The Automatic Detective

by Martinez A. Lee

  Annoyance. Exactly what I needed.

  I threw a treader, then immediately followed it with another buzzbug. Each clobbered the aberration on its dissolving skull, and while they didn't seem to be doing any real injury, they were pissing it off. A pissed-off monster was a distracted monster.

  I was about to hurl a gyroped when the aberration whirled suddenly. Two antennae had sprouted from its forehead as it spontaneously mutated. They crackled with blue energy and unleashed a stream of focused radiation. The gyroped, steel, glass, and all, disintegrated into powder. My indestructible clothing, too. My alloy held up, but my radiation screens were ineffective. A short list of internal failures sprang up in my diagnostics file, and thirty or forty seconds of exposure could've fried vital circuits.

  The creature wasn't smart enough to realize that so when I didn't disappear in a poof, it cut off the blast. It dropped to all fours and charged. My reflex model had been damaged, and it was on top of me before I could react. It swatted at me with one huge paw. I catapulted high into the air and bounced into a small crowd of civilians. It was a miraculous anomaly I didn't land on any of them, but not exactly good luck since the thing was plenty pissed at me and now moving this way.

  A blaster blindsided the beast and blew off a chunk of its shoulder. The aberration growled curiously, more perplexed than hurt. Its eyes scanned the crowd and found Sanchez standing atop a rotorcar. The little guy was gutsy. I'd give him that. And he was about to be dead.

  "Come on!" he shouted. "I'm here! Over here!" He blasted a few holes in the aberration's chest.

  The thing's antennae started crackling again. There wouldn't even be enough left of Sanchez to fill a teacup.

  Another blast caught it by surprise as Jung fired at it from behind. A dozen cops joined in and a barrage of rayfire punched holes through the aberration's flesh. It spasmed and growled. It didn't die. The antennae on its head glowed brighter, and I detected rapidly rising levels of an unidentified radiation in the air. It wasn't dangerous yet, but it was building fast toward a full-scale disaster.

  My reflex model finally kicked in. I dashed forward low to the ground, and knocked its legs out from under it. The aberration tumbled over. I didn't allow it time to recover. I jumped on top of it, grabbed its antennae, and yanked them off. They fizzled, but not before a dangerous burst traveled up my arms, ignoring my radiation screens. Circuits shorted out. Hydraulics locked up. My vocalizer started screeching. My one arm kept working though, and I set it on automatic and kept hammering away.

  I concentrated on its lumpish head, trying to keep it disoriented, confused, and on the ground. It seemed to do the trick. I pounded its face flat. Two of its three eyes popped out of its head, and slime coated my arms and front.

  Twenty seconds later, the aberration snapped out of its confusion, and rolled to one side. With my legs locked, I fell over on my back. The thing stood, gave me a kick, and roared.

  The aberration slumped with a groan. Its skin slid away in smoking chunks. It raised its right arm, and the limb fell off. It lurched to one side, then the other, and collapsed with a gurgle. My chronometer was broken, but Zarg's seven-minute deadline must've finally been up.

  My hydraulics came back on-line enough that I could stand.

  The aberration was a mound of featureless meat. Twisted bones stuck out of its dissolving flesh, but even the bones began to dissolve into the same sizzling green pool of sludge. It kept breathing for a long time. Shallow, painful breaths, even when it was nothing more than a pool of slime, it kept breathing for . . . well . . . I couldn't say how long now, but it seemed a long, long time.

  Then with one final gurgle, it stopped.

  Sanchez was beside me. He held his rifle at the ready. "Damn, Mack, is it dead?"

  My only reply was the steady hiss of static, the only sound my vocalizer seemed capable of right now.

  My diagnostic programs reported one failing system. It was my diagnostics, which meant everything else was up in the air. I didn't know how badly damaged I was, but my opticals scanned the world as flat and gray. I fell over and didn't even realize it until I noticed Sanchez standing at a vertical angle.

  He said something. I heard the sound, recognized his voice, but couldn't decipher the noise into words.

  "Zzzzzzzzt," I replied.

  And then I shut down.

