“If the HDL wanted to take care of loose ends, why leave Aria Del alive and broadcast her image to Cain’s apartment?”
“Maybe they were using her as leverage because they needed Cain to do one last job for them.”
Adam didn’t seem convinced. “You said earlier these serial killings weren’t the style of the HDL.”
Shit, that’s what happens when you partner records every conversation, Malveaux thought with a grin.
“Maybe they’re changing their style,” Malveaux said, playing devil’s advocate. Hell, who was she kidding? Something didn’t quite add up here. They were getting closer to putting together this mystery, but a crucial piece was missing. She studied Adam and another thought occurred to her.
“You know, it's kinda ironic. You working this case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cain helped design you, and now you're helping me take him down.”
Adam seemed to consider this comment but didn’t respond.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE MOURNERS GATHERED around an open grave. It was raining again, breaking the early morning promise of a return to sunnier weather. Fat drops pearled on tombstones, and the grass squelched underfoot. As the casket holding Neeson’s remains disappeared into the ground, Malveaux fought back tears. She couldn’t believe he was gone.
Malveaux had made it a point to avoid Neeson’s family. After offering her condolences, she’d made sure to stand on the opposite side of the grave with the other officers and refused to meet Mrs. Neeson’s questioning gaze.
The truth was, she felt guilty. She was supposed to keep her partner safe, and she’d failed miserably. Right now, the case didn’t matter. A good man had died and he deserved her prayers, empty as they felt to her at the moment.
Malveaux’s attention shifted to Adam, who stood apart from the human officers—a segregation that had happened naturally. What was going through the AI’s head? How did he perceive loss and death?
Her heart hitched when Neeson’s widow approached him. What could Mrs. Neeson want from the android? She could see Mrs. Neeson’s grief was reaching a boiling point. Was she about to lash out at him? He’d make a convenient target, as Malveaux knew all too well.
“Mrs. Neeson—” Adam started.
“Don't say anything. Please.” Mrs. Neeson opened her purse and extricated a silver crucifix dangling from a necklace. The pendant shook in her hands. “I know my husband would've wanted you to have this.”
Neeson’s widow handed Adam the crucifix, stifling a sob. She turned away from Adam without uttering another word.
The pendant dangled from the android’s hand as he stood forlornly before Neeson’s grave. Despite the unmistakable intelligence in the AI’s gaze, there was a vulnerability there, an unguarded quality that pierced Malveaux’s grief.
“You cared for Neeson, didn't you?” she said.
Adam regarded the silver crucifix in his hand. “Neeson tried to teach me about God back on the colonies. I turned out to be a poor student.”
“But he didn't like to give up.”
“No, he didn't.”
Malveaux remembered the many times Neeson had whispered a prayer for a dead victim as they walked away from a crime scene.
“You know, it's getting kinda late,” she said. “Why don’t we call it a day?”
“I don't require sleep.”
The deadpan comment almost brought a smile to Malveaux’s face. A week ago, she might not have even realized he was making a joke. “Right.”
For a second her mind went blank, her world reduced to the wreaths adorning Neeson’s final resting place. What she was about to say next didn’t come easy, but she gave it a go. “My kid sister is making dinner tonight. The girl loves to cook, and she loves new faces. I bet she'd be thrilled to meet…” A mech, she was about to say but corrected herself. “…Someone like yourself.”
Adam eyes shone with surprise. “I'd be honored to join you for dinner.”
***
Malveaux studied Adam as he took his first bite of the meal Rebecca had prepared for them. A year ago, she and her sister had both seen their relationships fall apart and decided to move in together. At first it had felt a little surreal, like they’d turned back the clock and returned to a simpler time when their lives seemed far less complicated. The weirdness of being roommates again soon wore off, and they’d come to enjoy their new living situation.
Malveaux knew it wouldn’t be permanent. Rebecca was dating a new man and the relationship was heating up. All too soon, she’d be moving out again.
Rebecca’s playful, gracious nature was in full display as she smiled at Adam. Rebecca was obviously fascinated with her sister’s new partner. She squeezed Adam’s arm, and Malveaux wondered what it felt like. Adam’s skin was grown in Synthetika’s biolabs from human cells. It was a living organ, but did it feel real? Malveaux scolded herself and pushed the thought aside. One thing was for sure—the line between people and robots had never felt so nebulous.
“Since when do machines eat?” she said while Adam took another bite. The dinner—which consisted of lemon-grilled chicken, string beans, and potatoes—tasted delicious. God, she was going to miss her sister. Police work rarely allowed her the time to appreciate a home-cooked meal, and she foresaw a future where she would be living off protein patches.
Adam seemed to be enjoying it, too. “Statistically, humans are uncomfortable sharing a table with someone who won't participate.”
Synthetika thought of everything, Malveaux thought. “In addition, I do require nutrients to maintain my bioshell.”
“Wow, that’s cool,” Rebecca said. “What about pleasure? Can you taste food?”
Adam swallowed another bite. “My tongue is equipped with taste receptors designed to identify chemical compounds and toxins.”
“Great. You can tell me if my sister is trying to poison me.” Malveaux said good-naturedly.
