CHAPTER 5
“Well, if we’re getting down to business, I suppose I should brief you on your first investigation,” Rie said. Her eyes flashed and the Mark 3s slipped outside without a word. “Among other things.”
Nick chose to ignore the departing Archangels. He had more pressing concerns, like getting a drink. “Can you order me a beer?”
Chloe’s eyes flashed, and a glass popped out from the counter with a hiss. A barcode engraved onto the bottom of the new glass would keep track of how much he drank and what he drank, then charge appropriately.
The service doll behind the counter ignored them, as she was busy pouring Rie another cola into her cleaned glass.
“I assume you can use the self-service taps,” Rie said drily, nodding her head at the dizzying arrangement of beers, ciders, and sugary premix drinks that could be poured from a tap.
He did exactly that, choosing a local red ale that he recognized. This place appeared to cater to a rather odd crowd, judging from the range of drinks. Then again, people came from far and wide to this district.
By the time he returned, Rie had her new drink.
“So, what exactly is my first investigation? And I thought I was your boss?” he asked.
“Partner,” Rie stressed. “While the task force may formally need a Cipher, I believe we have established that your skills are more supplementary and experimental.”
“Then why do you need me? Surely a bunch of super androids can just scan all the recorded media and neural implants of everyone involved, find the truth, then arrest the suspects. Case closed.”
That was the true, horrifying power of the Archangels.
Between the omnipresence of neural implants and the near-complete reliance on digital media, almost all life in Babylon was within the grasp of police monitoring. Using the security bands, an Archangel could passively read the surface thoughts, emotions, and senses of passersby.
But they could also dig deeper. Neural implants recorded long-term memories, which ostensibly helped fight memory loss in the elderly. Social interaction often took place on the Altnet, and the servers were under the control of the Spires. The police could solve crimes without even lifting a finger—and prevent them, too.
Nick continued, “Evidence from Archangels is basically indisputable in the courts, now that they’re nearly automated. You just dump a pile of records on the judicial mainframes and they decide in your favor.”
“Highly prestigious human judges sit on every case,” Rie said primly.
Nick snorted as he sat back down. “They do a lot of sitting, that’s for sure. The courthouses are just glorified mainframe housing, these days. The only reason there are still human judges is because people are scared to admit the truth.” He sipped his beer and watched as Rie copied him.
Where did she put the food and drink she consumed? Dolls couldn’t process it, obviously. He made a note to dig up some schematics and investigate later. Presumably he’d have access. And if he didn’t, he’d give himself access.
Who was going to stop him? Rie?
“That is perhaps the case,” she said with a shrug. “The courthouses certainly receive far more investment in their mainframes than the police department. Many of our mainframes are older than you.”
Nick tried not to think too hard about what that meant. He failed and ran a hand through his hair.
The Archangels were the absolute cutting edge of technology, and the department that operated them was controlled by a mainframe that Nick could probably break into without even trying. He had been right to assume he could give himself access to confidential police files.
“To answer your real question, I believe it’s time to finish the conversation from last night,” Rie continued. “You are officially a police Cipher now.”
He waited patiently.
“The Archangels are responsible for maintaining order in New Babylon,” Rie explained. “Our task force is explicitly responsible for rooting out corruption. But those goals seem intrinsically impossible, as the very people who installed us are responsible for much of the chaos and corruption. We have access to Babylon’s neural network, but its elite have their own that is secure from us.”
That was news to Nick. It made sense, however. What kind of billionaire dictators would install a bunch of sentient law enforcement robots that could fry the minds of their overlords?
Babylon itself ran on a single integrated neural network, which tied together innumerable devices and the millions of residents. The Altnet was a platform that was reliant on that neural network.
To compare it to the technology of history, the neural network was like the Internet of old, and the Altnet was the modern World Wide Web.
Except that it wasn’t worldwide. The Altnet was the exclusive neural platform used in Neo Westphalia, but there were two main platforms elsewhere in the world. Europe still clung to the vestiges of the old web, but most of Asia had splintered completely. The Americas used a bit of everything.
