Silicon Dawn (Silicon Series Book 0)

by William Massa

  CHAPTER SIX

  ADAM AND NEESON waited near the building’s dilapidated elevator while Malveaux questioned some of the victim’s neighbors.

  Adam had read reports about human poverty, but this was his first direct experience of such squalor. Most of the humans on the colonies were highly trained and educated specialists, and a minimum standard of comfort was provided to all working personnel. Sanitation robots made sure to keep the colony domes clean. All living quarters were well maintained, unlike these crumbling, forsaken structures. How could these people live in such abysmal conditions?

  A bouncing ball thrust Adam out of his musings. At the end of the corridor, three kids were playing a game of soccer with a ragged tennis ball, oblivious to the sorry state of their surroundings. One of humanity’s greatest assets was its ability to adapt to any environment, no matter how harrowing. These kids exemplified this truism. They paid Adam and Neeson no mind, lost to the simple pleasure of their game.

  Adam turned toward a pale looking Neeson with concern. “Sir, are you alright?”

  “Yes. I'll be okay.”

  The thump-thump of the bouncing ball grew louder.

  “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

  The question earned Adam a smile from Neeson. “Fact you asked is enough.”

  “This city... It's different from what I expected,” he said.

  “Sometimes I don't recognize it myself.”

  Adam nodded at Neeson. “Your partner doesn’t like me too much.”

  “Don’t take it personally. Malveaux is like a lot of people out there. She sees a machine doing her job, a machine that might replace her in the future. The thought scares her.”

  Adam considered this for a beat and said, ”Why aren’t you scared?”

  “Who said I wasn’t?” Neeson’s lips curled into a weary smile.

  Adam was still mulling this over when Malveaux joined them. She didn’t look too happy. The female inspector was perplexing. On one hand, her record indicated that she was a highly decorated, capable police officer. Why was her reaction so different from Neeson’s? Did she truly feel threatened by him?”

  “Any luck?” Neeson asked Malveaux.

  “Apparently, the sadistic fucker just waltzed into a crowded building to torture and kill a man and no one saw or heard a god damn thing.”

  The incessant bouncing of the ball stopped.

  Adam saw the tennis ball roll toward him. He bent over and scooped up the ball. One of the kids approached warily, his lips pressed into a thin line of suspicion. Hoping to lighten the mood, Adam smiled at the boy as he handed him the ball.

  The kid’s tough exterior cracked and a ghost of a smile bent his lips. As he accepted the ball, the door of one of the nearby apartment units was kicked open with a loud bang. The angry neighbor emerged and pointed a gun at Adam and Neeson. The resounding crack that followed drowned out all other sounds. Bullets rained down on Adam and Neeson.

  The projectiles bounced off Adam but flung Neeson back. Malveaux went for her pistol and so did Adam. First priority was disabling the shooter. The man managed to squeeze off two more shots before a volley of lead cut him down.

  Malveaux kept her gun up while she kneeled before Neeson who had slumped to the ground in a pool of red. Blood bubbled from his mouth in thick strands, and his torso hemorrhaged crimson. His gaze was already growing distant. Neeson was going into shock. Each second had become precious.

  Malveaux spun toward the stunned cops in the hallway. “Officer down. Get a medic!” She snatched Neeson's hand, which was slick with gore. Her voice cracked with emotion. “Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

  Adam crouched over Neeson. “I'm capable of performing first aid,“ he explained. Adam sensed her mistrust and unwillingness to let him touch her partner. But she was desperate and knew that time was running out for Neeson. After a tense beat, Malveaux finally nodded at him to proceed. Adam gently unbuttoned Neeson's blood-soaked shirt while a compartment in his wrist snapped open, revealing a basic emergency kit. Medical program activated, he extricated a syringe and injected Neeson with a dose of painkillers. An X-ray of Neeson's pulsating internal organs replaced surface reality. His scrolling readouts showed that a bullet had punctured a heart valve. Fortunately, Neeson was beginning to relax as the drugs took effect.

  “How bad?” Malveaux asked.