  22

  I reactivated twenty-three days later. The information verified that my chronometer was working. And hopefully, so was everything else.

  One by one, the systems and programs confirmed themselves. My visualizer came on-line, and I scanned a young blond woman standing before me.

  She smiled. "Hey, handsome, how are you feeling?"

  "Status report: functional."

  "Aren't you the sweet talker?"

  I was upright, clean and polished, wearing a new suit. A glance around confirmed I was in an unfamiliar laboratory. "Where am I?"

  "My personal lab," she replied. "The one under my apartment. Don't remember, huh?"

  "Negative," I said. There was still a bit of static in my audios.

  "Do you remember me?" she asked.

  "I remember you. Just not your name."

  "Not surprised. Your internals took a hell of a hit. The hardware, I could fix, and Doctor Mujahid recoded the basic coordination programs. Your memory matrix took the worst of it, but she was able to recover most of the data files. There are a few bits and pieces missing here and there."

  "What kinds of bits and pieces?"

  "Oh, nothing too important. You'll have to learn a few things over again, but shouldn't take you long. By the way, you can call me Lucia. Or Ms. Napier, if you'd prefer."

  "I think I'd prefer Lucia," I said.

  She nodded. "I'd prefer that, too."

  "You're out of jail."

  "No reason to hold me anymore. Charges were dropped. The whole messy affair has been swept under the rug. Like it never happened." Lucia pushed a stepladder over to me and climbed it to adjust my tie. "Do me a favor and raise your right hand, Mack."

  I did.

  "That's your left."

  "Whups." I inverted the directional definitions and tried again. Got it correct that time.

  "Take a step back," she said.

  I moved and knocked her off her stool. She was ready for it and hopped safely aside. "No, that's forward."

  I corrected that, too.

  "Maybe he's not ready for this, boss?" said a talking metal post. A butler auto, my distinguishing software realized. Name recognition failed me again.

  "Nonsense, Humbolt." (I filed that away.) "He's got to get out there sometime. Anyway, the doctor assured me that beginning everyday functioning would get him back in tip-top shape in a week or two."

  "Step back." I performed a series of test maneuvers, checking wiring relays and servo response. My basic mechanical functions were up and running. Any program glitches would have to be worked out as they arose. "I'm good."

  Lucia instructed Humbolt to tell the guests that we'd be up shortly. I wondered who was waiting for us and if I'd remember them all.

  "What about the Bleakers?" I asked. "Julie? April? Holt?"

  "Them, you remember." She arched an eyebrow. "You could give a girl a complex, y'know."

  "Lucia . . ."

  "Oh, they're fine. Holt was a little malnourished, but otherwise, unharmed."

  "And the Pilgrims?" I asked, realizing that one of the things I'd lost was Grey's annoying little worm that kept me from discussing certain subjects.

  Alfredo Sanchez descended the staircase. "We try not to talk about them, Mack. Hush-hush." He wore black slacks, wingtips, and a Hawaiian shirt with palm trees. It was the first time I'd seen him outside of a suit. The first my damaged memory matrix could recall, anyway.

  "How's he doing?" he asked Lucia.

  "He'll be good as new in no time. I'll let you boys settle a few things. Come upstairs when you're ready." She pushed the stepladder over again and used it to get high en
ough to plant a kiss on my faceplate. "But don't keep us waiting too long. By the way, Detective, no smoking in my lab."

  She sashayed up the stairs, looking over her shoulder and winking before exiting.

  "Looks, personality, brains, money." Sanchez whistled as he returned a cigarette to its case. "How'd you end up with a girl like that?"

  I almost said she wasn't my girl, but then again, maybe she was. If so, I was a lucky bot. Or at least, I assumed I was.

  "Did you know, Sanchez? About the Pilgrims?"

  "Not quite. I mean, I had ideas about it. Knew something was going on, that there was someone pulling strings in Empire other than the Big Brains and Learned Council. Hard to do my job and not notice that. But I still don't know all the details. Need to know, loose lips. You know the drill.