Which made it even more impressive that the Spires had set up their own. Doing so would require immense resources, but was the only way to secure themselves from the Archangels. Companies ran their own internal networks, but they never extended outside their own buildings and mainframes.
“That means that many of the Spires’ decisions are unknown to us,” Rie continued. “Part of the reason why I and Kushiel are separate from the Host is that Sigma Robotics believes this better mimics the actual power structure of humanity. Those higher in the hierarchy do not participate at the same level as those within it.”
“That’s a damn bleak view,” Nick said, taking a long slug of his beer. “Can’t say I disagree, though. But, again, where do I come into this?”
“For one, you can help us understand humanity better. At the same time, you are part of the corruption that I believe to be intrinsic to Babylon.”
He froze, drink halfway to his face. “Intrinsic?”
“Your entire employment history is embedded in the darkness of the city. If we expunged every questionable element from Babylon, you would be a fraction of the man you are now. Does that not imply that there is value to the black companies that the Spires tolerate?” Rie smiled at his grimace. “But that has never been an explicit policy. Which brings us to Tartarus.”
“My favorite topic. You said earlier that it was shut down ahead of schedule. Elaborate,” he said.
She polished off her cola and her hand dexterously slid the glass toward the service robot. Immediately, the doll snapped into motion and began preparing a third one. Nick noticed the multiple white liquors going into a glass and raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a big android and can drink what I like,” Rie said.
“The alcohol has a great effect on you, I’m sure.”
“Your experiments here”—she gestured toward the windows, indicating the seedier establishments outside—“ensured we have the ability to replicate more interesting mental stimuli. Intoxication, ecstasy, sexual pleasure. While you may not be the sole person responsible, they do allow us to partake in more joys than the electronic.”
Nick blinked, then frowned. “Why would Sigma Robotics bother building in the sensory receptors? We gathered this data to help with decision-making, not to recreate actual humans.”
Rie merely smiled. “I wouldn’t know. But it’s nice to sometimes allow a buzz to build up, knowing that I can dispel it the moment I need to be fully aware.”
Fantastic. One of the prototype Archangels was an alcoholic. Nick knew he’d need to keep this secret to the grave, as sharing it with any of his Cipher buddies would be testing his “partnership” with Rie a little too much.
“So, Tartarus,” he said.
“You know of its background, but I’ll explain in full so that we are on the same page,” Rie said while she took her Long Island Iced Tea from the service doll. “Neural Spike undertook classified—and highly illegal—experiments in doll and mainframe development on behalf of the Neo Westphalian military and Sigma Robotics and Industrial. These produced the emotion engines that are widely used in modern mainframes and the Archangel models.”
Nick nodded. That matched what he expected her to know. He wondered if she knew the reason that Neural Spike got shut down.
She continued, “However, during the development of the original Archangel prototypes, something went awry in high-level relations. The military shut down Neural Spike, arrested almost everyone involved, and most of the researchers and executives have either vanished or are sentenced to life in an offshore prison. The wholesale arm of Neural Spike was spared, along with many of its partners.”
“And me,” he added. “I worked with the researchers but got spared. The officer that dealt with my case told me that I got spared because I was some dumb kid without a neural implant.”
“That is the official explanation,” Rie said. “Tartarus was then set up to carry on the wholesale activities of Neural Spike. You and most of the remaining executives were leashed to the organization. The reasons why are unknown.”
“Really? Even to you?”
“If I knew, then would I need you?” She leaned back on her stool and sighed. “Tartarus was allowed to thrive as a black company. Until it suddenly wasn’t. What have you made of everything that happened last night?”
Nick frowned and went over what he had observed and seen, as well as the clues he’d gathered at the former HQ.
The raid had been timed to coincide with the company’s anniversary party. That seemed like a great idea if somebody wanted to nab everybody outside the HQ, but the Archangels could easily have stormed the building at any time with ease. And why had the Archangels covered up the arrests until morning?
There had been other companies raided across the islands. Was the coverup necessary to avoid tipping them off? But, again, that didn’t explain the biggest problem.
