crashing through a window—but the windows were most likely glasteel. Keep the body moving until its power drained—but there was no sign that its batteries had been damaged. Hope the cavalry arrived soon—but I would've bet that the door was sound-proof and almost no one passed by the lab at night. Pray for a miracle—but God just gets giggle-fits whenever I could use a miracle.
The body headed for the cat. As she jumped back, I started forward—to do what, I don't know; maybe to spit down Doyle's neck. The body whirled toward me.
Blake shouted, "Stand back!"—advice that I was already taking. She'd unreeled a cable from the array of equipment built into the lab bot. As I dodged, she whipped it at Doyle's body.
The head of the cable struck the body's abdomen, slipped down, then stuck magnetically to its thigh. As the body closed a hand on the cable to rip it away, Blake jabbed a button on the lab bot's chest.
The head of the cable sparked. The body spasmed repeatedly, then took two drunken steps toward Blake. She held down one of the lab bot's power buttons, upping the output. The cable sparked more brightly. The body snapped upright, then toppled. It lay as still as it had been before.
The lab bot honked. We all turned toward it, except for Blake, who kept watching Doyle's body. The lab bot's indicator lights went out, and the cable connecting it to the body fell limp.
Blake said, "Prof."
A few tendrils of smoke rose from the open neck and multiple bullet holes in Doyle's body. Prof grabbed an extinguisher from a cabinet and sprayed foam down the body's throat.
I said, "So much for the electronic evidence."
Blake said, "Maybe I should've let it get you."
I glanced at her. "You're bleeding."
She touched a cut on her cheek and winced. "Just a scratch." She smiled. "I always wanted to say that." It was a nice smile.
I rubbed my arm.
She said, "You're hurt."
"Only my pride." I returned her smile with interest. "I always wanted to say that."
The cat, scowling, dusted herself off. "Well, whoopee for the Danger Twins. Is Robbie really dead this time, or should I add him to my Christmas card list?"
Prof said, "Twenty thousand watts to a machine with damaged shielding? I think that's as dead as an AI can get."
I asked Blake, "You were sure the floor was non-conductive, weren't you?"
She shrugged and gave me another smile. "Pretty sure."
The lab bot's indicator lights came back on. Prof, pulling out a medikit from a cabinet, said, "You okay?"
Blake said, "I'm fine."
"Wasn't asking you."
The lab bot said, "I've rebooted. Next time, please turn me off with the shut-down command."
Prof took antiseptic and a swab from the medikit and headed for Blake. She held up a hand in protest. "That's really not necessary."
He nodded. "That's modern medicine for you."
The cat and I kept glancing at Doyle's body, but it never so much as twitched. I told Blake, "So, we've got an AI that could pass as human, and at least three copbots doing its bidding."
"Bidding," the cat said. "That's good."
I ignored her. "One of them definitely had no compunctions about killing people, and it didn't look like the others did, either. Any theories?"
Blake squirmed as Prof cleaned and bandaged her cut. "The neatest one's a Frankenstein scenario. Gold builds Doyle, an AI that can pass as human, but something goes wrong. He escapes and captures copbots that he programs to kill his maker. Gold suspects what he's up to, so she comes after him. Only he gets her first. But Zoe escapes, so the copbot sends a warning to Doyle, who's waiting at the next subway stop in case something goes wrong."
"How'd he get there so fast?"
"He must've had a flyer waiting for him. I doubt he would've hired one, but we'll check the records."
The cat said, "What if there's more than one Doyle? One at Union Station, one at North Hollywood?"
Blake winced more than she had when Prof applied the antiseptic. "Then my theory's not so neat. But the flyer's
The body headed for the cat. As she jumped back, I started forward—to do what, I don't know; maybe to spit down Doyle's neck. The body whirled toward me.
Blake shouted, "Stand back!"—advice that I was already taking. She'd unreeled a cable from the array of equipment built into the lab bot. As I dodged, she whipped it at Doyle's body.
The head of the cable struck the body's abdomen, slipped down, then stuck magnetically to its thigh. As the body closed a hand on the cable to rip it away, Blake jabbed a button on the lab bot's chest.
The head of the cable sparked. The body spasmed repeatedly, then took two drunken steps toward Blake. She held down one of the lab bot's power buttons, upping the output. The cable sparked more brightly. The body snapped upright, then toppled. It lay as still as it had been before.
The lab bot honked. We all turned toward it, except for Blake, who kept watching Doyle's body. The lab bot's indicator lights went out, and the cable connecting it to the body fell limp.
Blake said, "Prof."
A few tendrils of smoke rose from the open neck and multiple bullet holes in Doyle's body. Prof grabbed an extinguisher from a cabinet and sprayed foam down the body's throat.
I said, "So much for the electronic evidence."
Blake said, "Maybe I should've let it get you."
I glanced at her. "You're bleeding."
She touched a cut on her cheek and winced. "Just a scratch." She smiled. "I always wanted to say that." It was a nice smile.
I rubbed my arm.
She said, "You're hurt."
"Only my pride." I returned her smile with interest. "I always wanted to say that."
The cat, scowling, dusted herself off. "Well, whoopee for the Danger Twins. Is Robbie really dead this time, or should I add him to my Christmas card list?"
Prof said, "Twenty thousand watts to a machine with damaged shielding? I think that's as dead as an AI can get."
I asked Blake, "You were sure the floor was non-conductive, weren't you?"
She shrugged and gave me another smile. "Pretty sure."
The lab bot's indicator lights came back on. Prof, pulling out a medikit from a cabinet, said, "You okay?"
Blake said, "I'm fine."
"Wasn't asking you."
The lab bot said, "I've rebooted. Next time, please turn me off with the shut-down command."
Prof took antiseptic and a swab from the medikit and headed for Blake. She held up a hand in protest. "That's really not necessary."
He nodded. "That's modern medicine for you."
The cat and I kept glancing at Doyle's body, but it never so much as twitched. I told Blake, "So, we've got an AI that could pass as human, and at least three copbots doing its bidding."
"Bidding," the cat said. "That's good."
I ignored her. "One of them definitely had no compunctions about killing people, and it didn't look like the others did, either. Any theories?"
Blake squirmed as Prof cleaned and bandaged her cut. "The neatest one's a Frankenstein scenario. Gold builds Doyle, an AI that can pass as human, but something goes wrong. He escapes and captures copbots that he programs to kill his maker. Gold suspects what he's up to, so she comes after him. Only he gets her first. But Zoe escapes, so the copbot sends a warning to Doyle, who's waiting at the next subway stop in case something goes wrong."
"How'd he get there so fast?"
"He must've had a flyer waiting for him. I doubt he would've hired one, but we'll check the records."
The cat said, "What if there's more than one Doyle? One at Union Station, one at North Hollywood?"
Blake winced more than she had when Prof applied the antiseptic. "Then my theory's not so neat. But the flyer's
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