The man at the bar looks exhausted, but his hands twitch with that bitter kind of energy you see in psychos or speed freaks. As I look him over he catches my eyes- his are bloodshot, red-rimmed and bruised.
“What’dya think your starin’ at, huh?” he snaps, his shoulders hunching up beneath the tattered overcoat. “You lookin’ for a shoulder to cry on, sport? What happened? Catch your wife screwing your best friend?”
“Just a bad week,” I answered noncommittally.
The man snorted and the bloodshot eyes slide back down to the beer between his hands. The knuckles are torn and red.
“You don’t know what a bad week is, ya little punk. Let me tell you what a bad week is.”
“I wake up the other day- well I say wake, but it doesn’t count as sleep when you doze off with your face on the keyboard. Anyway. I wake up and the spambot’s let something through. It’s a call from a cop named Mallory, one of those new F5 branches in the technocrimes division. Turns out some rich bastard got himself killed. By his robot. Not like one of those ‘funniest home accidents’ holos but really killed.”
“Mallory thinks it’s a jacker: you know jackers, right? Go in remotely, reprogram the bots and bam! Your loyal little robo friend tears your freakin’ head off. And there are ways to track em, I know: I wrote most of the codes to find those crooks. I used to get good money off it too until F5 muscled in on my gig. So I got this cop, who took away my business and now he wants me to help him?”
The disheveled figure takes a sip of the whisky and flashes a sardonic grin.
“Who am I kidding? I got bills to pay. So I get to the crime scene; flashy office uptown, above the cloud level, you know? You need three security passes just to wipe your ass. The body had been taken away, but you didn’t need a PhD to see how he died, there was blood everywhere. The wall safe had been opened and the bot had been taken as evidence. Expensive bot, too. One of those new Dutch manservant models, none of that shitty Japanese crap.”
“So I start work on the bot. It’s covered in blood but I notice a bullet hole in the back. Obviously didn’t slow the bot down, the bullet just lodged in the auxiliary carbon nets and made a mess. Now Mallory is trying to get the bot up and running, he thinks he can interview it. Can you imagine that? Interviewing the robot. You might as well play good cop, bad cop with a goddamn washing machine. I can’t believe these guys almost put me out of business. It doesn’t matter anyway, the bot’s scrap. If it recognizes it’s killed something, its hard-wiring won’t let it come back online. You’re not going to get any answers by just asking.
“But in the d-frame, there’s a different story. The data looks ok at first, but I run my little helpers and sure enough, there’s your jack. Remote access through the secondary data frame using the security initializer. End of story, right?”
The man picked up his glass only to slam it back down onto the bar.
“Bzzzt. Wrong answer, player number one. It’s a passive jack. I can see you’re lost so I’ll explain. There are water-tight security systems in these service bots- for insurance, see? These robos look after babies. You even suggest hurting someone and they just shut down. But a passive jack, that’s just looking. Maybe whispering a suggestion if you’re good, but hurting someone? Not a chance.”
“So there’s something going on, but I don’t know what. But what I do get outta this thing is a video feed. After the murder the bot shut down, but it was still recording a visual. I don’t see the murder, but the old man’s lying in a pool of his own ketchup and this brunette walks in. Don’t see her face, but damn she had a nice ass. Just beautiful. She sees the corpse and screams, then goes over to the open safe, gets something out and leaves.”
“Now I’m gonna admit here that I was supposed to be thinking about what all this meant. The bot’s killed someone, and it’s been shot. But that woman was probably wasn’t in on it, considering the waterworks. It looks like she came there to get something, I don’t know what, but it looks like whoever was controlling the bot was willing to kill for it. But that wasn’t what I was thinking.”
I nodded, trying to keep up. “You were thinking about how much the old man would be worth dead?”
The man raised an eyebrow and gave me a sideways glance.
“No. I was thinking about drilling for oil with the woman on the vid.”
I chuckled and shook my head but the ragged man looked hurt.
“What? You would’ve. So I’m sitting there with a hard-on thinking about this woman’s behind and in burst three people, all arguing and trying to get in to the old man’s office. One’s a young guy, just got out of some ivy-league law school or whatever, the second’s this uptown babe who looks like she just got a vitamin enema. Third guys looks like some old-money politician. Now Mallory’s still scratching his head over the bot, so I leave him to it and see what I can get outta these three.”
