Skyway Angel

by James K. Douglas

  “Go potty, Winkie,” came the sweet tones of a young woman. “Go poopie.” The voice was only slightly familiar.

  In the northeast quadrant of the circular apartment, a spot that had been bare was now an oval plot of grass. The area was large enough and plush enough that I could comfortably use it as a bed, but considering what the dog was doing in it, that was certainly never going to happen. When the furry little boy was finished with his business, he happily trotted off of the grassy area and shook himself vigorously from nose to tail.

  April watched over the creature, the back of her robot toward us. “Good boy,” came the woman’s voice again. “Good boy!” Her brushing arms deployed to groom Wink as she turned to greet us.

  What faced us was not the tall redhead I had come to know as April, but rather the slightly shorter image of Angela Vidales. Straight black hair trailed down over shoulders carrying the Marshall Engineering label. A model perfect smile spread across her face at the sight of us, gently touching her light brown eyes. The hologram was so realistic that, for just a second, I thought the victim that had sparked our investigation was still alive.

  “Oh,” she said, her form shifting from Angela back to April in a flash, “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

  The grassy area lowered down into the floor, a panel sliding over it to turn it back into flat hardwood.

  “You can change the way you look?” I asked.

  “Angela approved it. She occasionally had to take out of town trips, but Wink has trouble going to the bathroom without her, so she came up with this method of assisting him.” Her green eyes shifted toward the floor. “I suppose I’ll have to make a recording or something, so his new owner won’t have too much trouble.” She made the sound of clearing her throat as her eyes came back to us. “Did the police give you any trouble on the way up?”

  “We didn't see any cops. Are they still around?”

  “They’re still patrolling the building, despite the fact that they’ve already ruled Angela's death a suicide. They’re claiming she was depressed. Such nonsense.” She huffed. “I’m glad you didn’t get stopped.”

  I noticed the few bits of glass next to the broken window had been cleaned up. “Have the police been back to the apartment?”

  “No. I’ve been monitoring them with the security cameras and watching the news feeds.”

  “That stuff will rot your electric brain,” I joked.

  Cassdan pulled up his sleeve and tapped on his wrist computer. “April,” he said, “I’m sending you an image of a cop I scanned. I need to know if you’ve seen him before. Has he been in the building? Was he one of the officers that checked the apartment this morning?”

  April adjusted her glasses and made a face like she was looking at something in the middle distance. “No,” she said after a moment. “I’ve never seen him before, but all of the officers in the building were wearing full face helmets.”

  “He never came over before? The guy seems to be under the impression that he was in some sort of relationship with Angela.”

  “I’ve never seen him. As I said before, Angela didn’t date much. In fact, she never had any men over alone at all.”

  “Men?” I asked. “What about women?”

  “There was a woman she had over occasionally, but Angela always engaged privacy mode when she was over.”

  “So, you never socialized with this woman?”

  “Never. Thanks to the privacy mode settings, I have no recollection of the woman’s appearance or her voice.”

  “How do you know it was a woman, then?”

  “Privacy mode allows me to retain minimum awareness of the environment, in case an emergency occurred while it was engaged.”

  “That makes sense,” I said, mostly to myself.

  “Also, I should inform you that I’ve been reviewing my memories and found something unusual.”

  “Unusual how?”

  “There’s a blurry spot in one of my memories, like a blind spot. The more I try to look directly at it, the more invisible it is. It’s very strange. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”

  I turned to Cassdan. “Could that be the Zombie Queen’s work?”

  He nodded. “Sounds like a chain reaction erasure.”

  “What are you talking about, Cass?” April asked.

  Cassdan sighed. “April, that hacker that came after you, it was a mercenary that goes by the name Zombie Queen. She’s good, very good, and you didn’t stop her. She got inside your mind, deleted the evidence she came for, and erased all trace of ever being there.”

  April covered her parted lips with the tips of her fingers. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault. Angela must have gotten some pretty incriminating evidence against Ultramarine and given it to you for safekeeping. The hacker they sent after you was the best there is. She got in, collected the evidence, and wiped any trace of anything connected to it or her.”

  “Which means whoever is sitting in your blind spot must be connected to the evidence somehow,” I added. “What exactly can you recall from that memory?”

  “I have no memory of him coming or going. There’s a gap in the recordings from the hallway cameras where he should have been. On that night, I remember having a conversation with Angela after her dinner. As we spoke, I gathered that something seemed to be worrying her. I was about to bring it up when we were interrupted by a chime at the door. She checked who it was with the viewer, and that’s when things start to get blurry.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Just tell us everything you can recall.”

  She clasped her holographic hands. “His voice is garbled in my memory, but definitely male. She started getting agitated with him. She ordered him to leave. He started beating on the door, making threats. I recall them being threats, though I don’t recall what was said. Protocol demands I respond to any threats, so I turned the lights in the hallway red and threatened to call the police. He left after that.”

  “When exactly did this happen?”

  “Two days ago, I think.” Her shoulders went slack. “It’s just so fuzzy.”

