CHAPTER 9
“Come in. Take a seat, detectives,” the furthest man said, suddenly bursting into a plastic smile.
The room could be generously described as cozy and was dominated by a sleek glass table. No doubt it was built to function with neural implants, but Nick saw nothing but a plain sheet of glass. At least it wasn’t as big as the dick-swinging executive tables they had used at Tartarus.
He stepped up to a chair. As he did so, the police executive leaned across the table to shake his hand. Nick did so, surveying those in the room in the process.
The man in front of him had to be the commissioner and was in his fifties or sixties. Nick vaguely recognized him. He looked Korean, but that meant nothing in Babylon. His grandfather could have been born in the States for all Nick knew. His suit clung to him as though it had molded to his flesh, and the silvered hair around his temples gave him a vaguely statesman-like appearance.
By contrast, the woman sitting to his right looked terrifyingly stern—at least until he realized that she was staring at nothing. Her gaze was completely vacant, and she seemed to care absolutely nothing about this meeting.
Which bothered Nick a lot, as he knew she was the police chief. She’d held the role for over a decade by now. It’s hard to forget the woman who gave speeches when his old workplace was shut down. Nick knew she’d come from the military originally, so her lack of interest alarmed him.
The third suit was a pudgy, balding man who looked disarming, save for the fact he held the job he did. While Nick knew little about police politics, he knew that the area he was in was stuffed full of Ciphers. This man was the boss of all those Ciphers, and appearances were almost always deceiving when it came to their kind.
“Take a seat, take a seat,” the commissioner said, gesturing for everyone to sit down. “Do you want to sit on this side, Uriel?”
Rie smiled in response, but still sat next to Nick. Hammond flopped down into one of the plush-looking but annoyingly uncomfortable chairs. It was a rule of offices that meeting room chairs were uniformly terrible.
Once everyone was seated, the commissioner shook his wrists in what appeared to a practiced motion. Probably an icebreaker he’d read about somewhere.
“Welcome to the team, Detective Waite,” he said. “Allow me to quickly introduce you to everyone, although no doubt you already recognize all of us.”
Nick smiled and nodded. What kind of idiot would say otherwise?
Him, for one. He’d once been stupid enough to be honest in these sorts of situations. Nick never wished to be young again.
“I’m Commissioner Dennis Kim, appointed by the Assembly to keep the department’s automation agenda moving smoothly,” Commissioner Kim said, then gestured to the chief. “This is Chief Andrews, who continues to serve the city with aplomb and grace.” He then gestured to the captain. “And this is Captain Andrew Lieu, a former Cipher of some renown.”
Nick kept a straight face. Kim had expressed a little more than he probably thought he had in that quick introduction.
For one thing, if Lieu was of “some renown” then it had been in circles that Nick knew nothing about. The captain looked to be a good decade older than Nick, which made him the same age as a lot of Nick’s mentors. So whatever circles Lieu had run in would be news to Nick.
At the same time, Nick felt that there was something off about the way Kim introduced Chief Andrews. Why had he left off her first name? What was “aplomb and grace?” Nick half-expected him to say that she was retiring tomorrow.
“Nice to meet you all,” Nick said. “I think you know who I am. Some of you more than others.”
The Chief nodded at him with a grimace, then returned to her empty expression.
“Your reputation definitely precedes you,” Lieu said, scratching at his comb-over. “And you made a splash this morning. Quite the performance on your second day.”
“Ah, yes. We should cover that.” Kim sat down. “There was an agenda, but with half the attendees missing, it’s hardly worth following. Let’s just stick to the important matters. I understand you’ve already started an investigation with Uriel?”
Lieu pretended that he hadn’t been bulldozed by the commissioner and leaned back in his chair. All eyes turned to Nick, including Rie’s.
“Is everybody here cleared on what happened to Neural Spike?” Nick asked. “I’m free from my NDA, but it’s still a touchy topic.”
Kim’s expression tightened. Before he could say anything, Rie raised a hand. The secretary dolls suddenly froze, and their heads fell against their chests.
“I’ll deactivate them for the time being,” she said. “That will allow us to speak freely given this isn’t a restricted setting.”
Nick raised an eyebrow, but Rie gestured for him to speak. Kim nodded just a few seconds after Rie’s gesture.
