Silicon Dawn (Silicon Series Book 0)

by William Massa

  Adam knew Synthetika saw the incident as a way to showcase his abilities and prove the viability of the new line to the world. There were a number of vocal critics among the various law enforcement agencies who questioned the wisdom of introducing X-3000s into the force. Synthetika hoped to prove them wrong.

  With panther-like grace, Adam sprinted toward the large skylight at the center of the roof. He’d left his trench coat and hat back at the command center and the electronics visible in the back of his neck sparkled in the sunlight. Leaning over the skylight, he activated his sensors. With rapid-fire speed and precision, his enhanced vision zoomed in, magnifying the hostage scenario below. Seven terrorists jumped into view, and Silas’ voice grew audible. “... This time our message will be heard loud and clear...”

  Adam activated his thermo-optic camouflage again, becoming one with his surroundings.

  Below on the factory floor, Silas scanned his watch and nodded at his men.

  One of the armed terrorists strode up to the huddled, terrified hostages. The muzzle of his machine gun hovered menacingly before their faces. The terrorist was about to select his next victim when a pneumatic groan reverberated through the mech plant. Almost immediately, the line of mechs hanging from the ceiling began to move.

  Paranoia slashed across Silas’ features. “What’s going on?” Before his men could respond, the air rippled and Adam materialized out of nowhere, pistol blazing.

  Kneecaps shattered, arms exploded.

  Each bullet hit its target in a mist of red.

  Each bullet disabled a terrorist without killing them.

  Within seconds, the gunfire died down. Silas was now surrounded by a ring of fallen, moaning men. He swiveled his machine pistol and fired at the horrified hostages.

  Bullets pinged and ricochetted over Adam’s form as he stepped into the hail of lead. Each time a bullet slammed into his armored body, he grew visible for a split second.

  Barrel still smoking, Silas snapped a fresh magazine into his machine pistol.

  I have to draw his attention away from the hostages, Adam thought and turned invisible again.

  An eerie silence descended over the factory.

  Silas’ eyes ticked back and forth with nervous energy, searching the factory floors. Panicky, he snatched one of the hostages. “You better fucking show yourself...”

  A sound to his right.

  Silas spun and sprayed the wall, chopping mortar.

  The smoke cleared. Nothing.

  His head pivoted just as reality warped behind him. Adam's outline grew visible, gun up. He drilled a bullet into Silas’ arm and the terrorist dropped the gun with a scream.

  As an X-3000, Adam was permitted to use lethal force but only as a last resort. Three more camouflaged punches followed, his outline popping into visibility each time a blow connected. A final, devastating kick sent Silas sprawling.

  With a renewed sizzle of electricity, Adam etched back into reality. He studied the mech factory, now carpeted with groaning terrorists and activated his comlink: “Crime scene has been neutralized.”

  The hostages gawked at Adam as his internal sensors ran a quick self-diagnostic. He’d been hit by a number of Silas’ bullets, but the damage appeared to be only cosmetic.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Adam asked.

  The factory workers shook their heads one by one, still in shock.

  Footsteps grew audible outside the mech plant. A steel door was pulled back with a clang. Armored cops spilled into the mech factory, the overhead lights glittering over helmets. Neeson was among them and approached with quick strides. His helmet’s visor slid back, his brows creased with concern. “You all right?” he asked.

  Adam nodded.

  Malveaux joined them, gun in hand. She was taking in the wounded terrorists and the grateful hostages and let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Not bad...”

  Her words broke off. She must’ve spotted the flashing electronics in the back of his neck and the pulsating circuitry poking from his bloody shoulder wound. “Jesus. You're a mech!”

  Her voice echoed in the vast factory hall, drawing everyone’s attention—the officers, the hostages, even the downed terrorists. Everyone was staring at Adam now, faces mirroring Malveaux’s surprise.

