Retiree, page 11
Hoddeson checked his notepad, “Her short-term memory storage is working, but that is only good for about a day. Her long-term memory unit failed. So, no.”
“Shit.” Alana asked, “How long can you keep her here, doctor?”
“I can keep her brain for forty-eight hours before her case will be automatically reviewed. Depending on the timing, it might get extended an extra night if the administrators don’t notice. After that, I’ll probably have to put her back in her old body and discharge her.”
“What shape is her old body in?”
“I was able to do routine maintenance and replace some minor parts for free, but she needs major work, plus a re-skinning. She really needs a new chassis. That’s outside the scope of the police work order.”
“If you are forced to discharge her, call me directly and immediately at this number,” Alana handed the doctor an old-fashioned, printed business card. “If you get my Vira, tell her to wake my ass up, it’s important.”
Hoddeson nodded as Alana and Brett turned to leave.
Alana stopped in her tracks and spun around, “Oh! Doctor. Do you happen to know what an SDT is, in terms of cybernetic parts?”
Hoddeson shook his head, “Not off the top of my head.”
“Thanks, Doctor—”
Alana stopped when Brett tapped her on the shoulder, “What did you need to know about SDTs, Ma’am?”
Chapter 14
The tension within the car’s cabin was palpable. Alana sat with her arms crossed, her eyes closed. After a long silence, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you used to work with Security Division?”
“I did tell you, Ma’am. Well, I told you before you were killed. I didn’t think to tell you again. Besides, you could have just looked up my dossier. It’s in there. You went through my locker after all.”
Alana remained stone-faced, “I apologize for that. The last time I looked in it, Rhys was still using it. I was wondering if there was anything of his left behind.”
“As far as I know, SD took all of his things away.”
“What did you do in SD?”
Brett sighed, “I mostly brought coffee.”
“What was your title?”
“Junior analyst. I was in the intelligence department. Evaluating potential threats. In my case, it was always the threat of adding too much sweetener to the chief’s pot.”
“Why did you quit? That had to be a demotion. Giving up a career in the intelligence services?”
Brett said, “I didn’t like the hours.”
Alana wasn’t buying his answer, “Bullshit. Nobody walks away from a career like that over the schedule.”
Brett took a deep breath and exhaled, “Okay, I didn’t like the hours, the boss, spending time getting coffee for people too lazy to pour their own, spending my time looking into people’s bedrooms without a warrant, or having people like me looking into mine.”
Alana raised her eyebrow, “You got to look into people’s bedrooms?”
“I was speaking figuratively. But the threshold of evidence required to spy on people was too low, and a lot of people routinely abused their power. I didn’t care much for that.”
“I see.”
Alana redirected the car short of the police station, turning into a local donut shop. At first, Brett expressed a desire to remain in the car, saying that it was too early for dinner, such as it was. When Alana suggested that Brett take the opportunity to get a nice snack as a thank you gift to Wen Jing for her making his birthday cake, he changed his mind and followed the Inspector inside. When they left, Brett held a small bag and Alana held a large box.
Upon returning to her office, Alana made a point of writing a formal report, detailing her activities since she was resurrected. She did not want to risk losing her memories should similar events occur unexpectedly.
She instructed Brett to search for a competent and demonstrably successful lawyer who specializes in cyber law. She gave him a short list of contacts she knew, sometimes from being vigorously cross-examined by them, with the fierceness of their badgering affecting their order in the list.
By six o’clock, both had finished their tasks.
Brett uploaded his results to Alana’s desktop, “There you go, Ma’am. Can you share the reason for it?”
“Yes. I’m trying to do my witness a favor. She filled in a few holes in my murder investigation. I owe her. Besides, I think she might be the victim of negligence. In my experience, there’s no one better than a good civil lawyer to resolve such things.”
“What do you want me to do now, Inspector?”
“Walk down to forensics and see if Wendy is on duty yet. If she is, set me up an appointment to get my transponder broken.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Brett said as he nearly bolted toward the door.
“Brett!” Alana yelled before the detective was out in the corridor.
“Ma’am?”
Alana pointed to the donut bag on Brett’s desk. Brett sheepishly stepped back and retrieved the sack before dashing off.
Alana kicked back in her chair and smiled. She didn’t feel jealous of them anymore for some reason. Perhaps it was because she finally recognized that she was having those feelings, and was able to suppress them? Perhaps it was because she was thinking that Doctor Hoddeson’s natural curls were cute in a boyish sort of way?