The statement earned her a playful elbow to the ribs from Rebecca. “Hey, behave now.” Rebecca turned to Adam and touched his arm again. Was her sister flirting with a machine?
“So how many X-3000s are there?” Rebecca asked.
“On the colonies, about eighty. I'm the first on Earth.”
“Do you relate more to people or to other androids?”
Malveaux perked up, intrigued. How would Adam respond? He seemed thrown by the question.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude,” Rebecca said.
“That's alright. I've never been asked that question before.”
Eying Adam, Malveaux wondered what his answer would be. Synthetika had constructed a machine that shared more in common with its creators than earlier generations. This placed Adam in a unique position. A synthetic consciousness that wasn’t quite man nor machine, caught between two different worlds.
Noticing Malveaux’s intense stare, Adam said, “Is something wrong?”
Malveaux shook her head. “Just thinking. You're the first android I've ever had over for dinner.”
“Why don't I find that surprising?”
Rebecca laughed. Even Malveaux couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Don't you start developing a sense of humor on me now. I don't know if I could take it.”
Adam cracked a thin smile.
Rebecca rose and grabbed her purse. “I have to get ready for the night shift at the hospital. It was a pleasure meeting you, Adam. If my sister starts giving you a hard time, you give me a call.”
“I have your number on file.” There was a trace of amusement in Adam’s voice now, and this more than anything made him seem human.
Rebecca grinned and left the apartment, the door closing behind her.
“Told you she'd get a kick out of you,” Malveaux said.
“Your sister is a good cook. She cares a lot about you, too.”
“She worries too much about me when she should be taking care of herself.”
“Why are neither of you married?”
The question caught Malveaux off guard. It definitely wasn’t the type of thing she’d expect a machine to ask her. “I was married, but we got divorced two years ago.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
Malveaux studied Adam. What was happening here? Were they bonding? Were her partner’s questions driven by genuine curiosity or the result of another subroutine? And did it matter in the end?
“It didn't work out,” she finally said. “As you might’ve noticed, I'm not the easiest person to get along with.”
Her tone made it clear that’s all she was going to say about the subject. “Not in a million years did I think I'd ever be working with...”
“A mech?” His tone never wavered as he asked, “Why do you dislike us?”
Malveaux hesitated. Part of her couldn’t believe she was trying to explain herself to a machine. She drained her wine a bit too fast and quickly refilled it. “I've seen too many good men lose everything because of you guys. Men with wives, kids. Strong, proud men. You bump into them a year later and don’t even recognize them anymore, just shells of the men they used to be.”
“You're afraid we'll replace you?” Adam said.
“Look at yourself. You're faster, stronger, smarter...”
“We have our limitations.”
“That's today. What about tomorrow? The world is changing so fast.”
“It's your species’ nature to adapt,” Adam said.
Malveaux finished her glass of wine and shook her head. “I bet that's what the dinosaurs thought.”
An awkward silence stretched between them.
Adam got up. “I should be going.”
Adam was almost out the door when she said, “He left me because I couldn’t give him what he wanted.” Malveaux couldn’t believe she’d uttered those words out loud. Must be the wine.
Adam paused. “I don’t understand?”
“A child.”
She refilled her wine glass and took a deep swig. The alcohol burned as it went down her throat. “About eight years ago, I was suffering from an inflamed appendix. A routine procedure, the doctors told me. So routine that they had a medical mech perform it.”
“What happened?”
“The unit malfunctioned, that’s what happened.” Her voice was tainted by bitterness now. “This X-2000 destroyed every chance of us ever having a family. The doctors trusted the damn machine, and you want to know why? Because it made their job easier.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wanted you to know…to understand.”
Adam nodded. “Thank you.”
Malveaux bit her lip and tasted alcohol. God, she was buzzed. “You have a good night, Adam.”
The android remained rooted in place. “That's the first time you called me by my name.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THERE WAS AN otherworldly quality about the night as Malveaux stepped from her building to take out the trash. She felt groggy from the wine and still couldn’t believe she’d opened up to her new partner like that. Her mech partner. Embarrassment mixed with a surprising sense of relief. A burden had been lifted.
She was about to head back to her apartment building when excited shouts caught her attention. Following the sounds, she stepped into the alley that flanked the left side of her building and spotted four teens. The group of young men formed a circle around a figure splayed on the ground. Cold laughter infused the night as each one of them took turns kicking their downed victim.
A growing anger stirred inside Malveaux as she closed in on the crowd. In mid-stride she scooped up a steel pipe from the trash-strewn alley, arming herself for what lay ahead. Fury shook her as she said, “What the hell are you punks doing?”
The teens whirled.
For a second they stood their ground, but something about Malveaux’s intensity gave them pause. They were locals and they knew she was a police officer. She was hoping they’d cop an attitude. Then she could make them pay for picking on some defenseless victim. But the kids backed off.
“Hey lady, chill out, it’s just a fucking mech.”
Malveaux looked down. Peering up at her was a sanitation mech. The robot’s arms and legs were missing, its wires spilling over the alley like intestines.
A fucking mech.
