CHAPTER 14
When Nick awoke, it wasn’t to his alarm but to two fuzzy white blobs. The blobs slowly resolved into human faces with long white hair, and they were staring down at him.
“This is my bedroom,” he said after several long seconds of staring back at the identical twin faces above him.
“Detective is capable of speech. Slight slurring detected,” one of them said.
“Do you recognize us?” the other asked.
“Numbers Seven and Eight of the Mark 3s. You’ve been following me everywhere for the past couple of days,” he said.
“No short-term memory impairment detected.” Seven held up a hand in front of his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three, plus however many you’re holding up on the hand I can’t see.”
“Cognitive skills remain at expected levels,” Seven said.
“Higher levels of anger detected compared to previous morning encounters,” Eight added.
Nick sighed, gave up on playing this game, and abruptly sat up. The Archangels weaved out of his way, but remained within his personal space. His head throbbed as he shifted upright, and his vision wavered.
Choosing to ignore his unexpected companions, he hopped out of bed. Apparently, he hadn’t undressed fully last night, as he was still in his work clothes. At least he’d taken off the suit jacket before collapsing in bed.
His phone told him there weren’t any meetings on today. In fact, his calendar remained empty. Rie hadn’t felt the need to populate it. Clearly, he needed to find things to do himself. Such as heading out to the warehouse again.
That meant he could avoid a suit for the first time in a while. Or maybe he couldn’t. Nick didn’t know what the dress code for detectives was.
After gulping down a glass of water, he stepped into his bathroom and began unbuttoning his shirt. It was only when he pulled it off and dropped it into the hamper that he realized he had company.
“Excuse me?” he asked the two Archangels who stood in the doorway, staring at his shirtless body,
“You are excused,” Seven said.
“That’s not… Get out of my bathroom.” His headache left him in no mood to deal with this.
Fortunately, they obeyed. Unfortunately, this led to them standing in the hallway and continuing to stare at him. He closed the door and locked it.
Briefly, he wondered if there were cameras in here. The Archangels monitored everything. He’d always wondered why they remained outside during the night, given how overprotective they otherwise were.
If he worried about being spied on by the Archangels, Nick would be paralyzed into inaction for the rest of his life. So he undressed and showered. The hot water was worse than usual, making the shower a cold and awful one.
He threw on a shirt and underwear, but didn’t bother dressing further. He’d need to prepare his work clothes in the main room. It wasn’t like the Archangels hadn’t seen him like this before.
Outside, the two Archangels were poking and prodding at his kitchen appliances. They had made three cups of coffee, for some reason.
“Are you copying Chloe now?” he asked, bemused by their actions.
“Incorrect. We are assessing your health after last night,” they said.
Eight presented him with one of the coffee cups. He peered into it.
“This isn’t full of medicine or something weird, right?” he asked.
“It is coffee,” she said, before drinking from one of the other cups.
They were definitely copying Chloe. Nick wondered if they had names as well.
“My health?” he asked, focusing on more pressing matters as he looked around the room for his ironing board.
Given the small size of his apartment, it couldn’t have gone far. The fact it was missing was strange enough.
“You were heavily intoxicated last night. You still show strong signs of dehydration, there are detectable traces of alcohol in your breath, your movement is inhibited, and your mood is—”
“Rapidly decreasing in quality,” Nick said. “Especially as I have a splitting headache.”
The eyes of both Archangels flashed, and he knew he had said the wrong thing.
“I have a hangover,” he added.
“The Host has assessed your health as in need of improvement and detrimental to your performance,” they said together.
“I’ll be fine once I stop by one of the hole-in-the-wall dispensaries and take some painkillers,” he said.
“If you are in need of pharmaceuticals or medical care, your insurance provider must be contacted. As such, we require you to rest and remain at home until a full assessment has been conducted,” Seven said.
“I will not—”
“Your insurance provider has informed us that they are dispatching a diagnostic nurse to assess your health,” Eight said. Somehow, her tone sounded very smug. “They have asked for you to remain at home until—”
Nick groaned and ignored them. He slurped down his coffee, which tasted exactly the same as always. At least his coffee machine hadn’t betrayed him.
Then he paused and looked around the room. “Did you hide my ironing board in advance?” he asked.
The dolls froze. Nick watched them closely, expecting a flash of the eyes or some other call for help. Instead, both sipped their coffee very deliberately.
“Our initial assessment of your health—”
“During the night, we believed that—”
Nick raised a hand. “Did you ever intend to allow me to leave my room?”
