Part Two
“I always wanted to replace that chip, but it made the droid -- different,” Boone told Cattrell a year ago as he sat at his dining table drinking a glass of Irish whisky.
Although the morning outside was bright, the kitchen had felt foggy and dim. Part of the reason was the thick cigar Boone lit up.
Wealthy men had the habit of setting appointments at times that didn’t appease the night owl. Cattrell yawned, looking at a picture hanging in crooked fashion on the wall of the Boone home. In sloppy Sharpie along the bottom were the words “family at a winter Tahoe retreat.”
“The bald one?” Cattrell asked, pointing to the only unsmiling face, which reminded him of burn victims whose features have been wiped clean, leaving behind stretched, shiny, smooth skin.
Boone looked up at the photograph. “Yes.”
“Mind if I take a picture of it for my investigation?” he asked, raising his camera.
“Go right ahead.”
Click. Rrrr.
Cattrell stared for a moment more, and gently let his camera fall to his chest. The camera strap pulled tight. He walked over to the window where there was a shard of sunlight shining through. His reflection was the furthest from menacing, his dark features pulled more from a newspaper fashion ad than from a police mugshot. The scruff helped.
Sunlight wasn’t enough to warm him in this place. Cattrell loathed the company of men who were hot-blooded. Here it was fifty degrees and Boone was in a short-sleeved shirt with his bald head sweating. At least the man had good taste in cats. An oversized pure-white Himalayan was lying next to the only sliver of sunlight on the carpet.
“You can have a seat if you like, Detective,” Boone said, motioning with his hand to the chair next to him.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Would you like some whisky? Brandy?” Boone paused. “Or coffee?”
Coffee sounded wonderful, but that would entail a longer visit. “No. But thanks for the offer.”
“Alright, then.”
“Tell me more about this droid. I think I’ve heard about it once before, in that old magazine -- Future Tech.”
“Yes, that’s the same one. That article was 15 years ago. We’ve had the droid for 16.”
“What’s its name?”
“The droid? 101.”
“One-oh-one? Like the freeway?” Cattrell said. “KC-101, if I remember correctly.”
Boone nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The chip was the first of its kind. It allowed certain models of Zenith droids to… “ He paused.
“Act counter to its programming?”
Boone thought about that and shook his head. “That’s what so-called experts said, but it’s not quite correct.” He pursed his lips, smug in his superficial evaluation. “101 always did what it was told in order to fulfill its programming. Run chores, watch kids, drive safely. Those type of tasks 101 never ventured far from.”
Cattrell jerked at that word. Far.
Boone seemed not to notice. “What the chip did was allowed 101 to act different at certain times to give the impression that it actually had a -- well a…”
“Soul?”
“Not quite right again.” Boone laughed. “I don’t think any chip is capable of that. When you chatted with 101, you always knew it was a droid.”
Cattrell thought Boone was a jerk for laughing like that.
“I would describe it as a sense of humor combined with curiosity.” Boone sipped softly, as if to be poignant, Cattrell noticed.
“And the curiosity got out of hand?”
“Now who has the sense of humor, Detective Cattrell?”
“’Cattrell’ is fine, Boone, I’m just a private investigator.”
Cattrell leaned down to pet the Himalayan, which purred and rubbed against his calf.
Read from the beginning:
Part One
Read the next chapter:
Part Three
"The Girl and the Pendulum" is an 18-part future-noir science fiction story about a a private investigator's search for a missing android. How can a man who searches for missing women find lost artificial intelligence? I welcome feedback on this story about a man and his difficult case in a post-war, post collapse world. Stay tuned, as I also will begin publishing my 300,000 word epic novel "The Messiah" on Steemit in 2017.
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