Neural Wraith, page 8
“No. The Beryllium Model only accepts a specialized cartridge. Specifically, a modern form of miniaturized sabot rounds—high velocity armor-piercing kinetic penetrators with a muzzle velocity close to 4,000 feet per second,” Rie explained. “They are capable of piercing the chassis of any doll legally in Neo Westphalia for non-law enforcement reasons. That includes penetrating the ballistic protection of squishy humans.”
Nick gulped and lowered the gun. Without even asking, he knew why Rie had given him a gun with such powerful capability and no non-lethal option.
With the Archangels protecting him, if he ever needed to use his gun for protection, he probably needed all the firepower he could get.
“You will not need it,” Chloe said firmly. The other Archangels nodded in agreement. “We will deal with any and all threats.”
Rie gave them all cutting looks. “That is a lovely ideal. But I’d rather have some insurance. Nicholas, your records indicate you have training with firearms. I recommend that you brush up in the department’s shooting range.” She picked up the other box in the briefcase and pressed it into his arms. “I’ll happily pay for all of the bullets you use for this cause.”
Presumably, the black box contained the fancy sabot rounds the handgun fired.
Nick then placed the box and gun back in the briefcase and closed it. The dolls stared at him in shock.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did none of you realize that I don’t have a holster? This thing is as big as my forearm. I’m not carrying it around in the open.”
Rie coughed and turned away. Nick swore that her cheeks reddened.
With that said, he did appear to be finished here. Rie, Chloe, and the other dolls approached the exit. The service doll juddered into motion and collected their empty glasses as they left.
The bar seemed eerily empty as they departed, leaving the solitary android to clean a few glasses and await her next customer in complete silence.
At some point, the SUV had driven around to the back of the bar. A sleek police interceptors sat next to it. The doors of both vehicles opened as they approached. Gawkers and far shadier on-lookers watched from alleyways while Nick stepped up to the SUV.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the Spires,” Rie said, leaning on the interceptor. “This will be a fairly important meeting, so don’t be late.”
Then she slipped inside, and the vehicle rocketed off instantly. The electric motors that powered the vehicles were a thing of beauty.
As Nick got inside the SUV, he didn’t remind any of the Archangels that nobody had told him what time this important meeting was on. It was probably in his phone, but if the dolls had yet to get used to the fact his mind wasn’t jacked into a neural implant, arriving late to a meeting might be a fun reminder.
Assuming they didn’t drag him out of bed and frog march him into the office in the morning that is.
The Mark 1s and 3s stared at each other for a few moments, presumably arguing over who got to sit next to him, before the Mark 1s sat beside him. Then the SUV took off, heading toward the Gardens shopping complex.
Ordinarily, Nick considered shopping to be one of the worst ways to pass the time. He bought everything using his phone and had a crusty set of virtual reality goggles for when he needed to get hands on with something before buying it. Altnet shopping was huge, but plenty of people chose to disconnect through physical shopping these days.
That was presumably why the Gardens overflowed with people in the middle of a Thursday. Cafes and restaurants bustled with patrons. Clothing stores of all shapes and sizes served customers of similarly diverse appearances. There was a basement level dedicated to automated kitchens and the doll delivery services that serviced them. Esoteric and niche stores allowed customers to browse and get hands on, while still providing delivery services.
The catch was rather obvious to Nick, but perhaps less so to most of the other visitors.
While humans sat at every table, perused every store, and tried on all the clothes, the service staff were almost exclusively dolls. And many of the stores were literal holes in the wall, where somebody ordered using the Altnet and robots out back put the order together within minutes.
Nick strode through all of this in an unusually high state of observation. The crowds separated for him, which was extra unusual.
Mostly because he had five heavily armed Archangels with him. His attempt to convince Chloe to leave behind their rifles and SMGs had failed. Their eyes had flashed and then they had merely gripped their weapons tighter.
“I knew I forgot something,” he grumbled as they walked through the overly bland mall. “I meant to talk to Rie about this therapist role I’m playing.”
“You are not our therapist,” Chloe said. “You are the point-of-contact for—”
“Please don’t reexplain this every time I make that joke,” he said.
“I am merely clarifying the difference,” she said. “The gravity of your position is, at present, undeniably great. For the time being, the Host has chosen to accept your input as part of our regular deliberations.”
“And you don’t usually accept the input of humans?”
“No.”
Blunt.
The Archangels led him to a tailor that looked so far out of Nick’s price range that he felt poor simply walking into the foyer of the store. Unlike most shops, it didn’t have an open shopfront, but a tiny reception with a plush leather couch. There were even physical decorations—a rarity in a city where everyone was tapped into the augmented world at all times.
An older man, likely in his fifties, stepped out within seconds. Nick guessed he was Mediterranean, but that meant little given how much of a melting pot Neo Westphalia was.
“May I help you, officers?” the man asked, his eyes flickering over the Archangels.
Chloe looked at Nick, which caused the old man to do the same.
“I’m here to buy a suit. Don’t worry about them,” Nick said.
“A suit…” the man said slowly, as if in disbelief. “That is possible. You are a Cipher?”
