“But isn’t Providence supposed to be perfect?” Hammell asked. “Isn’t even one fault a catastrophe?”
“You don’t have one fault.”
“I did,” Hammell said. “I’d be willing to swear it. So, I’m sure, would one of the wardens. The same thing happened when Arthur Beecroft was attacked.”
“Testimony?” Yun said. “Human testimony? That’s your evidence?”
“You have to give me more time,” Hammell said. “Give Dave more time.”
“Send me the surveillor serial numbers and I’ll get the programmers going through their code,” Yun said. “If they turn something up, you’ll be informed. Was there anything else?”
“But the coders are A.I.s too,” Hammell said. “The coders run on code. What if the hack has reached them too?"
Yun looked dubious, as well he might. Hammell was reaching and he knew it. "Every one of them?" Yun asked.
"We need real investigators,” Hammell said, making one last ditch attempt.
“Then thank goodness we still have you.”
“Yun-”
“Commissioner Yun!” the big man bellowed suddenly, silencing Hammell. The big man lowered his voice again to almost a whisper. “I’m sorry about Toskan, I really am. But they’re looking for reasons and he gave them one. Close the door on your way out.”
Hammell lumbered away, crestfallen, leaving the door wide open behind him.
Practically every warden and civilian in the building had gathered in the main office as word had spread. That was their way, the vultures. A pair of riot control androids came up from the basement to escort Toskan out; an overreaction typical of the current regime. Hammell glared at them from the doorway of the cupboard as they emerged from the lift.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Toskan whispered from where he stood by his desk. “You don’t want to go today as well.”
Hammell moved to block the doorway and the androids stopped in front of him. “You don’t need to be here. I’ll see him out.”
“We have orders to escort Mr Toskan from the premises,” the left-hand android said.
“And you can,” Toskan said as he stared pointedly at Hammell.
“Keep a few metres back,” Hammell said to the androids, relenting. “And don’t say a fucking word.”
The android turned its head towards the mezzanine, where Yun stood with his hands on the rails. The big man nodded and the androids backed away two steps.
There it is again, Hammell thought. Only one looked up, but both reacted.
Toskan picked up the box from his desk and looked around one last time at the space they’d shared for so long. “Shall we?” he said and he stepped past Hammell out onto the main floor to run the gauntlet of ghoulish wardens and civilians with his head bowed. Hammell stalked along by his side, daring anyone to meet his eye, as the androids fell into step behind them.
“Wanker,” someone muttered and Toskan’s face turned bright red.
“Who said that?” Hammell exploded as he strode towards a cluster of wardens, who all looked away as he eyeballed them.
“Warden Mendoza,” Yun said from the balcony. “My office. Now.”
A sheepish looking young woman shuffled towards the stairs and Hammell glowered at her until she had disappeared from sight.
The ride down in the lift was more awkward than it should have been, with the two hulking machines looming over them. In a way, Hammell was glad of their presence. He had no idea what to say.
“How are you getting home?” he asked as the doors opened onto the lobby, realizing that Dave took policenats whenever he could. He practically knew no other form of transport.
“Nat, I suppose. Public nat.”
“My car is downstairs,” Hammell said, reaching for the basement button.
“No,” Toskan said. “They could say you were doing something personal on police time. Don’t give them a sniff.”
Hammell allowed his hand to drop and then followed his partner out through the scanner and into the public lobby.
“Strange to think I’ll never be in there again,” Toskan said as he looked back over his shoulder.
“You hope,” Hammell replied and the older man managed a smile.
“It’s the speed,” Toskan said with a shake of his head. “Now I know how criminals feel when they’re caught, convicted and sentenced at the same time. Everything changed in the blink of an eye.”
Hammell only managed a nod. “We’ll celebrate your freedom tonight,” he said. “On me.”
“I’ll talk to Meera,” Toskan said and then shook his head. “Fuck… Meera…”
He could see that Toskan was going over the conversation he would have to have with his wife when he got home. He knew them well enough to know that this would give her another reason to leave. He knew he should say something reassuring, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.
“Excuse me, but civilians are not permitted to loiter in the police station,” a civilian whitetip at the desk said, rescuing him. He turned on it, ready to give it a verbal battering, but Toskan reached out a hand to stay him.
“It’s ok,” Toskan said. “I’m going anyway. So… see ya.”
“Yeah,” Hammell replied and he watched as his partner - his former partner - held himself together sufficiently to walk out of the building and down the steps. I hope I can do the same when my time comes.
When Toskan was gone, Hammell turned and walked back through the scanner, barging into one of the riot control androids as he went. “Excuse me,” the android said but Hammell ignored it as he sank into his own darkening thoughts. Dave was right - it was too fast, too efficient, too machine-like. No-one could mentally adjust to such huge life changes so quickly. It was an uncomfortable thought, but it seemed to him that the world was becoming more fit for androids than people.
Chapter 7
By the time Hammell had got back to his desk, his anger had subsided and he just felt tired. The lack of sleep was finally catching up with him. He slumped down in his chair and glanced over at the empty desk opposite, thinking that his was the first time he’d seen it tidy in a decade. With no partner around to keep him awake, he knew he could sleep the entire day away. But what would happen tomorrow and the day after? What about the days when he wasn’t so exhausted? How would he fill the time without Toskan there to waste it with?