  He won’t make it, Adam thought but experience had taught him such a blunt response would not go over well. With a grave expression, he shook his head.

  Neeson started to go into a final seizure. His right hand weakly tightened around Malveaux’s wrist before all life left his features. Cursing, she jumped to her feet and stormed off, shaking with helpless fury.

  Neeson can’t be gone, Adam thought.

  An unfamiliar, paralyzing sensation gripped him. Was this his first experience of grief? His programming was designed to process reality on an emotional level. New experiences could expose him to new feelings, his emotional make-up a work in progress. For the first time since being activated, Adam fully grasped the concept of mortality. A good man had died and nothing would ever bring him back. A spark of life lost for all eternity. It seemed like such a colossal waste on an evolutionary level. How did humans go about their everyday lives knowing a mere whim of fate could undermine all their efforts for the future?

  A moan interrupted his thoughts. Neeson’s killer was still alive. Adam rose and rushed toward the downed man.

  “What are you doing?” Malveaux said.

  “I'm programmed to preserve human life. All human life.” Moving swiftly, Adam stripped off the shooter’s shirt. He tore off the sleeve and used it as a compress. The shooter recoiled. “Don't fucking touch me, mech!” With his last ounce of strength, the man spat at Adam. Bloody saliva hit him, but he continued helping the hateful man. Officers followed the unfolding drama in stunned silence. The intermittent crackles of their comlinks echoed eerily in the hallway as Adam went about saving the life of Neeson’s murderer.

  By the time Adam turned away from the shooter, convinced that the man would live, his grief had given way for another emotion—anger. Malveaux’s earlier words rang through his mind:

  Welcome to Earth.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “ENGAGE TARGET SYSTEM,” Malveaux said and the hologram of a black-clad burglar flashed into existence about twenty yards ahead of her.

  Malveaux stood at the center of the police combat simulator, a chamber the size of a small basketball court, gun up and sighted on the fast approaching virtual assailant. A brief flicker around the edges was the only subtle indicator of her sim-target’s true nature.

  Malveaux pumped a full magazine into the incoming assailant. The hologram sizzled with crackling electricity each time a bullet made contact. A digital counter around Malveaux’s wrist kept track of the hits, numbers ticking up furiously.

  She emptied the first magazine and snapped in another one. Tapping a button on her wrist-pad, she raised the simulation’s difficulty level.

  The burglar morphed into four opponents.

  They all closed in with increased speed and drew their own weapons in mid-sprint. Beams of light speared the battle room.

  Malveaux jumped into motion, firing away while doing her best to avoid being hit by the flashing pulses of non-lethal energy charges. Getting hit would sting while a lethal shot would end the simulation.

  Malveaux dropped the empty mag and jammed in a fresh one. This wasn’t a simple training exercise any longer. She was unleashing all her pent-up anger and rage. In her mind she wasn’t destroying digital targets but pretending she had Neeson’s killer in her sights.

  God, she still couldn’t believe he was gone. As a homicide detective, she accepted the risks of her profession—or so she’d thought. But Neeson had been larger than life to her, a true force of nature. He’d taken her under his wing when she was first promoted to Homicide. He’d been her mentor, her partner.

  Her friend.
>
  More shots rang out, and the horde of virtual assailants rushed at her from every possible angle, intent on getting a drop on her.

  Malveaux dodged their shots, moving with the grace of a ballet dancer as she kept blasting away. She embraced the grueling pace of the combat simulation. Needed to punish herself. The responsibility for Neeson’s death rested squarely on her shoulders. Maybe if she’d acted faster, been more alert, she could’ve stopped the shooter. And what about the goddamn mech that had triggered the violent incident? The machine should’ve never been there in the first place.

  Her mind flashed back to her last exchange with the unit. As the shrouded gurney with Neeson’s body had vanished inside an ambulance, the robot had just stood there in the rainy night, water pooling on the brim of his hat. “Did they identify the killer?” Adam had asked.

  “The shooter was a card-carrying member of the Human Defense League. One thing’s certain, he wasn’t aiming for Neeson.”

