Swan called in a favor and had a chopper take us straight to the police tower. Redmond’s streets would be too clogged, and we would have been held up at the block’s security cordon for at least an hour. We soared above the dark, dusty plain. Solar Block Redmond, a titanic black cube, stood before us, the nexus of six gridlocked highways.
I was drowsy. Swan had used the emergency line to wake me. Another rogue. Red and white lights winked from the top of the block. I slapped my face lightly and blinked fast. I wanted to look on top of things when we arrived.
We touched down on one of the station’s four helipads. “Mrs. Gaban, Swan,” shouted an officer, giving us a quick salute. “The coroner is ready.”
I let him help me down and tried to hold my hair in place. “It’s a mess out there.”
“You should see the streets.”
“I wouldn’t like to,” I yelled. Swan clutched her jacket shut and hopped out.
He looked up at the elevator door. Upon reading his eye, it rolled open. “A mess everywhere. You wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve escorted to the morgue tonight.”
Swan watched the numbers flash down. “Android Management?”
“Couldn’t say.”
“Hm,” she smiled. “They take anything?”
He chewed his lip. “Couldn’t say.”
“We understand,” she said brightly. “Discretion!”
“Right.”
The police tower was Redmond’s highest point. We descended upon the rocky field of solar panels, and passed through a pneumatic hatch in the block’s ceiling. Through the elevator window, I could see the latticework of service catwalks and telescopic cameras that stretched across the entire city. We continued to slide down the tower. Redmond’s tallest buildings grew up to meet us like jagged grey teeth. I felt nauseous.
—
“Badis, Oliver.” A purple glow leaked out of the opening cabinet. When the tray reached the end of its track, a mechanism snapped and the purple light died. “Imura, Ro.” The coroner turned another lever. “Kimil, Leo.” Swan looked faint. She sat against the steel counter. “Ford, Nicole.” Finally, the coroner looked over his shoulder at us and said, “Pereira, John.” The slab rolled out and the black bag was tragically small.
Swan closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Ten years old,” said the coroner, glaring at us. “I hope you remember this.”
“We don’t– we don’t condone violence,” I cried. “This is a tragedy! We would never–”
“Tell that to him.”
“Our charter is built around peace and peaceful methods,” I recited.
“And what are you going to do about this, then?” He pointed at John Pereira’s shroud. “You’ll plead for peace, you’ll shed tears, and then you’ll go right back to your work.”
Swan scoffed. “Sorry to rock the boat.”
The coroner slammed his metal ledger onto the counter, and Swan jumped up, startled. “You think you can go around talking about exploitation and slavery and oppression, and not expect those — things– to do anything rash? Let me tell you something you won’t like,” he said, crowding Swan against a wall of cabinets. “You tell someone they’re being treated unfairly, and that’s all they hear. They don’t listen to some celebrity artist asking them to be reasonable! You made this happen, whether you wanted to or not. That boy is dead because of you!”
“Back off!” I was prickling, feeling the heat seep through my chest. “This is not our fault!”
“Please! A million problems in this world and this is the best you can do.” He dropped the ledger and stormed away.
Swan clutched at a lock of hair and looked sadly around the room. She relaxed a little, slumped.
“Are you alright?”
Her eyes landed on the rogue. It was in a box on the counter, disassembled into a set of limbs and trunk sections. On top of the pile was the head, smashed open by a bullet. Its arms stuck out of the box, hands clenched and dyed with blood. A red label was stuck to the box.
License No. 55-280-35C [EXP]
Model Grady 617BLK “JORDAN”
“I’m fine. It’s okay.”
“That was not okay.”
“Just drop it, Grace. I’m fine. Was it engraved?”
I leaned down and looked through the ragged cavity to examine the pin map. “I can’t tell,” I admitted. I recognized familiar patterns, trademarks of old friends, patterns of my own design, but they were all standard by now. “It could be custom-configured. The work looks stable from here, at least.”
“This is our last chance to have a look. Be sure.”
“It’s a professional map with advanced patterns. It’s no hack job, but there’s plenty hobbyists who could manage this. We’re only looking at about eight percent of the processor, though. And there’s more than one way to rogue an android.”
Swan nodded, and looked down at the line of bags. Her fingers closed on a zipper pull. “You can leave if you want,” she said. “Remember what the doctor said.”
“No. We said we’d do it together.”
She began blinking rapidly and licking her lips.
Leo Kimil was the first victim. The rogue had been sitting in a tech vendor’s stall in Redmond Market. Kimil’s family said his commute to and from work took him through the square. He was going home. His corpse bloomed like a flower, dark gummy red.
