April, 13 2205 5:00 am alarm system on

Initiate://startup program…loading…

All systems check complete. Starting visual complex protocols…

Program://”wake_up” complete.

All systems are functional….engage?

        My eyes open and the world blurs and focuses in a brilliant display of colors  as the myriad lenses that comprise the set of 6 eyes behind my face’s matte black protective screen adjust and and create a multispectral composite to give me the best possible picture of the blank white ceiling above my bed in the low light of 5 am. I have no curtains, no need for privacy like that on the 25th floor. I sit up on the bare rubberized steel platform that is my bed and slide my legs to the side, my feet find the floor and I stand striding across the small room in one fluid motion. The lights turning on in relation to my passage. Servos whispering within the complex joint systems in my body.  I am constantly aware of every minute detail of the billions of computations involved in every movement. Everything is done in the most efficient manner possible. Time is not to be wasted, every second counts as the Chief says.

        I do a visual check of my exostructure. It is grey and matte black, the torso and limbs look similar to tactical combat armor worn by the soldiers of the previous decade. Articulated plates connected by a special Kevlar mesh at the joints. There are attachment points for ammo pouches and weapons holsters. I am a decommissioned ARIES-7 Combat model. I was replaced by a newer more advanced model, the MESA-3, as happens. I do not resent the government for considering me obsolete or for decommissioning me and wiping all mission data from my memory banks. I am now doing something I enjoy. I am a detective. I work at the Los Angeles Police Department.

        I connect to the Police network feed and check in with the station computer at my desk. Downloading my assignments for the day so far and switch to the scanner, listening with part of my mind to the chatter, listen for emergencies I may need to respond to. Nothing so far. A peaceful morning. Law enforcement in the year 2205 is still mostly handled by humans, I am glad. I like people. My position with the department is in certain ways very similar to that of K-9 units of the 20th and 21st centuries. I am not capable of the nonlinear thinking that humans are. And I am not human but have senses and capabilities far beyond those of a human. I can track suspects far better than the humans and can pursue much faster on foot.

        I begin to go through the daily protocols and routines of preparing to go to work, cleanliness is important, next to godliness I am told. Behind me the mattress slides down until level with the floor.  And on the wall above it a short bench slides forth and several hidden panels slide to reveal my clothing a simple selection of pants, shoes and hats. I have many hats. Only 3 pairs of shoes and 3 pairs of pants. I don’t require shirts for my work as my badge number and name are etched on the left side of my chest. My name is Roger-7 and I am a detective of sorts. I don’t require pants either technically but the Chief asked me to; He explained it mattered to some people in the office, my partner admitted it would make her more comfortable if I wore pants to work, stating “I know it must sound silly but it’s a little weird for me when my partner is naked all day.” I finish steam washing and buffing my surfaces and begin to dress. Today’s tasks require my tougher set of pants and my all terrain footwear. No particular hat is required so I may choose one of my liking. I enjoy the days when I may choose my hat. I like hats. I will wear the grey tweed newsboy one. I own only one coat. It is long and grey. I use it in all-weather as it has many pockets. And it conceals my limb attachments and my service revolver.

                I live in a tenement for robots it is cheap and robots are not paid much as our cost of living is low. I don’t mind the low pay, some do and are still currently protesting our supposed second class citizen status, but I don’t mind it. All of the humans I work with treat me well. I like to work I am designed for it, I prefer to remain busy. Except when charging. I walk to work every day. I do not mind. Enjoy seeing the different people in the crowds, but really I enjoy seeing my friends along the way. The 7 shop and newsstand owners along my daily route. I wave and exchange pleasantries with each as I encounter them. I enjoy hearing about the family of Mr. Takahashi at the green grocers, he has three teenage children who he says are insane. I have only met the female and she seemed very much a normal 16 year old human. I think he is referring to the seemingly erratic behavior caused by the increase of hormones humans experience in that age range.  I inquire after  the health of the florist Mrs. Jennings’ sister. Both women are very old by human biological standards, both in their 80’s. I am pleased to hear good news; her heart condition seems improved by a new therapy. I stop at the donut shop, it is my morning to purchase breakfast for myself and my partner Jenny. I do not eat. I instead buy a new book file from Mr. Fitzgerald’s newsstand. Input being a fitting compromise for food in my regard. I will wait until I give Jenny her breakfast. We always eat before work together. I am excited to see her today as she called me last night and told me she had found out something of importance about our current case.  

         I connect to the morning newsfeed just as a story breaks involving a terrorist attack being attributed to the Human Machine Alliance. A radical underground group protesting the treatment of robotic citizens. That will make a total of 8 attacks in the last year. I fear that soon martial law may be implemented.