  Adam evenly regarded her. “Please don't call me that, Inspector Malveaux. I have a name.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ADAM RESTED ON a sleek operating table inside the crime lab of the San Francisco Police Department. Cyberneticists and X-2000 medical assistant mechs were fixing the surface damage Adam had sustained during the hostage rescue.

  Malveaux and Neeson fronted an observation window that overlooked the room and followed Adam’s surgery in silence. They had both traded assault combat gear for plain clothes. Malveaux was outfitted in a brown leather jacket and a pair of black slacks, while Neeson wore a rumpled suit and a loose tie, his idea of balancing formal with casual.

  Malveaux still couldn’t believe it. She’d mistaken a mech for a human, and a part of her was gripped by a twinge of unease. Scientists had discussed the problem of the uncanny valley—and their efforts to bridge it—for decades. They postulated that when artificial features moved almost, but not exactly, like humans, the sight could trigger revulsion and discomfort in some people. For years cyberneticists had tried to perfect a mech that could pass as human. Adam signaled they’d successfully overcome this final hurdle. The next milestone in mech evolution had been reached. “You never mentioned that you worked with a robot back on Luna,” she said.

  “Maybe I didn’t think it mattered. Adam isn’t like other androids.”

  “I noticed. He wears a suit and can shoot people. I feel safer already.”

  Neeson had to grin despite himself.

  A door hissed open and Captain Ron Sadao joined them in the observation room. The man was Japanese-American, still trim and athletic at fifty-five, and wore a jet-black military style uniform. He was all business as he regarded them for a beat. “I see you’ve met our latest addition to the force.”

  “So we’re going to be working with X-3s now?” Malveaux said.

  “The colonies have been field-testing Adam for the last year,” Sadao explained. “Adam is the most advanced model in operation.”

  “There’s no comparison with the X-2000 series,” Neeson added. “His outstanding arrest record on the colonies speaks for itself.”

  “Hate to break this to you, gentlemen, but how do you think the fanatics downstairs will react when they realize X-3s are working law enforcement? They’re already blowing up Synthetika factories as it is.”

  “Change is never easy,” Sadao said. “I expect you and Neeson to show Adam around. Get him acclimated.”

  Great, thought Malveaux. Playing tour guide for a mech.

  “Dispatch just called in a homicide in Sector Five. Sounds like the perfect place to get started.”

  With these words, Sadao left the observation chamber. Once again Malveaux’s attention turned toward the mech in the operating room. Adam had just finished buttoning up his shirt and rose from the table. For one second, the android seemed to stare right back at her, almost as if he sensed he was being observed. Who was she kidding? He probably could see through the glass. She reminded herself that those weren’t eyes but sophisticated sensors, a soulless machine hiding behind the mask of a man.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ADAM JOINED MALVEAUX and Neeson as they headed for the elevators that would take them to the department’s underground motor pool. Malveaux’s guard went up, her easygoing conversation with Neeson becoming forced and self-conscious.

  How can Neeson be so relaxed around this robot?

  They stepped into the lift, the doors zooming shut behind them. Neeson smiled warmly at Adam. “Hell of a job you did back at the factory.”

  “Thank you, Inspector Neeson. I do my best.”

  “Looks like they fixed you up pretty good.”

  “The damage was minimal.”

  �
��So you're bulletproof too?” Malveaux was being snarky, but it was tempered by genuine curiosity.

  “Not exactly. My endoskeleton is made of titanium with a Kevlar lining. Certain calibers can damage me. A direct hit to the head would undoubtedly destroy my personality matrix.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if you start to malfuction.”

  The elevator doors split open, and Malveaux was the first to step out. She immediately made a go for her coupe. The door scissored open and she slipped behind the wheel. Neeson opted for the passenger seat and Adam got in the back.

  “Ignition.”

  The coupe hummed to life. Moments later, they were on their way, hurtling down city streets slick with new rainfall and awash in bleeding neon. For a long stretch of time, the only sound in the car was the swish-swish of the windshield wipers battling the elements. Splotches of red-blue lights bled from the oversized, omnipresent electronic holo-billboards.