Oliver Badis tried to help, but didn’t know how strong Gradys were built. His neck was broken; collapsed and limp. Swan shook her head in horror. I tried not to look. Cold pain seethed through my legs.
“Grace.” She stood by John Pereira’s bag. “Do you think it’ll be enough? Our presser.”
The coroner was right. Animus’ response to the massacre was the same as for those in the past. Condemn engravers. Demand safety and design inspections at factories. Let someone else deal with the problem.
I frowned and took a pull tag between my fingers. “Not this time.” I opened the bag.
—
We recharged at an early breakfast, then managed to catch a train out of the block. The AMU had shut down the tube for hours for “security reasons,” but without announcement, the station started up again. As our train barreled out of the block, we were momentarily blinded by the sun.
—
The streets approaching our building were filled with protesters. “They’re waiting for us to arrive,” said Swan, glancing out the tinted window. She spread a paper napkin on the seat between us, flattening it.
“How much longer?” I asked the driver.
“Another fifteen minutes or so.”
Swan drew a line between two corners with her fingernail. “Senator Walker is waiting in our office,” she announced.
“He came himself? We must be sitting on something important.”
Picket signs bobbed in the crowds outside.
ANIMUS = TRAITORS!
MURDERERS
JUSTICE FOR JOHN PEREIRA
“Let me do the talking. I’ve been keeping up with him the past few months.” Her fingers tucked under a flap and held a space as she folded. “They still don’t understand,” she said, taking another look outside. “For all our campaigns and exposure, the documentary, they still think we’re responsible.”
“They don’t want to understand. Some people are beyond reason.”
“Maybe so.” She put a soft paper frog on the seat between us and pressed down on its back. She released, and it made a tiny hop forward. We crawled through the picketers. We’d never had such a crowd.
As the car approached our building, Swan pulled a few bills from her wallet and handed them to the driver. In the elevator she took a flat cream-colored box out of her purse and tore the plastic away, dropping the crystal ball back in her purse. “It’ll be a long week,” she said.
A man in a suit and headset turned to us. “You two work with Animus, right? You’re the directors.”
“That’s us,” I said.
“I hope you get this crap under control,” he said, motioning down at the street. “You’re not the only ones in the building, you know.”
“Have a mochi,” Swan said. She opened the box for him to take one.
—
Kyle was chewing out one of the interns when we got in. “We aren’t apologizing for the incident, man! You know that’s how police make cases, right?”
“Are we under investigation?” they asked, shocked.
“Are we under investigation? Look, the point is, you don’t apologize when someone’s accusing you of something! I’m serious, do not say ‘sorry’ one more time today!”
“Kyle Fung!” I called.
He jumped, and gawked at us for a second. He turned to the intern. “Thanks. Get back on the phones.”
“Looks like things have been great while I’m away?”
“Swan, Senator Walker is in your office. I set up the coffees. Remember you’ve got a meeting with Capricorn this evening.” Swan nodded and strode past him to talk to Dahlia, our receptionist. “Things are good,” he said. “You’re feeling better?”
“Just a little time off,” I said. “A little flare-up. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Kyle nodded, a big fake smile on his face. “Good to see you.”
“Let’s do lunch?”
“Sure. Get to your meeting, I’ve got a call with Shinohara.”
Swan held the box out. “Have a mochi, Kyle.” He pinched one between two fingers and popped it in his mouth. “Good work, everyone!” she called, and motioned for me to follow.
The office felt cramped that day, with everyone rushing between offices, reading messages scrolling over their Sense lenses. “It really must be important, for him to come here.”
“Let me do the talking,” Swan repeated, and opened the door to her office. Walker was stooped by Swan’s bird cages when we came in. He was a heavy man, but sharp in a black suit and expertly styled hair. “They’re zebra finches,” Swan said. The birds were separated by sex. Swan kept them close together so the males would pine and sing.
“They’re real; living large,” Walker remarked. “Mrs. Gaban,” he said, standing up and extending a hand. “I’m relieved to see you.”
“Thanks for making the trip.”
“I wanted a face-to-face, and I couldn’t have you leave the office on my account.” He flicked the bars of the cage.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“Please, sit.” Swan tipped her hand at a chair across her desk. I stayed at the cage and watched the finches bustle about as Walker settled in and crossed his legs. “Would you like anything? Kyle brought in some coffee.”
“No, thank you,” he said. He watched me tickle the bars. “So you went to see the bodies.”
Swan handed me a cup of coffee and slid into her chair. “It’s horrifying.”
“Certainly. The worst massacre since the Sons of Man were active. Redmond has had more than its share of troubles, lately.”
“It always has,” I said. I took a sip and winced.