“Yes,” the Archangels said.
Whatever suspicions the man had vanished very quickly under the pressure of five war machines with weapons and the unlimited power of the state. Nick was whisked out back, where there was an extensive fitting room and a much more welcoming atmosphere.
It didn’t take long for the tailor to measure him up, pick out the right fabrics, and then show Nick digital mockups on the LED glass walls that enclosed him. He suspected that most customers viewed the mockups using their neural implants, but a place this upscale likely catered to all types of clients.
The tailor stuck to small talk. At no point did the topic of Nick’s missing implant come up. It was a nice surprise and made him wonder if he should try shopping at upscale joints more often.
Or maybe the tailor had just been intimidated by the Archangels.
Whatever the case, his order had been placed. They left, found somewhere to buy a holster, then ate some lunch. Or at least, Nick ate some lunch while being watched by five dolls who didn’t need to eat. Chloe drank the same coffee he did for whatever reason.
As they drove back to his apartment, he buried himself in his phone. He had case files to get through, reams of information to dig up from the police database, and a social network to calm down.
But tomorrow he’d start hunting down Helena in earnest. His biggest lead were his security dolls from Tartarus, and whatever data he could uncover from them during their shutdown.
CHAPTER 6
Morning came. Nick slept a hell of a lot better this time. For the first time in a long time, he felt rested.
Despite that, his phone alarm still blared and annoyed the shit out of him. He turned it off, got up, and ambled into the bathroom. After a cold shower where he thought about the police files he’d nearly fallen asleep reading, he brushed his teeth. Figuring he should check the news, he wandered into the main room of his three-room apartment, half-dressed.
“Good morning, Nick,” Chloe greeted him from the dining table.
He stared at her, aware that he was wearing little more than a pair of briefs and an old t-shirt. Then he noticed the other doll in the room, who was busy ironing a brand-new suit. She was a newer model, although Nick didn’t stay up to date on domestic dolls. They tended to be fairly boring, due to their predictable annual release cycle, incremental updates, and reliance on cashed up spenders eager to have the latest dolls to show off.
“What the hell is this?” Nick asked, pointing at the service doll.
“Your suit is finished. It seemed wise to ensure it was presentable, given you were not awake,” Chloe said.
He stopped short of saying that maybe she should have ironed the suit herself. Did the Archangels even have the functionality programmed into them? They could probably work it out.
Nick suspected the problem was more that Chloe felt that the job was beneath her. Somehow, he felt offended by this imagined fact, as he’d ironed his own clothes for years. Ever since his mother had enrolled him into a fancy school that supposedly catered to his lack of an implant—it hadn’t, by the way.
Deciding that coffee was a great way to calm down from confected slights, Nick returned to his morning routine.
His apartment was more spacious than most, simply due to its age. He might not have reliable hot water, but he at least had room for a dining table, a sofa, and a kitchen. He knew Ciphers who paid triple his rent for studio apartments the size of a matchbox. Property had always been expensive in Babylon, but he’d been hearing a lot more complaints lately.
Chloe’s eyes tracked him while he stood in front of his coffee machine.
“You are unhappy,” Chloe said, dispensing truly sage wisdom.
“I guarantee that the suit came pressed,” he said. “And I can iron my own clothes.”
Chloe’s eyes flashed. Was this really something so complicated that the Host needed to be involved?
“Are you unhappy because we hired another doll to help, or because you wish to iron your own clothes?” she asked.
“Is this really an important question?”
“It is necessary for us to know how much assistance we should lend, and how.”
Oh no. Nick suddenly realized what Chloe was really asking.
If he said that he didn’t like that she hired the doll, then would the Archangels invade his apartment and start doing things for him? The idea seemed ridiculous, but Chloe was here in person at like seven in the morning.
But if he told her that he wanted to do everything himself, would he be left to fend for himself even when he wanted assistance later? The Archangels seemed like the overly literal type.
He could lie, but rumors abounded that the Archangels could tell truth from lie. They had extraordinarily advanced sensors, after all. Although Nick sincerely doubted they could read somebody’s pulse from across a room without using their implant.
“It’s a case-by-case thing,” he said. “This is wasteful. Like I said, I can iron my own clothes.” And he preferred not being ambushed by a doll he barely knew while half-naked, but he left that unsaid.
Chloe nodded, and her eyes flashed. “Understood. Additional testing shall take place in the future.”
He withheld a groan and instead chose to switch on the TV. The news showed little of interest, other than some speculation about Tartarus. Sigma and RTM were in a continued battle over doll sales, and apparently there had been some fancy new mainframe product line announced by RTM. Nick made a note to investigate it later.
“You will have some time before your meeting this morning,” Chloe said suddenly. “I can show you around the department if you—”
“Did you find somewhere for the Tartarus security dolls to stay?” Nick asked, shifting gears while he sipped his coffee.
Chloe blinked. “Yes. They are in worker dormitories on the outskirts of the dockyards, and maintenance and power terminals have been installed in a nearby warehouse. You can commence your investigation whenever you wish.”