Reaching into his pocket, the man pulled out a small holographic device, which buzzed and sprouted a government logo; two eagles holding an electronic eye.
“F5, Technocrimes division,” recited the man, switching the device off and concealing it somewhere in his jacket. “You”ll never know when it comes in handy. I get each one of them alone, the young guy first. His name was… well he was the dead guy’s son, so let’s just call him that. Sonny’s pissed off. Not because his dad’s dead, but because he wants a piece of the dead man’s will. Can you believe that? The old guy gets torn a new one by his personal bot and the son is calling other lawyers over his share of the estate. Now he’s really got it in for the lady: turns out it’s the old man’s wife! Not Sonny’s mother though, this woman was like the sexy secretary put in a bit of overtime if ya know what I mean. Sonny, he’s making all these veiled accusations, how the wife—I dunno, let’s call her Jean—wasn’t supposed to be on the will, how the old man wanted to get rid of her etcetera. Sonny don’t back any of it up, o’ course. He’s just saying that Jean’s this devil woman with her hooks in the old man.”
“So I ask Sonny where he was the night before, he tells me he was at home. Now if I was a cop, I could go and ransack his place. Check his d-connections, see what he was up to. But I’m not. What am I gonna do? Cruise the local police station and convince some air traffic uniform to raid this guy? Anyway, I asked if the old man had any partners who could tell me if the deceased had any threats. Business partner, not the ‘committed relationships’ eyes across a crowded room crap. Now Sonny says there’s one, he was… aah, I can’t use names. These guys have lawyers who eat babies for breakfast. What’s your name, sport?”
“My name?” I replied. “It’s Dick.”
“Your parents actually called you Dick? God, you must have had a great childhood. Anyway, we’ll call the partner Dick.”
The man scratches his head, looking across the bar as if he’d never seen it before. “Lost my place. What was I up to?”
“The son,” I answered.
“The son,” he repeated, nodding. “Well I was done with Sonny, so I figured I see what Jean’s story was. Goddamn, was she a piece of work. I mean this broad was so stuck up you could see sunlight coming out of her ass, know what I mean? Before I even ask any questions she’s at me, telling me that is was Sonny’s fault, that Sonny had a disagreement with the old man over his re-marriage to her, how the old man was even planning to take Sonny out of the will entirely. Yeah, before she’s done I know what she wants. She wants all. Everything the old man left behind when he cashed in his chips.”
The bruised figure smiled.
“Wives,” he said grimly. “I was married once- don’t try it. I was an invisible wallet until I got sick of talking to the back of her head. Am I right boys?”
As he raised his glass a half-mutter, half cheer stumbled across the bar.
“Obviously this is a case of he said, she said, and these two have got the knives out for each other,” the man continued. “Mallory’s stopped playing with the fried bot and is starting to notice these two, so I wander off and speak to the business partner, Dick. Now this guy, he’s not laying it all out there like the others. He’s keeping his cards close to the chest. No, he doesn’t know of any particular enemies the old man might have had. No, he won’t comment on Sonny’s or Jean’s relationship with the old man, and no, he doesn’t want to tell me where he was or what he was doing when the robot went loco. Dick’s hiding something. I don’t know what it is, but he’s sitting on it and isn’t going to budge.”
“So I hang around for a while, make sure Mallory gives me my cut, but we both know whoever gets to the bottom of this first is going to rake in some serious dough. If it’s Sonny, Jean – hell, I don’t care. Someone’ll end up paying me. Anyway, I step outside and I spot someone familiar. I mean, I don’t know her face, but that ass. Oh yeah, I’ve seen that before.”
The man took a slug of his beer and shook his head.
“Goddamn that was a nice ass,” he repeated. “So guess what? She was waiting for me! As soon as she sees me she slips her arm around mine and asks if there’s somewhere private we can talk business. Now I’m thinking “yeah, in my pants,” but soon as we’re round the corner she pulls out a credit pass. She tells me it’s got 20,000 dollars on it. If I back off the case. She’s standing there with those sexy eyes offering me rent for the next year, at least. But as I said, there’s some real money involved in this. Why snap at the first bait?”
The man shrugged, causing the wrinkled coat he was wearing to scrunch up around his shoulders.