  "Okay, Mack," he said. "We've got a few details to go through here. I'll be brief. That mess in the Nucleus changed a few things while you were off-line. Forced the Pilgrims to come out. Still keeping them secret from the general public, but now they've opened discussions with the Learned Council. Put everything on the up and up. Hopefully, it'll help avoid trouble from overeager aliens in the future."

  I considered the change. The Pilgrims, once content to manipulate Empire City from the shadows, had taken their first steps out of the dark. They were still hiding, and maybe I couldn't blame them for it. Empire might be ready for the aliens walking its streets, but if it wasn't, then showing themselves would be a disaster. Better to play it safe, I supposed.

  "Good news is that the Pilgrims have agreed to allow us to create a counteragent to the mutagen. Sort of a good faith gesture. We're doing it slowly, so it's not traumatic to Holt, but soon the Big Brains will have enough to neutralize any threat, should the need arise."

  "What about Carter Centre, the Dissenter lab, the giant pudding mutant that nearly ate half the Nucleus?"

  "Just another industrial accident," said Sanchez. "Happens every day."

  I wondered if people wanted to know the truth. If it even mattered. Probably not.

  "Got a couple of things for you here." He dug in his pockets, removed a piece of paper and a data tube. "The Learned Council can't officially acknowledge your service to the city, but as a token of gratitude they wanted to give you this." He unfolded the paper. "Your certificate of citizenship. Welcome to the club."

  "Thanks." I scanned it. It was only a piece of paper, but I guess I'd earned it. Maybe I'd get it framed.

  He held up the data tube. "This was prepared by the Pilgrims. Say it's for your opticals only. Tells you where you came from. Turns out Professor Megalith isn't really that bright. Only a Pilgrim science tech who can pass for human. Stole a few designs and parts here and there, tried to use them for his own ends." He set it on the table. "Don't know much more than that, but the details are all in there."

  Sanchez removed a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth without lighting it. "Well, guess that about covers everything. Any questions?"

  "Yeah. Why am I functional? Seems like some could consider me a security risk, what with what I've recorded."

  "Don't ask me, Mack. Like I said, need to know. Nobody's enlightened me on that. Maybe it's because you did good. World doesn't always give good guys the shaft."

  "Not always," I said. "But usually."

  "I can see your cynicism index wasn't wiped clean. So you ready for your party?"

  I took a second to drop the data tube in my coat pocket. "Yeah, I'm ready."

  The party was a small affair, eight biologicals and Humbolt. I didn't have all the names and half the names I did have were attached to the wrong faces, but it all got sorted out eventually. There was cake and punch for the biologicals, and everyone was eager to say hello. There was a lot of small talk and hugs and handshakes. Mostly, I kept quiet and let everyone tell me how much they'd missed me.

  Somehow, I'd made friends. Hadn't planned on it. Just sort of happened. I guess that's how making friends worked.

  Even Doctor Mujahid showed up. She and Jung hit it off right away. They sat on Lucia's couch, talking and laughing. I'd never heard the doc laugh before, but Jung could be one charming gorilla.

  Sanchez introduced me to his wife. I hadn't even known he was married. She was a norm, and a tall one at that, six feet in heels. Sanchez barely came up to her waist.

  "Alfie says such wonderful things about you," she said.

  "Is that so?"

  "Oh, yes," she replied. "Says you're a stand-up guy. Make a hell of a cop."

  "Actually, what I said was that he was a stand-up guy, but a pain in the ass. And he'd make a good cop if he wasn't such an exhaust port." Sanchez snorted. "Come on, Rosa. Let's get some punch."

  She shook her head. "Oh, he's so easily embarrassed. If you'll excuse us, Mack."

  "No problem. Talk to you later, Alfie."

  Sanchez grumbled, dragging his wife away.

  Somebody tugged on my pants. I turned to scan April. "Hey, kid. How you doing?"

  She tried to smile but wiped a tear away.

  I knelt down. "What's wrong?"

  She hugged me. "I killed my daddy," she said quietly, choking on the words.

  "It wasn't your fault."

  "But I knew they'd kill him. I knew it when they took us away. But I let them take us away because I knew I had to. I had to."

  She sniffled. She wasn't quite crying, but she was close. She hugged me tighter.

