The Automatic Detective (17 page)

I set aside my recharge cycle for another hour, long enough to pay Lucia Napier a visit. Proton Towers at the wee hours of the morning were a pair of sparkling columns, shining beacons circled by ever-present flying gun drones.

Dennis the doorman was gone, but there was another doorman who was nearly identical in every way: the same nose, same eyes, same ever-smiling mouth and chipper demeanor. Either his lack of distinctive features had flummoxed my facial distinguisher or he was Dennis's twin brother. Or a clone. That was unlikely though, since so far all viable clones were bald albinos with a tendency to speak backwards.

Despite the lateness of the hour, I knew Near Dennis would let me in. I'd called ahead, and Lucia had assured me I was allowed to visit her anytime, day or night, scheduled or spontaneous. She'd also said I simply
must
come by tonight. When I'd asked if she'd rather wait until tomorrow, she'd said she was too excited to sleep anyway.

I stepped off the pod into the penthouse. Humbolt greeted me, in a brand new chassis and a freshly pressed cream tuxedo.

"Yo, Mack," said the butler auto.

"Humbolt, good to see you functional again," I replied.

"Can't keep a good auto down. This way."

He led me into the living room and down the secret stairs to Lucia's lab. She'd been busy. The teleportation disk was spread out in a jumble of parts. She held something in a pair of tweezers under a magnifying glass.

"What did you do, Lucia?" I asked.

"I took it apart. How else was I going to study it?"

I suppose she was right, but I'd hoped she hadn't destroyed
the gizmo. Or if she had, I hoped she'd learned something worthwhile.

Without looking up, she motioned for me to come over. "You must take a look at this. It's simply delicious."

She moved aside so I could use the magnifying glass, but I didn't need it. I zeroed in with my opticals and scanned the whatchacallit. "Yeah?"

"Isn't it amazing?"

"Amazing," I agreed. "What does it do?"

"I have absolutely no idea. Not the slightest notion." She set it down and made a sweeping gesture at the mess. "I barely understand any of this."

She laughed.

"Don't you get it, Mack? I've always understood everything. Everything!"

She hunched back over the disassembled gizmo and began shifting pieces around.

"Can you put it back together?" I asked.

"Oh, sure, no problem. I took notes."

She held up a handful of papers filled with scrawled handwriting.

"You say it's a matter transmitter?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh, but it's not. It's more of a matter shifter. This part right here, it's some sort of underspace conduit. And this part, it creates a stasis field."

"I thought you said you didn't understand it."

"Oh, don't be silly, Mack. Of course I understand it. Just not nearly as well as I understand everything else. The technology is advanced, prototypical. Except it's not a prototype. It's mass produced. Someone has a factory spitting these things out, and they're not sharing."

"Some people don't like to share," I said.

She frowned. "Jerks. But I guess you're right. It would explain the self-destruct device I had to disable. And the two homing signal transmitters. And the remote recall mechanism."

"Two homing transmitters?"

"Oh, yes. Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep this from falling into the wrong hands. Don't know why they bothered. The technology can't be reproduced. I'm not even sure what half of this stuff is made of. And it's encoded for a specific user. Anyone else tries to operate it, they'd end up having their molecules deep-fried."

"Can you change the code?" I asked.

"Maybe, but it'd take a while to crack the encryption."

"How long?"

"About six months."

"That's too long."

"Well, I guess I've got good news for you then, Mack, because I'm pretty sure I'd only have to change the coding if the intended user is a biological. A robot shouldn't be much of a problem."

"I can use it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. There's still the matter of disparate mass inversion ratios. You might end up losing some parts along the way. Also, the device can only transport its cargo to a predesignated receiving unit, and I don't know where that is. Could be anywhere. Could be the moon for all I know. And if you do make it all the way in one piece, it's only a one-way trip. You'll be stuck there, wherever it is."

My difference engine sorted through all the what-ifs. Finally it took the coward's way out and said there were too many variables for any viable odds when it came to using the device. I didn't calculate a whole lot of other choices.

"Put it back together," I said.

"I figured you'd say something like that." She pushed away from the table and yawned. "But it'll have to wait until morning, big guy." She slouched. "I'm pooped."

"I could use a recharge," I agreed. "I'll be back in the morning, then."

Lucia hopped over and took my hand. "Oh, Mack, don't be silly. You should spend the night here."

"I'm staying with a friend. He might get worried."

"So call him and let him know you won't be home tonight."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Oh, no bother at all, dear boy."

She tugged at my arm, but I didn't budge.

"Oh, Mack, am I really that frightening?"

Lucia stood before me. She was one hundred three pounds of squishy protoplasm that I could crush without batting an optical. If my opticals could bat. She scared the hell out of me.

Couldn't compute why, but it was true.

"I'll be good." She reached up and loosened my tie. "I promise."

I couldn't think of a good reason not to stay, so I gave in, despite my better judgment. Lucia went to change for bed, and Humbolt showed me a place to recharge.

"Best outlet in the house," he assured me. "Now, if ya'll excuse me, Mack, I gotta draw the lady's bath."

I plugged in but didn't enter my full recharge cycle yet. I'd heard of biologicals having too much on their mind to go to sleep, but as a bot, I shouldn't have had that problem. Maybe I was more human than I cared to admit, and frankly, I didn't like it. Existence is simple when you're only a machine. There are no complications, no counterindicated compulsions. Just functionality. Drab, predictable functionality.

Damn, how I missed that.

I spent seven minutes staring out the penthouse window at
the circling gun-drones, the city of lights below, and the monolithic skyscrapers.