“Besides,” he continued. “Even with the money… that old guy didn’t die pretty. I mean it’s not like I knew him or anything, but still. It ain’t right. So I tell the dame to take a hike and when she leaves, I follow behind, all quiet-like. I follow her through a few conduits, up and down the grav stations, and then she waits on the corner of this 10 dollar a night dive. Guess who turns up?”
“Who?”
I looked up and saw the man’s story had attracted several onlookers; shift workers, a handful of drunks and a couple woman from the desperate and dateless club. Seeing he had an audience, the Detective gave a tired smile.
“It was Sonny! And guessing by where he was putting his hands, these two are pretty friendly. The other thing I notice about his hands- wedding ring. Which means the brunette is probably this guy’s little piece on the side.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “She could have been his wife. Was she wearing a ring?”
The man gave me a withering look. “No, she wasn’t wearing a ring, smart guy.”
“Besides,” he continued, taking another swig of the beer, “Married couples don’t kiss like that. And don’t argue, there’s not a man in here wearing a ball and chain that’ll believe you.”
“Now I could get involved, maybe lean on Sonny a little, ask him how his wife is these days, but you don’t survive in this line o’ business by sticking your head out. So I take a few candid photos of him and the girl with the nice ass. You know, what, let’s just call her the Mistress. When I had enough evidence to give some leeway if I need it, I headed home.”
“When I get there I set my little helpers through the bot’s data again and pour myself a drink. Now I can start thinking this through. I’m certain that Sonny, Jean or Dick is the jacker responsible for topping the old man. Jean’s got it in for Sonny-boy, looks like she was doing her best to get rid of him. Meanwhile Sonny’s got a fantastic little piece on the side that’s obviously doing whatever he asks, lucky bastard. And Dick, well, he’s still a mystery.”
“After the second scotch my helpers have turned up zippo and I need more to go on. So I start some serious digging, looking up what the old man was doing with the business, seeing if Sonny or Jean had any of their fingerprints on the dead guy’s bank accounts etcetera. I don’t find nothin’ like that, but after a few hours I do notice something. Someone’s been stealing from the old man. It’s hidden pretty well, but when you’ve dealt with as many data thieves as I have you get to know the tricks.”
“Someone was stealing money?” I asked. The man laughed.
“Pffffft! What are you, Amish? No-one steals money! You steal product schematics, meeting records, or best of all, stock information. And that’s exactly what someone’s been doing. Now I’m wondering whether the old guy’s death was actually a cover-up instead of a hit but before I get any more work done there’s a knock at my door.”
“Who was it?” I asked. The ragged figure spat.
“Heavies. Goons. Arseholes- call ‘em what you like. As soon as there’s a crack in the door there’s three of them in my apartment, wanting to know if I’m following up the case, how a sub-level punk like me shouldn’t be getting any big ideas. So I tell this guy yeah, I am getting some ideas: I got a big idea about sticking my boot so far up his arse that he’ll taste shoelaces. O’course then it’s on.”
“You fought three guys?” asked one of the woman, impressed.
“Bulldust,” called out of the factory workers from over the bar.
“You think I can’t, old-timer?” asked the man. His voice was hard and I looked again at the bloody knuckles wrapped around his drink.
“Let me tell you something,” the man continued. “There ain’t no such thing as a fair fight. There’s only punching a guy in the throat, kicking his balls and hitting him with a lamp so he won’t get back up. You don’t win a fight by being the strongest; you win by being the most vicious son of a bitch in the room.”
“Yeah, but three guys?” the factory worker asked. The man cocked his head to one side and traced a finger along the side of his beer.
“Ok, so I had some help,” he said. “Mallory had found out I’d been talking to the suspects and came round to ask me what I found, walked in at just the right moment. Tell you what, he may be a dumbass but he’s good in a tight spot. We sent two of the guys running and ditched the third in the dumpster out back. Mallory’s pretty friendly, but we both know that now I owe him one, and what he wants is what I’ve found out so far. What could I do? I did owe him one. So I spill my guts.”
The man chuckled and finished his beer, nodding to the bartender for another.
“What I didn’t tell him is I copied all the files from Mallory’s data recorder while he was cleaning himself up.”
This drew a few laughs from the people listening and the man continued.
“Yeah, I’m a sneak. But I know how to make the most of the situation. After Mallory goes I take a look through his files. It looks like he was on the same trail, it was all estate documents and pre-nups and account fees. But here’s a funny thing; a couple of weeks before the old man died Sonny’s name was removed from the old man’s will.”
