David Gatewood - The Robot Chronicles

She should be used to him by now. And she was… as long as he stayed in his proper place. Which was not her apartment. In fact, in twenty years, she had never heard of him making a home visit to any of his detectives. It made her feel sort of special, and intrigued, and worried as fuck. Especially after the comm. How likely was it that the two things were unrelated?

“Detective Inspector Harper, I’m sorry to disturb you at such an hour.”

“Are you?” She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I was already awake.”

Did his eyes flicker at that? Had he known? Hard to tell.

She needed something to kick-start her brain. It was obviously malfunctioning. “Coffee?” She glanced at his face, then shook her head again. “Sorry, of course you don’t drink. But I need coffee.” Desperately . She crossed to the machine, pressed the button, and waited while the coffee poured. Cupping the mug in her hands, she took a sip while she tried to pull herself together. “So you’re here because…?”

“There’s been a death.”

Now, why didn’t that surprise her? “And?”

“And you and I will be working the case together.”

Well, that would be another first. The Chief never worked cases. “We will? Isn’t that a little unusual?”

“It’s an unusual case.”

Vicky was beginning to suspect that “unusual” might be an understatement. “And are you going to tell me the details?”

“I’d rather you see the scene yourself first. Then I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Okay. Give me five minutes.” Putting her cup down, she left her boss standing in her tiny living room/kitchen and headed into the bedroom. There was a man asleep on the bed. She’d forgotten all about him. Including his name. His eyes blinked open as she looked through the wardrobe and pulled out clean clothes.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Work,” she said. “Stay there, uh…?”

He grinned. “Dave.”

“Stay there, Dave. Sleep. Let yourself out in the morning.”

“You’re not worried I’ll pinch your stuff?”

“No. I’m a police officer. I’ll find you and I’ll shoot you.”

“I thought they didn’t give you guns anymore.”

Sadly, this was true. She’d liked her gun. “Then I’ll have you taken in for reprogramming.”

When she returned to the living room four minutes later, Chief Bishop was standing exactly where she’d left him. Were robots nosy? Had he checked out her small apartment, drawn any conclusions?

“Your file states you live alone,” he said. “There’s someone here.”

“Just a pick-up.”

“A pick-up?”

“You know, where you go to a bar, pick someone up, have a little recreational sex, and that’s it. Well, obviously you don’t.”

He appeared about to say something else, casting a glance toward the bedroom door, then shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“Good idea.”

The night was warm. Outside Vicky’s door, a black speeder hovered a foot above the ground. As Bishop stepped closer, the back lifted. He gestured for her to enter and she scrambled in.

Something about Bishop’s perfection made her clumsy. She knew some of the models had been made with flaws, so humans would feel more comfortable. But not the models at the Bureau. She was guessing Gabriel Bishop’s main operating parameters did not include making people comfortable.

The speeder was top-of-the-line, and the ride was smooth, much smoother than she ever experienced in the speeder usually allocated to her from the department pool. It seemed a waste: all this comfort on someone, or rather some thing , that would hardly appreciate it.

She shifted on her seat so she could watch him. “So, why have you ventured out? I’ve never known you to work a case before. What’s special about this one?”

He’d been staring out of the window; now he turned to her. Even after all these years, she found it hard to believe that he wasn’t as human as she was. There was, after all, nothing about him to give it away. Even to the faint shadow on his cheek, as though he would soon need to shave. But of course he wouldn’t. That was just to make him appear more human, so they wouldn’t all freak out at being told what to do by a goddamned robot.

Not that Vicky really minded. The chief before Bishop had been human, but he’d also been a total asshole, and completely corrupt. The criminals had loved him. After him, anything was an improvement. And in fact, Gabriel Bishop was a brilliant police officer; the Bureau had been transformed under his guidance.

He was incorruptible. He never had favorites. He was totally fair and dispassionate. Everything always ran smoothly.

God, sometimes she missed the good old days. A smile twitched at her lips.

“Something funny, detective?”

Did he notice everything ? Probably. “I was just thinking what a wonderful job you’ve done with the department.”

“Really?” He sounded skeptical. She was obviously totally transparent. But luckily he decided not to pursue the subject. “What do you know about the Stewards’ role in society, detective?”

“I’m not really interested in politics.”

“You must have an opinion.”

Vicky shrugged. “I’ve read the… publicity material. The Council’s aim is to improve ethical standards by taking decision-making out of the hands of those who might be… less than ethical.”

“You don’t sound impressed.”

She shrugged again. “While I’m a little pissed off to be grouped among the possibly-less-than-ethical crowd, actually, I am impressed. You saved us all from the mess we’d gotten ourselves into, made the world a better place.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “And yet you don’t like us very much. Do you, detective?”

She frowned. Didn’t she? She’d never really thought about them in terms of “liking.” The Stewards seemed sort of… above that. But she didn’t think she disliked them. Maybe there was a little resentment there. She was senior homicide detective for the Bureau. She could rise no further; only Bishop and his kind could hold anything above that level. Her only option if she wanted a change was to move to a different city—and that would be merely a sideways shift, not a promotion.

Still, on the balance of things, they’d done way more good than harm. Corruption, which had previously been rife in every aspect of society, had been eradicated. Her mind flashed back to the bribe she’d been offered earlier—well, almost eradicated.

The world was a different place: cleaner, healthier. Food and water shortages had been all but wiped out, the use of fossil fuels cut to almost nothing—which meant the air was fresher—and illegal drugs were a thing of the past.

And if she sometimes had a hankering for some good old-fashioned, interesting murder cases, well… she was only human.

“You’re smiling again.”

“Am I? Bad habit. And I don’t like you or dislike you—you’re puppets. Whatever you do, it’s not by choice.”

“We make choices all the time.”

“But only depending on what’s been programmed into you.”

“And are humans any different?”

He was right, she supposed. They were programmed from birth to behave in a certain way. But they still had a choice, didn’t they? Thinking about it did her head in. “So who’s been murdered?”

“You mean you haven’t guessed?”

She glanced out of the side window. They were flying above the city, heading vaguely west toward the city’s center and the silver tower that rose high above the other buildings, glittering in the moonlight. She’d presumed the “victim” was someone who worked at the Tower. Now she reassessed that.