Silicon Dawn (Silicon Series Book 0)

by William Massa

  A few minutes into the ride, Malveaux finally spoke. “So, this your first time on Earth?”

  “Yes. I was manufactured on Luna.”

  “Colonists tend to be more tolerant of mechs?”

  “They respect the role we played in the colonization process.”

  “Doesn't mean they all love you, does it?”

  Adam didn’t respond because he knew Malveaux was right.

  “So where did you spend the night?” Malveaux asked.

  “I checked in at the Lincoln.”

  Malveaux cocked an eyebrow. “Wow. You couldn't have picked a lovelier place.”

  “My options were limited.”

  “Mechs aren't good for business?”

  “Unless they're working the factory floors.”

  A new silence reigned between them. This time Adam spoke first. “Inspector, I'm sorry about your loss. I know Neeson was a close friend.”

  The reaction that followed wasn’t exactly what Adam had hoped for.

  “How nice. You come with grief counseling software.”

  Adam paused before he said, “Neeson was my friend too. He treated me like his equal. He was...unique.” Adam looked Malveaux straight in the eye. “I’m not here to take his place.”

  Malveaux studied him for a beat, her thoughts a mystery to him as she made a sharp right and floored the accelerator.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER they pulled into the red zone district. Rows of bars, VR parlors, and nightclubs formed an alley of smut. Being only around noon, the clubs weren’t packed but a small, eager crowd was already gathering outside the larger establishments. There were tourists out for a cheap thrill, trust fund babies hungry for a kick, executives taking long lunch breaks.

  Everywhere Adam turned, he could see men and women hawking their wares, working out deals, cash exchanging hands. The oldest profession known to man with a new twist: The tricks scoping for marks were X-2s, their blank features buried under heavy layers of makeup, mannequins come to life. He knew the pleasure mechs were merely following their programming. Their purpose was to provide sexual gratification, the same way his purpose was to uphold the law. So why did part of him disapprove?

  As Malveaux parked the coupe, Adam wondered why men would want to copulate with machines. It served no biological function. He concluded that these pleasure models were pitching the illusion of humanity, satiating appetites that couldn’t be met elsewhere.

  “What are we doing here?” Adam asked.

  “There aren’t too many options for an unemployed cyberneticist to make a living,” she said.

  “You believe Dr. Gold was maintaining the mech population in one of these clubs?”

  “He was paying the rent somehow. This is the quickest way for a man with his background to make some fast cash.”

  They got out of the vehicle and headed for the largest club on the strip. Malveaux flashed her badge, and the bouncer granted them quick access.

  Inside the club, a world of electric euphoria awaited. A sensory assault of pounding techno, writhing bodies, and pulsating lights. Sweat, skin, and sex defined the dance floor with half-naked pleasure mechs at its vibrating center. All shapes, sexes, and ethnicities were represented—equal opportunity decadence. Humans dressed as robots and robots that could pass for human. Beneath the dance floor, a gigantic aquarium contained mermaid mechs who mirrored the dancing bodies, moving in rhythm to the hammering beats.

  The decor was equally fantastical. Giant holo-screens showed footage captured by space probes: black holes vied with the rings of Saturn and gave way to sweeping pans through asteroid fields. Gutted computers and mosaics of circuit boards tattooed the walls. Mech endoskeletons hugged stone columns in S&M poses. One of the robot skeletons was mounted on a cross. Neeson would have disapproved of this blatant act of blasphemy.

  As they fought their way to the back of the club, hungry looks followed him. To the clubgoers, a human-looking mech must represent the next visceral thrill.

  Picking up on the interest, Malveaux flashed Adam a grin. “You’re a hit.” Adam refused to comment, feeling uncomfortable from all the hungry attention.

  They reached the entrance to the VIP area, where a muscular black albino decided to cop an attitude and deny them access despite the badge. A glimpse at Malveaux’s gun silenced any further protests. The guard glared at them as they advanced into the club’s inner sanctum.

  Smoke wafted around plush couches while the exclusive clientele received private dances from gorgeous pleasure mechs. At the center of the hedonism, one man reigned over this synthetic flesh empire. He was in the midst of receiving a massage from two stunning pleasure mechs. A quick facial scan identified the club owner as Core Monsol. The man had an arrest record a mile long but had managed to operate within the shady area of the law in recent years.

  “Doing your own quality control?” Malveaux inquired with a humorless grin.

  Core studied Malveaux with dead eyes. Years on the street had eroded the man until only a stone-cold predator remained. “And you are?” he asked.

  Malveaux showed Core her badge and said, “We want to ask you a couple of questions. If you cooperate, we’ll be out of this fine establishment in no time.”

  Core waved the two pleasure mechs away and said, “I run a legitimate business. I don't hurt nobody. That's why I use mechs, not real bitches.” He licked his lips, mentally undressing Malveaux.

  “Funny,” Malveaux said. “I thought it was because they can work 24/7 and you don’t have to buy them lunch.”

  ”How can I help you today, Inspector?” Core asked in a flat voice

  Adam opened the palm of his hand, projecting a holo-image of the murdered cyberneticist. Core stared at the shimmering image, more intrigued by Adam than the hologram.

