Neural wraith 2, p.21
Neural Wraith 2, page 21
part #2 of Neural Wraith Series
“What about you, Chloe? Meta?” he asked, turning to the other Archangels.
“Neural implant activity suggests there is only one other patron tonight,” Meta said. “We shall remain inside, but allow you and Captain Hammond your privacy.”
While Chloe nodded in agreement, Ezekiel seemed relieved that the other Archangels weren’t abandoning her.
“I’m not,” Kushiel said.
“Coming in?” Nick nodded several times with desperate enthusiasm. “Well then, have a great night. I’m sure you and Ezekiel—”
“Funny, Waite.” She shoved him in the shoulder and nearly knocked him over. “I meant I’m not giving you and Hammond any privacy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten last time.” She grinned at him.
Looks of concern crossed the faces of the other Archangels. Ezekiel tilted her head in curiosity before her eyes widened.
“That seems inappropriate,” she said.
“Nah, things stayed pretty tame,” Kushiel said. “They could have gotten way more inappropriate if I’d wanted them to. Which I don’t.”
“You’ve told me a hundred times,” he drawled. “I get it. Let’s go in.”
The interior looked dingy, but didn’t smell it. Dark, smoky, and poorly lit. Tiny, black tables with similarly tiny stools stood between walkways with dim floor lighting. Booths with old cushioned benches lined the walls. A long bar formed from ornate wood dominated the rear. Hundreds of bottles towered on racks, shelves, and the bar itself wherever he looked.
Nick had never learned if this bar had a proper name. It had a number, 67B, but its name? Wherever it might be, Nick never found out. He also never asked. The mystique fascinated him. One day, he might spot it somewhere or overhear it. The bartender refused to tell him when he asked.
Speaking of the bartender, an inanimate doll stood behind the bar wearing a black vest. An elderly gentleman sat at the bar, reading a physical book while sipping from a glass of iced whisky. He ignored them as they entered.
“Kate, no sign of Paul?” Nick asked as he approached the bar.
The doll abruptly sprung into action, her eyes lighting up and motors whirring as if she were spring-loaded. She blinked several times at him.
“Detective Waite, good evening. Would you and your guests like a round of whiskey sours?” Kate asked.
“No,” Kushiel interrupted.
“Yes,” Ezekiel said.
Kate looked at the prototype sisters, then back at Nick. He sighed.
“Paul?” he asked.
“My name is Kate, detective.”
This fucking doll… The more he drank here, the more he understood why Hammond got so annoyed with Kate. Her antics swiftly went from adorable to infuriating.
Yet he still kept coming here with Hammond.
“I didn’t realize,” Nick said.
“That seems unlikely, given your occupation. If you do not wish for a whiskey sour, what can I get you?” Kate asked, her face almost completely impassive despite her absurd commentary.
“An answer to my earlier question. Has Paul shown up yet?”
“He popped in earlier, Nick,” the elderly patron said without looking over. “Saw you weren’t here and headed out. Mentioned he wanted to check for spare parts at the pawn shop, though.”
“Thanks, Daryl,” Nick said, nodding at the man, who continued to read without pause.
“I could have told you that,” Kushiel said.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t. If he wants parts, that’s probably for his LifeMaid domestic doll. I think he mentioned she’s been a little creaky lately.” He sighed. “Two big beers for us, Kate, and give the Archangels whatever they want.”
“A whiskey sour,” Ezekiel insisted. “The Host’s logs insist it’s very interesting.”
“Make that three beers,” Kushiel said, planting a hand on her sister’s head and pushing down.
The other prototype flailed, before blurring back several steps and nearly taking out a table. A thunderous expression crossed her face. She quickly recovered her usual smile.
“Two beers for you, Detective Waite, a whiskey sour for the unknown Archangel, and three beers for Colonel Kushiel,” Kate said, then turned to look at Chloe and Meta. “And for you?”
“Negative two beers,” Chloe said.
“Destroying matter is not a function that I am equipped with.”