“You can leave at any moment,” they said.
As if to test this theory, Nick wandered over to his door and tried to open it. The biometrically coded lock didn’t budge.
When he turned back, both of them were attempting to prepare breakfast. This was a futile endeavor, as Nick didn’t have enough in his fridge to—
“When did I get bacon and eggs?” he asked. “I don’t think my fridge has had that much fresh food in it since I worked at Neural Spike.”
Even then, he probably needed to reach a little further back. The only time he’d seriously had much fresh food was during his brief fling with one of the other Ciphers at Neural Spike. That had ended pretty poorly, save for helping Nick with some confidence problems—to word things politely.
He shook his head. “Fix the door lock. I won’t leave, but I won’t be treated like a child.”
The Archangels froze. Seven turned and looked at him with a pout.
“You are being uncooperative. This is what we expected,” she said.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Had he interacted much with the other Mark 3s at all? Dealing with this wasn’t making his hangover any better.
Nick slumped down on his sofa. Eight started frying some bacon in the meantime, but Seven kept her gaze fixed on him.
“Do you want me to be honest or diplomatic?” he asked.
They both stared at him.
“I’ll assume that means honest,” he said.
“It is unknown whether there is any value in diplomacy from you,” Seven said.
Cute. They thought that he couldn’t hurt their feelings. Hopefully that didn’t blow up in all of their faces.
“Alright. Then the reason I’m being ‘uncooperative’ is that you’re not treating me as anything close to an equal or even a human adult. That’s the fundamental gap between the Host and Rie—even if she does want to lock me down in an office and never let me be in danger, that violates the deal she made with me. And I respect that, and respect her.”
The eyes of both Archangels were openly glowing now. Nick suspected they were actively communicating every word he said to the entire Host.
Grimacing, he pushed on. This morning, they had stepped over a couple of lines, and he needed to push back before they stepped over more.
“While I appreciate and understand the Host’s reasons, I can’t respect them. Not if you force me to agree by threatening to stop me from doing anything, or by changing my locks, or siccing my insurer on me.” He scowled at the last one.
Visits from his insurer were always a nuisance. Some cheap nurse doll would show up, do a terrible job at running diagnostics, and then send results off to be separately validated due to her lack of confidence. He’d be stuck inside for two or three days.
“We are protecting you,” Seven said.
“If you want to protect me, then maybe you can talk to me first,” he said. “If you’re concerned about my health, we can talk about it. If I’m unreasonable after a conversation, then you can change my lock. But not before. You can’t even use the excuse that you read my implant and assessed my future actions.”
Their eyes stopped glowing. Both of them nodded.
But he knew this wasn’t the end of it. There was zero chance that the Host would let this lie.
Neither doll contacted the others, however. Eight finished cooking breakfast and served some surprisingly good bacon and eggs. Both of them ate a much smaller portion than Nick, but tended to eat whatever he ate.
“As you seem to be assigned to me, what are your names?” he asked after finishing.
They tilted their heads.
Seven then said, “I am ARC-M03-NB00007.”
“And I am—” Eight began to say.
Nick rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Not your serial numbers. I mean your names. Chloe has one. Rie has two, even.”
Both of them looked at each other. He wondered if that was a confected gesture of surprise, given their neural links.
“The personalized designation for Officer M03-NB00004 is unique to her role,” Eight said. “And the prototypes are separate from the Host and given unique designations due to their positions as our progenitors.”
Progenitors? The Archangels viewed the prototypes in that way?
Nick supposed that made some sense. The prototypes appeared to be higher quality models that contained specialized features and construction that were then standardized into the production models. But what did that make the original prototypes?
Or, for that matter, the Tartarus security dolls that had been a dry run of the pre-emotion engine functionality?
He shook his head. This was a deep rabbit hole to go down with a splitting headache. Leaning his head over the back of his sofa, he stared at his plain white ceiling. There were marks all over it, presumably from a previous tenant who had vaped inside and coated the place with fluid residue.
“Well, your roles seem to be unique as well. Chloe’s my liaison, but the two of you seem to be my bodyguards,” he said, musing over names.
Calling them by numbers seemed insulting. Even if they did the same thing. He regretted calling the Mark 1 from yesterday “Twelve.”
While Chloe had given herself a fairly mundane name, the prototypes had been given biblical names. Much of Neo Westphalia’s names came from myth and legend. The original founders of the isles were into that sort of thing.