  “You're a mech? Un-fucking-believable. A real beauty, too. Who designed your shell?”

  “Save the art criticism for your girlfriends,” Malveaux interrupted. “Don’t want them to get jealous.”

  “I see they're making you pigs work with mechs now. How long before they replace your sorry asses?”

  “I'm running out of patience here.” She nodded at the hologram. “Does this man look familiar?”

  “No idea,” Core said with defiance.

  Adam stepped right into Core’s face and said, “It would be unfortunate if we had to confiscate all your pleasure models because we suspected illegal modifications.”

  “Most unfortunate,” Malveaux echoed with a cold grin and Adam thought he spotted approval in her eyes.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CORE TURNED OUT to be a dead end. Dr. Gold did odd jobs for the sleaze peddler, but Core had been using him less and less nowadays. Gold’s habit made him a liability and there were plenty of young, starving robotics students out there eager to complement their meager income with freelance work.

  As Malveaux navigated the coupe through the traffic, her wristcomm crackled to life. It was central command. There’d been a second murder. The victim’s name was Dr. Ron Shoji, another cyberneticist, confirming Malveaux’s fears that they might be up against a serial killer. Central fed her GPS system Dr. Shoji’s address, and they were on their way.

  They reached the victim’s home around two o’clock. The sleek mansion was located outside the city, the elegant glass and steel structure surrounded by lush vegetation. Unlike the last crime scene, this felt like the residence of a cyberneticist.

  Interrogating Core had put Malveaux in a sour mood and the media circus that awaited her at the victim’s house did little to lift her spirits. One murder was an obituary, but two dead cyberneticists was a story waiting to go nuclear.

  Malveaux and Adam climbed the staircase that led to the front door, a number of flying newsbots trailing them. The faces of reporters flickered on the drones’ small screens. “Inspector, could we have a few words?”

  Malveaux wordlessly continued walking toward the building, Adam keeping pace beside her. The newsbots
followed them. “Do you believe the murder of cyberneticist Dr. Stephen Shoji is in any way connected to the latest string of anti-mech violence?“

  Malveaux never answered the question. Instead, she vanished inside the building and slammed the door shut behind her.

  “Is this how you always deal with the media?” Adam asked.

  “Only on my good days.”

  They moved deeper into the house.

  The cops made for a surreal addition among the collection of sleek furniture and hip art. The home reeked of wealth. No surprise—the growing mech population had put cyberneticists at the top of the economic food chain.

  Cops were everywhere, and Maleavux exchanged greetings with the men she knew. “Where's the body?” Malveaux asked.

  A second officer simply said, “Upstairs.” Malveaux wondered how many rooms were in this place. Her two-bedroom apartment, which she shared with her sister, seemed suddenly tiny and cramped.

  They finally arrived inside a large living area where she spotted the victim almost immediately. The corpse reclined on the large couch, displaying no signs of the butchery found at the last crime scene. His features were set in an almost angelic expression as he peered emptily at a media-screen. There were no wounds or other surface indicators of how he died. Were they even dealing with the same killer?

  Malveaux approached the body and did her best to ignore the rank stench of decomposition polluting the air.

  “Jesus…”

  “Forensics estimates the victim was killed about a month ago.”

  Malveaux wondered how many more victims might be wasting away in their homes across the city. And it led to another question. Why hadn’t there been any more recent killings?

  “How come no one reported him missing?” she asked.

  “Dr. Shoji retired from Synthetika about a year ago. He’s divorced, and the daughter is going to school in LA. She hadn’t heard from her dad for a few weeks and became worried. When the story of the other dead cyberneticist hit the news, she called up a friend to check on him. We figured he was killed around the same time as our first guy.”

  Malveaux leaned closer and let out a gasp as another detail snapped into focus. The body reclined on the couch was human, but the head resting atop the torso belonged to an X-2. Upon closer inspection, she saw a fine line of red under the neckline where the killer had mounted the robot head on the flesh-and-blood torso. From a distance or in low lighting conditions, the servant mech’s head could easily be mistaken for human, but the illusion didn’t hold up under close scrutiny.

  One of the detectives on the scene sidled up to her. “Nasty piece of business.”

  “Where is the vic’s head?”

  The officer shrugged. “We’re still looking. So far, zip.”

  Malveaux tightened her jaw as a shiver ran down her scalp. This wasn’t like any case she’d ever worked before. In more ways than one. Once again the killer had slaughtered a cyberneticist and stripped him of his humanity in death. What was the killer trying to communicate? Was he saying these cyberneticists weren’t quite human anymore? That they’d sold out their own species?

  “Any idea what we’re up against here?” the detective asked.

  Good question. Malveaux’s first instinct was to blame some member of the Human Defense League, but these crimes didn’t seem like their style. The HDL generally took hostages and blew up Synthetika property. They didn’t target individuals. Or pull a Jack the Ripper.

  She had inched closer to the victim when, without warning, the robot head burst to life. The blank gaze flickered, lips twitching, creating the terrifying illusion that the victim had returned from the dead.