Nick found himself sighing again, while Kushiel dragged Ezekiel over to a booth. It took a minute to sort out the order.
Whether Kate mixed it up or not was a crapshoot. Her directives forced her to intentionally get orders and drinks wrong as a means to imitate clumsiness. Robotic dolls lacked the natural ability to be clumsy or forgetful, but some found the qualities desirable. Nick had, at first.
These days, he wished to hook her up to a terminal and fix her. But she was part of the bar’s main attraction, and little else drew patrons here. Nick had never met the actual owner, but Hammond apparently knew him. Supposedly, their recent visits had helped the place avoid extending its hand for charity this year.
Such was the fate of so many of these automated businesses. Even with minimal costs, they still struggled due to low patronage. Only low rents kept them around. The landlords couldn’t exactly find a more profitable business, after all.
Word was residential developments grew in desirability, however. Nothing stopped the building owner from knocking the place down and building an apartment complex.
Then again, the same could be said about a lot of places in Babylon. Yet that never happened. Ancient, condemned apartments remained standing everywhere, like Nick’s old home, and low traffic shops produced what little output they could for their landlords.
Finished with Kate, he wandered over to the booth where Kushiel and Ezekiel sat. Chloe and Meta hovered nearby, their eyes dim as they presumably kept themselves busy in the Altnet.
“I’d hoped to talk more with them,” Ezekiel muttered, eyes on Meta.
“Are you that isolated from the Host?” Nick asked as he sat down opposite her. Kushiel shuffled over with a grunt when he bumped against her side, and they both pretended he never touched her oversized bust.
“Yes. Until I’m officially deployed and undergo integration with my chosen Host, I’m restricted to read-only,” Ezekiel explained, her smile slipping. “While it’s obvious that I will be joining the Neo Babylon Host, Sigma does not wish to prejudice the training process.”
“Even this close to deployment?”
No wonder Rie had felt like a caged bird in the lab. Years of being stuck in an underwater facility, with nobody to talk to other than Kushiel…
Nick blinked. Wait, wouldn’t Rie have spoken with Ezekiel before leaving?
Before he voiced his thought, Ezekiel answered his question, “Yes. They operate on strict protocols. This visit is only taking place due to those same protocols, even if they have been…” she trailed off with a frown. “I apologize. I believe the details of this are classified.”
“Figures. But you’ve been down in Sigma’s lab with the new Mark 3s, right? And Rie, before she came here. Even Welk, I presume.”
“I wouldn’t include Welk in any friendship contests,” Kushiel said, looking past him. “You view us as human. That’s plain as day. But to him, we’re just experiments. Fascinating ones, but still just data for his research.”
“That’s a cold description of him,” Nick said, voice gruffer than he expected. “When I worked with him—”
“Your beers, detective,” Kate interrupted. “And one whiskey sour.”
As expected, Kate dumped an incorrect order on the table. Three large beers and a strangely orange drink in a bell-shaped glass. Nick knew from past experience that this was the Kate Special, a whiskey sour prepared with egg yolk instead of egg white.
“I don’t think—” Ezekiel tried to say.
“Thanks, Kate,” Nick said. “See if Chloe and Meta want something.”
“I shall. But I am afraid that violating the laws of physics remains an impossible feat for ordinary ARMDs like myself.” Kate bowed her head, then saw to the other Archangels.
Neither police doll had anything to order, so the bartender returned to her post. Her figure once again became eerily still.
“The Host left out the details of what made this drink so interesting,” Ezekiel said slowly, then stuck a finger in the drink. “The composition indicates that it has been incorrectly prepared.”
“Humans like imperfect stuff, Zeke,” Kushiel said. “A crapsack city like this, judicial systems built on laughable moral foundations, ciphers without neural implants, and dolls that intentionally fuck up their job. Funny shit, huh?”
Ezekiel’s entire body froze the moment her sister called her “Zeke.” Her frozen expression remained invisible to Kushiel, who continued to ramble on, but Nick slugged back some of his beer while watching her.
“Don’t call me that,” Ezekiel whispered.