I scanned Lucia's reflection in the glass as she came up behind me. I'd half-expected her to have changed into a sheer nightgown, but she was wearing blue pajamas.

"I thought you'd be off-line by now."

She stepped beside me, and we silently admired the view for seventy seconds.

"You're worried about them, aren't you?" she asked. "Your friends."

"Yeah."

"They're okay, Mack, and you'll find them."

"No, they're not," I said. "They're dead or gone. Or someplace where I'll never find them."

"Then why are you still looking?" she asked.

I tried to come up with a good answer, but the only one I came up with didn't make much sense.

"Because I have to."

"Oh, Mack, you poor baby."

I didn't get why she said it, but she sure seemed to mean it. She lifted my hand and pressed her cheek against the back of it. It was barely a whisper on my tactile web, but it felt reassuring somehow.

"Get some rest. You'll feel more functional in the morning." She kissed the back of my hand. "Good night, Mack."

She was halfway across the room when I had to activate my big, dumb vocalizer.

"Lucia, I appreciate all your help, but you know this can't go anywhere."

"What can't go anywhere?"

"This thing. This thing between us."

"What thing?" she asked, but I could see from her slight smile she knew exactly what I was talking about.

"It's nothing personal," I said. "It's just logical."

"Mack, I think you've gotten the wrong impression," she said. "I'm not ready to get into anything serious yet. I'm still having fun. You're a great guy, really, you are, but—"

"I'm not a guy."

"Yeah, yeah, robot. I got it, Mack. Like I'd forget." She snorted. "Like you'd ever let me forget. Like you'd ever let anyone forget."

"I'm sorry." I didn't know why I was apologizing.

"Forget it, Mack. Forget the whole thing."

Suddenly, I felt like a jerk. One-sixth of a second from confused to idiot. Couldn't analyze why, but I must've done something wrong. Or maybe Lucia was overreacting. Biologicals did that, victims of their own squishy brains and the random chemical reactions taking place therein.

"Lucia . . ."

She exited the room, not quite storming out but coming pretty close.

"You got a real way with people," said Humbolt.

"Design flaw," I said. "I just can't figure biologicals out."

"What's to figure? They ain't that complicated, pal. Take the boss there. She likes to play the carefree, freewheelin', spoiled little rich girl, but she's tired of it. Only she's been doin' it so long, she can't figure how to stop. All she really wants is a friend, Mack."

"She's got you," I said.

"Ah, I don't count. I'm programmed to like her. She could be a total bitch, and I'd still think she was the cat's pajamas. Most people are like that. They don't like each other for who they are, but who they're supposed to be. I guess the lady was hopin' you were different."

He was right. Lucia had done nothing but help me, and I'd
returned the favor by pushing her away. No wonder I didn't have many friends.

"You'll excuse me, Humbolt." I went to Lucia's room. The door was closed, but when I went to knock, it slid open. Lucia glared up at me.

"What is it now, Mack?"

"I'm sorry."

Funny how two little words could have such an immediate and noticeable effect. Lucia smiled—not just her mouth but her whole face. Especially her eyes. She was beautiful. Oh, I'd already calculated she was statistically attractive, but there was something more there. I couldn't say what it was. Some things weren't subject to analytical breakdown. All I knew was that her smile meant a lot to me. For the first time, I wished I had a mouth so I could smile back at her.

Then she hugged me. She was such a delicate little thing, fragile bones and pulpy organs. After seven seconds I gently placed one massive mitt on her back. The hug went on for another six seconds before she pulled away.

"Well, we better get some rest," she said. "We've got a big day tomorrow. Good night, Mack."

"Good night, Lucia."

The door slid shut. I turned around and nearly ran into Humbolt.

"See, Mack? Told ja biologicals weren't that complicated."

"Who programmed you to be so insightful?"

He adjusted and smoothed his collar. "Hey, just 'cause I don't sport that fancy red paint job of yours, don't mean I'm a complete drone."

Biologicals thought that because the Big Brains hadn't figured a way to download their memories onto a monitor that it was somehow more magical than how we robots learned. They were right. Biological memory was magical, biased by personal experience, reshaped by every recollection. It wasn't worth much.

We robots record it. Every replay would be the same. I could tell you the last time I saw Lucia smile (last night, fourteen minutes after three), the room temperature when I saw that smile (seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit), and the number of strands of hair fallen across her left eye as she did (three or four; I've got good opticals, but even I've got my limits). About the only thing I couldn't tell you was how she smelled (not my fault, since I wasn't built with olfactories).

I don't want to make it sound like the human brain is bad hardware. What they lack in accuracy, they make up for in imagination, intuition. The Big Brains hadn't perfected that in robots yet. We could learn. We could figure things out. We could solve problems. We could even deduce. It just took a little while sometimes.

The next morning, it hit me like a ton of bricks. More like thirty tons of bricks since a ton would barely register on my tactile web. I'd needed a good night's defragmenting to sort out the facts.

It was only a hunch, not an actual irrefutable conclusion. A theory gleaned from things I'd scanned: guys with domes covering their heads and others with giant skulls or jellyfishes for faces. A nurse with a mouth that could suck the eyeballs right out of a skull.

These were aliens we were talking about. Maybe.

It was hard to know for sure, what with the percentage of mutants walking around Empire. There were a lot of mutants in the city, and everyone had gotten used to it. But these guys would get a second glance. Probably even a third. They wouldn't blend in. Maybe they were only extreme mutations, hiding away from public scrutiny to avoid persecution.