  “Sounds like the same night our cop went looking for Angela at the theatre,” I said to Cassdan.

  “It certainly does,” he said, “but it still doesn’t prove he’s the one in the blind spot, or that he was the one that killed her. We need a different angle. Who else might have known her well? Maybe somebody she worked with?”

  In Angela’s career, she would have had to interact with photographers, mainstream journalists, fashion bloggers, and other models, not only in a strictly professional environment, but also at any number of mandatory social events. And yet, with the way April described things, Angela likely wouldn’t have gotten too close to any of them. With Uppers constantly judging her, she likely would have kept her personal business to herself. It was possible that the only Upper who ever knew any intimate details about the woman was the person who measured her for new dresses.

  A thought hit me so suddenly that I tried to snap my bionic fingers. My middle finger only made a dull thud as it impacted the grip pad on my palm.

  “April,” I said, stopping the pacing I had unintentionally begun, “what was Angela wearing when the attack began?”

  She shook her head gently. “Just her usual house clothes, an oversized tee-shirt and pajama pants.”

  “No, I mean, what bionics was she using?”

  “Oh, she was in her ME-Limb Twelve series. Next year’s model. She was required by her contract to use them at all times.”

  “But she didn’t use them all the time, did she? Two different people have told us she kept a set of lower end bionics for going out on the ground level, incognito.”

  “I’m forbidden to talk about that.”

  I released a heavy breath. “April, Angela’s dead. We’re trying to find her killer, and that means we’re going to need your full cooperation. Will you please show us her other set of limbs?�
��

  April gestured a hand toward her right. A panel on the wall popped inward and shifted to the side, revealing a small closet. Inside, a light grew to full brightness, illuminating a tall stool and four shelves. Artificial arms were laid out on the top two shelves, while legs took up the bottom two.

  I picked up one of the arms. Its frame was slim and feminine, the outer panels painted a light red with black pinstripes to highlight the edges. Underneath the panels were hidden strips of multicolored LED lights, a favorite modification for performing artists. These limbs were clearly not name brand, but calling them “lower end” was practically a crime.

  “Find anything useful?” Cassdan asked.

  I carried the arm out to show him. “Maybe,” I said. “Look here.” I held the arm so he could see down into the socket.

  “You’ll have to help me out. I don’t know much about bionics.”

  “Well,” I began, “when a person undergoes amputation, there’s two methods they can choose from. One, the AlterBionics method, is to implant a carbon nanotube chip directly onto the end of the severed nerve cluster, allowing the amputee to interface directly with the bionic limb as if it were their own.”

  “That’s what you’ve got?”

  “Exactly. The other method, myoelectric interface, is the kind Marshall Engineering and most of the Chinese knockoffs use. The severed nerve cluster is separated out and surgically implanted into the nearby muscle tissue. When the brain sends signals to the nerves, it flexes the muscles, creating an electrical signal powerful enough that electrodes sitting on the surface of the skin can read them.” I pointed to the tiny conductive panels inside the arm’s socket. “What remains of the arm sits in here. These electrodes pick up the signals and relay them to the computer inside the arm. With a good enough predictive algorithm the arm moves pretty naturally, almost instinctively.”

  “Predictive algorithms are seriously complex, more like a work of art.”

  “This whole thing is somebody’s work of art. The titanium bone implant locks into that hole at the bottom but it’s the socket that relays the signals. A loose fit means signal gets lost and the arm doesn’t work right. Too tight, and it’s uncomfortable to use.”

  “And?”

  I shifted it so the light reflected off of the smooth inner wall of the socket. “You see how that interior looks almost random, raised in some areas and rounded out in others? It’s not actually random. This thing is precise, custom made for a single user.” I made eye contact to emphasize my point. “She had a tailor.”

  He breathed a curse. “That means we have yet another person that knew about her little ground level excursions.”

  I gently lifted the padded edge of the socket away from its housing, mindful not to damage the electrical connections. I had worked my way halfway around the rim before I found what I was looking for. Letters printed directly into the plastic of the socket spelled out a name, MacMillan, and an address.

  “Bingo,” I said, showing it to him. “The tailor signed their work.”

  Cassdan took two seconds to type the information into his computer, and said, “Let’s get moving.”

  “Cass?” April called after us as we moved toward the door.

  “We’ll be back soon,” he said.

  “Cassdan!” she shouted. I had no idea if April actually had anything like human emotions built into her programming, but the tone in her voice certainly sounded like fear, and panic.

  Unfortunately, I had already pressed the button to exit by the time I realized something was wrong.

  Chapter 11

  Four black figures loomed on the other side of the door, the word “POLICE” written in white letters down their arms and across their chests. ME-Slim armor was designed to increase strength and defense without limiting mobility, but even knowing that I was still impressed with how fast the lead officer moved.

  He took one long stride inside the door and grabbed me by the collar of my vest. I was off my feet before I could react, wind rushing past my ears. I grabbed for the officer, but as he released me the distance between us expanded quickly.