“Huh? Oh, the short name? It sounds cute. Rie has one. I haven’t come up with one yet.” Kushiel scratched her head. “Kush sounds stupid. Shi or Shie is just weird. And don’t get me started on Shiel.”
“I don’t need another name. I have one.” Ezekiel’s voice rose past her normal pitch, and Nick worried she’d start yelling in a moment.
Instead, silence. She bit her lip and locked eyes with Kushiel.
The military doll jabbed a finger at the younger one. “You know, you should try out the intoxication function Sigma built into us. Does wonders at helping us loosen up.”
“Being drunk does little to improve my performance.”
“I’m gonna agree with Ezekiel there,” Nick said, making sure he used her full name. “Rie at least keeps her intoxication in line with how much she actually drinks. You just turn yourself to blackout drunk the second you take a sip. It’s funny, but one day you’re going to do something really stupid.”
“I have directives to stop me from doing that.” Kushiel shoved him and nearly knocked him off the bench.
His drink did get knocked however, and he lost his grip on it. Ezekiel’s hand shot out and caught it, the glass blurring as she attempted to catch as much of the spilled drink in midair as possible.
“Your drink, lieutenant,” Ezekiel said, placing it back on the table. “Perhaps you should keep better hold of it.”
“It would help if a certain somebody didn’t hit me,” Nick muttered, ignoring the snippiness.
Kushiel stuck her tongue out and leaned back. She knocked back the rest of her beer in a single go, then grabbed the extra. This time, Ezekiel didn’t bother hiding her glare.
Sighing, Nick asked Chloe to get another round of beers from Kate. He’d call out normally, but didn’t want to disturb the other customer.
For the next few minutes, he nursed his drink while listening to Ezekiel and Kushiel chatter. Mostly about the things they’d seen in the city, what the Host did, and some of the NLF behavior.
When they brought up the NLF, Nick was reminded he needed to ask Chloe something. He rose and joined her table, ignoring Kushiel’s hollering.
“How’d the interviews go?” he asked Chloe, leaning between her and Meta.
Both Archangels returned to reality, their eyes regaining their life.
“All important individuals were interviewed. The taskforce will focus on character references tomorrow, but I do not expect to find anything of interest,” Chloe said. “I am afraid the task was of little benefit.”
“Elaborate, thanks.”
“Most of the security team present on the night were focused on resolving the mainframe link outage that hid the murder,” she explained. “Emma Lawrence led this effort.”
“What was Lucida doing at the time?”
“The team seemed unaware, but it was very common for Lucida and specific security team members to frequently be absent,” Chloe said. “All of those team members possess vault implants that prevent us from easily accessing their memories, much like Lucida’s. The audit team is also involved with this, but their leader, Jacob Daniels, is uninvolved.”
He clicked his tongue. So Lucida had a secret team within security that kept its true activities hidden, and that included what happened on the night. Go figure.
This painted a pretty bad picture for Lucida. It also implicated everyone in that secret team. The fact the audit team was involved could mean this was just Toke playing favorites, but it could be a sign of something more sinister.
“What about this Tanaka? The new security chief Toke is appointing to replace her?” he asked.
“He is believed to lead the secret team and also possesses a vault implant.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “That sounds like one hell of a lead to me. Did he play ball?”
“He acted very friendly, but attempting to access his vault implant would be considered a hostile activity. Given the high likelihood that commercially sensitive data is stored within it, forcefully accessing it without cause may be dangerous to the case.”
“I think we have cause,” he muttered, but understood the point.
Like with everything else, the issue was politics. Nick needed to talk with Kim and get him onside before he did anything too rash, like picking another fight with GWT. And before he did that, he required some form of evidence to justify the investigation.
His intuition wouldn’t count, for some strange reason.
“Thanks, Chloe. Make sure you take tomorrow off,” he said.
“Archangels do not take days off,” she replied. “But if you wish for me to accompany you on yours, that is a welcome assignment.”
“You don’t want a day off, Meta?” he asked, making sure his question sounded as joking as possible.