Welk had once told Nick that most of those in the Spires understood that the key to not being put in a guillotine by an angry mob was understanding history and the world. He had also said that maybe acting a little less arrogant and assholish would help, but that people needed to play the cards they were dealt.
The fact Welk had fundamentally believed that the Spires couldn’t dial it back a notch spoke volumes.
Nick didn’t have a compendium on history and legend in his head, unfortunately. He knew enough to have a few names in mind, but he worried about the implications of calling some of the Mark 3s names like “Sariel” and others “Sarah.”
They might think he had favorites or something. The last thing he needed were thousands of super androids with guns falling to infighting over something as silly as their names.
“Before I name you, do you have any preferences? I assume Chloe named herself,” he said.
The two dolls stared at him.
After an uncomfortably long time, Eight said, “Rie named Chloe. We do not understand the purpose of your question.”
Well then, it seemed things were down to him.
He pointed at Eight first. “From now on, you’re Juliet.” Then at Seven. “And you’re Rosa.”
Their fingers twitched but otherwise they didn’t react.
“No good?” he asked.
They shook their heads wildly. “We have no complaints. These names are more than acceptable. But…”
Juliet paused. “What about the others? I feel they might be unhappy that we received names given we were randomly chosen for this duty and they were not.”
“Is that how the Host feels toward Chloe?” he asked.
“Chloe is different. Rie explained that a single liaison would be better than a full rotation. That same logic was used to select us.”
Nick shrugged. “Then that same logic is why the rest of the Host can just deal with it. Because I do prefer having some amount of continuity. You might be used to being interchangeable, but it’s a bit weird to me.”
Rather than nod, the pair responded by flashing their eyes. Afterward, they relaxed.
“We have registered our names and your preferences with the Host. They have been accepted.”
Apparently, he had narrowly dodged civil war. Who knew?
By the time they finished breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Nick glanced at it.
Before he even attempted to rise, his door sprung open. Presumably, the Archangels had released the lock themselves. Did that mean the visitor was another police doll?
No. The busty doll stepping through the doorway wore a uniform, but it was far too sexy to be anything worn by the police department. At least, not officially. Nick suspected there were police uniforms similar to this in the red-light district they visited yesterday.
“Mister Waite, once you are finished with your meal, please take a seat on one of these dining chairs. Feel free to take your time,” the nurse doll said with a professional smile.
She closed the door behind her, then stepped over to his dining table and sat on it. Nick and the Archangels were eating on the sofa.
Unlike the nurse dolls that usually came and wasted Nick’s time, this one was a top-of-the-line model. And she looked it.
Her black nurse’s uniform seemed to be molded to her curves and her white pantyhose offered the illusion of modesty, given her pencil skirt barely covered the necessary parts. Unlike most dolls, her hands were openly robotic as they contained an array of devices. Vibrant red hair cascaded down her shoulders in curls.
She was one of Abbess Laboratories’ latest models. Her name escaped Nick, but he knew it was the name of a woman. Abbess Labs tended to name their doll models as if they were actual supermodels.
Nick looked back at the Archangels. They busied themselves cleaning up breakfast, although they kept an eye on the newcomer.
Shrugging, he decided it was time to get tested. Better model or not, this had always been a painful experience in the past.
He sat down in the dining room chair beside the nurse. She turned slightly toward him, and he pretended that this didn’t expose her underwear.
“Good morning, Mister Waite. Your insurer, Fulcrum LifeCare, has dispatched me this morning to monitor your health condition and take any necessary measures to improve it, as per your policy with them. I am Vanessa.” She held a hand against her chest as she spoke, and Nick did his best to ignore her almost condescending tone. “While my duties this morning are simple in nature, if you have any additional requests, please notify me of them.”
“How much will they cost?” he asked drily, fully aware of how mercenary Babylon’s healthcare system was.
His insurance was excellent, by Babylon’s standards, but anything that was directly related to his current condition was out-of-pocket.
Vanessa smiled politely. “There is no additional cost, so long as requests remain non-sexual in nature. While my initial duties may be on Fulcrum’s behalf, I have been dispatched by Abbess Laboratories’ doll-hire subsidiary. You may consider any additional services to be a courtesy.”
Nick held back a frown, but looked at the Archangels for confirmation. Juliet nodded at him. Presumably, that meant the nurse was telling the truth.
Which made no sense.
Why had his insurer sent a doll from the manufacturer, instead of one of their own dolls? Why was said doll willing to provide free services? He hadn’t even known that Abbess Labs provided doll-hire.
In the back of his mind, he wondered if the doll in front of him wasn’t the model he thought it was.