What the hell had happened to Helena?
“Somebody knocked out the security dolls and, presumably, the neural network at Tartarus’s HQ at midnight,” Nick explained. “In that time, Helena was taken.”
Rie’s lips thinned. “Helena?”
“Uh, that’s the name of the original prototype mainframe we worked on. The military took the others, but they left Helena behind after scrubbing all the data from her,” Nick said.
Well, almost all the data. But that was a story that he didn’t feel was wise to bring up right now. He did wonder if it was relevant to why Helena had been stolen, however.
Rie’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m aware of the EMOTE-H prototype that was left behind, if not her codename. Records suggest that she was wiped clean, save for her training data. But that produced erratic results, so the military chose to leave her with Tartarus, as Sigma deemed her useless.”
Bastards. Nick scowled and looked away. He tried to drain his beer, but the glass was empty. He poured another and used the time to think.
Helena had been one of the earliest prototypes that Neural Spike developed, and instrumental to both mainframe and doll development. She was one of the links between logic and emotion engines.
But like all AIs, she relied on a variety of “training data” that created her personality. A mainframe intended for logistics needed to be trained using data for logistics, not accounting, for instance. Helena’s data had been highly specialized given her role.
And the military had basically lobotomized her. They were the direct cause of her erratic personality and constant errors in Tartarus. A highly capable and experimental mainframe, but a crippled one that often didn’t understand her own actions.
Nick still held a grudge against the military for what they did to her, even if she’d slowly fleshed out her own personality in the past few years. Once he found her, he might finally be able to fix some of what was broken.
Rie and the other Archangels watched him think. The Mark 3s returned, carrying a bulky briefcase.
“Anyway, that’s the part that makes no sense to me,” he said abruptly. “This looks like somebody wants to clean up the leftovers of Neural Spike. But why not raid the HQ directly? Where even were you during the night?”
Chloe stepped forward. “Our orders were to avoid the building to avoid media hysteria and tipoffs to other companies being raided. We moved in shortly before dawn.”
“And you find that suspicious?” Rie asked Nick.
“Very. You can’t clean up Neural Spike without getting rid of Helena. My first hunch is that the whole thing is a setup, but that makes no sense. Anybody with power over the police could have just sent the military in. Or you. Why the runaround?” He shook his head. “The other possibility is that there was a leak, and the gap was genuine. By moving the operation forward to the anniversary party, the office would be empty and it would be easy to take Helena.”
The eyes of the Archangels collectively flashed, but their eyes remained switched off for only a moment.
“Your analysis concurs with that of the Host,” Chloe said.
Another glass shot out of the counter and she poured herself a beer. Oddly, it was the same red ale that Nick was drinking. She sat on the opposite side of Rie, forcing him to lean back and look between the two dolls.
“And?” he asked. “If you already knew all of that, why ask me?”
Chloe stared past him, directly at Rie. The prototype doll ran her fingers around her glass.
“Because the Host initially didn’t agree,” Rie said. “As you observed this morning when you bullied several thousand police dolls—”
“He did not bully us,” all five Archangels said at once.
Rie rolled her eyes and continued, “The Host requires consensus. The Mark 1s understand the city, but not why things happen. You are one of their favorite anomalies to process. By contrast, the Mark 3s wish to investigate and create rules for the unknown. Accepting that corruption is a driving factor and should be investigated is a new step in how we conduct ourselves.”
“You’re telling me that the Archangels have never investigated corruption before?” Nick tried to keep his condescension in check. He suspected he failed.
“Hardly. But we don’t investigate corruption that we believe is deliberately accepted by the Spires. Ordinarily, the Mark 1s would pursue every other lead—and mysteriously, one would usually turn up with a strong enough link to be pinned with the crime. Sooner or later.”
Planted evidence, no doubt. The shared grimaces on the Archangels made it clear they knew what was going on.
Whoever had replaced all the human officers with the Archangels had done a great job. Up until now, they’d willfully played along with every dodgy scheme conducted by the corrupt government that controlled the Spires.