For some reason, Meta’s eyes flashed. But her answer remained predictable, “There is no need.”
He shrugged, told them to order some drinks, then wandered back to the prototypes.
Still no sign of Hammond. Another patron entered, this one wearing an expensive silk suit over his pudgy form. He nodded at Nick. Although his eyes wandered over the prototypes, he showed no visible reaction.
That was one nice thing about the quiet nature of this bar. The patrons came from all backgrounds and preferred it to stay the way it was. By now, the occasional visit from Kushiel or the Archangels failed to register as strange.
However, they didn’t post about them on the Altnet for fear of attracting the masses. Even the owner avoided doing so. Why slay the golden goose?
Nick slid back into his prior seat. This time, Kushiel didn’t budge when he bumped against her, forcing him to shuffle back to give himself some space. Those things were seriously huge. If she weren’t made of steel and polymer, he imagined her back would have to be anyway to carry them.
Her eyes glowed bright red, which was a rarity for her. Kushiel interacted with the Host so rarely, instead relying more on her own internal database and passive links to the Host. This frequently caused her to be less-than-knowledgeable about things the police dolls knew.
Ezekiel watched her sister with interest, while Nick merely waited patiently.
“You know, I still don’t understand how passive you are,” Kushiel suddenly said when her eyes stopped glowing. “I think I know your interests pretty well. They’re documented in excruciating detail. But other than railing Rie whenever she’s feeling a little randy, you don’t make a damn move.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “Where the hell did this come from?”
Ezekiel stared at Kushiel in surprise, but anger showed in her eyes. Nick knew exactly what caused it.
“The little fantasy the Mark 1s briefly entertained,” Kushiel said, waving a hand at Meta, who steadfastly ignored her. “You’ve been slowly fiddling with the Archangels over the past few months. A few directive changes here and there. Slow and steady. I think you’ve averaged under 2 a day, even.”
“Some days are pretty busy.” He didn’t know why his tone sounded so defensive.
“Sure. But you know what I expected you to do? What I think you should do?” Kushiel pushed a large, pointy finger against his chest. It hurt. “There’s like four thousand of them. Line a few dozen up each day, use that cock of yours that Rie apparently built detailed recreations of, and you’ll be through the entire Host before the end of the year. Isn’t that the dream for you? Have an army of doll wives?”
Her words drew the attention of the entire bar, although the human patrons at least tried to pretend not to eavesdrop. Even Kate left inactivity. Ezekiel looked as though her eyes would literally pop out at any moment.
Nick merely rolled his eyes. “They’re not doll wives. Also, I don’t think that’s physically possible for me. Pretty sure I’d need a doctor well before I got up to sex with a dozen Archangels in a day.”
“Oh please, there are solutions for that. Cybernetic cock; fancy supplements; just man up and drink lots of juice,” she said.
“One of those is substantially less realistic than the others.” He reached up and pressed a hand against her forehead—it felt as hot as any Archangel’s—before Kushiel peeled it off.
She then shrugged and knocked back half of a beer that Kate had dropped off while Nick was away. “My point is that you’re so passive. The world is your oyster. Sex, power, wealth. Why the fuck don’t you take it?”
“Not everyone wants to rule the world and sleep atop a pile of beautiful ladies,” he drawled, forcing himself to relax. “Can’t say I expected you to be the one to suggest I just fuck everyone.”
“I’m not, I’m…” Her face screwed up. “Uh… I guess I wanted to ask why you’re just fucking around, instead of actually doing something. When I analyze the humans stuck in this shithole, it’s because they’re either powerful or powerless. And both want to leave. The former wants to fly off and rule everything from space, using us”—she slapped a fist against her chest—“to run their empire. The rest don’t know how to escape, which is why they live on in dreams.”
Dreams, huh?
While Nick knew about the philosophical argument Kushiel was bringing up—it wasn’t a new one to him—he wondered which side of the coin he was on.
His gut told him the powerless. This case proved it, with his inability to accomplish anything. For all the mighty power of the Archangels and the Spires, a bank covering up a blatantly suspicious murder held him at bay. How the hell was he supposed to change the course of the city if he couldn’t solve something this fucking simple?