“Vira, is ‘cyber-cougaring’ a word?”
“There is no such word in the standard dictionary. It is listed in the unofficial urban slang dictionary. Do you wish to know the definition?”
“No thanks. Is there a word that is the reverse of mechanophilia? A term for when machines get romantic about people?”
“There is a psychological term called PAT, pathetic affection transference, which describes a situation where cybernetic persons become attached to biologicals. Would you like to know more?”
“No. The name says it all.”
Alana drew out her interface cable and plugged it into her desk. She took the file Brett had sent her of lawyer contact information and copied it into her address book. She examined the file and chose the topmost name. Alicia Ferguson-Campenhausen, Esq. Esquire, indeed. Lawyers were so damned pompous.
Alana was only able to reach the lawyer’s answering service, which took down a précis of the case and promised to have Ms. Campenhausen’s staff return her call within one business day.
Alana proceeded down her short list, getting to the fourth name before she finally reached an actual lawyer. This made Alana hopeful, since the others were probably going to be too busy to handle a likely pro-bono case.
“This is Robert Smith, Attorney at Law. How can I help you today?”
“That’s the spirit!”
Smith sounded confused, “Excuse me?”
Alana went on to explain Sandy’s situation, and made an appointment to meet with Smith over the lunch break at his office tomorrow. When asked why that hour, Smith confided that while he was a cyborg, his assistant was biological, and that she would be at lunch, leaving his office otherwise open for a free consultation. He also sounded genuinely enthusiastic when he said that he was looking forward to it.
Shortly after Alana hung up her phone and entered the appointment on her calendar, Brett returned, smiling, “Wen Jing says to come on down any time.”
And so, down they went.
The procedure was exactly as Wen Jing had described it when Alana saw her Saturday night. Alana told her Vira that she accepted the transponder deactivation. And it was done.
Wen Jing retrieved a hand-held scanner and ran it over Alana’s body. “No signal. It looks like it worked. If you ever need to turn it back on, just tell your Vira to do so, and it will automatically sync up with the Zumpco servers and reactivate. Only takes a few seconds.”
“Are you absolutely positive that there are no transponder signals?”
“Wen Jing checked again, declaring, “None!”
Brett asked, “Wen Jing, when is a good night for us to get together to review the Rhys evidence?”
The technician smiled broadly. Alana watched her body language, noticing that she placed her hands behind her back, and moved her right leg slightly backward, just before she began subtly turning her entire body left and right. Whatever it was that the pair had going, it was mutual, and Alana was guessing that it was as of yet unrealized. Wen Jing said, “Thursday is my night off, but you have to bring dinner. No pizza.”
Alana almost laughed at the obvious manipulation, but her expression held firm.
Brett nodded, “Done!” without even bothering to shoot Alana one of those ‘can I expense it?’ glances she would normally expect in quid-pro-quo situations.
After leaving the lab, Alana asked Brett, “Would what we just did also disable an SDT, if Security Division Tracer is what SDT really stood for in my work order?”
“I doubt it. They’re independent systems.”
“Why didn’t it show up on Wendy’s magic detector wand?”
“It operates on a reserved frequency. Don’t ask for more, that’s all I really know about it. Technical services was the branch of SD that handled the nuts and bolts. If anyone in my group ever tracked someone in real time, all we ever saw was a blip on the GPS map.”
“Would it be easy for someone with a HUD, like a robot or a cyborg, to track someone with it on the QT?”
“Like a robot on a motorcycle? Easily. But it does have a limited range. It has to avoid giving itself away. About a click, tops, probably less than that.”
Alana rubbed her chin, an old habit she never shook, even in death and occasional rebirth, “Which explains why the tracker got close enough for me to spot him. That means they could use a drone instead, and I’d probably never see it. Why not do that?”
Brett slowed down, focusing his gaze on the floor, watching for obstacles while he focused his mind elsewhere, “I’m guessing it’s a range issue. They would need to keep multiple drones in rotation. If they’re only interested in where you are, and don’t need to have a live video feed, then a tail on a motorbike might do the job.”
“Do you have any theories beyond the obvious as to why SD would be tracking me?”
“It has to be related to Detective Rhys’ case. Maybe they think you will lead them to someone else?”
