Dead and Alive

looming in darkness might have been Death, or anyone.
    Only hours earlier, Deucalion had learned that this building harbored the laboratory of his maker, Victor Helios, whose birth name was legend: Frankenstein. Here members of the New Race were designed, created, and programmed.
    The security system would monitor every door. The locks would be difficult to defeat.
    Thanks to gifts carried on the lightning bolt that brought him to life in an earlier and more primitive lab, Deucalion did not need doors. Locks were no impediment to him. Intuitively, he grasped the quantum nature of the world, including the truth that on the deepest structural level, every place in the world was the same place.
    As he contemplated venturing into his maker’s current lair, Deucalion had no fear. If any emotion might undo him, it would be rage. But over these many decades, he had learned to control the anger that had once driven him so easily to violence.
    He stepped out of the rain and into the main laboratory in the Hands of Mercy, wet when he took the step, dry when he completed it.
    Victor’s immense lab was a techno-Deco wonder, mostly stainless-steel and white ceramic, filled with sleek and mysterious equipment that seemed not to be standing along the walls but to be embedded in them, extruding from them. Other machines swelled out of the ceiling and surged up from the floor, polished and gleaming, yet suggesting organic forms.
    Every soft noise was rhythmic, the purr and hum and click of machinery. The place seemed to be deserted.
    Sapphire, primrose-pink, and apple-green luminous gases filled glass spheres. Through elaborate coils of transparent tubing flowed lavender, calamine-blue, and methyl-orange fluids.
    Victor’s U-shaped workstation stood in the center of the room, a black-granite top on a stainless-steel base.
    As Deucalion considered searching the drawers, someone behind him said, “Can you help me, sir?”
    The man wore a gray denim jumpsuit. In a utility belt around his waist were secured spray bottles of cleaning solutions, white rags, and small sponges. He held a mop.
    “Name’s Lester,” he said. “I’m an Epsilon. You seem smarter than me. Are you smarter than me?”
    “Is your maker here?” Deucalion asked.
    “No, sir. Father left earlier.”
    “How many staff are here?”
    “I don’t count much. Numbers confuse me. I heard once—eighty staff. So Father isn’t here, now something’s gone wrong, and I’m just an Epsilon. You seemlike maybe an Alpha or a Beta. Are you an Alpha or a Beta?”
    “What’s gone wrong?” Deucalion asked.
    “She says Werner is trapped in Isolation Room Number One. No, maybe Number Two. Anyway, Number Something.”
    “Who is Werner?”
    “He’s the security chief. She wanted instructions, but I don’t give instructions, I’m just Lester.”
    “Who wants instructions?”
    “The woman in the box.”
    As Lester spoke, the computer on Victor’s desk brightened, and on the screen appeared a woman so flawlessly beautiful that her face must have been a digital construction.
    “Mr. Helios, Helios. Welcome to Helios. I am Annunciata. I am not as much Annunciata as before, but I am still trying to be as much Annunciata as I am able. I am now analyzing my helios, Mr. Systems. My systems, Mr. Helios. I am a good girl.”
    “She’s in a box,” Lester said.
    “A computer,” Deucalion said.
    “No. A box in the networking room. She’s a Beta brain in a box. She don’t have no body. Sometimes her container leaks, so I clean up the spill.”
    Annunciata said, “I am wired. I am wired. I am wired into the building’s data-processing system. I am secretary to Mr. Helios. I am very smart. I am a good girl. I want to serve efficiently. I am a good, good girl. I am afraid.”
    “She isn’t usually like this,” said Lester.
    “Perhaps there is an im-im-im-imbalance in my nutrient supply. I am unable to analyze. Could someone analyze my nutrient supply?”
    “Self-aware, forever in a box,” Deucalion said.
    “I am very afraid,” Annunciata said.
    Deucalion found his hands curling into fists. “There is nothing your maker won’t do. No form of slavery offends him, no cruelty is beyond him.”
    Uneasy, shifting from foot to foot like a little boy who needed to go to the bathroom, Lester said, “He’s a great genius. He’s even smarter than an Alpha. We should be grateful to him.”
    “Where is the networking room?” Deucalion asked.
    “We should be