“Neural implant activity suggests there is only one other patron tonight,” Meta said. “We shall remain inside, but allow you and Captain Hammond your privacy.”
While Chloe nodded in agreement, Ezekiel seemed relieved that the other Archangels weren’t abandoning her.
“I’m not,” Kushiel said.
“Coming in?” Nick nodded several times with desperate enthusiasm. “Well then, have a great night. I’m sure you and Ezekiel—”
“Funny, Waite.” She shoved him in the shoulder and nearly knocked him over. “I meant I’m not giving you and Hammond any privacy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten last time.” She grinned at him.
Looks of concern crossed the faces of the other Archangels. Ezekiel tilted her head in curiosity before her eyes widened.
“That seems inappropriate,” she said.
“Nah, things stayed pretty tame,” Kushiel said. “They could have gotten way more inappropriate if I’d wanted them to. Which I don’t.”
“You’ve told me a hundred times,” he drawled. “I get it. Let’s go in.”
The interior looked dingy, but didn’t smell it. Dark, smoky, and poorly lit. Tiny, black tables with similarly tiny stools stood between walkways with dim floor lighting. Booths with old cushioned benches lined the walls. A long bar formed from ornate wood dominated the rear. Hundreds of bottles towered on racks, shelves, and the bar itself wherever he looked.
Nick had never learned if this bar had a proper name. It had a number, 67B, but its name? Wherever it might be, Nick never found out. He also never asked. The mystique fascinated him. One day, he might spot it somewhere or overhear it. The bartender refused to tell him when he asked.
Speaking of the bartender, an inanimate doll stood behind the bar wearing a black vest. An elderly gentleman sat at the bar, reading a physical book while sipping from a glass of iced whisky. He ignored them as they entered.
“Kate, no sign of Paul?” Nick asked as he approached the bar.
The doll abruptly sprung into action, her eyes lighting up and motors whirring as if she were spring-loaded. She blinked several times at him.
“Detective Waite, good evening. Would you and your guests like a round of whiskey sours?” Kate asked.
“No,” Kushiel interrupted.
“Yes,” Ezekiel said.
Kate looked at the prototype sisters, then back at Nick. He sighed.
“Paul?” he asked.
“My name is Kate, detective.”
This fucking doll… The more he drank here, the more he understood why Hammond got so annoyed with Kate. Her antics swiftly went from adorable to infuriating.
Yet he still kept coming here with Hammond.
“I didn’t realize,” Nick said.
“That seems unlikely, given your occupation. If you do not wish for a whiskey sour, what can I get you?” Kate asked, her face almost completely impassive despite her absurd commentary.
“An answer to my earlier question. Has Paul shown up yet?”
“He popped in earlier, Nick,” the elderly patron said without looking over. “Saw you weren’t here and headed out. Mentioned he wanted to check for spare parts at the pawn shop, though.”
“Thanks, Daryl,” Nick said, nodding at the man, who continued to read without pause.
“I could have told you that,” Kushiel said.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t. If he wants parts, that’s probably for his LifeMaid domestic doll. I think he mentioned she’s been a little creaky lately.” He sighed. “Two big beers for us, Kate, and give the Archangels whatever they want.”
“A whiskey sour,” Ezekiel insisted. “The Host’s logs insist it’s very interesting.”
“Make that three beers,” Kushiel said, planting a hand on her sister’s head and pushing down.
The other prototype flailed, before blurring back several steps and nearly taking out a table. A thunderous expression crossed her face. She quickly recovered her usual smile.
“Two beers for you, Detective Waite, a whiskey sour for the unknown Archangel, and three beers for Colonel Kushiel,” Kate said, then turned to look at Chloe and Meta. “And for you?”
“Negative two beers,” Chloe said.
“Destroying matter is not a function that I am equipped with.”
Nick found himself sighing again, while Kushiel dragged Ezekiel over to a booth. It took a minute to sort out the order.
