closely. The android's eyes were focused and alert.

"That's not a mannequin," Hillary whispered in shock.