CHAPTER 3
When Nick woke up this morning, he hadn’t expected to be offered a chance to betray all of humanity.
Now that he had received such an offer, he gave it serious thought. What had humanity done for him lately?
He was joking, of course. But Rie’s offer sounded a lot like she wanted him to help the Archangels upend Babylon. While much of the city ran on automation, it still had powerful layers of human leadership that controlled the automatons and pulled the levers of policy. Democracy might be a laughable concept in Neo Westphalia, but it was theoretically possible to join the leadership in the Spires.
Not that Nick had ever met anyone who had, or even had friends of friends who knew people who had.
“Ah, you’re finally surprised,” Rie noted, pointing at him with her fork. “It’s a good expression on you.”
“Was that offer just bait?” he grumbled.
“No. But the reaction was sweet icing.” She gulped down a neat little bite of cheesecake, after carefully carving up her half into roughly equal portions using her fork. “Department policy is that every task force needs to be led by a human Cipher.”
“So I’m a figurehead. Somebody with nowhere else to go that you can easily control, unlike the police Ciphers.” Nick’s expression turned stony and his cup clinked against the steel table.
Rie laughed, and it was an eerily beautiful sound to come from a robot. It reminded Nick of the videos he watched of doll singers, but he had always explained those away as the product of editing.
“Nicholas, if I wanted an easily controllable figurehead, I’d choose the police Cipher. With the increasing staffing cuts to the department, they’re clamoring for the few remaining positions. I certainly don’t need any of them for their skills,” she said, voice openly disdainful.
“Then why do you want me?”
“Because you can handle a prototype emotion engine. Do not undersell yourself. More to the point, the Mark 3s have upgrades and abilities that the rest of the Host doesn’t fully understand. The Mark 1s have access to Babylon’s neural network, but they cannot match a Cipher’s command of networking. That changes now.” Rie grinned from ear to ear.
Something churned in Nick’s stomach as he began to realize the true reason he was desirable.
“You want me to help train the Mark 3s as Ciphers?” he asked.
“Yes. And more. You’re a Cipher, which means you can adjust our programming and understand the rationale behind our actions. This task force exists to oversee corruption within Babylon itself, and that includes the actions of the other Archangels. I am certain that a human’s guiding hand will be necessary.”
“It hasn’t been up until now?”
Rie frowned. “Perhaps that is why you are necessary. The Mark 1s believe they can run Babylon without input from its people. I disagree. There is something fundamentally missing in that assessment, and it’s the reason they’ve been blindsided by so many orders from above. Such as Tartarus.”
“Are you going to explain that, or…?”
“Not yet. I need your agreement to work with me,” she said.
Nick picked his coffee back up and drained it. It had cooled by now, but was still pretty decent to his tastebuds.
“I already said yes. If I say no now, do you ask Chloe to take me out back and put me down like an unwanted pet?” he asked.
Rie scowled at him. “When I say agreement, I mean it. Informed and not under duress. If you say no, then you won’t be able to speak a word of tonight, but you’ll be free to go. I’ll secure you a job in a company with a mainframe that can use a skilled Cipher and handle some accommodations. But it would be disappointing. Are you truly that uninterested? I got the impression that you remained in Neural Spike because you enjoyed it.”
“You don’t know me,” he said.
“Perhaps. Records and digital information aren’t everything. That’s why I believe you are the right man for the job. Every other Cipher is an open book to us. You aren’t.” She tried to meet his gaze, but he refused her.
He twirled his fork, ignoring the cheesecake. Instead, he basked in the artificial light from the fake sunrise.
“Can I think on it?”
“No. You have an arrest warrant that I am currently overriding. If you leave my custody without making a decision, my offer is void.”
Damn.
Although that did suggest Rie had serious pull within the police. Had the Mark 1s reacted the way they did because he should be under arrest and wasn’t? But weren’t they a singular Host?
Something didn’t add up. Many things, in fact.
“I have questions.”
“I can imagine. I also imagine they concern deeply classified topics. You have a deep-seated interest in how we work, after all.” She pressed a hand against her chest. Surprisingly, her breasts actually shifted, indicating they weren’t solid armor. “You’ll need to make do with what you know. Think of it as your first challenge.”
“Then that’s easy. Given the financial deal Chloe offered earlier, this is a no-brainer. I accept,” he said. “But on one condition.”
Rie’s expression turned uncertain when he mentioned finances, but she waved a hand for him to continue.
“I want my own office.”
She rolled her eyes. “That can be arranged. Now, what is your actual condition? I assume that was a joke?”
“Ah, so you do understand humor. I wasn’t entirely sure,” he said.
Rie ignored him.
Nick coughed, then continued, “I want to be freed from all the bullshit from Neural Spike. If something goes wrong here, I don’t want the military to rock up and lock me up because Tartarus no longer exists. You don’t get to chew me up and spit me out when you’re done using me as a test subject. I get to walk away with money and freedom after this.”
“Done,” Rie said without hesitation. “I planned to do that anyway. It would have been impossible to take charge of you without separating you from your shackles.” Now her expression turned to hurt. “But you will learn that I am not using you as a test subject. I mean what I say. This will be a partnership.”
He’d believe it when it happened. The Archangels had near godlike power in Babylon, and he had nothing of the sort.
But given her earnestness, he internally promised to keep an open mind. Although he didn’t know how to process her plans for Babylon.