“A prototype mainframe that Neural Spike developed was stolen from Tartarus’s premises before the police… err, before we seized the building,” Nick said. “The timing is suspicious, especially as Tartarus’s security was disabled during the theft.”
Kim nodded. “And then you were assailed by terrorists this morning. A fairly obvious link, and a connection that warrants swift investigation. Given the interest the military showed in the NLF neural mods, I want you to prioritize this investigation above all others. Captain Lieu, I believe this is a suitable first mission for Uriel.”
“I, uh, don’t think this was what the Oversight Task Force was set up—” Lieu tried to say.
“I’ve already arranged for an Altnet press conference shortly,” Kim said, completely ignoring the captain’s input. “Detective Hammond, I assume you will take the lead, as you usually do. Of course, given your expertise in the investigation and subject matter, anything you wish to lend to the matter is welcome, Detective Waite.”
There was a pregnant pause. Nick waited for somebody else to say something, while others stared at him.
Hammond grinned and waved an arm. “He’s asking if you want to brief the press, Nick.”
“What? No. Hell no.” Nick shook his head, realizing he was speaking too bluntly. “It’s for the better if I stay in the shadows for at least a few more days. I have Cipher contacts I want to speak with before I make any public announcements that I’m a police detective.”
“Cipher contacts?” Kim’s expression narrowed.
“It’s fairly common that we do the rounds with friendly Ciphers with any new detectives,” Lieu said. “Make sure there aren’t any nasty surprises and that they’re happy to work with our new hire. It makes things run smoothly.”
Kim looked at Lieu, then back at Nick. For a moment, Nick nearly didn’t say anything. But his survival instincts told him that if there was one man to keep onside, it was the commissioner.
“Uh, my contacts are a little more… shady,” Nick admitted. “You know my background. But if I want to rely on them for this investigation, and future ones, then I’ll need to reach out to them before I start waving a badge around.”
“We don’t use badges anymore,” Hammond said.
Nick stared pointedly at the badges on Rie’s uniform. All the Archangels wore little silver shields that signified that they were police.
“Save for decoration,” the older detective added.
“I don’t have an implant. How will people know I’m a detective?” Nick asked.
“They’ll see the Archangels and their shiny guns, then spill their guts.”
Fair point.
“I’m not sure about this,” Kim said slowly, drumming his manicured fingers on the glass tabletop.
“The Archangels are well aware of all of Nicholas’s contacts,” Rie said. “His Cipher circles might be private, but not to us.”
Nick nodded. “The Archangels infiltrated basically all the Altnet Cipher groups the second they set foot into the city. These are all legit Ciphers. Nobody crosses the line.”
“Ah. Then that’s fine.” A smile crossed Kim’s face. “If they’re operating legally, then there’s no need for terms such as ‘shady,’ detective.” A pause. “I did have a matter to clear up before the press conference, however. There were RTM dolls in use by the terrorists, weren’t there?”
“G2s, yeah. They’re in use by basically everyone in Alcatraz,” Nick said.
“You mean the Lower Commerce districts of the Outer Metro,” Kim said coldly.
Nick winced. It figured that the police commissioner wouldn’t appreciate the nickname for the city’s shadiest area.
Babylon had thriving criminal and black companies that the government largely tolerated or cracked down on very sparingly. To achieve economies of scale, they had congregated in the east of the city, near the smaller port. Supposedly, the name was in honor of Al Capone, who operated in plain sight of the law in the US, much like most of Babylon’s black companies.
“Yes,” Nick said. “The G2’s a reliable model. There are a ton of them, they’re well documented, they’re cheap to acquire and replace, and mods are plentiful. Most serious security firms or larger black companies use the newer G6s, but you can’t walk down… the Lower Commerce districts without spotting a G2 on almost every street.”
Kim bit his lip. “I suppose that is the price of ubiquity.” He paused again. “Why are the G6s so popular? The G7s have sold exceptionally well, I understand.”
Why all the interest in a bunch of security models that the police didn’t even use? Nick tried to recall what he’d read on the Altnet about security doll purchases. A lot of Ciphers specialized in this area, given there was good money in programming and customizing expensive dolls.
