"I was mistaken—"
"How long have you been underground, Mr. Horton? Twenty,thirty years? Hiding from the Feds, pursuing your peculiar line ofresearch." Another chuckle. "You know what I want."
Blinking, sputtering. "I don't know—I just saw something onthe Link—"
"Of course you did. It was there for your eyes only."Lennox shook his head with a mix of pity and disdain. "It didn't evencross your mind that you were being set up? You came like an overzealous mouse,following a trail of cheese. Right to my door." Lennox clenched his jaw."I will ask you only once, Mr. Horton. What have you done with theBackTracker prototype? Whom did you give it to?"
A man never looked so perplexed. "Me? How would I know? Icame here looking for him. He's the only one who can find—"
"My mistake." Lennox glanced up at the closer of the twomandroids, standing head and shoulders taller than he could ever dream ofbeing. "Clean up this mess."
He turned his back on the situation, knowing his word was law withthese automatons.
The warmth of the music embraced him as he let the door to thealley slam shut on his heels. He dropped the umbrella to his side and collapsedit. His eyes blinked reflexively in the spray, but he was well out of range,and not a single drop of it soiled his sharply pressed tuxedo.
"I can take that for you, Mr. Lennox."
He looked up from his attire and focused on the freckled porcelaindoll before him. She held out her small hands for the umbrella.
"Wet out there." She smiled. The sweet innocence ofartificial life.
Maybe not entirely artificial; definitely not human. They weren'tcheap, but Lennox knew the benefits more than outweighed the cost. How manySYNs did he have running The Pearl these days? He'd lost count. And he couldn'teven begin to remember their names anymore. This one might be a Sally—the sameas the one behind the coat counter. A service model, like those dressed aswaiters out on the main floor and the tiers on all sides of the stage, carryingdrinks and appetizers to every table without ever getting an order wrong ordropping a single plate. Even the band—only the absolute best for The Pearl. And the best musicians these days were synthetics.
"Thanks," he managed as she took the dripping umbrellafrom his grasp. He never knew what to do when one of them spoke to him.Usually, they minded their own business, did their jobs to perfection, neveroverstepped. The managers took care of them, keeping him from ever needing toenter into small talk. "Busy night." He turned his gaze to flashinglights at the end of the hall where the band reached a crescendo.
Sally nodded and widened her eyes emphatically. "Like youwouldn't believe, sir. It's a real NewCity Who's Who out there. Even the mayor'shere tonight!"
Interesting. He and I have a few things to discuss."Keep up the good work." Lennox turned away and stepped past the SYNtoward a door marked PRIVATE. He palmed the sensor grate and the light glowedbetween his fingers. The door slid aside instantly.
"Thank you, sir." Sally watched him step inside as thedoor slid shut and locked automatically behind him. The umbrella in her handdripped onto the carpet, but she didn't notice. She watched the door markedPRIVATE. Her eyes blinked. Then she turned away, back toward the lights andmusic from whence she'd come.
The hallway was dim but with enough light from the glow stripsalong the floor for Lennox to make his way up the familiar stairs. Hisapartment above was a spacious penthouse. He seldom used the lift. He tookevery opportunity that presented itself to improve his physique, so climbingstairs was a natural part of his daily regimen. He wasn't even winded when hereached his door after four flights of climbing.
"Lights," he said as the door glided aside, sensing hisapproach.
A soft glow emanated from every corner of the living room,illuminating sofas, armchairs, end tables, ottomans, and open spaces coveredwith plush area rugs. Contemporary art, in some cases consuming entire wallswith their bold designs in black, grey, and white, added to the feel of anapartment designed for entertaining large groups of people on a regular basis.
But tonight it was empty, and Lennox didn't spend more time in themain room than it took to walk straight through, head down a long hallway linedby multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, a game room, a theater, and an elegantdining room that could seat fifty comfortably. He turned right at the end ofthe hall and entered the study. There he slowed his pace and scanned thenumerous bindings of priceless antique books arranged by genre until he foundthe one he was looking for.
He reached forward with a deft touch and tilted Stevenson's TheStrange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde back at a sixty degree angle. Thatwas all it took to unhitch the hidden latch, and a portion of the bookcaseeased backward into the wall, revealing a door. He ducked his head as hestepped through into darkness beyond.
Voice commands would go unheeded here. The central AI's reach didnot extend beyond the bookcase. So in this secret closet-sized room, Lennox hadto reach blindly to the left to flip a switch on the wall. The blast of whitefrom the globe above was intense, and he squinted at first. But eventually his eyes grew accustomed to it,blinking until he could focus on the mirror beforehim.
He surveyed himself out of habit. Slick black hairmeticulously combed back from his forehead. Eyebrowsjust as dark, trimmed evenly to restrain them from monopolizing his brow. Eyesthat had seen everything there was to see in this life. Nothing could surprisethem, yet they burned with intensity, focusing on everything they turned upon.Perfectly tanned skin gave him the look of one well-acquainted with the ruggedoutdoors. His solid square jaw added to this illusion. But he knew the truth.He hardly ever stepped outside The Pearl. The tan came from a machine. So didthe genes for his jaw and muscular build. Was he any more real than a SYN?
He reached for the mirror like a man saying his last goodbye. Hisfingers tapped
