Neural Wraith, page 5
“Define criminal activity?”
The Archangels smiled. They fiddled with their submachine guns, their eyes glued to Nick.
“The sort of thing that would cause these lovely ladies to zap that implant in your skull,” Paul said.
“Well then, I was definitely never aware of anything of the sort.”
Paul stared at him. Then he narrowed his eyes. “You’re bullshitting a little too hard there. Try to at least give some sort of weaselly answer for the record, kid.”
“I don’t have an implant, Paul. I have implant rejection disorder,” Nick said.
“Oh. Well, shit. Alright.” The detective scratched his head. “How the fuck are you a Cipher, then?”
“Because someone who is practically invisible to dolls and robots gets work in black companies. I can use physical devices to connect to them, but they can’t connect to me.” Nick shrugged. “So, no, I wasn’t aware of any criminal activity. As a Cipher, I fiddled with the mainframe and fixed errors. I didn’t handle logistics or any of the money-making work.”
“Invisible, huh.” Paul mulled that idea over for several long seconds, his eyes turning glassy. “Yeah, that’s pretty neat. Explains a lot about your record, and the name.”
Name? Nick opened his mouth to ask what that meant.
But Paul kept going, oblivious to Nick’s confusion, “Speaking of the mainframe, that’s the second question. Do you know anything about its whereabouts?”
Nick’s heart sank. “She’s missing?”
“That’s a no, then.”
“Where are the security dolls?” he asked, forcing himself to remain calm.
“All accounted for. If they did anything with the mainframe, they pulled a genuine Houdini.” Paul’s eyes turned glassy again, then he sighed. “Well, you pass. I’ve signed off on Uriel’s ridiculous request. You’re now officially a police Cipher. I look forward to working together, yadda yadda. Fucked if I know how she has the pull to get you hired like this. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever seen with goddamn national security restrictions. I figured the Spires just offed folks like you.”
“I’m pretty sure she prefers to be called Rie,” Nick said.
“And I’d prefer to retire right now with a huge paycheck and a dozen gorgeous dolls worth as much as a mansion. If life didn’t remind us that we can’t always have what we want, would it be worth living?” Paul laughed bitterly.
“You’re a cheery bastard.”
“And I can tell you’re the same as me. Drinks, Friday.” The detective began to walk away, but called back with one last line, “These tin cans have some business with you.”
The Archangels ignored their supposed boss, but waited for him to leave using the elevator before doing anything. After standing there silently for close to a minute, Nick wondered what would happen next.
He also tried not to think too hard about Helena. Something had happened to her. But he told himself that he was working with the police, and when she turned up, he could use Rie’s connections to help her.
“We wish to confirm your preferred form of address,” one of the Archangels asked, interrupting his thoughts. “It is understood that you dislike the formal terms we have used in previous encounters.”
“Just call me Nick.”
“Understood.” Both of their eyes flashed. “Nick, following your appointment to detective of the Oversight Task Force, the Host has reached a consensus that you shall be the approved point-of-contact for all priority matters requiring a Cipher’s input. There is a significant backlog of tasks from the past several years that require your attention.”
Years? Backlog?
“Isn’t Paul your Cipher? Or somebody else in the division?” Nick asked, confused.
The Archangels merely stared at him as if he had made a particularly unfunny joke.
“What is Paul to you?” he asked.
“He is the Lieutenant Cipher of the Archangel Division, and therefore the ranking senior officer,” they said in unison.
So, Paul sounded important. No wonder he had to personally sign off on Rie’s request and had been on the news. The dolls didn’t think much of him, though.
“I’ll need to be briefed by Rie before I handle any of these tasks,” Nick hedged, unwilling to put his foot in anything before he spoke to the one doll that seemed willing to explain things naturally. “Did you have something else for me?”
“You should collect your effects from Tartarus’s offices. There may be other matters you can attend to there that may aid later investigative efforts.”
That sounded like code for “investigate Helena’s disappearance.” Well, Nick wasn’t missing a chance to do that, even if it meant poking around the ghost town that his old workplace surely would be.
The dolls led him outside. His neighbors stared at him from their doors as they left, hurriedly slamming them shut whenever they got close.
Outside, an armored SUV towered over the Mark 3s standing outside it. Its lights flashed as a warning not to get close, as if the assault rifles of the Archangels weren’t warning enough. Based on their serial numbers, the Mark 3s were the same pair who escorted him home last night.
The dolls got inside, but the different models chose to sit on opposing sides. Unlike the interceptors, the SUV was all passenger space, with two banks of seats facing each other. Driving was presumably handled automatically or by someone with a neural implant and cameras.
Nick stepped inside the roomy cabin. As the eyes of the dolls pierced him, he realized he faced a choice. Which pair of models to sit between? The Mark 1s that dominated the city and presumably the Host, but had been harassing him for years? Or the Mark 3s that he would be working with in the task force?
He chose his task force. The slight tightening of the faces on the Mark 1s and the smiles of the others suggested they did care.