“If so, they’re wasting their time. But that gives us more impetus to clear Rhys. Once he’s absolved, they’ll have no reason to keep up their surveillance.”
“Not that SD needs grounds, Inspector. They really aren’t like regular police at all. Like I said, it’s one of the reasons I left. But I want you to be prepared for the possibility that Rhys really is guilty, and that maybe he used you to get close to his target.”
“I will never be prepared for the impossible, Brett.”
“Yes, Ma’am. What’s on tap for tomorrow?”
“I have a lunch appointment. Otherwise, I’ll play it by ear. It might be a good day for you to become saved.”
“I’m still on the fence about that, Ma’am. And it’s not in my budget currently.”
“I’ll talk to Bennett in the morning. Saves aren’t that expensive. Maybe I can get him to float you one, just in case.”
“I’d rather not think about that, Ma’am.”
Alana stopped mid-corridor, “Tell you what. You take tomorrow off since you ended up working on your birthday. While you’re having fun, be thinking about whether you still have any contacts within SD who could help get to the bottom of this.”
“That’s a tall order, Ma’am. Assuming I could find someone, they’d be risking trouble over it.”
“I’m just putting it on the table. In the meantime, let’s get you home so you can sleep on it.”
Having disabled her transponder, she would not be able to make direct phone calls, so on the way home, Alana stopped by a robotic sales kiosk and purchased a portable telephone. She plugged it into her interface cable and configured it.
Chapter 15
The next morning, it took surprisingly little debate to convince Chief Bennett to approve getting Brett saved. The chore would likely be convincing Brett to be saved.
The even greater chore would likely be identifying the gray-haired man that both Becky and Sandy had described.
Alana sat at her desk, running queries about black vans owned by persons aged fifty and older who were living in the greater Los Angeles area, and she received twenty-four possible matches. By the time she compiled the data and moved a copy of it to her internal system, it was time for her to head for her appointment with the lawyer, Robert Smith.
Smith had a modest office on the second tier of an open-air strip mall. Based on the location, Alana was questioning whether Smith was successful, or whether Brett had made an error in placing him on the short list.
As Alana opened the door, a bell pealed, but there was no one in the foyer. There was a reception desk, but it was unattended. She decided to examine the office while waiting to see if the staff was merely in the back. There was a large electronic whiteboard covering one section of the wall. It was displaying a host of pages, some of which were copies of government regulations concerning workplace rules and protection for employees. Others talked about workplace safety, not from the typical trial-lawyer perspective of a plaintiff, but from a true safety angle. Alana was getting the impression that she might be dealing with another crusader.
After about a minute, a man turned a corner that led to the nether regions of the office. He quickly introduced himself, “Good afternoon, Ma’am. I’m Bob Smith. What can I help you with today?”
“I’m Chief Inspector Graves. We spoke briefly last night, and I’m here for a consultation.”
Smith snapped his fingers, “Ah, yes! The homeless cyborg case. Come to my office and we’ll discuss it.”
Alana followed Smith back around the corner from which he had emerged. The back of the suite was smaller than Alana had expected, with the lawyer’s office, a restroom, and a utility closet being the only other spaces. Smith led the way into the modest office as there would not have been room for him to squeeze by had he let Alana go first. He maneuvered around his desk and took a seat in a gray-fabric office chair.
Alana spoke first, “It’s all very...cozy here.”
“Being a cyborg, I don’t really need much room, so I save cash on the rent. That allows me to spend more time on everyone’s cases.”
“My assistant said that you had a very good win-loss record.”
Smith smiled, “Ma’am, I am proud to say that I have a perfect win record. I have never lost a case.”
“That’s unusual, even in the tribunal system. Why is that?”
“A Chinese general named Sun Tzu wrote that victorious generals win first, and then go to war. I never say yes to a case that I don’t think I can win. Now, tell me about this cyborg-in-distress.”
Alana proceeded to relay the full story of Sandy Mathers. Smith slouched in his chair, but remained focused on every word Alana spoke. When she had finished, Smith said, “The only clear avenue I can see is to pursue a possible case against the manufacturer. I’d need to interview the client before I can say yes. I’ll also have to talk to her former employer to see exactly what happened to her when she left her job. Can those both be arranged?”
“I’ve only got about a twenty-four to thirty-six hour window to keep her from being discharged back into the streets. I can take you to Sandy in the shopital today, but I haven’t even tried to contact her employer yet.”