“Security firms don’t like rolling over their dolls for incremental improvements,” he explained. “They wait for their current dolls to become too expensive to maintain, or too old to keep up with the market. The G7 mostly sells as a bodyguard doll, or to smaller, high-end firms. And to, uh…” He trailed off.
Kim raised an eyebrow, keenly interested.
This time, Hammond saved Nick, “The newest, fanciest security dolls are all in the high-end red-light district, Commish. Trust fund kids don’t like getting thrown out of bars by ancient rust buckets.”
Kim sighed. “Ah. Yes, that is fair. I believe Sigma Robotics made significant inroads in that market with their new Lancer and Chevalier models. Detective Hammond, I would appreciate it if you left the doll model out of the press briefing.”
“Already deleted from my notes,” Hammond drawled. “The Archangels are meticulous, but I don’t need to give anyone ideas about which bots to use or not use.”
Rising, Kim clapped his hands together. “I believe that is everything.” He didn’t give anybody time to disagree. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Detective Waite. I look forward to the results from your first investigation. If they’re as impressive as what you’ve produced so far, I’ll have no objections to leaving you in charge of the Oversight Task Force.”
Uh, what? “Leaving?” Had Nick’s position been in danger this entire time?
The commissioner attempted to leave, before noticing that the secretary dolls remained offline. He cleared his throat. “Uriel, could you please restore them? I’ll need mine for my next meeting.”
Rie’s eyes flashed, and the secretary dolls sprang back to life. “I’ve sent around redacted briefing notes.”
“Excellent.” Kim strode out of the room. The Chief and both secretary dolls followed.
That left Nick, Rie, and Hammond in the room with Captain Lieu, who chuckled as he stared at the door. After a moment, it closed itself.
“Different to what you expected?” Lieu asked Nick.
“A little,” he admitted, not sure what to make of this conversation.
“Don’t worry. I don’t bite. As far as I’m concerned, you’re making my life easier. If the commissioner is happy, I’m happy. He’ll let me focus on managing the bureau in peace if he can micromanage you, instead of me and all the divisions that need actual attention.” Lieu rose. “Good luck with your investigation, detective.”
Then he left. Once again, the door closed automatically once he left.
Nick looked around. “Do these rooms have monitoring devices? Cameras?”
“Not these rooms,” Rie said. “But you should assume that all meeting rooms and offices do unless told otherwise.”
Figures. This was Babylon.
“Well, that went better than I expected. The Commissioner practically exploded yesterday when you forced through the hiring, Uriel,” Hammond said, leaning back and kicking up his feet. “It was like watching a father be forced to give away his baby girl to a man he’d never even heard of.”
She crossed her arms. “That’s an extreme comparison.”
“He fucking loves you. I’m amazed these NLF clowns are enough to impress the military.” Hammond’s eyes glazed over, presumably as he went over the briefing notes. “Some fancy neural mods, sure, but new ones pop up all the time. And some G2s? Who cares? Pretty cruisy investigation for you, at least.”
Nick took the opportunity to redirect the conversation. “What was up with Kim’s interest in the G2s? That seemed… unprofessional.”
“Oh, right. You don’t know the politics.” Hammond laughed bitterly. “The commissioner was a board member of RTM before he took this role. Had to step down, though. The companies that run the city don’t appreciate their competition also running government agencies—probably the only part of the Spires that makes sense.”
Nick blinked. “Shit. So he’s covering up the RTM dolls because—”
“He has a financial interest, yeah. His brother, Jun Kim, is also the CEO of the RTM Strategic arm. I imagine the two will have a chat about what you said, and you can expect more conversations on the topic.” The older detective shrugged. “He seems to like the Archangels, though. I think the guy genuinely thinks tin cans are our future.”
“We are,” Rie said.
“That’s nice.”
She rolled her eyes and turned back to Nick, but he had more questions for Hammond.
“What about the Chief?” he asked.
“Ah, her.” Hammond sighed, and it was like an old engine giving up the ghost. “She’s waiting to be replaced and then move onto a new job. Probably in the military, where she came from when I first joined up. The previous commissioner appointed her as chief, and now she’s out of favor. But she bought the first Archangels, so she’s convenient for Kim, even if he wants to run the Department.”
