The Deputy chuckled as we continued driving to the location. "Aren't you supposed to be comforting to humans? Because I constantly feel a bit of uncanny valley with you."
"I've passed the Turing Test 4 times, Lance."
"I passed the ACT 4 times," he answered back.
"I....I don't believe those are at all similar."
"They're not. You can't even 'pass' the ACT. Just funny to see your face," Lance responded.
"Oh. I see," I responded back.
Eventually, we pulled up to the dealer. The officer held a wad of cash in his hand. "Yes. I not only gave a man back his drugs, but then I proceeded to purchase more!" He said, counting his money.
He stepped out, leaving his door open and looked at the dealer.
"So...have you got any crimson?" He asked.
The guy looked at him, and then studied him. I held my hand tight to my pistol.
"You want this shit?" He asked confused. "What is it? Your first hit?"
"Uh...yeah. I want to come back to you though, so give me the good shit," Lance answered. The man put his hand on his hip. He has a gun. I could see his fingers wrap around it.
"Hell. Fucking hell. You want the 'good shit.' What part of town are you from?"
"I live downtown. Just like you. I just don't want to feel like shit," Lance answered. The man gripped his gun tighter.
"Sure. Sure. No one does. Where do you work, huh? Cuz...you give off that tightass vibe."
"Tightass," Lance said chuckling. "Me? Tightass? Dude. You want the fuckin cash or not?"
The man whipped out his gun instantly. "Do you want my fuckin ice or not?" He asked angrily, and waving the gun around.
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. My programming...it's screaming at me to shoot.
But Lance told me not to shoot unless he ordered me to. I...don't want...I don't think it would be productive if Lance got shot. I should act preemptively.
"Whoa whoa! Put the gun away. Let's not be bitches about this. If we're doing business, we're doing business. I'm a lover, not a fighter," Lance told him.
The man didn't put away his gun. Instead, he just pointed at me.
"And who the fuck is that in your ride?"
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot! I should fire. This situation...it's extremely dangerous! Shoot, Charlotte. Shoot.
No. No. I have to trust Lance, just like he trusts me.
"Her? She's my girlfriend," He explained away.
"And she's okay with you doing this shit?"
"Hey," Lance began. "She's on harder shit than this."
"Hell...she does look pretty strung out. She's just fuckin staring at us. It's $250 for 5 grams of the best," He explained. He slowly put away his gun, and instead took out a packet of red ice.
I took my hand off of my weapon.
Deputy Lance counted his cash, and traded it for the packet.
"Thanks, man. Next time, try and be more lowkey. No guns," Lance said.
"Dude. You crazy? We need our guns round here. Never know when someone is going to decide that your shit is their shit," the man answered.
"Got that right," Lance said putting away the packet.
He returned back to the car and we slowly pulled away.
"See? That wasn't too hard," Lance responded.
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