  The mech looked gut-punched. Had this machine been grieving for Neeson? But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

  Sensing rapid movement behind her, Malveaux whirled, gun blazing, her fusillade finding the two remaining attackers. Her bullets hit them both dead center, flipping them backward as they shattered in an electronic haze of dispersing light. From experience she knew the program would keep raising the difficulty level until one of the virtual criminals got lucky and found their target.

  “Terminate program.”

  Malveaux was breathing heavily, and she tasted the salt of her own perspiration. She’d hoped the physical exertion would ease the boiling rage and provide an escape from her own thoughts, but no such luck.

  As she grabbed a towel and wiped off the film of sweat, she spotted a familiar figure standing at the far end of the battle room. It was Captain Sadao. How long had he been watching her? More importantly, what had motivated him to venture down here into the basement? Normally the brass stayed clear of anything that resembled fieldwork.

  She took a deep swig from her water bottle and headed toward the captain. Might as well get this over with, whatever it was.

  Sadao nodded a curt hello and said, “I’m sorry about what happened to Neeson. He was a good man.”

  “He was,” Malveaux said with heavy emotion.

  “Do you think Neeson’s shooter could be the same guy who offed the cyberneticist?”

  “No, our guy is different, a sadistic super-freak. He tortured the victim. Neeson’s shooting was a crime of opportunity. An angry bum lashing out at a mech and hitting an innocent bystander in the process.”

  “This isn’t going to be a one-shot deal, is it?”

  Malveaux shook her head. She stared at Sadao and knew the small talk was leading up to the real reason for his presence. “Is there something else?”

  “Synthetika wants Adam to stay on the case. That means I need you pick up where Neeson left off.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Did Sadao truly believe that partnering her up with the mech who got Neeson killed was a smart move?

  ”Malveaux, do you have any idea how many police officers were murdered last year in the line of duty?”

  Anger coiled up her throat. How insensitive could the captain be to ask that question at a time like this?

  “I try not to keep track,” Malveaux replied tightly.

  “Well, let me educate you. The number of fatalities was ninety-nine for San Francisco alone, and that is not counting your partner. Man’s a frail construct, and this city likes to chew up cops and spit them out in body bags.”

  Malveaux swallowed back her anger and digested this bit of information. “What’s your point?” she asked.

  “My point is, the council has noticed that blood’s sticking to their shoes. They’re the squeamish sort. Their solution is to get officers who don’t have the audacity to die on us.”

  “Mechs,” Malveaux said.

  “Adam is just the beginning.”

  “That’s a pretty damn good idea. Especially since the public hates mechs even more than cops.”

  “Yourself included?” Sadao asked.

  Malveaux refused to be baited. “It’s going to take more than a machine to catch this sick fuck,” Malveaux said.

  “That’s where you come into play.” A chill note crept into Sadao’s voice. “This test run is vitally important for Synthetika and for the department. I expect your full co-operation, Malveaux. Are we clear?”

  Malveaux was tempted to say more, but she stopped herself. Being political didn’t come easy, but she knew this wasn’t a fight she could win.

  “Good. Looks like we’re on the same page.” With these words, Sadao stepped out of the battle room.

  Malveaux clenched her jaw. This day was getting off to a great start.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ADAM RETURNED TO the police precinct, the shooting still haunting him. It was past midnight by the time he arrived.

  Androids didn’t require sleep the way humans did, but Synthetika expected a daily upload of all his memory files for further review and analysis. The video and audio recordings of his experiences would allow them to refine his programming based on how he responded to various situations and stimuli. They’d pore over the data and crunch the numbers, drawing the necessary conclusions that would help their cyberneticists perfect the next generation of mechs. Without a doubt, Synthetika would take the X-4000 to new technological heights that would put his current performance to shame.