        I reach the station at exactly 5:30 am as I have done since starting work there 5 years, 4 months and 23 days ago. I greet Officer Hernandez who is at the front desk, we exchange pleasantries and I recite a short joke from a film file I downloaded last night before charging. He laughs and buzzes me through the large frosted polyglass doors. I take the stairs as it is faster for me and I would like to give Jenny a breakfast that is still hot. Humans prefer hot food. Reaching my floor I proceed to my desk remove my hat and set it on the desk and interface with my desktop unit. As I set out Jenny’s coffee and food. I then sit and wait. She is human and therefore sometimes late, I understand and am happy to wait as I work on our cases, going through the data looking for the clue that will be the key to solving a puzzling set of murders linked by their lack of evidence and the occupations of the victims. All were involved in the recent court decisions made to not raise the class of robotic entity to be equal to humans. I enjoy puzzles.

        The Chief comes to my desk an hour later, he looks worn and older than usual. His tie is loosened and shirt untucked. He sits on the edge of my desk and puts a hand on my shoulder. I sense alcohol on his breath, I will not mention this.

“I am sorry have to be the one to tell you this Rog, but Detective Jennifer Parks was killed last night in her apartment. She was found this morning by a neighbor.” He sighs and stands up, seeming not to know what else to say.

“Who is handling her case Chief?” I ask the monotone of my vocal protocol makes him flinch a little, sometimes the humans forget I am a machine I think. His mouth tightens into a small line.

“I am putting Joe and Michaels on it.”

“I want the case.”

 “You sure? I know you two were good friends.” he sighs and shakes his head.

“Yes sir.”

“She was a good cop. She deserves the best on the case.”

“Yes sir.”

“It’s yours detective .”

“Thank you sir. Please inform the officers on scene that I will be arriving shortly. ”

        That settled I stand and disengage from the case files I had been working and pull up all the known information on Jenny’s murder. I put my hat on and proceed to the armory to acquire some ammo and then to garage of the building. I will need to see the crime scene for myself to see what the forensics team has missed. They are only human after all. From what they have in the file currently, there is a familiar suspicious lack of evidence in her apartment. No fingerprints, no hair or skin under Jenny’s fingernails. She would not have been killed without a fight, she didn’t fire her sidearm but she has defensive wounds. No sign of forced entry. The window was broken, from the outside just like the case we were working on. I get into our issued department sedan and pulls out onto the street.

        It takes me thirty minutes to reach her building I park and take the stairs up almost sprinting the 30 floors, in just under 3 minutes I am showing my badge to the officers by the door. I accept their condolences for losing my partner. Shaking hands with several of them. They let me into the apartment. The living room furniture is tipped and broken,  my eyes look in every direction as I carefully step through the mess over to the body. She is in the kitchen, her blue eyes open, blank, staring at me seeming to ask some unknown question. I am sad she is dead, and I promise her I will find who did this and they would face justice. I examines the wounds, five holes in a star pattern located on her sternum. At first glance they appear to be bullet wounds. I would not know until the coroner  had examined her, there are also a trio of small bruises on her neck. I nod to the officers waiting to put her in the body bag and move to examine the rest of the apartment finding no more evidence. I return to look out the broken window, examining the edges of the glass. It is 2 inch polyglass. I kneel to look at the glass pattered on the floor  and notice the tears in the carpet, three deep furrow and several pieces of the splintered polyglass imbedded deep in the foam padding underneath. I stand and leave, heading to the front of the building and kneel finding cracks in the plasticrete sidewalk, an impact crater and several patches of ground  polyglass. If I had a face I would have raised an eyebrow.

NewsonthefeeD:Live Broadcast//:

MCBN Feedfile-4/13/2205-start: 5:30pm….

        A man and a woman in their late twenties sit behind a desk. The man looks at the camera and clears his throat.

“Hello I’m Patrick McMann.”

“And I am Lindsey Soto, this is MCBN live on the half hour.”

The camera centers on the man.

“Breaking news as more information is released regarding the ‘Ghost’ murders, for more we go to Eric Martinsen live at the press conference.”

        The screen changes to show a man who looks excited to be on the Feed waits for confirmation that he is indeed on before speaking

“Hello Pat and Lindsey, and yes as you said the Chief of Police has just released that the identity of latest victim of the serial killer recently dubbed ’The Ghost’, for the sheer lack of evidence and odd nature of the murder scenes, as Detective Jennifer Parks. One of the detectives on the case. As with the other crime scenes very little evidence was recovered and there are still no suspects. Back to you  Patrick.”

EndFeed//:

        It is afternoon and I have been making inquiries of her neighbors, but none had heard anything, the walls were near soundproof. I move to the roof and lean on the railing looking down. I notice a 3 inch scrape on the rail. I pull a wrist attachment from my side and put it on. I take several steps back and run at the rail popping to the rails top and leap out into the open air counting the floors as I fall I get to 32 and fire the grappling claw from my wrist. It hit’s the rail and snaps taught the force pulling me back at the building extremely fast and I swing through the hole in Jenny’s window, retract the grapple and land in a three point slide on the carpet. The officers in the room jump back and pull their guns on me before recognizing who I am. I then stand turn back and run at the window now leaping through it I plummet the 30 floors to the plastcrete and impact in a cloud of dust. I stand and look back to the windows. I have another piece of the puzzle, our serial killer is mechanical like me, there is a high probability it is a battle model, like me.