Whether Kate mixed it up or not was a crapshoot. Her directives forced her to intentionally get orders and drinks wrong as a means to imitate clumsiness. Robotic dolls lacked the natural ability to be clumsy or forgetful, but some found the qualities desirable. Nick had, at first.
These days, he wished to hook her up to a terminal and fix her. But she was part of the bar’s main attraction, and little else drew patrons here. Nick had never met the actual owner, but Hammond apparently knew him. Supposedly, their recent visits had helped the place avoid extending its hand for charity this year.
Such was the fate of so many of these automated businesses. Even with minimal costs, they still struggled due to low patronage. Only low rents kept them around. The landlords couldn’t exactly find a more profitable business, after all.
Word was residential developments grew in desirability, however. Nothing stopped the building owner from knocking the place down and building an apartment complex.
Then again, the same could be said about a lot of places in Babylon. Yet that never happened. Ancient, condemned apartments remained standing everywhere, like Nick’s old home, and low traffic shops produced what little output they could for their landlords.
Finished with Kate, he wandered over to the booth where Kushiel and Ezekiel sat. Chloe and Meta hovered nearby, their eyes dim as they presumably kept themselves busy in the Altnet.
“I’d hoped to talk more with them,” Ezekiel muttered, eyes on Meta.
“Are you that isolated from the Host?” Nick asked as he sat down opposite her. Kushiel shuffled over with a grunt when he bumped against her side, and they both pretended he never touched her oversized bust.
“Yes. Until I’m officially deployed and undergo integration with my chosen Host, I’m restricted to read-only,” Ezekiel explained, her smile slipping. “While it’s obvious that I will be joining the Neo Babylon Host, Sigma does not wish to prejudice the training process.”
“Even this close to deployment?”
No wonder Rie had felt like a caged bird in the lab. Years of being stuck in an underwater facility, with nobody to talk to other than Kushiel…
Nick blinked. Wait, wouldn’t Rie have spoken with Ezekiel before leaving?
Before he voiced his thought, Ezekiel answered his question, “Yes. They operate on strict protocols. This visit is only taking place due to those same protocols, even if they have been…” she trailed off with a frown. “I apologize. I believe the details of this are classified.”
“Figures. But you’ve been down in Sigma’s lab with the new Mark 3s, right? And Rie, before she came here. Even Welk, I presume.”
“I wouldn’t include Welk in any friendship contests,” Kushiel said, looking past him. “You view us as human. That’s plain as day. But to him, we’re just experiments. Fascinating ones, but still just data for his research.”
“That’s a cold description of him,” Nick said, voice gruffer than he expected. “When I worked with him—”
“Your beers, detective,” Kate interrupted. “And one whiskey sour.”
As expected, Kate dumped an incorrect order on the table. Three large beers and a strangely orange drink in a bell-shaped glass. Nick knew from past experience that this was the Kate Special, a whiskey sour prepared with egg yolk instead of egg white.
“I don’t think—” Ezekiel tried to say.
“Thanks, Kate,” Nick said. “See if Chloe and Meta want something.”
“I shall. But I am afraid that violating the laws of physics remains an impossible feat for ordinary ARMDs like myself.” Kate bowed her head, then saw to the other Archangels.
Neither police doll had anything to order, so the bartender returned to her post. Her figure once again became eerily still.
“The Host left out the details of what made this drink so interesting,” Ezekiel said slowly, then stuck a finger in the drink. “The composition indicates that it has been incorrectly prepared.”
“Humans like imperfect stuff, Zeke,” Kushiel said. “A crapsack city like this, judicial systems built on laughable moral foundations, ciphers without neural implants, and dolls that intentionally fuck up their job. Funny shit, huh?”
Ezekiel’s entire body froze the moment her sister called her “Zeke.” Her frozen expression remained invisible to Kushiel, who continued to ramble on, but Nick slugged back some of his beer while watching her.
“Don’t call me that,” Ezekiel whispered.
“Huh? Oh, the short name? It sounds cute. Rie has one. I haven’t come up with one yet.” Kushiel scratched her head. “Kush sounds stupid. Shi or Shie is just weird. And don’t get me started on Shiel.”