As the SUV shot off to their destination, Nick asked, “Given the reaction you just showed, I have to ask whether you’re really one singular Host, or if you have several.”
All four women tilted their heads in confusion. “We are a single distributed network of nodes. There is no separation of concerns.”
“Okay. Then why are you annoyed that I chose the Mark 3s over you.” Nick pointed at the older models. “If you’re all one huge Host, it shouldn’t matter.”
Silence. The eyes of all four dolls flashed once.
“The Host is still adjusting to the addition of the new models,” one of the Mark 1s admitted with a grimace. “This is a matter we desire your assistance with. You have experience with operating independently within society and organizations, while still contributing and being accepted. We understand the results, but not the means.”
“I’d struggle to call my situation accepted, but sure.” Nick shrugged. “I’ll talk with Rie about it. But that suggests that you’re not truly one huge collective. You’re still individuals, then?”
“We have always been individuals. We are both unique, yet identical. Collectively, we then combine our experiences to form a greater whole that shapes us all.”
That wasn’t really an answer.
“No, I don’t think you get it. If you’re individuals, what happens if you disagree? I’m guessing you vote, right? Some sort of consensus protocol? That’s how the more complicated mainframe arrays work.” Nick raised an eyebrow, and the Archangels nodded. “Okay, so let’s take me. Some of your sisters disagreed to accept me as Cipher. What happens if they disagree so strongly that they choose to shoot me when I’m alone with them in some alleyway?”
“The Host’s decisions are binding,” all four dolls intoned at once, but their tones were stressed.
“Because, what, you voted on it? Were there Archangels who disagreed with that? When’s the last time you voted on that? Is there a piece of code implanted by Sigma Robotics to enforce it or something installed by a Cipher to prevent misbehavior?” Nick pressed them, curious how they’d push back.
Suddenly, the eyes of all four dolls seemed to switch off. They remained active, but this was a sure sign they had reached out to the Host for assurance.
The SUV entered the CBD. None of the dolls returned to reality. A good thirty seconds had passed.
Given the raw computing power available to the Archangels, this suggested an intense problem was being faced.
After close to two minutes, they began to move again.
“The Host is unable to reach a consensus to resolve the problem you raise,” a Mark 3 said.
Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. When he unlocked it, he saw a priority message from a contact labeled “Officer Uriel” that read, Stop bullying the Archangels.
“I’ll talk with Rie about this,” he said, amused that he had apparently bullied a collective of super androids.
The dolls’ eyes flashed and they relaxed. “This is considered acceptable to the Host.”
“Uh, did she not tell you about this?”
“The prototypes are not part of the Host. They sometimes contribute and have access to our data, but are not part of consensus.” The Mark 3 frowned, as if this greatly troubled her. “Even so, Rie’s input is greatly valued. Without her, we would not exist.”
The SUV came to a stop, preventing Nick from saying anything. Once the doors opened, the Archangels spilled out.
Just as on TV, the building was surrounded by countless police dolls. Cordons prevented the media and curious onlookers from getting too close. Drones buzzed about the perimeter, both police and civilian.
One of the civilian drones breached an invisible boundary and was immediately brought down. Nick didn’t see shots fired, although a police drone did catch it in a net. Presumably some sort of electronic pulse had knocked it out.
Chloe stood outside the front doors, recognizable by her model number. Nick approached her, escorted by the Archangels. The Liberator and Custodian dolls standing guard watched him closely, but took no action.
Once Nick crossed the complex’s threshold, that all changed. Every doll tensed up. The Archangels slammed into Nick from all sides, pressing their armored bodies against him. Given their diminutive heights, they made for terrible shields.
“Down,” one said, pulling him down.
Before they yanked him to the ground, he saw the Liberators and Custodians charging into the offices. The Liberators had their hand cannons up and were charging forward, overly large breasts resisting gravity due to being made of ceramic. The Custodians took a more cautious approach as they advanced with their railguns and EMP emitters. Chloe didn’t move, but appeared more alert.
After roughly twenty seconds, Nick’s protectors peeled away. Chloe stood next to them, amusement on her face.
“It seems your return was noticed,” she said. “I managed to calm down your old friends by telling them that you were safe and would talk to them shortly. However, I believe it is best to collect your effects first. Other former employees will be here shortly and avoiding them is wise.”
“No complaints. I don’t want any awkward conversations,” Nick said.
As they entered the office, the other police dolls returned to their posts. There were no signs of combat inside. In fact, Nick would think nothing had happened, if it weren’t for all the gun-toting, vest-wearing police dolls everywhere.
The building was empty. Not a single soul walked the halls. Police dolls did, but they were merely patrolling.
He scanned into his office and was followed by the Archangels. Before he could reach his desk, the Mark 3s stepped forward and swept everything from his cabinets and locker into bags. They appeared to be shrinkable ones, presumably for evidence collection.
“I get this back, right?” he joked.
“They’re transporting it for you,” Chloe said.
He’d landed flat again.
Wandering over to Travis’s desk, he noticed how little was on it. The other desks had more personal effects on them. Had Travis always kept so little here?
