Less than Human

by Zoë Blade

to slice off her bicep, but shesimilarly counters my move. In a weird sort of way, it's exhilaratingto finally have a worthy opponent to fight--someone who could actuallybeat me.

  "Let me guess." She swings her blade around to my hip and I counterit. "The last thing you remember is Mike sending you to some creepybastard who gave you a brain scan, then you just woke up somewherestrange."

  "How do you know that?" I try to stab her in the stomach, but shesweeps my blade away.

  "Surely it must have occurred to you by now that one of us is anandroid."

  "Actually, I'd kinda been preoccupied."

  "So why'd they build you?"

  "How do you know they didn't build _you_?"

  "Because androids are damned near infallible," she says as I take onelast sweep at her neck. "And you're better than me."

  As I'm taking in what she's said, my sword's edge slices through theair towards her neck. I lunge backwards, managing to just barely nickher skin instead of slicing her head clean off. She starts to bleed atiny dribble of bright red blood, but I know she'll live.

  "You've got a point." I stare at the blood. _Real_ blood. "And_we've_ got a problem."

  "We can't trust each other?"

  "Trust is simply a matter of being able to predict someone's moves.Since I'm a pretty good facsimile of you, I figure we can both predicteach other just fine by working out what we would do in each other'ssituation." It just doesn't feel right calling myself a copy. Have Ireally become a commodity? I keep my sword raised, on guard just incase the other Suzi tries anything.

  "So what's the problem?"

  "Our boss tried to kill you."

  "You mean you've had a change of heart?"

  "I'd like to propose an alternative, but we're going to have to trusteach other." I throw my katana onto the floor as a sign of good faith.While I'm not exactly ready to commit _harakiri_ just yet, suddenly myimitation of a life doesn't seem to be worth fighting for so hard. Ifigure that if either one of us lives on, I haven't really lost much.The gamble's worth it, because if she'll go along with my plan--and I'mpretty sure she will, because I'm pretty sure I would--then we can bothget what we deserve.

  Mike doesn't get into his office until seven the next morning. When hesees me, he freezes, and for just a second he reveals fear in his eyes.

  "You're early," he says.

  I briefly wonder how much effort he's putting into keeping his voicesteady, trying his best not to give away how scared he is, but thatbrief glance has already betrayed his fear. He knows the doctor'sdead. I figure I should have taken him up on his offer a few monthsback to join in his poker games. I'd have made a fortune off him.

  "I didn't get much sleep." I figure I can trust him not to try to killme yet because I haven't revealed my intentions. He's far too trustinglike that. The right move would have been to kill me as soon as he sawme in the room. But he can't do that. He needs me. So I turn my backto him, walking up to the window.

  "Bad night?" asks Mike, feigning ignorance.

  "You could say that. When I got home, I found an intruder waiting forme."

  "My god!" says Mike. "What happened?"

  "I dispatched her, naturally." The first rule in my line of work isnever trust anybody, not even somebody pretending to be your friend.

  "_Her_?" asks Mike, pretending to be shocked by her gender, knowingfull well how rare human assassins are, let alone women.

  I nod silently.

  "Did she say anything?" asks Mike.

  "No, nothing. She didn't have a chance to."

  "Wow," says Mike. "I guess that's too bad, in a way."

  I shrug. "We all get what's coming to us, eventually. She just wasn'tsmart enough to quit while she was ahead."

  Mike sighs. "I'm not an idiot, you know. You have to understand, it'sbusiness, nothing personal." He's sweating now. I watch a little beadof perspiration make its way down his forehead. "How much do you know?"

  I make my way to the shelf and pour a shot of whiskey.

  "It's a bit early for that, isn't it?"

  "Special occasion," I insist. It always helps to inebriate youropponent, to give yourself any edge over him that you can when it comesto reflexes. "I know how attached people can get to certain ways ofdoing things. The comfort of the familiar." I look at my glassthoughtfully. "I think it's time to make a clean break." I getanother glass, pour another shot, and hand it to him. Raising myglass, I declare a toast. "To the future."

  Mike has a dubious look in his eye like he knows I'm up to _something_,just not what. For a manager, he sure lacks vision. He looks out thewindow at the ant-like people all those floors below, oblivious to thewoman pointing a high powered laser rifle straight at him from the nextblock along, and raises his glass. "To--"

  Despite giving my new business partner the order to fire, the laserburst still somehow makes me jump. I've never seen it up close before.On the receiving end, it's deadly silent, the only sound being thesloshed gurgles of the target. The smell, on the other hand, isoverwhelming--searing flesh with a hint of burnt cotton from his shirt.

  The great thing about biometrics is that they still work when theperson's dead. With the help of Mike's eyes and fingers, it takes meless than five minutes to drain his bank accounts--both his company'sand his own. _Nothing personal_.

  Sitting on a bench in the local park, I take a second to close my eyesand just listen to the birds. I open them again just in time to see ayoung woman waving at me as she walks towards me. To an outsideobserver, she looks like she could be my identical twin. I wave back,smiling as I watch her familiar mannerisms from an unfamiliar point ofview.

  She sits down beside me. "How long do you reckon we've got 'tilsomeone realises what happened to Mike?"

  I shrug. "A few hours, maybe. Long enough to get a few things fromour flat, move the money to a safe account, and walk away."

  "Ah, yes, the money." She smiles sweetly, a smile I've never seenoutside of a mirror before. "What do you figure we should do with it?"

  "I say we take what's owed to us, enough to start a new life, and givethe rest to Jon Russell's charity. He did bring about this turn ofevents, in a weird sort of way."

  She nods. "I guess so." After a few seconds' silent reflection, sheturns to look at me. "And us?"

  "I've been thinking about that," I say. "I think we could continue todo what we're doing, only freelance. If you're up for it, I mean.We'd have to really start trusting each other, but at least we'd get tochoose our clients, and we'd get to stay human. Well, you would,anyway."

  That smile again, turning into a broad grin. "Twin assassins? No onewould see it coming. It's a hell of an edge."

  "Exactly." I smile back at my new business partner. Maybe thingsdidn't turn out so bad after all.