Nick blinked as he realized something. “Uh, am I going to be mysteriously tossed into the ocean with cement feet soon? What you’re up to will piss off some very dangerous and wealthy people in the Spires.”
Rie laughed. “Perhaps they might try. But that is why I chose you. The military already overlooked you once before. Just like with Detective Hammond, you are far from the sort of man that is seen as dangerous. Even if I believe otherwise. In any case, I believe it is time to formally induct you as a detective.”
She snapped her fingers for effect. The Mark 3s stepped forward with the briefcase.
At the same time, Nick’s phone buzzed. He placed it on the table and frowned. Notifications flashed across the screen—new security permissions; storage locations; network permissions; administrative users.
“You just took over my phone, didn’t you,” he said flatly.
“No.” Rie smiled at him. “But I feel it is important to remind you that I could. All I did was grant you all the necessary permissions and additional security protections required for a device under the BYOD policies of the Neo Babylon Police Department.”
“It has policies for phones?” he asked while flicking through the notifications. Everything seemed to be in order, although his security software told him that Rie had rifled through every file on his device.
Good thing he didn’t keep anything important on it. The Archangels went through his phone whenever they stopped him for some trumped up reason, although the Mark 1s had always needed physical contact.
“Yes. Smartphones remain the accessibility device of choice, now that augmented reality glasses have been deprecated across Neo Westphalia.” Rie then held her hand out.
“Paw?” he asked, and placed his hand in hers.
“Cute.” She rolled her eyes and a slight stinging sensation ran along Nick’s arm. “Well, I had to do this anyway. Biometric authentication complete. But what I really wanted was your phone. There is a hidden partition on it with custom firmware. There might even be custom hardware in it. You should know that it’s illegal to have a device that is inaccessible through the city’s security bands. I won’t wipe it, but I need to access it.”
Nick swapped out his hand for the phone, and Rie neatly flipped the thin piece of electronically imprinted glass between both hands. Then she frowned.
“So even you can’t access it,” he said, draining his glass again. He stared down at it and decided against another. Two was enough for this early in the morning.
Chloe dutifully refilled it with water, which probably still cost her money in this part of the city. Or maybe it didn’t. Did the Archangels even pay for their drinks?
“This is military firmware,” Rie said flatly.
“That it is. Whenever I buy a new phone, the military gets it first and works their magic on it. Burner phones haven’t been a thing for decades, and nobody is crazy enough to sell me one encoded to somebody else’s credentials with the Archangels watching me. The city is full of dolls and cameras that can identify me on sight, and if I ping with somebody else’s device, I’d be arrested within minutes.” He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that thing is my tracking bracelet.”
Rie’s eyes blinked out, and she stared at his phone for nearly thirty seconds. Eventually, she returned to reality and scowled.
His phone slid across the counter and he put it back into his pocket.
“I’ll speak to Kushiel about that,” she said. “That wasn’t in my records. Afterward, we shall purchase you a new device.”
The anger in her voice sounded genuine. Nick wondered if Rie was pissed off because the military had kept secrets from her, or if she genuinely was annoyed that his device had been tapped.
He doubted it was the latter, given she had happily told him that she could control his phone. Maybe there was something else to it.
“In any case, you now have access to the case file, among other things in the department files,” she said after composing herself. “I recommend that you take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with what the task force has put together and begin investigating tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? So my first day involves drinking beer with you?” he asked.
“Is that so bad?”
“No, but I doubt that’s really all I’m doing.”
“Correct,” Chloe said, reminding him of her presence. Her eyes flashed, and the Mark 3s placed the briefcase on the table next to her.
A moment later, the Mark 3s moved the briefcase next to Rie. Chloe and her superior stared at each other emotionlessly, their eyes glowing.
Nick stayed out of the virtual catfight. He noticed that the other Archangels appeared concerned, however. They grew increasingly restless over the next several seconds.
When Chloe looked away, the others calmed down.