“Now I’m thinking that this is a clear case against the son: he murdered the old man in revenge for being kicked outta the will. But it just don’t feel right. I mean, Sonny’s a lawyer, and he’s using a robot for something he could argue in court? I spent all night tossing and turning over the evidence, but nothing seemed to fit right.”
“When I woke up I decide to go see Sonny again. After waiting for an hour in some shiny office I finally get to see him and he gives me the same sob story again. I don’t think he understood that trying to sell me a hard-luck story wasn’t going to work when his paperweights cost more than my freaking apartment. I ask him whether the change in the old man’s will had been passed. Sonny says it was never finalized. So I ask him if that meant some of the documents were missing, and he says he didn’t know.”
The bruised man held a finger up to the watching crowd, as if he were teaching a lesson.
“Now I thought I had Sonny where I wanted him, so I pulled out the photos I had of him and the Mistress, and ask him if she would know anything about missing documents relating to the old guy’s will.”
“What happened?” someone asked from across the bar.
“Sonny’s pissed,” replied the ragged figure. “He doesn’t freak out or nothin’ but he knows I’ve got him by the short and curlies. Sonny knows that I figured the Mistress was working for him, so there’s no point denying it. So yes, he was interested in the will. He blamed Jean for screwing him out of his share of the estate and intended to fight it tooth and nail. Of course officially he has no knowledge of the Mistress trying to sneak into the old man’s office to steal the updated last will and testament, nor would he ever sanction any illegal action that could be construed as trying to protect her poorly-timed act of good faith.”
“So Sonny tried the bribe to stop you from finding out about the Mistress?” I asked. The man shrugged.
“Well that’s what he said, without actually saying it. Typical lawyer. I realized I wasn’t going to get any more info outta Sonny, so I took my leave and decided to try the business partner again. Like I said, Dick knows something, I just dunno what. Now when I go in I’m armed.”
“You threatened him with gun?” I asked. The man grinned.
“No you mook, I mean electronically armed. I’ve got portable wireless and my best little helpers ready to sneak into whatever files they can get their hands on. Dick sees me, grudgingly, but it’s clear he’s nervous about something. So I come right out with it and ask him what he knows about the state of the old man’s will in relation to Sonny. But this is where something interesting happens. Dick suddenly relaxes, and starts talking real fast like he’s just been let off the hook, telling me how the son was taken out of the will, and how strange it is that the old man died straight after, not that he’s making any accusations, wink wink.”
“I know I’ve just missed something and I don’t know what, so I thank him and get out of there. But when I pull out the datapad to check what my programs netted me, I see something really strange.”
“What?” asked one of the crowd.
“Nothing. I mean nothing nothing. My little friends couldn’t even get into the partner’s system. And these are programs designed by me! I know I’m onto something now- even though Sonny might be pulling a fast one to get his slice of the will, he don’t seem the type for a jacking murder. But a man who can fend off that kind of hack, well… I decided to my datapad back home and see if I can wring anything more outta it. However when I get home, the door was swinging open- I wasn’t alone.”
“The goons?” I asked. The man shook his head solemnly.
“Worse,” he replied. “The woman with the nice ass. The Mistress. She’s lying in my bed, wearing practically nothing, and telling me that my lock was broken but it’s my lucky day. Now any other time I woulda jumped at the chance then questioned her a few hours later—yeah, you heard that right ladies, a few hours—but I’m tired, fed up, and covered in bruises.”
“What did you do to her?” asked one of the barmaids.
The rumpled figure shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing like that, anyway. I got three rules: whisky’s drunk straight, I get double for weekends and I don’t hurt women.”
“I knew Sonny was using her for something,” he continued, tapping the side of his beer thoughtfully. “So I ask the obvious: what did you take out of the safe?”
“The broad just about jumps out of her skin- trust me on this, she was showing enough of it. She says it was nothing, just some personal items she wanted to get back. But I ask myself how Sonny’s spare girl knew how to get into the father’s safe?
The man snapped his fingers, the bloody knuckles crinkling in the bar’s dim light.
“Then it hits me: she wasn’t Sonny’s affair, she was the old man’s! This changes everything, and I’m yelling at the Mistress, and she’s crying, but I’m yelling again and again, asking who killed him, who killed him, who killed him.”
