Read The Exchange Part 1 for Free Online

giving her a small smile.
    She bites the corner of her lip, and even though I realized it's a nervous habit,
     my body reacts in every inappropriate way possible.
    Worse. When she returns my smile, I want to pound my chest and roar in Gage's direction.
    His brows snap into a fierce scowl. "We can't delay the plane a second time." As if
     the first time wasn't his fault. "We need to go."
    Usually, I'm far from immature. Usually, I'm way more in control than I am today.
    This time, however, I can't hold it back. I smile at him as we turn to head to the
     plane.

 
     
     
                 
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Date: April 22 nd , 2015
     
     
    Humanity believes itself better than God. It is a trait distinctive of the human species.
    It is a trait my employer, the man that hired me, is especially guilty of.
    But I am no better than him. When he hired me to do the impossible—the unthinkable—I
     jumped at the chance to further explore my research.
    I jumped at the chance to prove myself better than God.
    For the last one hundred years or so, Science and mankind alike have pondered the
     simple question: Where does the energy of the mind go once a person is dead? Can it—what
     many consider to be the soul —be captured? Contained?
    Can a new consciousness be birthed and programmed in its place?
    Word got to my employer that I had created what many governments and factions were
     still trying to perfect.
    Artificial Intelligence. A human-like, computer generated consciousness. The name
     of the program was “Project Sapphire.” She was a fully sentient software program.
    I was dying to transfer her from within a hard drive into something more organic.
    My employer’s daughter was dead. All that was left behind was a preserved, bionically
     improved body. A body that my employer was not ready to let go.
    The instructions I was given were clear: Program the memories of Mr. Heaton’s dead
     daughter into Project Sapphire, then transfer the consciousness into his daughter’s
     body.
    We were able to reanimate Magdalena Heaton’s body using the Sapphire software. There
     was just one problem. My orders stated that I was to reprogram Sapphire before the
     transfer. Merge her memories with Magdalena’s and change Sapphire so that she’d be
     as close to the dead Ms . Heaton as possible.
    But I couldn’t. I couldn’t erase the core of Program Sapphire. She’d developed her
     own personality. Getting rid of her was the equivalent of murder to me. Magdalena
     Heaton was already dead. Sapphire… Sapphire was beginning to live.
    Sapphire has lived inside Magdalena’s body for almost three months now, but she isn’t
     Magdalena. I suspect that I would not have been able to deliver on that part no matter
     what I did. There was no chance to attempt capturing Magdalena’s consciousness before
     her death.
    Mr. Heaton is sending someone to pick up his “daughter” next week, and I have no choice
     but to let her leave with him.
    He has contacted the Adelphi Organization. They are sending their top specialist.
     A man that—according to his file—has an intimate understanding of bionics. Maxwell
     Landon, Code Name: Deimos, has never failed any of his missions. He is the man charged
     with delivering Sapphire to Mr. Heaton.
    I am praying his reputation doesn’t fail him now. The last thing I want to do is let
     Sapphire go, but it has already been hinted that my life is on the line if I don’t.
    If anyone were to find out—the world governments, Heaton Corp’s rival organizations…
     if any of them were to realize what has been done, they will stop at nothing to get
     their hands on Sapphire.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

     

 
     
     
     

     
     
     
    HANDS ARE TREMBLING. I’m not the type of man to be shaken. I’m usually aloof to most
     of the things that happen around me. Again, occupational requirement. Having my suspicions
     confirmed shouldn’t affect me