“My afternoon is free. I’ll just need to leave a message for my assistant.”
“I thought lawyers were always swamped with work. You don’t strike me as typical.”
Bob clasped his hands behind his head, “As a cyborg, I don’t need much to survive, and I love my work, but I also know when to quit. I made my money in the first twenty years of practice. Now that I’m financially secure, I don’t have to do this just for maintenance. I live very modestly, so my expenses are low. What I do now is help my fellow retirees who are down on their luck. You said that you were retired, didn’t you?”
Alana nodded.
“Then you know how badly we’re discriminated against and abused in the workplace.”
“It had not escaped my notice over the years. Not everyone can love their careers enough to work at them as much as I do mine.”
Smith manipulated a control on his desktop and spoke, “Marian, I’m going to be out all afternoon. Ping me if it’s urgent, otherwise tell them that I’ll be available tomorrow.”
The lawyer led Alana out onto the sidewalk, “Inspector, will you be driving, or shall I?”
“I have a car.”
As the car navigated itself from the shopping center to the shopital, Smith proved to be very inquisitive, which Alana found annoying because she was trying to sort through the results of her earlier black-van/white-man queries.
“Inspector, what got you involved in this woman’s case?”
“She’s a witness. That’s all I can say right now.”
The car pulled up to the entrance, and Alana and Bob stepped out, allowing the car to drive off to park itself in the nearby deck.
As Alana and Smith waited for a guide to take them to the cyber-brain ward, Alana continued her examination of the records. She was planning to show the images to Sandy to see if she could recognize any of them.
While in the process of answering one of Smith’s random queries, Alana froze mid-sentence. She recognized one of the gray-haired men in the search results, but it was less by appearance than it was by name. She double-checked the name and age, and the personal history. There was no error. It was Colonel Aaron Stone, retired from the United States Army following the Reformation War, and one of the men under whom Alana had served during that war—on the rebel side. He was now working as a priest in Los Angeles.
Smith said, “You’re quiet, all-of-a-sudden-like. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll need to talk to Sandy first, in private.”
After a few minutes of silence, a robot orderly finally arrived to escort the pair to the lab. Alana told Smith to wait outside until she motioned for him to enter, and he agreed with apparent reluctance.
“Shit.” Alana asked, “How long can you keep her here, doctor?”
“I can keep her brain for forty-eight hours before her case will be automatically reviewed. Depending on the timing, it might get extended an extra night if the administrators don’t notice. After that, I’ll probably have to put her back in her old body and discharge her.”
“What shape is her old body in?”
“I was able to do routine maintenance and replace some minor parts for free, but she needs major work, plus a re-skinning. She really needs a new chassis. That’s outside the scope of the police work order.”
“If you are forced to discharge her, call me directly and immediately at this number,” Alana handed the doctor an old-fashioned, printed business card. “If you get my Vira, tell her to wake my ass up, it’s important.”
Hoddeson nodded as Alana and Brett turned to leave.
Alana stopped in her tracks and spun around, “Oh! Doctor. Do you happen to know what an SDT is, in terms of cybernetic parts?”
Hoddeson shook his head, “Not off the top of my head.”
“Thanks, Doctor—”
Alana stopped when Brett tapped her on the shoulder, “What did you need to know about SDTs, Ma’am?”
Chapter 14
The tension within the car’s cabin was palpable. Alana sat with her arms crossed, her eyes closed. After a long silence, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you used to work with Security Division?”
“I did tell you, Ma’am. Well, I told you before you were killed. I didn’t think to tell you again. Besides, you could have just looked up my dossier. It’s in there. You went through my locker after all.”
Alana remained stone-faced, “I apologize for that. The last time I looked in it, Rhys was still using it. I was wondering if there was anything of his left behind.”
“As far as I know, SD took all of his things away.”
“What did you do in SD?”
Brett sighed, “I mostly brought coffee.”
“What was your title?”
“Junior analyst. I was in the intelligence department. Evaluating potential threats. In my case, it was always the threat of adding too much sweetener to the chief’s pot.”
“Why did you quit? That had to be a demotion. Giving up a career in the intelligence services?”
Brett said, “I didn’t like the hours.”
Alana wasn’t buying his answer, “Bullshit. Nobody walks away from a career like that over the schedule.”