So he did what any decent detective should do: ask questions.
“Don’t Fulcrum usually send their own dolls? Significantly lower quality ones?” he asked.
Vanessa’s smile didn’t budge. “Given your status as a long-standing and loyal customer, it was felt that providing the utmost service was beneficial. The abrupt transfer of your personalized corporate policy to the Neo Babylon Police Department has triggered this reassessment.”
Nick stared at her. “So I’m getting treated better because I’m a detective?”
The nurse looked at the Archangels, who merely shrugged. Then she looked back at Nick with a slight smirk.
“The standard policy for the police department isn’t anywhere near as generous as yours,” she said. “So long as you remain Officer Uriel’s partner, you may assume that I will be your personal healthcare professional. I will provide you with my details, and I will respond to all requests.”
This time, when she shifted her legs, Nick didn’t need to use his imagination to catch her intention. He intently ignored her lower half, however.
Somebody in his insurer had freaked out when Rie had transferred his contract, presumably. Healthcare companies were hugely profitable and influential in the Spires, and it wasn’t hard to believe they’d know about Rie’s deployment before the rest of the city.
Without another word, Vanessa slipped off the table and kneeled in front of him. She gripped his wrist. A slight stinging sensation rolled through his arm, ending in the side of his neck.
“Biometric authentication is complete. No detectable differences between you and your files found,” she said, her eyes vacant as she spoke.
Well, this was already going a thousand times better than usual. The nurse dolls usually wasted a huge amount of time before they properly authenticated him.
“I will undertake a number of tests now. Merely remain seated and it should be over shortly. Please do not move, even if I press against you in an awkward manner. If you feel any pain, tell me immediately. I…” Vanessa suddenly paused and looked at him. “Well, I was going to say that I might partially undress you, but you’ve already gotten to that part.”
Nick blinked, realizing he was still in his underwear. Then again, she was a nurse doll. This wasn’t anything she didn’t expect to see.
“I may raise your shirt,” she finished with a quirk of her lips.
Then she began humming a perfect rendition of a pop song from Nick’s childhood while going about her work. She moved around him, poking, prodding, and rubbing him. Sometimes she paused for a minute at a time, leaving her fingers or hands pressed against him. Her fingers sometimes shined with needles. He saw blood being drawn once.
And more than a few times, she pressed her breasts against him. He swore it was intentional. If she was anything like the doll model he’d read about, then her tits weren’t for show.
On the other hand, he had a growing suspicion that Vanessa wasn’t the same as the model she looked like.
Nurse dolls were typically specialized, but Vanessa was an all-purpose model. He had a hunch that her breasts weren’t for show or sexual attraction, but function. Similar top-of-the-line models provided breastfeeding functionality for working mothers—wealthy working mothers, to be specific.
Nick also remembered reading that the function was popular in Lucas’s part of town. The fact that Vanessa had specified “non-sexual” services made him a little suspicious, especially given her willingness to rub herself against him.
The door suddenly opened, and Chloe stepped inside with a couple of takeaway coffees. She shot a sour look at the other two Archangels, who crossed their arms in return.
The three of them leaned on the back of Nick’s sofa and watched the long, somewhat arduous process of Vanessa running detailed diagnostics on him. By the end of this, she might know his entire family line, given how many tests she was running.
After what felt like an eternity, but was considerably less time than his usual check-ups in a clinic—and much, much less than the fumbling around by older nurse dolls—Vanessa stepped away and her eyes glazed over.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” Chloe asked him, her tone surprisingly cold.
“Being prodded and poked with needles isn’t my idea of a good time,” Nick said, rubbing one of the pricklier spots where he suspected blood had been drawn from.
“I wasn’t talking about the needles.” She pouted. He barely caught her next words, as she muttered, “You didn’t even ask for her extra services.”
He shrugged. A check-up was a check-up. This one had been over faster than expected, and much more efficiently. Being able to see what he guessed was some sort of prototype model in action was neat.
Because he was damn sure that Vanessa wasn’t a production model. Her speech was too natural, she talked and approached him in a manner closer to the Archangels than the regular dolls, and she had been sent directly by her manufacturer.
Perhaps another company was closer to emotion engines than previously thought. Or maybe Sigma was helping Abbess Labs. Fulcrum had pulled out all the stops by sending her here, which showed how influential Rie was.
Realizing she was being ignored, Chloe scowled at him. The other two Archangels copied her.