“How about this morning?” he asked. “We can grab some breakfast on the way.”
“There is time.”
Being productive sounded much better than walking around the police department in a fancy suit all morning. Although Nick sincerely doubted that Chloe would allow him to be late.
He dressed after the service doll finished and did his best to ignore the obsequious bowing she did as she left. The fact she tried to dress him was bad enough. As if he didn’t know how to put on a suit.
“Your tie is loose,” Chloe said, before undoing his knot and then redoing it.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said, staring at the Windsor knot she’d done his tie up in. He’d always used a simple knot, but apparently the Archangels had preferences.
At least she hadn’t tried to suffocate him with it, although he wasn’t sure if he appreciated her clinginess.
Chloe ignored him as he struggled to find a comfortable way to wear a gun the size of his leg. Afterward, Nick was finally ready to leave.
“Your coat,” she said, stopping him at the door with a baggy coat that fell to his knees.
“I didn’t buy one yesterday,” he said, fingering the faux wool lining.
“We did. This coat is waterproof, weatherproof, fire-resistant, heavily insulated, and stab proof,” Chloe said. “The Host chose it by consensus, for priority delivery.”
Nick decided that made it a gift. “Is it bulletproof?” he joked.
“No, but we are,” she said.
“I’ll be sure to let you take all the bullets, while I get stabbed then,” he said while slipping the coat on. It was heavy as shit, but that was probably a good thing if it needed to stop a knife.
“I recommend not getting stabbed.” Her tone was light, but her expression suggested she was very serious.
“Noted.”
They finally left.
A pair of Mark 1s stood guard outside of his apartment. The moment he wandered out of the hallway, he heard several doors open. Evidently, they were scaring the neighbors. Two Mark 3s waited by an SUV, just like yesterday.
Nick checked the model numbers as they entered the SUV. The Mark 1s were different, but he had the same Mark 3s as yesterday and the day before.
They rolled on out of the city proper, heading north-west, toward the industrial port. Before they pulled onto a highway, the vehicle pulled into one of the automated drive-thru joints that dotted the city.
A long building arched overhead, containing a robot kitchen that made orders for the dozen drive-thru lanes. Robot taxis pulled in and out during morning commute, rarely stopping for barely more than a second as food dropped down a chute to a window.
“Breakfast,” Chloe said, staring at him.
He tried not to snort. This hadn’t been what he had in mind, but it was largely the same as what he got in the city itself. “Get me a burrito.”
Her eyes flashed. About twenty seconds later, a cardboard box dropped down a chute beside the SUV and Chloe dumped it in his lap.
It wasn’t a bad breakfast burrito, all things considered. Fast food tasted the same basically everywhere, given it was all made by robots these days.
While he gobbled down his food, they pulled onto the highway. The outer metro spilled out beyond them, sprawling all the way to the sea wall that kept the Pacific Ocean from sending them all into the depths. Wave generators and sophisticated tide control systems supported the levees farther beyond.
The outer metro itself was a crowded sea of mansions, townhouses, and condos. Greenery was exceedingly rare outside of the trees planted along the streets. The isles had only been built so large, and expanding them was increasingly cost prohibitive, so vacant space was taxed at extortionate rates—and that included yard space and lawns. Some of the towers and mansions sported green spaces on their rooftops instead.
Traffic poured into the inner city in the form of trains, robot taxis, and a smattering of private vehicles. Buses and streetcars moved people around the outer metro itself, where they could then be shuffled toward the inner city. The complete automation of the transportation network made getting around Babylon fast and reliable, even if it wasn’t always cheap.
The towering warehouses and factories of the industrial port approached rapidly. Nick had been told that basically everything that entered Neo Babylon came through this port. Container ships the size of smaller cities dominated the skyline as they unloaded their cargo, and many more could be seen along the horizon.
Babylon had three ports in total. This one in the north-west, which handled all international cargo and serviced the northern industrial sector of the city. A second, smaller, domestic cargo port in the south-east, which also handled what little passenger traffic took place by sea. Finally, the military maintained their own port along the southern tip of the island and used it for most government affairs.
Once they vanished inside the towering warehouses and factories, the omnipresent taxis finally vanished. In their place were automated flatbed container “trucks.” These took the form of little more than a flatbed trailer with an electric motor and self-driving system, just large enough to carry a container. Thousands of them flitted about the narrow streets of the docks.
Nick noticed that the SUV took it much slower than usual. Private vehicles were banned outright here.
Even with self-driving systems, these dodgy little container trucks had a high accident rate. Private businesses cared a lot less about safety when passengers weren’t at risk. The result was that a shiny sports car became little more than modern art when slapped by a hundred-ton container cutting a corner.
Realizing this might be his last chance for most of the day, Nick checked his social feed. He’d neglected it last night.
Everyone seemed a lot calmer now. His parents especially were happy that their son wasn’t being locked up beneath the Spires for the second time in his life. Nick noticed that there was less activity than usual, but chalked that up to the fact most of his former colleagues had been arrested. Outside of Cipher circles, he mostly used Altnet social apps to keep up appearances.