  Startled, Malveaux jumped back as the robot spoke in a chilling, mechanical monotone. "And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and the cattle, and over all the Earth..."

  Shit, she must’ve triggered some type of sensor. A freaky parting gift from the killer.

  The moment the head finished reciting the Bible passage, the media screen crackled to life. Everyone whirled around as eerie holo-images invaded the living room. An oversized alien head lined with veined albino skin pulsating in a sea of red—a developing fetus suspended in amniotic fluid. Evolving from embryo to fetus within seconds, organs becoming visible, eyes growing prominent. The eerie time-lapse holo-video played over and over again, set on a continuous loop.

  “What is he trying to tell us?” Malveaux asked.

  Before anyone could answer, a shocked cry cut through the living room. A young woman had stumbled into the living room. Her thin frame shook, racked by violent sobs. “Oh my God, oh my God...”

  “Someone get her out of here!” Malveaux shouted.

  The woman's legs gave out, but Adam caught her. Gently, he helped her walk away from the place of death. “Come, let's go outside. You don't have to witness this.”

  Malveaux and the other cops peered after them, stunned into collective silence by the android's simple act of kindness. An apologetic cop offered up a sheepish smile. “The daughter. She just showed up. I guess she got on the first plane after the news hit. I tried to stop her...”

  “It’s okay,” Malveaux said as another holographic embryo began to form in the living room.

  What were they up against here?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ADAM SAT ACROSS from Shoji’s daughter, Helen, in the downstairs dining area. She was sobbing but struggling to keep it together. Grief had been an abstract concept to Adam, grasped on a purely intellectual level without an emotional reference point. Now, with Neeson’s passing, he understood what the poor woman was going through.

  Adam handed Helen a cup of coffee, which she gratefully accepted.

  “Thank you.” Helen wiped away her tears, collecting herself to the best of her abilities. “Who could… What kind of monster could—?” She broke off.

  “That's what we're trying to find out.” Adam paused for a moment, and then added, “I want you to know that everything I see and hear is recorded. Are you fine with that?”

  Helen studied Adam, a sense of wonder edging out her grief. “You're an android?”

  “Yes. I’d understand if you would rather talk to another human being.”

  “No. That's all right. I grew up around androids. They always listened to me.”

  New tears welled up as Helen began to speak, the words flowing easily.

  Malveaux was carefully following the exchange. Did she disapprove of him questioning a potential witness? He almost expected her to interject herself into his line of questioning, but she continued to observe from the sidelines.

  A few minutes later, Helen was done talking. Adam thanked her for her time and turned toward his partner. “I’m surprised you didn’t join us.”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt,” Malveaux said. “She seemed to trust you.”

  “I think she spent more time with her X-2000s than her parents.”

  “What do you think about her story?”

  “According to Helen, her father had been acting strangely for the last few weeks, drinking too much and having problems sleeping.”

  Malveaux arched her eyebrows. “You’re saying Shoji knew this was going to happen? That someone was after him?”

  “That’s what his daughter believes. Could the killer be a member of the Human Defense League?”

  “Doubt it. The HDL isn’t shy about claiming credit for their acts of terror.”

  Adam nodded; Malveaux had a point. Another question occurred to him. “Any thoughts on this latest message? Why is the killer quoting Genesis 1:26?”

  Malveaux paused, surprised by his knowledge of the Bible. “Psycho killers have a thing for the Bible, go figure. The messages glorify mankind but the murders are about stripping the victim’s of their humanity. Deconstructing them, in a way. It’s like he’s turning them into mechs, at least on a symbolic level.”

  “I don’t u
nderstand.”

  “I don’t expect you too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re still trying to figure out regular people, much less the crazies.”

  He couldn’t argue with Malveaux’s logic. “You believe I’m incapable of understanding human nature?”

  “I’d say you have a small disadvantage.”

  Adam pondered Malveaux’s words as they drove back to the precinct. She was right. If the behavior of rational humans represented an enigma, how could he expect to understand an irrational, deranged mind? Human nature could be puzzling and human madness might be the hardest puzzle of them all.

  According to the files he’d studied, the best profilers and detectives possessed a quality that allowed them to think like the killers and criminals they hunted. Solving such cases required imagination and the ability to project oneself into the killer’s mind. A capacity for visualizing savagery coupled with empathy. The ability to access every crime database on the planet within seconds would only take him so far. He’d need to learn more about the dark psychological forces shaping serial killers.

  While Malveaux fought traffic, Adam interfaced with every crime database on Earth. The vacant-faced glares of murderers and their grisly crimes became his new reality. He scanned interviews, case reports, autopsy pictures—a history of savage, sickening violence. Psychologists elaborated on the factors that produced human monsters. Neurologists speculated about brain abnormalities found during the autopsies of deceased pattern killers. The experts all agreed that childhood abuse, both physical and mental, was the key factor shaping the pathology of such murderers.

  Adam never had parents or a childhood, and he found the mechanics of abuse difficult to grasp. His programming was designed to mainly detect patterns and details, to solve problems on a forensic level. This represented unchartered territory for his mind.