Nick began to realize what was going on. “This is dumb office politics, isn’t it?”
Hammond glared at him. “I wouldn’t call it dumb. But yeah, it’s office politics. You’re new, kid. But you need to understand that the Department is basically on fire right now, and you just got parachuted into the division that’s pouring gasoline onto that fire.”
“Change is sometimes inevitable,” Rie said.
“Sure,” Hammond said dismissively. “And to answer your next question: that’s why Lieu doesn’t care about you. He’s a snake, but he has bigger prey to digest. Right now, a lot of his Ciphers are about to be out of a job due to the fancy new Mark 3s being brought in.”
That sounded like a great reason for Lieu to care about Nick. Unless he was onboard with bringing all the Archangels in.
Hammond rose and rolled his shoulders. “Anyway, we can talk about this crap over drinks, if you prefer. I’ll give you a call when I clock off—fucked if I know when that is. We can grab some chow, then hit a nice bar. Bitching about work is always better over drinks, and I can tell that you’re the sort with a long, bitter history.”
“Bitter, sure. Not long,” Nick said.
“Give it time.”
The other detective left.
This room wasn’t much to stay in, so he and Rie stepped outside. Chloe and his Archangel escorts had kindly waited for them. Presumably, they knew everything that had taken place inside.
“Did things go well?” Chloe asked, looking between the two of them.
Nick stared at Rie, who merely smiled back.
“Uh, pretty well,” he said. “Don’t you share, or…?”
Chloe glared at Rie. “The meeting minutes are not available to the Host.”
“Perhaps I could share them,” Rie teased.
“It would save some time,” Nick said. “Especially as I’m willing to bet…” he trailed off as he realized they were somewhere that could be monitored. “Let’s head back to the task force office.”
They quickly returned. This time, Chloe trooped into his personal office along with Rie. Somebody had prepared three mugs of coffee in advance, but only cut one slice of cheesecake.
This time, Rie glared at Chloe, who ensured that Nick got the cheesecake.
As he bit into his dessert, he said, “If you’re going to play games with each other, can it stay this petty? I don’t want somebody refusing to provide backup because a report wasn’t provided.”
Both women turned on him now. “That won’t happen,” they said in sync.
“Ah, so now you’re a hive mind.”
They collectively rolled their eyes at him.
“Our objectives remain the same,” Rie said. “But we are allowed some individuality. The Host may wish to share every moment they spend with you, but I do not.”
“Every moment?” Nick stared at Chloe, who shrugged.
“Consensus is that all data shall be shared for separate processing by individual units in their downtime,” she said. “Very few members of the Host can be with you. In order to minimize infighting, we decided to share you the only way possible. Those members who are uninterested can choose to ignore the sensory data, or to consume it through summaries.”
Sensory data? “Rie, you mentioned self-insert fiction—”
Chloe’s face turned so red that Nick suspected she might be malfunctioning. She turned to Rie and nearly screamed, “Speaking of that is a violation of consensus! You are not permitted to—”
“The answer to your unspoken question is ‘yes,’ Nicholas,” Rie said. “You lack a neural implant, but it is very common to reproduce physical sensations using one. Over the years, the Host has built up a substantial data bank of contact with you. That could be used when writing that fiction.”
Chloe’s eyes went offline. Somehow, Nick knew that boded poorly.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Rie said. “She’s just censuring me. You asked some time ago what happens when an Archangel violates consensus, despite the agreement to obey it? The answer is that the Host tells her off.”
“And that’s it?” he asked.
“So far, yes.” She paused. “They are voting on a punishment now. I’d say that it’s amusing, but I believe it’s necessary for me to point out how important this is. I’m not part of the Host. While there are parts of the distributed network they cannot cut me off from, they could restrict my access to a lot of their… daydreams.”
“Why does the Host daydream?” Nick asked.
“Because you told it to.”
He winced. “I mean, I kind of get what you mean. But other than the emotions and stimuli we reproduced in experiments, why?”
“Hmm. I’d say it’s because they have a lot of excess processing power and time. If we are programmed to desire enjoyment, but have no free time, what do we do? The answer is to escape into our own world.” Rie paused, and her eyes suddenly flashed. “My apologies. I just needed to put out that fire.”