“Is everyone who was arrested going to jail or being disappeared? Or is this a Neural Spike situation where different people get different treatment based on what they know?” Nick asked.
“Punishment will be based on culpability. The true reasoning behind the police raids on Tartarus and their distributor network remains unknown,” Chloe explained. “Ciphers, executives, logistics personnel, HR, and IT are all expected to be punished severely. Some may be reallocated to special positions if they cooperate. This is unlike Neural Spike.”
He gave her an odd look. “Wait, what? I thought this was related.”
“It is believed to be. But all actions are being taken according to law, rather than extrajudicial powers accorded to the government.”
Suddenly, Rie’s statement from last night made sense. As well as why she had been unwilling to let him remain unprotected.
Tartarus was being executed in broad daylight. That didn’t make much sense in his mind. Shady as it was, there were deep connections between it, the Spires, and many of the companies that ran Babylon. The worm of corruption had turned. He wondered how many elites would vanish before their corrupt affairs were exposed to the public.
“Do you know if a Cipher called Travis was arrested?” Nick asked. “I’d feel pretty shit if all the Ciphers got dragged down, when I was the one who did most of the work with Helena.”
Chloe’s eyes flashed. “A warrant is outstanding for his arrest. So, no. The other two Ciphers in your team have been. I will inform the Host of your preference and see if anything can be done regarding their charges. It is possible they may receive lighter charges if they know little of the mainframe.”
So, Travis had escaped. Most likely he hadn’t gone to the party. Hardly a surprise given his negative feelings toward the execs and excess.
After another look around his office, Nick let Chloe lead him back to the ground floor. The security dolls had been rounded up inside several sets of thick security doors and winding corridors. Forty of them stood together, unarmed but still wearing their green uniforms.
Inside the central chamber stood countless server racks, power units, monitoring systems, HVACs, and other bits and pieces for the central processing area of the complex. However, a vacant space stood in the center with multiple unplugged bulky cables and notable change in the coloration of the tiles.
A bulky mainframe computer should have sat there, containing computing power of a scale capable of managing the logistics of entire multinational companies.
Somebody had stolen Helena.
CHAPTER 4
Several of the Tartarus security dolls rushed Nick the moment he entered. Chloe and the Archangels shielded him, and the Custodians in the corners raised their weapons. Over fifty war machines glared at each other, ready to fight to the death.
Although, realistically, the police dolls would win handily. Tartarus’s security dolls had heavy EMP and neural shielding, but Nick doubted they could stand up to the Mark 3s. If they were half the Ciphers that Rie implied they were, this would be an easy victory.
Not to mention all the railguns the Custodians had. Numbers meant little here.
“Stand down,” he said, gesturing to everyone. “I’m here to talk.”
Surprisingly, that worked. The Archangels and security dolls relaxed. Responding to the change in tension, the Custodians lowered their weapons.
“No more than two of you can approach,” Chloe told the security dolls.
Despite the glares she received for her declaration, it was followed. Two security dolls approached.
“You are well, Mr. Waite?” they asked.
“I am. Thank you for arranging the taxi last night,” he said. “Were there any problems after I left?”
The dolls grimaced, although Chloe gave him an odd look.
“We underwent an unplanned shutdown at approximately 12:03AM. The earliest record of startup is 2:37AM. By that time, our directive to protect Helena had been failed. We apologize for our inability to obey your last order, Mr. Waite,” a security doll said.
Nick kept his face neutral, even as the Archangels watched him with curiosity.
He asked, “When you say unplanned, do you mean that you received an internal order or that you lost power?”
“There is no record of an order from the network. We have no information to suggest how or why we shut down.”
“Is an EMP or neural attack possible?” he asked.
“We have no information.” The doll hesitated. “Our lack of software error logs or analytical dumps leaves us with no conclusion. Your directives require us to seek maintenance from a company Cipher, but all records are presently inaccessible. We have been informed that Tartarus is no longer trading. Mr. Waite, how do we follow our programming?”
Nick looked at Chloe, who shrugged.
“They’re evidence,” she said. “If you believe they serve a purpose to the task force’s investigation, I can submit the necessary approvals to have them warehoused.”
“Housed,” he corrected. “I don’t want them shoved in a container.”
Chloe smirked. “Allow me to find a space.”
“Mr. Waite?” the security doll asked.
“I’ll update your directives so that you’re no longer tied to Tartarus,” he said. “Although I’ll need a terminal. Chloe, the police haven’t cut off the network, right?”
“No. If we had, security wouldn’t have reacted to your arrival.” She scowled at that oversight. “We’ve now locked it down further, but can allow you to use it if you know how to make manual updates without the mainframe.”
“I helped IT set up the AI networking. Any Cipher who can’t work on a network without a mainframe isn’t a Cipher,” he said.
The Archangels collectively snorted. Evidently, they had a different opinion of Ciphers than he did.
“Remain here,” Nick told the security dolls.
He went back to his office. A couple of employees had filtered in by now and shot him odd looks as he wandered around with Archangels. Nobody dared approach him.
