Artificial Intelligence

Artificial Intelligence :: Chapter 4 ::

Unsurprisingly, the small jet landed on time, 8PM local time. Bidding farewell to my comrades, I walked slowly off the plane, knowing that this would be the last for a long, long while.

The stretch limousine, as always, was a nice touch. The Masons could deliver, I would give them that, I thought, whilst slipping into the red leather interior. Making myself comfortable, I slipped off my ankle boots, bringing my feet up. Sighing in content, I took out a bottle of Gatorade, from the mini fridge, and settled in for the drive. From my current location, it would take approximately forty five minutes to drive to the Mason Mansion, and I was ready to kill the time. Ironically, there were as many threats as minutes, although none for this specific mission. Don’t get me wrong though, previous ones still existed, as always, unwilling to go away. Some of the grudges people held!  But considering my own, I was hardly the one to talk, wasn’t I?

To keep myself occupied for the journey, I flicked open one of the magazines off the bundle in the compartment below my seat and scanned through it with little interest. It still intrigued me why people took an interest in the lives of celebrities, as if knowing their day-by-day actions would get them anywhere in life. If there were to be a debate though, I’d be sure I’d be accused of doing the same thing. But you see this was my job, I was getting paid for it, and heftily at that. Ordinary people were just wasting their money for being a few colourful pages of paper full of worthless information. 

As I continued to scan nonchalantly through the pages, my eyes landed on a story which took up both sides of a page. Seeming promising, I scanned through the words quickly, finishing it within seven minutes. People always marvelled at how quickly I could read, but in honesty, there was nothing magical or extraterrestrial about it. It was technique, more than anything – reading the tops of words only, moving your eyes across the words and not hopping from one to the other, and more than anything, practice. Practice could never make you perfect, but you could get damn well close to it.

This particularly story was about a girl called Sally Mae (perfect hillbilly) who had gotten pregnant at sixteen and now, at twenty two, was living a perfect life with her perfect cowboy, horseback riding husband-to-be and three children. Really, what were they encouraging there? And they claimed that western society was advanced and more intelligent than a pickle.

Sighing in frustration, I slapped the magazine back into place and wrapped my arms over my chest, crossing my legs. Putting on my dark, rounded sunglasses, I stared out the window, taking in the sights of Chicago – or lack, thereof. It seemed like any other city to me, skyscrapers, congested roads and unnatural amount of traffic lights. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, in fact, I had seen worse. A startlingly perfect memory of that day back in New York came to mind, when Stephan and I had been shopping for Mom’s birthday present. I quickly shook it away. Anyway, as far as mindsets came, work and home were off limits. Distant memories would get me nowhere. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, imaging myself as the perfect character for Jason Mason. Pretty, confident, a bitch, and a slut... Think about clothes 24-7, ogle eye every other guy I see with remotely noticeable muscles and basically squeal at every unforgiving moment. Again, I wondered why in God’s name and beyond couldn’t they have found someone else. Why me!?

I knew the answer to that, that they simply had not any other person, but training? There was always training? Speaking of lessons, those classes in human psychology probably were not going to help either. Sure I understood why people acted in a certain way, but again I would ask why the act? It just annoyed me to see people acting in a certain way because they were obliged to. Obliged by what? The moon? There was no excuse for cowardice. Not even mine.

The car slowed considerably down when we reached a large estate full of grand mansions and golden plated driveways. We pulled into the largest house smack in the middle, and by far was it the largest. Surrounding the perimeter of the house was a six foot red brick wall, at which guards in black stood at regular intervals, fully equipped with handguns and AK’s. At our arrival, one of the four guards at the large, black gate approached, ordering for the driver’s ID who obediently complied, no questions asked.

Once the guard gave a curt nod of his head, I noticed him give a quick look in my direction, probably wondering who I was. Sadly, tinted windows prevented him from seeing my face. Due to the nature of my mission, not even the guards knew of my position as bodyguard, to them, I was probably just another girl --except Richard Mason’s personal guard, of course. Appearances, darling.

Driving past the gates, I noticed the vast stretch of land surrounding the large mansion about four hundred metres ahead. Lavish green grass blew in the late evening sun, with more guards on patrol, watching everything with sharp eyes. To one side, the greenery heightened, with trees congregating together, and in the distance, I thought I could just see the glimmer of water. Marble statues erected throughout the green, of doves, humans, and dolphins with water gushing out through their mouths, making a fountain of froth. Approaching the marble mansion itself, the cobbled ground became more pronounced, and I rocked slightly from side to side. Flower beds could be seen here, of pansies, Delilah’s and chrysanthemum’s galore in an exotic blend of colours. I made a note to explore this place once the sun rose in the morning – maybe even use this place as a compensation for Central Park.

Once we pulled up at the base of the grand staircase, the chauffeur quickly stepped out, probably to open the door for me, but I got to it before he did.  I told him that I was well able to do that myself, and he tipped his hat, hanging back.  Before me, standing at the highest white marble step was the candidate himself – Richard Mason. I realise that the media haven’t been doing him justice, the stress lines were clear as day, etched across him forehead, and steady dark circles were forming under his eyes. Behind him was his personal bodyguard, who faded into the dark shadow of the balcony.     

I approached him with a smile, showing myself as the polite young girl. Reaching my hand out as greeting, I was surprised when, instead of giving me his hand, he embraced me a hug, telling me how glad he was that I was finally here.

“I’ll finally have some peace of mind about Jason, thank you so much”. Sincerity and hope clouded over the very fabric of his words, and it was almost too much for me to handle. I limply hugged him back, trying not to give him a bad impression, but even to me, it felt lifeless. He gave me a sad smile as he pulled back, his eyes shiny.

“It’s no problem”, I answer like I am supposed to. Of course it’s no problem for me.

Wasting no more time for worthless chit chat, he ushered me in, ready to get down to business.

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©Munni101