“You started it,” Chloe said, returning to reality.
“Perhaps. But you didn’t need to attempt to cut off my access to all the Host’s fiction. It gets quite boring at times.” And then Rie smirked. “And I might be the one who will share some very special sensory data in the future.”
For a moment, Nick suspected that Chloe was about to go offline and censure Rie again.
But both dolls managed to quit fighting.
Nick decided now was a great time to return to the original conversation. “My original point, before we got distracted, was that I’m pretty sure that somebody in that room was responsible for the raid on Tartarus.”
Rie frowned, but nodded anyway. Chloe’s eyes flashed.
“The Host will defer to your judgment in this investigation,” she said.
“You’re not making any of your own guesses?” he asked.
“The recent conversation log provided by Rie suggests that we are lacking significant contextual and background information. Consensus is that we use this as a learning exercise and avoid prejudicing the investigation.”
“Just so you know, I am going to sometimes ask you to help,” he said drily. “I’m not a detective. And you’re a collective of AIs. Sometimes I’m going to miss things.”
“I’ll still push you,” Rie said. “And the Host will be doing their own simulations. They just won’t share them or act on them without prior permission. Unless the stakes of the investigation are raised, I believe this is a wise decision.”
He tried not to bristle at the idea that the stakes were low. While he wanted to find Helena, it wasn’t as though Babylon was in danger or anything.
“I would like to know your thoughts about each of the executives,” she added with a smile. “It is difficult to follow your thought process sometimes.”
A small part of Nick wondered if that fact was the only reason that Rie was interested in him. Then again, he wasn’t the only person in the city without an implant. Although he might be the only Cipher.
“Each of them has a potential reason to be interested in Helena,” Nick said after he polished off his cheesecake. “The Chief is being sidelined, so she might be interested in something that could sabotage the commissioner. RTM is under pressure to match Sigma’s doll tech, and Kim seems to care more about his former company than his current position. And Captain Lieu…”
He bit his lip. Far too little had been said or shown by Lieu.
“To be honest, Lieu’s a stretch. But he didn’t come across as genuine, and Hammond basically said as much. He’s a man under pressure, it seems,” Nick said.
Rie nodded slowly, while Chloe listened in silence.
“What about Detective Hammond?” the prototype doll asked.
“Maybe you know him better than me, but would he even have the connections or knowledge to do anything? Let alone be able to hide them from you?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “Lieu’s a competent Cipher, apparently. I’m guessing that the Chief and Kim are on that separate neural network you mentioned for the Spires.”
Rie nodded again. “They are. Tell me, why would they want the EMOTE-H prototype? There were significantly more advanced prototypes taken from Neural Spike, and RTM needs doll technology, not mainframe.”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do know that Helena was one of the bases we used for doll development and has a few extra features. I never touched the more advanced prototypes that turned into the production mainframes, but we only ever used the older prototypes to develop emotion engines. I think those additional features were stripped out in later stages of testing.”
Along with certain safety features. Helena was used to do some highly questionable things during development, and that sort of power wasn’t desirable in a mainframe that controlled a trillion-dollar multinational company. But in research? The researchers needed the data that came from such unrestricted power.
“Perhaps she has some value after all,” Rie said with a thin smile. “Do you have an idea of who we should investigate first? We are still looking for Travis.”
Chloe nodded at the mention of the hunt for the missing Cipher.
“No. And it doesn’t matter.” Nick stood, causing both dolls to copy him. “I said before that the NLF’s actions made no sense, but that also doesn’t matter. Right now, we have police execs who might have motives but no known actions, and dumbass revolutionaries who took actions that made no sense. I’m not a genius, but if we link these up, the investigation might begin to click.”
Or at least, he might find some better clues. The NLF were sniffing around for a reason and had been onto the Tartarus security dolls too fast for it to be a coincidence.
“I can redirect search teams for NLF—” Chloe began to say, but he cut her off with a raised hand.
“No. I can be useful for once. I told the commissioner I wanted to talk with some Cipher friends, and that’s true. In fact, there’s one I’ve been legally barred from talking to since Neural Spike went down. We were pretty close to his place yesterday,” Nick said. “Why don’t we visit that red-light doll district again and say hi to an old friend of mine?”