Brett took a deep breath and exhaled, “Okay, I didn’t like the hours, the boss, spending time getting coffee for people too lazy to pour their own, spending my time looking into people’s bedrooms without a warrant, or having people like me looking into mine.”
Alana raised her eyebrow, “You got to look into people’s bedrooms?”
“I was speaking figuratively. But the threshold of evidence required to spy on people was too low, and a lot of people routinely abused their power. I didn’t care much for that.”
“I see.”
Alana redirected the car short of the police station, turning into a local donut shop. At first, Brett expressed a desire to remain in the car, saying that it was too early for dinner, such as it was. When Alana suggested that Brett take the opportunity to get a nice snack as a thank you gift to Wen Jing for her making his birthday cake, he changed his mind and followed the Inspector inside. When they left, Brett held a small bag and Alana held a large box.
Upon returning to her office, Alana made a point of writing a formal report, detailing her activities since she was resurrected. She did not want to risk losing her memories should similar events occur unexpectedly.
She instructed Brett to search for a competent and demonstrably successful lawyer who specializes in cyber law. She gave him a short list of contacts she knew, sometimes from being vigorously cross-examined by them, with the fierceness of their badgering affecting their order in the list.
By six o’clock, both had finished their tasks.
Brett uploaded his results to Alana’s desktop, “There you go, Ma’am. Can you share the reason for it?”
“Yes. I’m trying to do my witness a favor. She filled in a few holes in my murder investigation. I owe her. Besides, I think she might be the victim of negligence. In my experience, there’s no one better than a good civil lawyer to resolve such things.”
“What do you want me to do now, Inspector?”
“Walk down to forensics and see if Wendy is on duty yet. If she is, set me up an appointment to get my transponder broken.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Brett said as he nearly bolted toward the door.
“Brett!” Alana yelled before the detective was out in the corridor.
“Ma’am?”
Alana pointed to the donut bag on Brett’s desk. Brett sheepishly stepped back and retrieved the sack before dashing off.
Alana kicked back in her chair and smiled. She didn’t feel jealous of them anymore for some reason. Perhaps it was because she finally recognized that she was having those feelings, and was able to suppress them? Perhaps it was because she was thinking that Doctor Hoddeson’s natural curls were cute in a boyish sort of way?
“Vira, is ‘cyber-cougaring’ a word?”
“There is no such word in the standard dictionary. It is listed in the unofficial urban slang dictionary. Do you wish to know the definition?”
“No thanks. Is there a word that is the reverse of mechanophilia? A term for when machines get romantic about people?”
“There is a psychological term called PAT, pathetic affection transference, which describes a situation where cybernetic persons become attached to biologicals. Would you like to know more?”
“No. The name says it all.”
Alana drew out her interface cable and plugged it into her desk. She took the file Brett had sent her of lawyer contact information and copied it into her address book. She examined the file and chose the topmost name. Alicia Ferguson-Campenhausen, Esq. Esquire, indeed. Lawyers were so damned pompous.
Alana was only able to reach the lawyer’s answering service, which took down a précis of the case and promised to have Ms. Campenhausen’s staff return her call within one business day.
Alana proceeded down her short list, getting to the fourth name before she finally reached an actual lawyer. This made Alana hopeful, since the others were probably going to be too busy to handle a likely pro-bono case.
“This is Robert Smith, Attorney at Law. How can I help you today?”
“That’s the spirit!”
Smith sounded confused, “Excuse me?”
Alana went on to explain Sandy’s situation, and made an appointment to meet with Smith over the lunch break at his office tomorrow. When asked why that hour, Smith confided that while he was a cyborg, his assistant was biological, and that she would be at lunch, leaving his office otherwise open for a free consultation. He also sounded genuinely enthusiastic when he said that he was looking forward to it.
Shortly after Alana hung up her phone and entered the appointment on her calendar, Brett returned, smiling, “Wen Jing says to come on down any time.”
And so, down they went.
The procedure was exactly as Wen Jing had described it when Alana saw her Saturday night. Alana told her Vira that she accepted the transponder deactivation. And it was done.
Wen Jing retrieved a hand-held scanner and ran it over Alana’s body. “No signal. It looks like it worked. If you ever need to turn it back on, just tell your Vira to do so, and it will automatically sync up with the Zumpco servers and reactivate. Only takes a few seconds.”
“Are you absolutely positive that there are no transponder signals?”