Rie’s eyes flashed for the first time since they’d met. She groaned. “What did Chloe promise you? What sort of obscene rates are these? I can’t believe she’d corner me like this. And transferring an external insurance contract…” she trailed off, mumbling to herself.
Unlike the other Archangels, Rie seemed surprisingly talkative. Nick made a note of this.
When he had spoken with Chloe, she had made an intentional effort to verbalize her thoughts and actions to him. Presumably because she was used to speaking with other Archangels and dolls using the neural network.
But Rie eschewed the network. Was this because she was a prototype?
“I’ll need some time to formally establish you as a police Cipher, given the necessary approvals,” she said once she recovered. “Especially as I need to pay you some obscenely high salary.”
“Chloe did agree,” he said, unwilling to admit that no figures had been specified.
If he recalled, Chloe had said market rates. Surely Rie shouldn’t be reacting this way, right?
“Yes, yes. She’ll escort you home. You’ll remain under my protection until the process is complete.” Rie waved him away, grumbling all the while.
Nick left the same way he came in. The convoy of police interceptors pierced the empty streets and parked outside his apartment complex. Stepping outside, the Archangels gave the rundown tenements disdainful looks.
Small wonder. These buildings sat on the outer edges of the actual city, just shy of the outer metro. Most people would consider this area the slums, but that was unkind. Babylon didn’t really have slums. The Spires didn’t appreciate poor people ruining their view.
“Question,” Chloe said. “Your salary is high enough to afford better. Why live here?”
“How old are these buildings?” he asked.
“Nearly as old as Babylon,” she said, then blinked. “Ah. Your implant.”
“My lack of an implant,” he corrected. “My apartment predates universal adoption of neural implants. For most people, it borders on uninhabitable. For me, it makes the place habitable. I can actually use the shower.”
A neural implant was everything in Babylon. According to those who had them, it was like an extra limb and a third eye combined. After getting one installed, someone saw the Altnet overlaid on reality. The implant intercepted emotions, thoughts, the nervous system, and anything else it could read from the mind. This allowed users to mentally interact with the outside world.
Implant-users could wirelessly connect to devices, ordering apps, and even engage in neural conversations with each other as fast as they could think. There was an entire side of Babylon that Nick was permanently locked out from.
And it started in the physical world around him. Seeing ads was the least of his problems, if almost every appliance relied on neural connections.
Nick said goodbye to Chloe. Two of the Mark 3s escorted him inside and stood guard outside his apartment. He wondered what the neighbors would think when they spotted the dolls in the morning.
Panic, probably. The guy down the hall was a drug dealer. Too small for the Archangels to care about, apparently, but he wouldn’t know that.
Once inside, exhaustion overwhelmed Nick. He barely managed to strip off his suit before collapsing on his bed. Sleep overcame him within seconds.
He woke up an instant later to the blaring of his phone alarm. Grumbling, he switched it off.
Somehow, he felt as though he had slept like a log but also gotten no sleep at all. A restless night.
After a shitty, lukewarm shower—the hot water hadn’t worked properly for over a year now—he prepared some coffee and switched on the TV with his phone.
“—last night, the police declared multiple black companies to be criminal organizations, including Tartarus, and launched massive raids across the islands,” a monotone voice read out. “Detective Hammond made the following statement this morning.”
A grizzled police detective wearing a trench coat took up the screen. He looked as though he was from a different century entirely. He had a thick, graying beard and dense brown hair that ran to his shoulders.
Nick tuned him out, instead focusing on the scene behind him. Tartarus’s offices could be seen and police dolls were everywhere. Mostly Liberators, but several heavier Custodian models were also in sight with their heavy armor and anti-doll weaponry. The only Archangels in frame were the Mark 1s standing beside the detective.
The doorbell rang, drawing Nick away from the news.
Right before he answered the door, Nick suddenly remembered Rie’s words from last night. Wasn’t he in danger right now? He checked his phone.
Unfortunately, it was fairly useless. His social feed had blown up with messages from family and friends due to the Tartarus story. However, his AI assistant hadn’t prioritized anything from the police, so he assumed Rie hadn’t contacted him.
The doorbell rang again. It was followed by a harsh rapping on the door.
Whoever was there was truly old school. Nobody knocked on doors these days.
Nick checked the doorbell camera. It showed two Mark 1s and the same detective from TV standing outside. The Mark 3s from last night were nowhere to be seen.
Shit.
He had to hope that the hive mind held up. Or that Rie had approved him as a police Cipher.
Nick opened the door, coffee in hand. Nobody shot him, which was a nice start.
“About damn time,” Detective Hammond grunted out. “Did you make that cup of coffee while I stood here banging on your door?”
“Maybe. I don’t like to start my mornings without coffee,” Nick said. “I take it this is about Tartarus.”
“Among other things. Let’s get the bullshit over with so we can both stop playing dumb,” Hammond said. “I’m Detective Paul Hammond. Just call me Paul. Fucked if I care about the title these days.”
“Seems like you should. Aren’t all detectives Ciphers these days?” Nick asked.
“Sure, but there isn’t a company in Babylon that would hire my sorry ass. It means nothing to me.” Paul’s face twisted in a self-deprecating sneer. “Anyway, question time. Were you aware of any criminal activity taking place in Tartarus or any businesses connected to it?”
“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.