“The AMU wasn’t always a part of it.” The Android Management Unit in charge of Redmond block had been gathering a reputation for itself. No-nonsense, highly funded by Atherton’s energy committee. Drastic steps were being taken to keep the block running. Atherton’s lights and ad screens and municipal art depended on it.
“Speaking of which, how goes the committee, Senator?” Walker and a group of congressmen were working to defeat a proposal that would establish an AMU office in Redmond and expand their jurisdiction.
He leaned back in the chair, holding a paper house by the chimney. “We’re making progress. Congresswoman Rye has been rushing around the city for meetings.” He had thick, clumsy fingers, and rolled the house end over end on his palm. “So, the bodies?”
Swan watched him handling her work. “I assume you’ve sent a representative?”
“I’d like to hear what you think.”
She took up a piece of paper from the tray on her desk, and began folding. “We’ve handled this kind of thing before.”
“Before, it was only adults who died.” Walker smirked and set the house down on its side. “I saw your presser this morning. You’re going to lose a lot of support, very fast.”
“We had nothing to do with it,” I protested.
“Be that as it may, you know what people think of you. You’ve been tolerated, but a murdered child is a bridge too far.”
“We have things under control, Senator,” smiled Swan. Her paper rasped as she rubbed two corners together. “We’ve had tragedies, we’ve had protests, and people always come back to us. People know what’s right.”
I looked out the window.
“And you, Grace?”
“We’re all working around the clock to deal with this.”
“You can be sure,” he said, “that others will work around the clock to tie it to you. You need to make a show of good faith. Make people see they don’t need the AMU watching over them twenty-four seven.”
“What do you propose?”
“Do their work for them.”
“Absolutely not,” Swan said.
“I’m not asking you for–”
“I know what you’re asking us for. You want us to hand over names.”
“The names of criminals. Think on it. Have a good meal, relax, and think. You have a greater responsibility than protecting them. If the AMU can’t turn to resources like you, there’s no argument for limiting their scope.”
“We don’t have names.” Swan finished the folding, a chubby finch, and placed it on the desk. “And we don’t work with the AMU.”
Walker turned to me. “Did she tell you to stay quiet? I really do want to help.”
“I don’t feel as well as I thought.” It was the truth. I fingered the pill case in my pocket. “You said it yourself, the AMU has a chokehold on Redmond. How would it look for us to start cooperating with them?”
“You think things will be any better when they start tearing the block apart trying to find the engraver who did this? And what happens when people have had enough? When they decide they want the AMU gone. When the Sons of Man sees an opportunity.”
“The Sons of Man already saw their opportunity,” Swan said. “They’re working hard to effect change on the ground.” I felt a coldness in my stomach. I hadn’t known. In the months I was on bedrest, Swan was meeting with them?
“You’re delusional if you think that organization can change,” Walker said, staring at me. “Truly delusional.”
Swan scoffed. “You’re ignorant if you don’t see that they have changed. They’re part of the community. A valuable element of our strategy.” She glanced at me with soft eyes. Trust me.
Walker gave her a sardonic grin. His eyes darted to mine. I felt like prey. He turned back to Swan. “What would you do if a Son was responsible for the attack yesterday?”
“They weren’t.”
“Suppose they were.”
“I don’t talk hypotheticals.”
“If they were, you would have two choices. Either stick with them, and suffer the deadly press, or pull them out of the house of cards you’ve built yourself. I hope for everyone’s sake that your short-sightedness won’t harm you like that.”
“By the way, Senator,” I said. “I heard you brokered a contract between Grady and the AMU? Exclusive access by Grady engineers to confiscated androids?”
“Grady is the only company the AMU is willing to work with. The research needs to be done; Three Law depends on it.”
“Your campaign fund, too,” Swan snickered.
“And? Grady is a solvent company, and the highest-rated in ethics indexes. There is no risk. Alleged greed, fine. But this deal doesn’t put people in danger.”
“Suppose the rogue android was a Grady 617,” I said.
Walker laughed, amused. He uncrossed his legs and stood. “I’m glad I threw my lot in with you two.” He came to the window. “Look down there. If we’re not careful, we’ll have a real shitstorm on our hands. You’re going to need my help, sooner or later.”
“You want to help, do what you can to keep the AMU from kicking in doors in Redmond,” I said.
“Believe me, I am. We are. But someone has to figure out what happened, there. People are demanding an answer. Washington is moving quickly, as well. New legislation is in the pipe. In the long run, it might be better if the AMU solves things its way.”
I looked him in the face. Sweat was beading on his forehead. “We have your number, Senator.” I drank deeply, tasting metal and citrus.
“Please, call me Eric.” He looked over his shoulder at Swan. “I’d like us to be better friends.” Walker looked back down at the street. “We should all be very afraid for the future. Animus has to be part of the solution.”
Stargazer 