“Wen Jing checked again, declaring, “None!”
Brett asked, “Wen Jing, when is a good night for us to get together to review the Rhys evidence?”
The technician smiled broadly. Alana watched her body language, noticing that she placed her hands behind her back, and moved her right leg slightly backward, just before she began subtly turning her entire body left and right. Whatever it was that the pair had going, it was mutual, and Alana was guessing that it was as of yet unrealized. Wen Jing said, “Thursday is my night off, but you have to bring dinner. No pizza.”
Alana almost laughed at the obvious manipulation, but her expression held firm.
Brett nodded, “Done!” without even bothering to shoot Alana one of those ‘can I expense it?’ glances she would normally expect in quid-pro-quo situations.
After leaving the lab, Alana asked Brett, “Would what we just did also disable an SDT, if Security Division Tracer is what SDT really stood for in my work order?”
“I doubt it. They’re independent systems.”
“Why didn’t it show up on Wendy’s magic detector wand?”
“It operates on a reserved frequency. Don’t ask for more, that’s all I really know about it. Technical services was the branch of SD that handled the nuts and bolts. If anyone in my group ever tracked someone in real time, all we ever saw was a blip on the GPS map.”
“Would it be easy for someone with a HUD, like a robot or a cyborg, to track someone with it on the QT?”
“Like a robot on a motorcycle? Easily. But it does have a limited range. It has to avoid giving itself away. About a click, tops, probably less than that.”
Alana rubbed her chin, an old habit she never shook, even in death and occasional rebirth, “Which explains why the tracker got close enough for me to spot him. That means they could use a drone instead, and I’d probably never see it. Why not do that?”
Brett slowed down, focusing his gaze on the floor, watching for obstacles while he focused his mind elsewhere, “I’m guessing it’s a range issue. They would need to keep multiple drones in rotation. If they’re only interested in where you are, and don’t need to have a live video feed, then a tail on a motorbike might do the job.”
“Do you have any theories beyond the obvious as to why SD would be tracking me?”
“It has to be related to Detective Rhys’ case. Maybe they think you will lead them to someone else?”
“If so, they’re wasting their time. But that gives us more impetus to clear Rhys. Once he’s absolved, they’ll have no reason to keep up their surveillance.”
“Not that SD needs grounds, Inspector. They really aren’t like regular police at all. Like I said, it’s one of the reasons I left. But I want you to be prepared for the possibility that Rhys really is guilty, and that maybe he used you to get close to his target.”
“I will never be prepared for the impossible, Brett.”
“Yes, Ma’am. What’s on tap for tomorrow?”
“I have a lunch appointment. Otherwise, I’ll play it by ear. It might be a good day for you to become saved.”
“I’m still on the fence about that, Ma’am. And it’s not in my budget currently.”
“I’ll talk to Bennett in the morning. Saves aren’t that expensive. Maybe I can get him to float you one, just in case.”
“I’d rather not think about that, Ma’am.”
Alana stopped mid-corridor, “Tell you what. You take tomorrow off since you ended up working on your birthday. While you’re having fun, be thinking about whether you still have any contacts within SD who could help get to the bottom of this.”
“That’s a tall order, Ma’am. Assuming I could find someone, they’d be risking trouble over it.”
“I’m just putting it on the table. In the meantime, let’s get you home so you can sleep on it.”
Having disabled her transponder, she would not be able to make direct phone calls, so on the way home, Alana stopped by a robotic sales kiosk and purchased a portable telephone. She plugged it into her interface cable and configured it.
Chapter 15
The next morning, it took surprisingly little debate to convince Chief Bennett to approve getting Brett saved. The chore would likely be convincing Brett to be saved.
The even greater chore would likely be identifying the gray-haired man that both Becky and Sandy had described.
Alana sat at her desk, running queries about black vans owned by persons aged fifty and older who were living in the greater Los Angeles area, and she received twenty-four possible matches. By the time she compiled the data and moved a copy of it to her internal system, it was time for her to head for her appointment with the lawyer, Robert Smith.
Smith had a modest office on the second tier of an open-air strip mall. Based on the location, Alana was questioning whether Smith was successful, or whether Brett had made an error in placing him on the short list.