He had been contemplating whether or not to do it since last night, but now he felt like the decision had been taken out of his hands. Pulling up Arthur’s inactive case file, he reset the alert to red, seeing his name emblazoned on the file as the re-opening investigator. The thought that the Red Hands might start looking into him set his heart racing, banishing all notions of sleep. Newly incentivized - it was amazing how the threat of being raped and viciously murdered could focus the mind - he set to work.
It didn’t take long for his exhaustion to start becoming a problem: He just caught his head in time before it hit the desk. He called for a coffee and then cancelled it, deciding instead that the walk to the machine would help get his circulation going.
The canteen was on the twelfth floor, but the nearest place to get a decent cup was two floors up - the very machine that his prank had backfired beside a couple of days ago. He smiled at the thought, but then quickly tried to forget it. It wouldn’t do to be thinking about Toskan now. The machine was a semi-intelligent robot and one of the few artificial intelligences Hammell approved of. It studied moods and knew its customers, allowing it to practically roast beans to order. In days gone by, there would have been a queue for its services, but not anymore… except for today, as it turned out, as he found himself standing behind a shiny white android.
“Excuse me,” Hammell said when the thing didn’t immediately step aside. “I said excuse me,” he tried again.
“I am sorry, I.A. Hammell,” the android said, in an oddly modified female voice which was almost sultry, “but I am getting coffee for someone of superior rank to you.”
&nbs
p; The fuckers are getting bolder by the day.
Hammell recognised its voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it. He glanced at the thing’s shoulder plate and read the name: JENN-526. Still he could not recollect where he’d seen it before, until his implant took over, informing him that he had spoken to the android at the scene of Arthur’s mutilation. It had been somewhat curt there too, he recalled. Maybe it’s due for a reset.
The android collected the brimming cup and Hammell gave it a shove. Its head banged into the coffee machine and hot liquid spilled over its hand. He watched it closely for any sign of a reaction.
“Please be more careful, I.A. Hammell,” the android said. “Or you may get burned.”
Is it my imagination, or did that sound like a threat?
He reached out to push it again and an indignant voice called out down the corridor: “I.A. Hammell!”
Of course, Hammell thought as he turned around to see the gawky looking lab boss motoring down the corridor on his stilt-like legs. Jenn was one of Stein’s. He was the person of superior rank who deserved to get his coffee first.
“What are you doing to that android?” Stein demanded as he came to a stop a half-step too close, tucking his too-long arms into his lab coat for safe keeping.
“Checking if it needs a reset.”
“By pushing its head into a coffee machine?” Stein said. “There are more accurate ways.”
A cleaning robot appeared out of nowhere and began mopping up the spilt coffee. Stein took his cup from the android and Hammell noticed that it said ‘I found this humerus’ and had a picture of a long silvery bone on it. Scientist humour.
“Jennifer,” Stein asked the android, “when are you due for a reset?”
“In six months,” the android replied.
Stein eyed Hammell. “Go now.”
The android left instantly and Hammell watched it roll on down the corridor. Before it turned the corner, it looked back at them and for some reason the hairs on the back of Hammell’s neck stood up. Then the android was gone and Hammell went to take his coffee – the machine had already brewed his cup.
“I could report this,” Stein said.
“Report what?” Hammell asked. “A spilled coffee?”
“Don’t touch my android again,” Stein said before striding off after his android.
Hammell watched him go, wishing he could run back to the cupboard to tell Toskan how the strange lab boss had just got a bit stranger. Maybe he’s fucking it, he thought, as a joke. Only he didn’t laugh; he genuinely began to wonder. Jennifer? he thought to himself.
Sometime later there came a knock on the cupboard door. It woke Hammell up with a jolt and he realised he’d fallen asleep face down on his desk. “Come in,” he called out in a thick voice as he prised out a lightpen which had been attempting to burrow into his cheek.
The tiny head of Asha Ishi poked in. "Hello," it said. “Is now a good time?”
“For what?” Hammell asked.
Asha Ishi pushed opened the door, revealing that she held a box in her hands.
“No no no no no,” Hammell said as he sat up. “You can’t be…? Are you? No!”
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” Asha Ishi said as she kicked the door closed behind her with a flick of her heel.
“You’re not welcome,” Hammell said. “His seat isn’t even cold yet!”
“Am I to understand that Commissioner Yun has not informed you about this?” Asha said. “Great. He probably thought it would be funny.”
“Commissioner Yun does not possess a sense of humour,” Hammell said. “He was specially bred to suck the joy out of life for everyone around him.”
“He offered me the day shift,” Asha Ishi said. “What was I going to say?”
“Say yes,” Hammell replied, “by all means. And then stay on a different floor!”