“I don’t need another name. I have one.” Ezekiel’s voice rose past her normal pitch, and Nick worried she’d start yelling in a moment.
Instead, silence. She bit her lip and locked eyes with Kushiel.
The military doll jabbed a finger at the younger one. “You know, you should try out the intoxication function Sigma built into us. Does wonders at helping us loosen up.”
“Being drunk does little to improve my performance.”
“I’m gonna agree with Ezekiel there,” Nick said, making sure he used her full name. “Rie at least keeps her intoxication in line with how much she actually drinks. You just turn yourself to blackout drunk the second you take a sip. It’s funny, but one day you’re going to do something really stupid.”
“I have directives to stop me from doing that.” Kushiel shoved him and nearly knocked him off the bench.
His drink did get knocked however, and he lost his grip on it. Ezekiel’s hand shot out and caught it, the glass blurring as she attempted to catch as much of the spilled drink in midair as possible.
“Your drink, lieutenant,” Ezekiel said, placing it back on the table. “Perhaps you should keep better hold of it.”
“It would help if a certain somebody didn’t hit me,” Nick muttered, ignoring the snippiness.
Kushiel stuck her tongue out and leaned back. She knocked back the rest of her beer in a single go, then grabbed the extra. This time, Ezekiel didn’t bother hiding her glare.
Sighing, Nick asked Chloe to get another round of beers from Kate. He’d call out normally, but didn’t want to disturb the other customer.
For the next few minutes, he nursed his drink while listening to Ezekiel and Kushiel chatter. Mostly about the things they’d seen in the city, what the Host did, and some of the NLF behavior.
When they brought up the NLF, Nick was reminded he needed to ask Chloe something. He rose and joined her table, ignoring Kushiel’s hollering.
“How’d the interviews go?” he asked Chloe, leaning between her and Meta.
Both Archangels returned to reality, their eyes regaining their life.
“All important individuals were interviewed. The taskforce will focus on character references tomorrow, but I do not expect to find anything of interest,” Chloe said. “I am afraid the task was of little benefit.”
“Elaborate, thanks.”
“Most of the security team present on the night were focused on resolving the mainframe link outage that hid the murder,” she explained. “Emma Lawrence led this effort.”
“What was Lucida doing at the time?”
“The team seemed unaware, but it was very common for Lucida and specific security team members to frequently be absent,” Chloe said. “All of those team members possess vault implants that prevent us from easily accessing their memories, much like Lucida’s. The audit team is also involved with this, but their leader, Jacob Daniels, is uninvolved.”
He clicked his tongue. So Lucida had a secret team within security that kept its true activities hidden, and that included what happened on the night. Go figure.
This painted a pretty bad picture for Lucida. It also implicated everyone in that secret team. The fact the audit team was involved could mean this was just Toke playing favorites, but it could be a sign of something more sinister.
“What about this Tanaka? The new security chief Toke is appointing to replace her?” he asked.
“He is believed to lead the secret team and also possesses a vault implant.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “That sounds like one hell of a lead to me. Did he play ball?”
“He acted very friendly, but attempting to access his vault implant would be considered a hostile activity. Given the high likelihood that commercially sensitive data is stored within it, forcefully accessing it without cause may be dangerous to the case.”
“I think we have cause,” he muttered, but understood the point.
Like with everything else, the issue was politics. Nick needed to talk with Kim and get him onside before he did anything too rash, like picking another fight with GWT. And before he did that, he required some form of evidence to justify the investigation.
His intuition wouldn’t count, for some strange reason.
“Thanks, Chloe. Make sure you take tomorrow off,” he said.
“Archangels do not take days off,” she replied. “But if you wish for me to accompany you on yours, that is a welcome assignment.”
“You don’t want a day off, Meta?” he asked, making sure his question sounded as joking as possible.
For some reason, Meta’s eyes flashed. But her answer remained predictable, “There is no need.”
He shrugged, told them to order some drinks, then wandered back to the prototypes.