  The arm of a couch interrupted my flight, knocking the breath out of me as I bent backward over it. My momentum wasn’t strong enough to carry me over the padded armrest, into a soft landing on the couch. Instead, my shoulders and head whipped back the way I had come, slamming me onto the floor. I managed to get my arms in front of me enough to prevent a brain injury, but the lack of oxygen and the sudden blood rush to my head blurred my vision. My ears still worked well enough to hear Wink scramble to the nearest couch he could find.

  “You Lowers are violating a crime scene,” came the robotic voice of the officer that threw me.

  I blinked my eyes to clear them as he stepped closer. Cassdan took the smart move, staying back, trying to avoid the conflict. Smart wasn’t always my first choice.

  “That’s profiling,” I coughed out. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the law.”

  He squatted in front of me, arms resting on his knees as an expressionless mask looked down on me. “What’s your point?”

  The other officers, all wearing the new power armor, moved into the room. Cassdan took two more steps back as one of the officers drew a pistol from its holster and took aim. I started running scenarios through my mind. None of them added up to me collecting my paycheck.

  “Officers.” April’s voice was calm and firm. “This is not a crime scene. The former resident’s death has been ruled a suicide. You have no right to be here.”

  She moved her holographic avatar in front of Cassdan. The thin sheet of reflective plastic wouldn’t provide him much physical protection, but it still operated as a deterrent. Hologram or not, she looked like she belonged up here.

  The barrel of the gun lowered slightly, as the officer asked, “Is this some kind of porno bot?”

  “I am the Apartment’s Robotic Intelligence Liaison, legally employed as the building’s manager.”

  “You’re the building manager?” scoffed the officer hovering over me as he stood to face her.

  “That’s correct, and in the course of doing my job I possess the full authority of the owner of the property, Dr. Alexander Marshall. Since you have illegally entered a private residence, I now have the authority to call in corporate security forces.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of probable cause?” I could hear the smile in the officer’s voice. “We were doing a routine patrol and saw these unsavory types walking out of what should have been a vacant apartment. Naturally, we were concerned they were looters, or worse. We’re well within the law, robot, and with one of Ms. Vidales’s eyes unaccounted for, anybody could be running around up here.” He made a pointed look back at me. “Maybe even terrorists.”

  “I can assure you there is no evidence of a crime here, and if there were I would contact authorities immediately. Your badge numbers have all been recorded, should I need to contact you for further assistance.”

  The thinly veiled threat seemed to hit its mark. Two of the officers looked toward the one closest to me for their next move. The third slipped the pistol back into its holster. The apparent leader continued regarding April for a moment. Through the mask I couldn’t make out what he might have been thinking.

  After a moment, the lead officer gave a quick hand gesture to the others. They made their way to the door as he gave the apartment a quick glance around. I didn’t get off the floor until they were all safely outside.

  “They’re in the elevator,” April said, “heading back to the Skyway lobby. I think they may finally be leaving.”

  “There’s a missing eye?” I asked, finally regaining my feet and rubbing my back.

  “That hasn’t been in any of the newsfeeds,” Cassdan said.

  “Is there any way to track that?”

  “Maybe,” he said, drawing back his sleeve. “I have a spy code implanted into the Skyway’s peripheral systems. I can have it send me an alert if anyone uses the eye to gain acc
ess.”

  “That’ll be enough,” I said. “I doubt any usable organs could have been extracted from the mess I saw.” I turned my attention to April. “Were you bluffing?”

  “Not exactly,” she responded with a smile. “A building manager does carry the same legal authority as the property owner when the property owner isn’t present. And, I have been given the position of the building’s manager.” She sighed. “But, I’m not legally a person. I have no actual rights or legal authority at all, and if I tried to call in Marshall Engineering’s security team, I’d probably be on hold for two days.”

  “Jeez. You’d think they care more about the tenants here. Most of them work for Marshall.”

  “Oh, if any of the tenants called, they’d be right over. They don’t treat me with the same respect.”

  I could feel my mouth twist up in a sour expression. “From what I’ve seen, maybe that needs to change.”

  “I don’t think equal rights for A.I. will be happening any time soon.”

  “I don’t know why. You certainly seem smarter than half the people I know.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  She had basically just called herself dumb, and been so matter of fact about it. April certainly wasn’t the first woman I had met that undervalued herself, but self-deprecation rarely sounded so logical.

  “That seems a bit harsh,” I said.

  “It’s a fact,” she said, with no room for argument. “A.I. will never catch up with human processing capacity. My processor extends the full height of this building, and yet it can only do a fraction of what the average human mind can do.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cassdan spoke up to explain. “Algorithmic intelligence is very capable and able to adapt to most situations, but the flaw is in the core of computing itself, binary code. Everything is a one or a zero.” He started gesturing as he spoke, pointing toward his own head. “Organic brains aren’t so limited. Our processing isn’t a this or a that, but rather... a wide spectrum of maybes.” His hands moved in circles as he attempted to come up with the right phrasing. “Every computer, no matter how advanced, still basically thinks in two dimensions, while we think in... orbs.”