As Alana opened the door, a bell pealed, but there was no one in the foyer. There was a reception desk, but it was unattended. She decided to examine the office while waiting to see if the staff was merely in the back. There was a large electronic whiteboard covering one section of the wall. It was displaying a host of pages, some of which were copies of government regulations concerning workplace rules and protection for employees. Others talked about workplace safety, not from the typical trial-lawyer perspective of a plaintiff, but from a true safety angle. Alana was getting the impression that she might be dealing with another crusader.
After about a minute, a man turned a corner that led to the nether regions of the office. He quickly introduced himself, “Good afternoon, Ma’am. I’m Bob Smith. What can I help you with today?”
“I’m Chief Inspector Graves. We spoke briefly last night, and I’m here for a consultation.”
Smith snapped his fingers, “Ah, yes! The homeless cyborg case. Come to my office and we’ll discuss it.”
Alana followed Smith back around the corner from which he had emerged. The back of the suite was smaller than Alana had expected, with the lawyer’s office, a restroom, and a utility closet being the only other spaces. Smith led the way into the modest office as there would not have been room for him to squeeze by had he let Alana go first. He maneuvered around his desk and took a seat in a gray-fabric office chair.
Alana spoke first, “It’s all very...cozy here.”
“Being a cyborg, I don’t really need much room, so I save cash on the rent. That allows me to spend more time on everyone’s cases.”
“My assistant said that you had a very good win-loss record.”
Smith smiled, “Ma’am, I am proud to say that I have a perfect win record. I have never lost a case.”
“That’s unusual, even in the tribunal system. Why is that?”
“A Chinese general named Sun Tzu wrote that victorious generals win first, and then go to war. I never say yes to a case that I don’t think I can win. Now, tell me about this cyborg-in-distress.”
Alana proceeded to relay the full story of Sandy Mathers. Smith slouched in his chair, but remained focused on every word Alana spoke. When she had finished, Smith said, “The only clear avenue I can see is to pursue a possible case against the manufacturer. I’d need to interview the client before I can say yes. I’ll also have to talk to her former employer to see exactly what happened to her when she left her job. Can those both be arranged?”
“I’ve only got about a twenty-four to thirty-six hour window to keep her from being discharged back into the streets. I can take you to Sandy in the shopital today, but I haven’t even tried to contact her employer yet.”
“My afternoon is free. I’ll just need to leave a message for my assistant.”
“I thought lawyers were always swamped with work. You don’t strike me as typical.”
Bob clasped his hands behind his head, “As a cyborg, I don’t need much to survive, and I love my work, but I also know when to quit. I made my money in the first twenty years of practice. Now that I’m financially secure, I don’t have to do this just for maintenance. I live very modestly, so my expenses are low. What I do now is help my fellow retirees who are down on their luck. You said that you were retired, didn’t you?”
Alana nodded.
“Then you know how badly we’re discriminated against and abused in the workplace.”
“It had not escaped my notice over the years. Not everyone can love their careers enough to work at them as much as I do mine.”
Smith manipulated a control on his desktop and spoke, “Marian, I’m going to be out all afternoon. Ping me if it’s urgent, otherwise tell them that I’ll be available tomorrow.”
The lawyer led Alana out onto the sidewalk, “Inspector, will you be driving, or shall I?”
“I have a car.”
As the car navigated itself from the shopping center to the shopital, Smith proved to be very inquisitive, which Alana found annoying because she was trying to sort through the results of her earlier black-van/white-man queries.
“Inspector, what got you involved in this woman’s case?”
“She’s a witness. That’s all I can say right now.”
The car pulled up to the entrance, and Alana and Bob stepped out, allowing the car to drive off to park itself in the nearby deck.
As Alana and Smith waited for a guide to take them to the cyber-brain ward, Alana continued her examination of the records. She was planning to show the images to Sandy to see if she could recognize any of them.
While in the process of answering one of Smith’s random queries, Alana froze mid-sentence. She recognized one of the gray-haired men in the search results, but it was less by appearance than it was by name. She double-checked the name and age, and the personal history. There was no error. It was Colonel Aaron Stone, retired from the United States Army following the Reformation War, and one of the men under whom Alana had served during that war—on the rebel side. He was now working as a priest in Los Angeles.
Smith said, “You’re quiet, all-of-a-sudden-like. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll need to talk to Sandy first, in private.”
After a few minutes of silence, a robot orderly finally arrived to escort the pair to the lab. Alana told Smith to wait outside until she motioned for him to enter, and he agreed with apparent reluctance.