Still no sign of Hammond. Another patron entered, this one wearing an expensive silk suit over his pudgy form. He nodded at Nick. Although his eyes wandered over the prototypes, he showed no visible reaction.
That was one nice thing about the quiet nature of this bar. The patrons came from all backgrounds and preferred it to stay the way it was. By now, the occasional visit from Kushiel or the Archangels failed to register as strange.
However, they didn’t post about them on the Altnet for fear of attracting the masses. Even the owner avoided doing so. Why slay the golden goose?
Nick slid back into his prior seat. This time, Kushiel didn’t budge when he bumped against her, forcing him to shuffle back to give himself some space. Those things were seriously huge. If she weren’t made of steel and polymer, he imagined her back would have to be anyway to carry them.
Her eyes glowed bright red, which was a rarity for her. Kushiel interacted with the Host so rarely, instead relying more on her own internal database and passive links to the Host. This frequently caused her to be less-than-knowledgeable about things the police dolls knew.
Ezekiel watched her sister with interest, while Nick merely waited patiently.
“You know, I still don’t understand how passive you are,” Kushiel suddenly said when her eyes stopped glowing. “I think I know your interests pretty well. They’re documented in excruciating detail. But other than railing Rie whenever she’s feeling a little randy, you don’t make a damn move.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “Where the hell did this come from?”
Ezekiel stared at Kushiel in surprise, but anger showed in her eyes. Nick knew exactly what caused it.
“The little fantasy the Mark 1s briefly entertained,” Kushiel said, waving a hand at Meta, who steadfastly ignored her. “You’ve been slowly fiddling with the Archangels over the past few months. A few directive changes here and there. Slow and steady. I think you’ve averaged under 2 a day, even.”
“Some days are pretty busy.” He didn’t know why his tone sounded so defensive.
“Sure. But you know what I expected you to do? What I think you should do?” Kushiel pushed a large, pointy finger against his chest. It hurt. “There’s like four thousand of them. Line a few dozen up each day, use that cock of yours that Rie apparently built detailed recreations of, and you’ll be through the entire Host before the end of the year. Isn’t that the dream for you? Have an army of doll wives?”
Her words drew the attention of the entire bar, although the human patrons at least tried to pretend not to eavesdrop. Even Kate left inactivity. Ezekiel looked as though her eyes would literally pop out at any moment.
Nick merely rolled his eyes. “They’re not doll wives. Also, I don’t think that’s physically possible for me. Pretty sure I’d need a doctor well before I got up to sex with a dozen Archangels in a day.”
“Oh please, there are solutions for that. Cybernetic cock; fancy supplements; just man up and drink lots of juice,” she said.
“One of those is substantially less realistic than the others.” He reached up and pressed a hand against her forehead—it felt as hot as any Archangel’s—before Kushiel peeled it off.
She then shrugged and knocked back half of a beer that Kate had dropped off while Nick was away. “My point is that you’re so passive. The world is your oyster. Sex, power, wealth. Why the fuck don’t you take it?”
“Not everyone wants to rule the world and sleep atop a pile of beautiful ladies,” he drawled, forcing himself to relax. “Can’t say I expected you to be the one to suggest I just fuck everyone.”
“I’m not, I’m…” Her face screwed up. “Uh… I guess I wanted to ask why you’re just fucking around, instead of actually doing something. When I analyze the humans stuck in this shithole, it’s because they’re either powerful or powerless. And both want to leave. The former wants to fly off and rule everything from space, using us”—she slapped a fist against her chest—“to run their empire. The rest don’t know how to escape, which is why they live on in dreams.”
Dreams, huh?
While Nick knew about the philosophical argument Kushiel was bringing up—it wasn’t a new one to him—he wondered which side of the coin he was on.
His gut told him the powerless. This case proved it, with his inability to accomplish anything. For all the mighty power of the Archangels and the Spires, a bank covering up a blatantly suspicious murder held him at bay. How the hell was he supposed to change the course of the city if he couldn’t solve something this fucking simple?