  The respectable section of the city soon gave way to more-run down and desolate areas as they headed further north. Homeless people camped out in small tents along garbage-strewn sidewalks. There was no need to double-check the address as a large tenement jumped into view. Police officers in full combat regalia guarded the crumbling structure. An angry mob had gathered around the cops and hard faces eyed the officers with raw emotion. These desperate souls shared little love for the men in blue.

  Or mechs, for that matter.

  Malveaux took in the hate graffiti which scarred the neglected twentieth century buildings: MECHS STEAL JOBS, SUCK LIVES. It provided a glimpse into the minds of the local population.

  Bringing a mech along probably wasn’t such a hot idea, she thought.

  They got out of the vehicle and headed for the oppressive structure. They’d almost reached the front entrance when a bottle flew at them from the crowd. It exploded against the wall next to Adam’s head. A snarl erupted from the throng.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Tin Man!”

  Sometimes Malveaux hated to be right. She understood the underlying rage fueling the harsh words. People were fed up. Androids had flooded the workforce and changed the world they lived in. In the beginning mechs had been a godsend, filling much needed positions left vacant by the Omega Virus. As their numbers kept rising, though, their growing presence began to feel like an invasion by a new species.

  Ignoring the stares from the crowd, they stepped into the building and continued down a series of barren, ill-maintained hallways. Nosy neighbors poked from doors, their suspicion palpable.

  The trio reached a contingent of cops clustered in front of the victim's apartment. One officer was talking to a middle-aged man who was shooting daggers at the invaders in blue. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you? I didn’t see shit.” The man stopped, having spotted Adam. His snarl deepened. “What the fuck is a mech doing here?”

  Neeson turned toward the man, his voice icy. “This mech is a police officer. So watch your mouth.”

  The man grew livid. “Fucking mechs! Those goddamn machines stole my job!”

  One of the officers shoved the angry man back, allowing Adam, Malveaux and Neeson to explore the crime scene.

  Guess I'm not the only one who's narrow-minded, Malveaux thought.

  “What have we got here?” Neeson asked one of the officers.Adam scanned the apartment number on the door. “The resident's name is Daniel Gold, age thirty-nine.” There was a moment of hesitation before he added, “He was formerly employed by Synthetika as a cyberneticist.”

  “What’s a cyberneticist doing in a dump like this?” Malveaux said.

  “He’s been unemployed for over a year,” Adam explained. “According to his data profile, he suffered from substance abuse problems.”

  He’s been here less than a day and already has everyone in this city on file, Malveaux thought.

  They passed through the unit’s open doorway and stepped into a penthouse suite with all the trimmings. The change from the rundown hallway was jarring. Snow-white leather couches faced a spectacular, sun-drenched view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Malveaux intellectually knew it was an illusion conjured by a virtual home-enhancement unit, but it still took her breath away. Holo-generators didn’t come cheap. Probably one of the victim’s old toys from before he lost his lucrative Synthetika gig.

  Malveaux choked on a heavy whiff of decomposition as she approached the naked body strung up from one of the ceiling’s light fixtures. Steel wire was wrapped around both hands, legs dangling a good foot off the floor. About two dozen cuts marked the blood-drenched body. Some tiny, some larger. Ears, nose, and lips were missing, the face reduced to a gory, unrecognizable mess. There was no blood anywhere in the apartment, all forensic traces of the murder obscured by the holographic system. The skin’s bluish, bloated appearance suggested the man had rotted away in his home for weeks.

  Their surroundings changed, and the penthouse was replaced with an old-style country house. Only the corpse dangling from the ceiling served as a reminder that they were still in the same apartment. Neeson took note of the transformation with interest. “The home enhancement program was set on a continuous loop.”

  “Pretty amazing how people use technology to live a lie,” Malveaux commented.

  “Sometimes they don’t have a choice,” Adam said.

  The android’s insight surprised Malveaux.

