“All right, let’s kiss and make up,” he said. “I’ll get you both a drink-you look like you could use it. Your clothes-
He gave us quick hugs and pecks on the cheek, then bustled off to the kitchen, crooning again, shaking his booty, and making us both smile, though Lizbeth did mutter “hopeless heap of metal” under her breath.
Besides being incredibly helpful, Metallico could be a lot of fun. He was the size and shape of a normal adult but built for work and, thus, without the refined exterior of the high-end entertainment androids. But he could move with such speed and grace that he made the simplest household task look like an Olympic event. He was also a perfect playmate and teacher for the girls, a vast encyclopedia of knowledge-robots like him were of course interfaced to the Cybernet, with all the information of our entire civilization at their instant command-a witty conversationalist, a master of adult games (such as four-dimensional chess), a gourmet chef, and a thousand other useful things. Also, like the rest of our family, he despised and distrusted all humans.
As he came back with our regular no-carb drinks-a glass of sauvignon blanc for Lizbeth, vodka with a twist for me-Chloe and April came charging into the room and threw themselves into our arms.
“Did you bring us Jessica and Jacob dolls?” they asked their mom. Chloe, who’d just turned four, pronounced dolls
“I’m not feeling very good about those dolls, sweeties,” Lizbeth confessed.
“Neither am I,” I added in support. “Sorry, ladies.”
“Noooo,” the girls wailed in a chorus of grief.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, OK? It’s bedtime-go get settled, and Daddy will come tell you a story. Won’t you, Hays?”
“Of course I will. That’s why they call me Daddy, isn’t it?”
Chapter 10
Although disappointed, the girls were mostly obedient at this age, and they scampered away to their room. “C’mon, Daddy!” they called to me. “You have to tell us a story now.
I followed close behind and turned my thoughts to choosing a favorite bedtime story for my babies. I scrolled through the library menu on Chloe’s wall… maybe
The thing about the girls and me back then, we had sort of a secret life. On the weekends, we loved to go off to the city’s very large library to read together. We listened to Mozart on earphones on the way there, then settled in to read Charles Dickens aloud. The point-if there has to be a point to everything-is that you can hate humans, but nobody should hate Mozart or Charles Dickens or J. K. Rowling.
As I was reminiscing about our little secret times together, my earring phone chirped-three quick beeps signaled an Agency emergency of some sort. “Damn!” I muttered. “This can’t be happening.”
The caller turned out to be Owen McGill, my partner at the Agency of Change and a longtime friend, probably my best friend-other than Lizbeth, that is.
“Grab your boots, Hays,” McGill said. “There’s been an ugly incident at the Toyz store in Baronville”-a tony Elite suburb at the northern edge of New Lake City, about twenty miles away. “They want you here right now. It’s homicides,
“Me? Now? I already had my ugly incident for the night. Lizbeth and I were attacked-
“Sorry, buddy. Jax Moore specifically requested you. ‘I want Hays Baker on this!’ That’s what he said.”
I exhaled. “All right, all right. I’m on my way.”
So much for reading bedtime stories, a romantic interlude with my wife, or even getting to taste my vodka with a twist of lemon. What a letdown, and what a shit night this was turning out to be.
I hadn’t even had time to take off my tux jacket before I was heading off to face, well, whatever was so important that Jax Moore had requested me at the crime scene.
Chapter 11
Our apartment building’s superfast express elevator whisked me up to the rooftop garage, and I jumped into my own car-a teardrop-shaped sports-pod just big enough to comfortably fit me and a passenger. Although the touch of a button would extend it rearward, enabling it to carry as many as four others.
As the hatch slid shut, the instrument panel lights blinked a message: “Ready when you are, Dr. Baker.”
“Toyz store, Baronville, max speed,” I said.
Usually, I operated the vehicle myself, but right now I needed a break, even-as it would have to be in this case-a very short one.
“Roger that, Dr. Baker,” replied the interactive pilot’s crisp voice.
Suddenly, the sports-pod shot straight upward, then forward, pressing me firmly back into the custom seats. These superlight pods were among the fastest models available, capable of doing zero to sixty in two seconds flat, maneuvering in the air like a hummingbird, and cruising comfortably at three hundred miles per hour, even on a surface road.
“Airspace clearance is set. Estimated flight time: four minutes and twenty-three seconds,” said a different voice, female and as familiar as an old friend. “Would you care for a drink? Entertainment of any kind? Sensory stimulation?”
This was Elle, the artificially intelligent attendant. I hadn’t named the pilot-our relationship was more businesslike-but Elle deserved a name.
“How about some Bach?” I said. “Please, Elle. That would be terrific. Just what I need.”
“If I might make a suggestion, the Brandenburg Number Six, Allegro, would just about fit our flight parameters.”
“Perfect.”
“Perhaps with a multisense track?” she said.
“Something light, yes.”
Elle didn’t have a full body, just a pair of slender robotic arms, but they functioned with a precise efficiency that could be spellbinding. She slipped the car’s mood helmet onto my head, and I relaxed with the classical music-another of the very good things that humans had given the world. How bizarre was that?
Actually, to be fair, humans were still making a few worthwhile contributions to the world. We Elites weren’t numerous enough to fill every role in our society, so we had to concentrate on managing the vital ones-government, medical, military, law enforcement, telecommunications, media. Consequently, well-trained and strictly supervised humans were still manning the orchestras, bands, and studio sessions that we required. Humans also had many necessary subservient roles, especially those involving cleaning and waste collection.
But I believed it was Elite technology that really took classical music to the next level-when the Brandenburg began, I wasn’t just listening, I was
…