“The Mistress, she’s still crying, pulling her clothes back on and trying to get outta the apartment. But when I block the door she tells me: the Mistress thinks it was the old man’s wife. Now considering Jean started off as a homewrecker herself, I’m thinking the Mistress should be a little more understanding, but as this broad pushes past me she yells out that the old man loved only her and was going to divorce Jean.”
The man was getting more and more animated, getting up out of his seat and raising his voice as if the audience he had gathered were the ones who were in on it.
“I’m working things out as I run for the grav lifts, but now I know I’m onto the reason the old man died. Jean found out her husband, the old man, was having an affair with the Mistress. Now Jean knows that if the old man divorces her, she gets nothing. She’s back to being a secretary. Jean must have found out that Dick was using his, well let’s face it, pretty damn amazing hacking skills to steal from the company. So she blackmails Dick, and they come to an arrangement.”
“You see, if the old man dies in what looks like a jacking the divorce isn’t filed, and since Sonny’s outta the will anyway she gets to keep everything. Now Dick can either do what Jean says or get handed over to F5 as a datathief. Since that ain’t much of a choice he jacks into the bot, shuts down the security systems and bam! The robot wastes the old man, and opens the safe to make it look like a jacked burglary. Then the grieving wife laughs all the way to the bank.”
“I call Mallory in case Jean tries anything, he’s with Sonny and he tells me that Jean’s back at the old man’s office- and I know who she’s gone to see.”
The disheveled figure threw his arms wide, spilling the remains of his beer across the bar, but the crowd listening in the dim lights didn’t miss a beat.
“Mallory and I burst into Dick’s office, and there’s Jean, standing over the old man’s business partner and glaring at him. Dick looks up at us like he’s been caught screwing his wife’s sister, but Jean just starts screaming at us to get out. Mallory ain’t having none of it, so he tells her to shut her goddamn mouth until I’ve had my say.”
“Now I sit ‘em down, and lay out what I know. Like I said, I was still connecting the dots but I had the gist of it. It’s the oldest tale in the book. The woman scorned gets her revenge, in this case blackmailing a computer genius to do the dirty work for her.”
“I stand back, feeling pretty happy with myself but Jean starts sobbing and Dick’s screaming like a little girl, he’s saying no, we had it all wrong, they never intended to murder the old man, they were trying to do a burglary jack.”
“What?” I asked in bewilderment.
“Yeah, Mallory and I are pretty confused too, but the wife finally finds her voice, and she confesses.”
“Confesses what?” asked someone in the crowd excitedly.
The man shakes his head in disbelief. “Jean wasn’t trying to kill him, she says she just wanted to divorce the old bastard. She knew the only place the old man would keep the evidence he was having an affair—momento photos, holoimages and the like—was in the safe. If she could get that stuff, she could walk away with half of the old guy’s empire instead of nothin’. So Dick, he used his skills to shut down the security lock on the bot and set it to cracking open the old man’s safe.”
“Mallory was shaking his head, he thought that the pair were trying to get out of murder in the first degree by pleading a theft, but then I remember something.”
The man paused and nodded to the barman and on cue, a fresh beer was produced. Taking a slug, he savored the taste while the crowd held their breath.
“The bullet hole,” he finally stated. “The one in the bot. It was in the back, not the front. The robot was facing away from the old man, going through the objects in the safe. If the robot was attacking, it would have been in the front.”
“Mallory is scratching his head, wondering what to do, but I still got one more question. I ask them about them goons. I got torn knuckles and a trashed apartment, and I ain’t letting that go easily. Jean though, she shakes her head. She says she got no more to hide so she might as well tell me. It was Sonny boy.”
“The old man’s son?”
“Yep. Now this kinda makes sense to me considering he tried to bribe me, twice. Jean says that the son had found out about the whole thing from the Mistress and rang up Jean to cut a deal, telling the old man’s wife that he wouldn’t turn her over to the boys in blue if she agreed to the original will. Makes sense – they both get half and no-one goes to jail. Now Mallory’s still looking as dumb as a crap sandwich but I catch on to what happened in that room.”
“The Mistress. She walked into the office and saw her lover killed by a robot. She must have thought the wife killed the old man and would be after her next, so she takes anything in the cell that links her to the old man and hauls her sweet ass outta there.”