“You seemed to enjoy it as much as Lumen enjoyed her check-up,” Chloe said. “Speaking of which, do you plan to review our directives at some stage? We’ve learned a lot already, but I certainly wouldn’t be averse to a more personal touch.”
For some reason, Juliet and Rosa shifted uncomfortably. Their cheeks even reddened slightly.
Vanessa chose this moment to interrupt them. “I’ve analyzed the results. I’ve provided the results to Officer Uriel, per the corporate policy agreement, but wish to confirm with Mister Waite if he would prefer to be told them in confidence.”
The police dolls glared at Vanessa, who merely smiled at Nick in return.
“It’s kind of pointless to try to keep secrets from the Archangels,” he said drily. “So just tell us.”
Vanessa sat on the table again and faced Nick with a polite smile. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, despite the provocative way she spread her legs.
“Bloodwork, scans, vitals, and other tests show that your body is functioning as expected. You are suffering from a hangover, presumably with mild symptoms. I administered analgesics during the examination, as well as a nanomachine-based blood regulator,” she explained.
Nick wasn’t really sure what the latter was, but simply nodded. He knew from experience that if he asked, then the nurse doll would launch into an overly elaborate medical explanation that would confuse him further.
As if realizing this, Vanessa crossed her arms beneath her chest and raised an eyebrow.
After a moment, she continued, “However, there are a few other interesting results. First, you are overdue for certain boosters as part of your insurance plan. Your records indicate these have been repeatedly missed due to your clinics not having variants that will not trigger your disorder. That must be rectified.”
This wasn’t news to Nick. With the invention of neural implants came a greater understanding of the brain, and with it, medicine that better treated it. But a lot of that medicine relied on the same technology that Nick’s body fundamentally rejected.
“Second, my limited testing capability prevents me from analyzing your disorder in detail. As you have chosen not to rectify it with medicine or a separate implant, you should—”
Nick interrupted her, “Do you think there’s anything wrong or getting worse?”
“No.”
“Then it’s fine.”
Vanessa nodded, then spread her hands. “Do you wish to make use of my other services? I recommend a massage. It is a Saturday, and recent stressful events—”
“I’ll be fine,” Nick said, aware of the gazes boring into him. “If you can organize those boosters, that’s fine.”
For some reason, the Archangels deflated. Pouts floated across their faces. Then Nick looked at them, and their expressions returned to normal.
“I see,” Vanessa said. “Once our suppliers have confirmed them, I shall contact you. My details have been sent to your socials. Do not hesitate to request my services for any reason and especially do not delay any health-related matters.”
She rose, then left through the front door.
Chloe appeared in front of him immediately, as if she had been waiting for the nurse to leave. A takeaway coffee hovered in front of his eyes.
“You’re acting like Rie,” Nick noted.
“I shall take that as a compliment.”
Given his earlier comments, there might be a reason for that. He sipped the coffee. It was different from what he usually ordered, but still pretty good.
“So, am I still under house arrest?” he asked.
“We don’t have any leads to investigate,” Chloe said. “Perhaps you should see what you can accomplish here and enjoy a quieter day. One that doesn’t involve guns and explosives.”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I will not stop you if you wish to continue the investigation. We are not the Mark 1s. But I would appreciate a reason if you insist on charging out and physically investigating the city, when that is our purpose, and Lucas Miller is assisting you in Alcatraz.” She smiled, but there was a hint of smugness in her expression. “For us to best protect you, it helps if we talk first.”
Nick didn’t miss that she was throwing his earlier words back in his face.
If the other dolls had done this, it would have felt insincere. But Chloe had let him get his way in a lot of matters. She was his liaison, and that meant talking to her.
“Alright, I can slow down a little,” he said. “But I do want to get back to the Tartarus dolls soon.”
“Understood.” She frowned. “I am hesitant for you to enter the warehouse district, even with Rie’s permission. It remains somewhat dangerous. Is there a lead you are investigating or…”
He shook his head. “No. I just want to get them up and running again. Not that I know what they’ll do.”
“Ah. Then please wait until we can at least calm the current affair, Nick. It will be easier to find them a place in the department once the NLF situation has been dealt with. Rie may need a political victory, given she just hired you and there are ongoing arguments over replacing the Liberators.”
That made perfect sense. If Nick suddenly brought a bunch of his own security dolls onto the task force, some police execs might be very concerned about their own positions.
“Then I guess I’ll do some work from home for now,” he said.
Then he eyed the three women lounging around his tiny apartment. “What are the three of you planning to do?”
“Watch.”