“I shall help you fit into your role as detective,” Chloe suddenly said, as if nothing had happened between her and Rie. “Tomorrow, you shall meet with the executive officers of the department, including the commissioner appointed by the Spires. You will need clothing suitable for your position.”
“I’m wearing a suit right now,” he said.
All the women stared at him. Being judged by dolls like this made him feel defensive.
“I have better ones,” he added.
“I understand there are some excellent tailors in the Gardens,” Rie chirped with a too-bright smile. “Perhaps you can use some of the extravagant salary I am paying you to get a high-quality suit made overnight. And perhaps a good coat for traveling the city?”
The nods from the other dolls suggested this was a demand, not a request. Nick almost wanted to request a vote from the Host, but didn’t want to be told that a hundred percent of all Archangels disliked his fashion sense.
“Well, a day to relax isn’t bad,” he said. “In that case, I’ll have another beer.”
“You will be drunk,” Chloe said.
“These are pretty small glasses. I can handle myself.”
This time, Chloe passed the glass over to one of the Mark 3s. The doll washed it out, then lingered near the drinks for far too long. Nick knew she was asking the Host what drink to get him.
Ignoring her, he turned to face Rie. She drummed her fingers on the briefcase.
He gestured at it.
Immediately, its electronic lock snapped open and she opened it up. The interior was lined with cushioning foam—the fancy sort that seemed to catch the light—and two objects. One was a large box and fairly uninteresting.
The other was a massive black hand cannon with a six-round cylinder. The cylinder itself seemed ridiculously huge and the gun’s barrel overly long, but Nick knew there were also some complicated electronics embedded into the handgun.
For one thing, there wasn’t a firearm on Earth that didn’t have biometric readers embedded into the trigger and grip. Neural connections were commonplace these days as well, although Nick’s shadier friends had issues with a gun that could be connected to wirelessly. Especially with the Archangels around.
Rie picked the gun up. In her tiny hands, the thing looked especially massive.
“This is your police-issue firearm,” she said. “It’s the RTM Strategic Lawman, Beryllium Model. It’s a very popular sidearm in the United States of America, with the Americium Model being used by well over half of all human officers in the country.”
Nick internally translated what he’d been told. He wasn’t big on firearms, but they tended to come with dolls, so he’d learned a bit on the side.
RTM was one of the leading electronic manufacturers in the world. RTM Strategic was their military subsidiary, and exclusively made weapons for law enforcement and military. A lot of dolls and neural implants came out of RTM, and the Liberator police dolls used in Babylon were RTM Strategic models.
Naturally, RTM headquartered itself in Babylon and its CEO lived in the Spires. They’d originally come from Korea, many decades ago.
As for the model names, he was pretty sure they were just tech company nonsense.
“Beryllium just means it’s the second model, right?” he asked.
“That’s correct. To be specific, the Americium model is a downscaled version of the Liberator hand cannon used by the ARMD model of the same name,” Rie said, referring to the Liberator dolls. “It focuses on versatility and features an ammunition switcher. By contrast, your model is entirely about blowing large holes through whatever you point it at.”
“There’s something wrong about hearing you speak so crudely.” And, he had to admit, a little hot.
“Sometimes, simple is best,” she said, while holding the gun toward him, grip first.
He took it and nearly fumbled it. Rie’s smirk suggested she had expected it, and Chloe’s hand snapped in and out of his vision just in case he dropped what was probably a very expensive piece of hardware.
Rather than metal, the pistol seemed to be made of polymer. It weighed far less than it looked like it should. Despite the obscene size, Nick handled the hand cannon with as much ease as he had the much smaller pistol he’d carried years ago.
Of course, that might be a different story when he fired the damn thing. Something this large was likely to break his wrist.
As if reading his mind, Rie said, “There are kinetic dampeners within the action. They will cycle the cylinder, but also restrict recoil. I have already encoded the biometrics to yours, although any Archangel can also use the weapon. The neural receiver has been disabled at the hardware level, as you cannot use it.”
“It’s set-up for non-lethal ammo, I’m guessing,” he said, aiming the weapon at some display pieces on the other side of the bar.
“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.