“The Mistress goes to Sonny for protection,” nodded a barmaid, giving up on any pretense of cleaning the bar and leaning across from the ragged figure.
“You got it, sugar,” replied the man, mustering up a tired wink. “The Mistress knew that Sonny was Jean’s enemy when the wife took him outta the will. What the Mistress didn’t know is that Sonny then cut a deal with Jean.”
“But as soon as I figure this out alarm bells start ringing in the back of my skull. I turn to Mallory, and I ask whether Sonny knows we came here to book Jean for murder. The big gorilla’s sitting there scratching his head and saying sure, why’s that important? Idiot.”
“Why’s it important?” I asked.
“They coulda been lying I ‘spose,” continued the disheveled figure, oblivious, “but Jean is crying like an angry baby and Dick’s looking like he’s gonna wet himself any minute. And yet Mallory still didn’t get it!”
“Get what?”
“Sonny. He’s taking a risk, getting involved. He had the Mistress, so he must have known that the trail would lead back to Jean. Which means he needed me off the case, because I was the only one who could have figured out what Jean had been planning. And the only piece of evidence that can prove Sonny was involved at all is playing hide the sausage with him!”
“I don’t get it,” I replied.
“Yeah, that’s what Mallory said too as I ran out of the office. Do you know how much Sonny would lose if it came out he was blackmailing Jean to get his half of the will, after he knew she committed a crime resulting in homicide? Everything. Bugger his share of the will, he’d lose the job, the house, maybe even go to jail himself. The Mistress went to him for protection, but now she’s a threat to be dealt with.”
“Mallory’s brain has finally caught up and he yells at me that he’ll send some cops, but he doesn’t know where Sonny and the Mistress were meeting up. But I do. So ten minutes later I’m standing outside of the same rat-hole where I was taking photos of the pair before, except this time I’m surrounded by cops and banging on the door. As soon as we step out of the chute we know we’re in the right place; the Mistress’s screams are ringing up and down the hall like a goddamn banshee.”
“Did you get to her?” asked the barmaid, clutching her side of the bar in anticipation. “Was she ok?”
The man ignored her question and ploughed on, his voice getting angrier and angrier.
“I was right there at the door,” he growled, slamming his fist onto the bar. “I could hear them both, so I yell out to that sewer-rat Sonny that the gig is up and we know he was in on the whole thing. The cops are all yelling to put any weapons down and come out, but- but all we hear is the Mistress screaming.”
“So I think bugger this and kick in the door. And all there’s that smug lawyer standing over the Mistress with a gun in his hand. And they’re both covered in blood. And I’m too late, because sh-she, sh-she’s…”
The tension in the bar was like a knife across the skinas the crowd of onlookers watched the ragged figure stutter to a halt. The man stayed silent for a moment, then his face screwed up in anger and he picked up his beer, slamming it hard on the bar and making the entire bar jump. Not content, he slammed the beer into the bar again and again until the glass was empty. Finally he sighed, the anger leaking out of him as he melted onto the bar. After a long minute, he started talking again.
“Sonny’s going down for murder. Gonna lose everything, obviously. Jean’s going down for blackmail and as an accomplice to Dick, who was charged with jacking a robot to perform a robbery. Mallory, that useless sack of crap, will probably get a promotion for the bang-up job he’s doing protecting all us helpless citizens.”
As the man spoke he pulled himself up off the bar, wiping his bloody, beer-soaked hands on his coat and nodding to the barmaids.
“So that’s my story,” he said, heading for the door. “The dame is dead, my apartment is trashed and the only three people who coulda paid me are playing house with murderers and rapists. That’s my bad week.”
The crowd parted for him as he left, but their faces weren’t satisfied. As the man opened the door I called out the question on everyone’s lips.
“So who was charged with killing the old man if it wasn’t Dick? The wife? The son?”
The tattered figure stopped and pulled out a half-empty packet of cigarettes. All the crowd could see was his back hunching over but a second later he turned, smoke drifting out of his nostrils.
“Oh that?” he replied. “You haven’t figured it out? When Dick jacked in and suggested to the robot to look through the safe, he turned off all the security systems. So when the old man found the robot rifling through the safe and shot it in the back, the bot acted to defend itself. The business partner didn’t murder the old man- the robot did.”
Without saying another word, the man turned away, disappearing back into the night from which he came.
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