  As Adam walked through the precinct, he debated where he should spend the night. He considered the mech storage chamber located in the precinct’s basement, but one look at the rows of coffin-like charging units changed his mind. He felt out of place among the X-2 models powering up their batteries and updating their operating systems. On the colonies, he’d grown accustomed to having his own quarters. He craved a private, quiet place where he could contemplate and process the tragic, turbulent events of the day. He knew most respectable establishments wouldn’t allow a mech to book a room. The moment they realized he was an android, they’d be on the phone with Synethika, reporting a malfunctioning unit.

  He needed to find a dwelling where they wouldn’t care as long as he could pay for the room. A quick search of the webs gave him the address for the Lincoln, a rundown, crumbling motel in a not-so-desirable part of the city. For his purposes, it sounded perfect. Allowing him to travel on his own and make such decisions was all part of Synthetika’s test phase. They wanted X-3s to think for themselves, to a degree, while carrying out their duties.

  An hour later, Adam stepped through the Lincoln’s revolving brass doors. Faded carpet and flaking walls greeted him, the lobby mirroring the hopeless exterior. Once upon a time the Lincoln had been a hotspot, but little remained of its former glory. The decay extended to the motel’s denizens. Aging prostitutes and men on disability pensions occupied a fraying couch near the check-in desk. They appeared to have become a permanent fixture with the desolate surroundings. This dump was their home. They barely glanced up from the lobby’s media screen as Adam walked past them.

  The Arab behind the reception desk felt only slightly more put-together than the sad residents. After a brief exchange, he slid Adam a plastic key card, his gaze lingering perhaps a moment too long.

  The room wasn’t much better than the lobby, but it beat spending the night in the precinct’s mech storage facility. Adam approached the bed and tried not to pay much attention to the sweat-stained sheets. Muffled sounds emanated from outside, honking cars interspersed with occasional shouts. The steady pulse of the city.

  Adam interfaced with the webs and found the latest news feed on the shooting. “Homicide detective Robert Neeson was gunned down earlier today in the line of duty. The shooter—a member of the HDL—is in stable condition. Detective Neeson is survived by his wife and two children. Our heart goes out to the family…”

  Adam killed the feed, wondering why he’d accessed it in the first place. He’d rather no
t relive the memory. A Bible rested on the nightstand and caught his interest. He could’ve interfaced with a number of religious texts, but there was something about holding the book in his hands. For centuries mankind had stored knowledge in physical books, and they gave him a tactile sense of history. Giving in to curiosity, he turned the pages.

  Neeson had tried to tell him about God back on Luna. Adam had found it difficult to wrap his head around the notion of an invisible creator when the men and women who’d engineered him were such a tangible part of his life. Adam understood his place in the world and grasped his purpose. He was an X-3000, a law-enforcement unit designed to preserve human life and uphold the law. The meaning of his existence beyond his primary function didn’t factor into his thinking too much. At least it never had in the past.

  Adam took a seat on the bed, and having nothing better to do, he began to read. By the time early dawnlight streamed into the motel room, he’d read the book twice. The events described seemed to go against the laws of known science and were based exclusively on verbal accounts. How could humanity draw comfort from these words? Nevertheless, there was a nobility and graciousness in the ideas and stories.

  He pushed all philosophical thoughts aside and headed back to the precinct. At this early hour, the lobby of the Lincoln seemed even more like a storehouse of lost souls, and Adam felt glad to be on his way. As soon as he stepped into the bustling police headquarters, Malveaux sidled up to him. “It’s your lucky day. The captain wants us to work this case together. Let’s go.”

  Five minutes later, they were both seated inside Malveaux’s coupe. This time Adam rode shotgun. Malveaux didn’t look thrilled to have him take Neeson’s place and he didn’t blame her. She switched on an array of navigational screens, and the coupe peeled out of the garage with a loud screech of rubber.

  They drove in silence.

  At a loss for suitable conversational material, Adam studied the cityscape as it streaked past his window. The urban canyons seemed different during the daylight, less menacing somehow. Seeing the sun and feeling its heat, being able to peer up at the sky—these were all new experiences for someone who had spent his entire existence surrounded by the darkness of space and the artificial lights of the Luna habitats.