  "I knew that everybody would die. And I knew you had to stop it. And the only way to get you to stop it was to let them take us. To let them kill my daddy."

  "There, there, kid." I rubbed her back gently. "You did what you had to."

  Hollow words, I knew. Especially to a little girl burdened with the power to see the future. I got it now. That was why she hadn't asked for my help. Why she'd slipped me a note she'd known I wouldn't scan right away. She'd seen the future, a future where Empire burned in its own technotopic madness, and known no one would believe her. Not her mother or the cops or me. She'd set it up, as best she could, so that I'd end up in the middle of an alien conspiracy. She'd done so knowing it would get her father killed.

  That was a tough choice for a little girl to make, but she'd made it. Now she had to figure out how to live with it, and that was even tougher.

  "What happened to Gavin . . . your father, it shouldn't have happened. But it's not your fault. You didn't hurt him. Some very bad people did."

  "But my daddy . . ." She pulled away and wiped her snotty upper lip with her sleeve. "I knew—"

  "Shhhh. Come on." I picked her up and walked over to the balcony. "See that city? See all those lights. Every one of those lights is a person, somebody you helped. Can you count them all?"

  She shook her head.

  "That's a lot of people, isn't it?"

  She nodded.

  "A lot of families. A lot of fathers, I bet."

  "Umm hmmm."

  "And your brother. What about him? You helped him, too, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "And your mom. And me. You helped me, too."

  "I did?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How?"

  "You showed me that I can help people, too."

  She smiled, very slightly.

  "You did the right thing, kid. It's not always easy to do the right thing. In fact, it hardly ever is. Most grown-ups can't make themselves do it when it comes right down to it. Your father would be proud of you for being such a big girl."

  I scanned Lucia at the balcony entrance. She was smiling, too, and her eyes were teary.

  I wanted to wipe the tear from April's cheek but wasn't confident enough in my fine motor control to try it yet.

  "Do you really think my daddy would be proud of me?"

  "Yeah, kid. I know he would be. Because your mom and your brother and me, we're all so proud of you. Lucia, too."

  "That's right, sweetie." Lucia came over and took April from me. She gave April a tight hug. The kind of hug I wished I could give her without risking crus
hing her. Then set her down and hugged her again. "Now why don't you get yourself a piece of cake?"

  April wrapped one of her tiny hands around my thumb. "Mack, I love you."

  "I love you, too, kid."

  She glanced to Lucia. "Are you Mack's girlfriend? You're pretty."

  "Smart, too," I said.

  Lucia leaned over and gave April a pat on the bottom. "Scoot, kiddo."

  April went off to join her mom and brother in the apartment. She still hadn't gotten back the bounce in her step or the light in her eyes. But she was young, and kids were resilient. She wrapped Holt in an embrace. He hugged her back.

  Julie looked across the apartment, and she was crying a bit, too. Seemed to be a lot of that going around tonight. She mouthed the words, "Thank you." I nodded to her.

  "You've got a way with children, Mack," said Lucia.

  "Yeah. I'd make a wonderful nanny auto."

  Lucia leaned on the balcony railing. I stood beside her. We enjoyed the view for twenty-five seconds.

  "So are you my girlfriend?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Am I?"

  She laughed but didn't fill me in.

  I pulled the data tube from my pocket. The one with all the answers. They weren't questions I cared about. Never really had been. I crushed the tube with one squeeze, and let the flecks of circuitry and plastic float away on the wind.

  "What was that?" she asked.

  "Nothing important."

  "So, Mack, you've saved the day, become a citizen." She put her delicate hand in my oversized palm. "What's next?"

  "I'm thinking of opening a detective agency. Even got a partner lined up." I glanced at Jung, still in rapt conversation with my shrink. I hoped he wasn't telling her any stories.

  "I've got an old office you can use," she said.

  "Terrific. You'll have to show it to me sometime."

  She laughed again, and I got the impression there was a joke I wasn't getting.

  "Seriously, Lucia. I don't know if it's something I should remember. Are you my girlfriend?"

  She didn't answer, and I decided it didn't really matter. I'd sort it out sooner or later on my own.