The kid’s words echoed in her head. She’d said them more than once, but they carried a different meaning for her now.
The lights in the X-2000’s eyes dimmed and went dark. The destroyed machine stopped moving.
He’s not like Adam, she reminded herself. He’s not alive, not really.
She tried to ignore the thought but failed. Was Adam alive? With each passing day, she was becoming convinced that his consciousness wasn’t some clever side-effect of his programming. Synthetika wasn’t pulling off some magic trick here—they’d created a new form of honest-to-God life. Adam might be a machine, but his emotions and thoughts were as real as hers.
The sickly-sweet scent of rotten fruit drifted from a nearby dumpster, and Malveaux reeled with a growing sense of nausea. Damn, her head was spinning. She definitely wasn’t in any shape to contemplate loaded philosophical questions. Malveaux cast the steel pipe aside, the metal echoing in the alley, and returned to her apartment.
Once inside, she headed straight for her bedroom. The wine had made her drowsy; sleep would come easily this evening. She removed her jacket and shoulder holster and draped her pistol over a chair next to her dresser. She turned toward the bedroom mirror…and froze. A figure lurked behind her in the shadows like a statue. The intruder must’ve entered her home when she’d taken out the trash, biding his time in the dark until she returned. An eerie mask made of a latex-like material covered the figure’s entire face, two insectile eyepieces suggesting its night-vision capabilities.
Before she could react, he snapped a wire around her neck. Instinctively Malveaux brought up her hand and blocked the garrote from slicing into her throat.
The razor-sharp wires bit deep into her palm instead, making her gasp with agony. Hot blood streamed from the wound.
The assassin changed his angle, clearly hoping the wire would rip into the side of her carotid artery, but her hand held fast despite the pain. If she let go, she would die.
Malveaux didn’t waste time asking herself why this was happening. All thoughts were focused on survival. Using all of her weight, she pushed the man against a nearby nightstand. The lamp shattered as they crashed into it.
Breath coming in sharp, furious gasps, they struggled in the small bedroom. The attacker was male and outweighed her by at least sixty pounds, but she had some tricks up her sleeve. Putting her whole body into it, she rammed her elbow into the assassin’s ribs. Malveaux could almost hear them cracking. The killer let out a sharp grunt but didn’t loosen his hold on the garrote.
Adrenaline roaring, Malveaux drove her head back into the assassin's masked face, crying out as her skull smashed into the cartilage of the man’s nose. He lost his balance and they slammed into a dresser.
This time the attacker loosened the wire and she managed to slip out of it with a grimace of pain. Blood was everywhere, her throbbing hand gloved in red. The assassin whipped out a knife, jumping Malveaux before she could recover.
The blade cut through the air, once, twice. Malveaux backed away, scoping for a weapon. She scooped up her leather jacket and used it as a shield, and the tip of the knife buried itself into the material.
Malveaux swung the jacket against the man with all her strength, knocking him into the wall. That bought her a few seconds, but she knew her luck wouldn’t last forever. Malveaux needed to get her hands on her gun. The holster was still draped over the chair…on the other side of the room. She threw the jacket at the man, blinding him momentarily while she went for her pistol. The assassin pushed the jacket aside, rushing after her, knife up.
Her blood turned the handle crimson as she pulled the trigger. Hearing the pistol go off brought a sense of peace, of control, and she emptied t
he whole magazine into her would-be killer’s chest. He spun backwards and fell on her bed, blood pooling on her comforter.
Safe now and knowing there was nothing more to fear from the masked assassin, Malveaux’s knees gave out. Sucking in sharp breaths, she snatched a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around her hand.
Fuck, this hurt.
Malveaux studied the dead man. Pushing past the growing pain in her throbbing hand, she pulled off the mask.
At first, she saw only nondescript, average features. Then she noticed the tattoo of a red DNA helix running down the man’s neck. The mark of the HDL. The pain made it hard to concentrate. The tattoo was important, but she was having trouble figuring out why. Malveaux froze as the thought crystallized in her mind. If the HDL had targeted her, they might also be going after…
Adam.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FOG CREPT DOWN the city streets. The sound of a fire engine cut through the night, and flashing lights pierced the mist.
Adam had decided to walk back to the motel instead of hailing a cab. Driving through the metropolis wasn’t like exploring it on foot. Details easily missed in a moving vehicle now jumped into sharp focus. There was an old man walking his dog down the glistening street, a taco truck servicing late night workers, a line of impatient partygoers biding their time to get into the hottest new underground club.
Some of these sights were familiar from the colonies, while others were new to him. Observing these details of city life put the horrors of the recent murders in perspective. The Earth was a place of contradictions.
Adam had been walking for close to an hour when he stumbled upon a majestic gothic church. His finger brushed against Neeson’s crucifix, still sitting in his pocket, as he took in the twin spires rising from the mist. Curiosity piqued, he entered the house of God.
He’d seen chapels and congregation chambers back on Luna but never anything like this. Why did his creators devote so many resources to an idea that couldn’t be scientifically verified? The question both perplexed and fascinated him. If man worshipped his creator, did it mean he should worship mankind?
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