  The environment transformed again. For a split second, the real apartment stood revealed as a shabby, rundown dump. And there was something unusual on the wall. Before she could fully process the sight, the surroundings changed again, transmuting into an airy pad with a view of the beach. Seagulls sailed past the window, and Malveaux could almost hear their squalls in her mind. The audio portion of the holo-generator had either not been turned on or was broken.

  “Did you see that?” Malveaux asked Neeson.

  “See what?”

  “A second ago. There’s something on the apartment’s wall.”

  She stepped up to a black box next to the door. Tiny lights blinked furiously on the surface of the holo-generator.

  “Have you guys tried turning this thing off?”

  Almost as if to mock her, the illusion rippled and shimmered, the unit turning into a Mediterranean-style mansion.

  “We tried but the killer must’ve hacked the system,” one of the cops explained sheepishly.

  “I could help with that,” Adam offered.

  Malveaux hesitated but stepped aside, giving Adam full access to the holo-generator. The android cop faced the black box and wirelessly interfaced with the device.

  Seconds later, the holo-environment distorted and shattered. Reality took over: shabby, gray, drab. At the same time, the cops on the scene froze, realizing that the homicide detective was a mech.

  They studied Malveaux, searching for an explanation, but she was too distracted to bring them up to speed. Her full attention riveted on a series of letters scrawled on the wall. The scraggly message read, “Man is God’s highest present development.” Judging from the dark color of the message, it was written in the victim’s blood.

  Studying the cryptic words, Malveaux didn’t quite know what to make of it. “What do you think?” she asked Neeson. Her partner shrugged. He was as confounded by all this as she was.

  Adam walked up to the victim. The awed yet weary expressions of cops in the apartment trailed him. “A mech shouldn't be handling the body,” one of them said.

  “Don’t worry, I won't contaminate the crime scene. I don't leave fingerprints.”

  Was the mech trying to be funny? Malveaux wondered.

  Adam touched the body, analyzing the cuts. Malveaux assumed built-in sensors were scouring the scene for forensic evidence invisible to the naked eye. A walking, talking crime lab.

  “Find anything?” Neeson asked.

  “No. All the prints here belong to the victim. Based on the degree of lividity, this man has been dead for about a month. The body shows a total of a twen
ty-nine incisions. The killer was familiar with anatomy. He started with the fleshy parts—thighs, calves, chest—working his way to the face.”

  Adam nodded at one of the larger cuts, which seemed to have been burned at the edges. “A number of the wounds were cauterized to prevent excessive blood loss.”

  “He didn't want the guy to bleed out before he was done,” Malveaux said grimly. “The bastard was torturing him.”

  “There’s something else.” Adam pointed at the dead man’s eyes, which were rimmed with gore. “Those aren’t his eyes.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Adam leaned closer and carefully extricated one of the eyeballs. Holding it up, its robotic nature became apparent. “These belonged to an X-2000 model.”

  “You’re saying the killer took his eyes and replaced them with those of a mech?” Neeson said.

  “Correct.”

  “A symbolic act of some kind,” Malveaux speculated.

  Neeson frowned. “Symbolic of what?”

  No one laid forth a theory, still thrown by this latest revelation.

  Adam zeroed in on the wall-sized media center. From the top of the screen, a small camera pointed at the body. Shimmering holo-video filled the apartment as Adam wirelessly activated the media center.

  In the holo-video, the dead man was still alive, a ghost back from the dead, his face quivering with agonizing pain. One gloved hand held his head in place, forcing him to stare up at the camera as he was being methodically sliced apart. The sound of steel scraping against flesh made Malveaux’s stomach turn. A part of her felt like reaching out to the lifelike 3-D footage, almost as if she could still save the man.

  “The killer made him watch his own murder,” Adam said.

  “The bastard didn’t want him to miss a thing,” Malveaux added, her voice a brittle whisper.

  Onscreen, the man continued to beg for his life: ”Oh God…please, help me…”

  Judging by the mutilated corpse, God had remained deaf to his desperate pleas.