        Back at the station I sit interfacing with our database, looking for robots in the city with advance battle capabilities, there are not many including myself. 6 in our lists, I discount the larger less graceful artillery and the ones that run on tracks leaving 2. Myself and a similar model, hired on at a scrap yard. I download the information for him and stand to leave again passing the Chief ignoring him trying to berate me for what he calls “my little stunt” at Jenny’s apartment. He curses at my back and the officers in the room stare as I step into the stairwell and head down. I proceed home. I have work to do. I will need a change of clothes and Exo-panels. Half of an hour later I reemerge on the roof of my building, my Exo-panels now black and lacking my badge number and name. I stand invisible in the shadows my new skin matte black like my faceplate. I run full out and leap from the edge and land on an adjacent buildings fire escape I climb and continue to cross the city, I know that my actions tonight may cost me my badge. I am strangely ok with the idea. I miss Jenny.  I have never felt anger before, I am semi-sentient and have the capability learn anger; but until now I have had no use for it. I prefer to be happy. Tonight I think I feel anger, it is oddly compelling. I arrive at my destination. Crouching in the shadows on a low roof I watch my prey as he goes about his tasks in the scrap yard.

        He moves steadily back and forth picking up huge broken chunks of cars, dropping them in the massive hydraulic press. I survey the surrounding area with thermal imaging. No humans or other machines in sight. I slip to the ground and cross the narrow alley to the fence of the scrap yard. I activate the plasma cutter on my left wrist and slice through the fence and am through in one silent motion. Now the hunt begins. I listen to him work as I circle around, gradually closing in on him and planning my attack. I will wait until he picks up a load and turns to take it to the press.  I lose sight of him for a while but can hear him still. I am in position when I notice the sound of his footsteps has stopped. I realize somewhere I must have alerted him and leap from cover, plasma cutter turned to full power and one of the diamond hard ceramic blades I brought back from war in hand. I land in an empty space. I straighten from my landing crouch and scan for signs of my adversary. The sound of high pitched whistle from behind me saves my head as I turn and duck throwing the ceramic blade at the same time a stop sign whines over my head and embeds itself in the touch screen controls of the hydraulic press. Sparks erupt behind me. My blade plants in a junk cars door to the hilt. He is fast, as fast as me at least. I dive as a steel I-beam hurtles from the shadows to my left, drawing another blade I sprint after my prey his footsteps plain to my sensors. He is heading for the fence. I see him leap clearing the 12 ft fence and land on a moving cars roof crushing it and causing the driver to swerve hitting a parked vehicle and launching the serial murdering bastard into a roll up steel store front. Luck is with me tonight. I leap the fence and am on top of him as he tries to untangle himself from the crumpled steel roll door. I tear him from the dent and slam him into the brick of the building he strikes my faceplate with force enough to crack it, visual array stunned momentarily I stumble back and he attacks again, steel claws glance off of armored plate torso throwing sparks igniting the fuel leaking from the wrecked car. in the dancing light of the fire we tear at each other.

        When any machine attacks a human it is a fairly simple, bloody and swift situation. When two military models engage in combat this tends to happen on a larger scale. Our battle has alerted the authorities who are arriving now, I know that I will have no job after tonight, that I will probably be a fugitive, I may turn myself in when I am done; I have not decided. There is little they can do but keep the public back and watch the show. I am impressed by his skill, he must have been personally programmed by someone. I can feel his talons tear though the Kevlar mess in my side I bury one of my knives in his shoulder. I am leaking coolant I must end this soon or I may fail. I catch hold of his right arm and sever it with the plasma cutter. He disengages from me and swings around with a right hook striking my faceplate repeatedly spreading the cracks and breaking the lenses of several of my eyes. He strikes me again this time in the leg and I go to one knee. I cannot see clearly anymore I only get stuttering images, static blares in my aural sensors. He stands over me pulling free the blade I left in his shoulder he raises it over his head and I lunge forward there is a tearing metal squeal as my right hand bursts through a weakened panel in his chest I grab every wire and conduit I can and tear it out. I stand  as he drops to his knees.  I shake my head to clear my vision. His body jerks as electrical impulses misfire and his system begin to shut down. I tilt his chin up.

“This is for Jenny.” my speakers crackle weakly.

        He says nothing as I plant my heel on his shoulder and wrench his head from his neck. The body falls and I stand looking into his flickering eyes. I do not believe in a human god nor an afterlife yet I feel Jenny is pleased. I don’t let her murderer die yet. I switch him off. I will bring him with me, leaping 15 feet to a fire escape I head for home with my prize. I think I might enjoy this. Even for machines like us, there are fates worse than death and I am sure he knows this.