“What do you want, Kir?” Laughton said, not masking the annoyance in his voice.
“Help,” Kir said. He paused. “Didn’t see that one coming, huh?”
Betty shuffled back into the bedroom. “Go ’way,” she mumbled. She wouldn’t have any memory of the episode in the morning.
Laughton got up, and left the room, finding his way down the stairs blindly. “How’d you know I caught a body,” Laughton said. His stomach sunk. “Don’t tell me it hit the news.”
Silence.
It lasted long enough that Laughton said, “Kir?”
“I didn’t,” the robot said at last. “When?”
“Why’d you wake me up, then?” Laughton said. He went into the kitchen and turned on the light. It made the window over the sink a mirror. Tufts of hair stood up on the sides of his head, his clothes were wrinkled. At least it wasn’t a video call. He didn’t need to give Kir more fodder.
“I was calling to ask you to help me,” Kir said. Laughton knew the tone. His partner was serious. “But—”
“What you got?” Laughton said, bracing himself for it.
“Jesse, if you’ve got a homicide, we need to let Secretary Pattermann know. Do you know—”
“I know.”
“Do you know what people are going to do when they hear there was a murder on the preserve?” Kir said. “This is exactly the excuse the anti-preserve groups are looking for.”
“I know.”
“I’m coming down there. I—”
“Kir, I know,” Laughton said. “That’s why I’m keeping it quiet. I’m going to solve this before anyone has a chance to claim we can’t take care of our own problems. I need to take care of it myself. Now tell me why you called, or let me get to sleep.”
“Robocides,” Kir said. “Five of them.”
“What does the HHS have to do with dead robots?” Kir was the expert on human crime for the Department of Health and Human Services, the federal unit that oversaw the preserve system. He had tried to bring Laughton with him, but just as Kir had jumped at the chance to work at the federal level, Laughton had jumped at the chance to leave robots behind and control his own department. “Isn’t that the opposite of your jurisdiction?”
“Sims,” Kir said. “Seems like they were all users. Hit by some new program that wipes the robot before he can upload. Plug and play and die. Rumor is that the sim originated on the preserve, so, the cases’ve come to me. Or at least, I’ve been called in. There are plenty of other cops working it.”
Sims. Jesse thought of all those sticks at Smythe’s house. “Kir, my body is a sims hacker.”
Silence again. At last, “Shit.”
“Coincidence,” Jesse said, not believing it for a second.
“Look, everyone knows the preserve is a sims distribution ground. I was calling you to try to get ahead of this, but if you’ve got a dead hacker within days of a deadly sim hitting the street, robots are going to be all over the preserve.”
“We don’t want the department on the preserve, Kir.”
“Honestly, we don’t want to come in either, but it won’t be just the department unless we move fast. You’re right, it’s better for everyone if the preserve can handle itself. But I was already worried the dead robots were going to lead to you. If this homicide is connected…”
“So you wanted eyes on the ground?”
“That was the idea. But now I’m coming, whether you want it or not, as soon as I tell Grace Pattermann so she can begin damage control. If you and I work this, maybe we’ll be able to control it.”
“Who says I can’t do that on my own?”
“Jesse, let’s help each other.”
The tone was sincere. Even if they couldn’t read emotions that well, they could emulate them pretty accurately. Laughton knew he would say yes. It would be so much better to have Kir at his side than Dunrich or even Mathews. But he wasn’t going to give the robot the satisfaction just yet. “It’s late, Kir. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”
“Sure,” Kir said.
“Sure?” Laughton hadn’t expected that.
“Sure. I’ll see you in the morning,” Kir said. “Say hi to Betty and Erica.” And the robot hung up.
Laughton looked at the phone in his hand. “Sure.” If he could read Kir, his ex-partner could read him. Kir knew the answer was going to be yes. And to his surprise, Laughton was looking forward to it.
Dad.”
“Oh, my god, Jesus,” Laughton gasped, flipping around on the bed, wild fear flooding his chest. Erica was leaning against the mattress. “You scared the— You scared me.”
“Mom said to wake you up,” she said. She was already dressed. “Mr. Mathews is outside.”
He looked toward his nightstand for his phone, and Erica handed it to him. The face lit up: 6:35. He’d slept late. “Okay,” he said. “I’m up.”
“Can we play a game?” Erica said.
Laughton threw back the covers, and started to rise, but Erica was in his way. “Excuse me,” he said, and she moved to let him up. “We can’t play right now. I’ve got to get ready.”
“Can’t you get ready after I go to school?”
“You’re going to be leaving in twenty minutes anyway,” he said, on his way to the bathroom. “Go downstairs, I’ll be right down.”
“We could play for just five minutes,” she said.
“Did I answer you?” he said, annoyed. “Go downstairs.” He went into the bathroom and closed the door. He raised the seat of the toilet, and heard Erica clomp down the stairs. Every night he felt guilty that he couldn’t give Erica what she needed, that he wasn’t a fun dad, that he wasn’t an empathetic dad, that the message he always sent was that he was annoyed, and that he was unavailable. But then right from the first thing in the morning, the barrage of requests, of questions, ignoring the answers, pushing, and the annoyance bubbled up right from the start of the day. She’d be gone in twenty minutes. He could play with her that long, he thought.
Downstairs, however, Betty was standing at the door, her bag already over her shoulder, watching Erica, who was on the floor putting her shoes on. “Hey,” she said.
He went to kiss her, and she returned it with a chaste peck on the lips like a social nicety, devoid of feeling. “Are you angry at me?” he said.
“No. It’s just been a morning,” she said. “Come on, Erica.”
“You said to make sure my shoes were tied tightly. I’m triple-knotting them.”
Betty’s lips got thin. It didn’t require expertise to see her anger. She turned to Laughton. “I’ve got the clinic this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
“Who called in the middle of the night?”
Laughton looked out the door, and waved to Mathews to come in from the truck. “Kir. He’s coming.”
Betty’s head snapped around, and she fixed him with large eyes. “He’s not staying here, is he?”