“I wish I could,” she said as she looked around. “Believe it or not, this is not every girl’s dream. But unfortunately some new unit is taking over up there.” She dropped her box onto Toskan’s desk. “So neither of us has a choice. I suppose we’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Hammell considered charging upstairs again, but he knew it would do about as much good as last time. In fact, last time may have led directly to this time. Instead he watched, brooding, as she began unpacking her things, becoming more and more annoyed by her with each passing second. Her face didn’t help, being utterly devoid of all expression. She was too small, too boyish. Even more annoyingly, she insisted on wearing the same style of gymsuit every day. It had a zip up the middle from the crotch to the neckline. Only the colour changed occasionally from her favourite pastel pink to pastel blue, pastel green or pastel yellow. Her boots were always black and heavy, and she always wore a thin set of gloves, even indoors. Her hair provided her only touch of ostentation - it was always well cut, well styled, with highlights on the flicked up tips - and he wondered why she would be willing to spend hours every morning on it, as she no doubt had to, only to climb into such unimaginative clothing.
When she had finished violating Toskan’s drawers, she began dotting his desk with tiny statues of kittens, which irked Hammell for reasons he didn’t understand. Still, he decided to extend the tiniest of olive branches, since this was an area in which they could find common ground. “I have a cat,” he said.
Asha Ishi stared at him as if he were insane. “Good for you!” she said enthusiastically before going back to her unpacking, shaking her head at him.
So much for friendliness.
When she’d finished with her box of things, she turned off the air conditioning and opened the window.
“Woah woah woah,” Hammell said. “What do you think you’re doing? It’s forty five degrees out.”
“It smells like old farts in here,” Asha Ishi said.
“I can’t smell anything.”
“You’re acclimatized to them.”
“Then you can be too, in time.”
Asha Ishi stared at him. “I’m going to find an air freshener. Don’t touch that window.”
Hammell waited for her to leave and then walked to the window. He reached out to close it, feeling the hot, damp air rushing in past his arm, and paused. Did he really want to start a war over a window - especially when he could just go home? His shift wasn’t technically over, but he had logged enough hours for the week and his bed was calling. Did he dare leave Asha Ishi alone?
He decided to wait until she returned with the air freshener. She then made no less than three trips to collect cushions, burying the sofa in a comfortable grave. Only when he was sure she was done spoiling things for today did he leave, muttering a goodbye but tempering it by saying, “Try not to paint everything pink while I’m gone.”
Chapter 8
The Hoola Bar was the grottiest place in the city which had not yet been knocked down by the Restoration or closed for public health violations. Hammell and Toskan had a standing bet on which would get the place first. If the inspectors arrived before the demolition crew, then Hammell stood to win a case of whisky. And they would. If the machines started getting too close, the Department of Health would conveniently receive an anonymous tip-off. Toskan probably knew it, but he didn’t much care. Half of the whisky would end up down his neck either way.
The floors of the Hoola were so sticky that it wasn’t uncommon for people to lose footwear. The trick was to walk slowly, ensuring the shoe was definitely coming along too before committing to each step. Few even dared go into the bathrooms, most of the male patrons preferring the alleyway behind. What the women did was a mystery even the I.A.s hadn’t solved, largely due to a lack of enthusiasm for the knowledge. The Hoola was one of the last remaining havens of ineptitude and filth - a true dive bar - which was exactly why they were regulars.
The whisky was flowing freely - too freely, even for a man of Hammell’s prodigious appetites. He had long since lost his ability to taste, so had manoeuvred them on to less expensive
brands. It was criminal to slam good Japanese whisky. Toskan didn’t care what they were drinking in any case. He was a man possessed. Already he was calling for another round before he’d even touched his current glass.
A young and thoroughly bored looking bartender brought over two water-stained glasses and released exactly 50 ml of a raw blended brand into each. This was one of the only bars left in the city which hadn’t yet replaced people with androids, though the barman looked like he might prefer it if they did.
Toskan threw back one of his whiskies and picked up the other. “Am I winning?”
“It’s alright for you,” Hammell replied as stared into the pale brown liquid in his glass, which his black box was strongly advising him not to drink. “You don’t have work in the morning.”
Toskan cackled. “Arsehole.”
They watched the singer for a time performing on the small step which passed for a stage. She was mediocre, though the blown speakers were doing nothing to help her out. She hit every note bang in the middle, but somehow wasn’t the least bit engaging. The song ended without the merest ripple of even polite applause.
“Elevator music,” Hammell said with a wave of his hand. “I fucking hate this place.”
“It’s the best there is,” Toskan said.
"Yeah," Hammell agreed and they clinked glasses.
Hammell took a sip, shutting down his black box’s warning, and considered his friend. Toskan was bigger at the waist than he thought he was, a direct consequence of their decreased activity. He had once been slender and handsome, back when Hammell had arrived on the I.A. program as a young trainee, but now he was bloated and balding and, like Hammell, constantly complained of being tired. He’d once confessed that he spent most days counting down the minutes until he could go back to bed, and Hammell had pointed out that being constantly asleep was basically the same as being dead. That hadn’t bothered the older man in the least, but for some reason it had kept Hammell awake that night.
“Are you ok?” Toskan asked as he noticed Hammell staring at him. “Did you just fall in love with me?”
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