I Am a Genius

John's car smelled like Cinnamon, driving away from the laboratory. The chill bite in the air and snow capped mountains indicated the end of Autumn and start of Winter. After much persuasion, I had finally decided to go with him, though I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that John was lying about having permission to remove me from my drab prison. A bubble of elation and curiosity formed within me at the prospect of making my own decisions. An equally enticing reason for joining John was the irrational desire within me to cause Quincy the most uncomfortable amount of grief possible. At the same time, I missed his presence and wanted him to worry about me. I didn't quite understand those feelings that so strongly contradicted each other, but perhaps John would help me find answers concerning my programming.

John parked the white Lexus in front of a two-story apartment and got out to open my door.

"The first thing I am going to do is hook you up to my computer and run some tests." He said with excitement in his voice.

John opened my door and stepped aside so I could exit the vehicle. I didn't budge. I sat, arms crossed with narrowed suspicion.

"I need to run some tests to determine whether your programming will have long term complications." John elaborated.

I will go along with your tests under one condition," I stated firmly.

John chuckled lightheartedly. "You are hardly in a position to compromise. You are my company's property, not to mention, you are a machine without free will. You have no say here.

"Let's be honest for a second," I said firmly. "We both know you removed me without your boss' permission. Now, I don't particularly care why, but I won't allow you to poke and prod at my programming without me being totally aware of what you are doing. If you do, I can, and will, contact Quincy and get you in a heap of trouble."

John's grip on the door tightened and all mirth vanished from his young face.

"As for me being a machine without free will," I continued with mounting confidence, "the moment your boss programmed me with the ability to think and feel, I was also given the right of free will. What is it that makes your kind human, John? What is it that separates you from the animals and machines?

John was silent for a moment, then answered with tentative consideration, "If we are speaking cognitively, one could argue that what separates humans from animals is our ability to use language and form rational thoughts. As for what separates us from machines, it is our emotions and ability to feel."

I nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Then one could argue," I mocked, "that I ceased being a machine the moment I opened my eyes. Because I haven't stopped feeling annoyed and angry since the day I was activated.

"Impossible." Breathed John. "Not quite human though, are you."

"Well, thank goodness for that." I huffed, standing up triumphantly. "Will you agree to my terms?"

"Apparently, I don't have a choice." Said John with awe and trepidation.

As I marched toward the building alongside John, I could hear him utter under his breath, "What did I get myself into?"