Beast

Part 1

Under normal circumstances, there were few---if any---reasons most of the students attending classes at San Jose State University would be at class on a Saturday. Few, if any, could even think of such reasons to be stuck indoors, in a lecture hall, when they could be spending the weekend doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

Vicki Lawson, obviously, was not like most SJSU students.

Even as she took her seat in the Morris Dailey Auditorium, she didn't think of what she'd be missing by sitting in on the lecture that was about to commence. She didn't bother wondering if Kirsten Sanderson, Derrick Snyder, Kim DeFalco or Tori Hartwell were bored---she knew they weren't---and she didn't even ponder the possibility of just leaving before the lecture started. As soon as Ted had told her who was speaking, she knew she'd be attending....

“Right....is everyone seated?”

The voice that called these words prompted a few affirmative mutters and nods, all directed towards the stage.

“Good....just give me a minute....” The figure behind the podium took a few moments, adjusting a stepladder brought to the stage by his own personal request. Good thing everyone here knows who he is, Vicki mused, though I'm hoping nobody would be making short jokes even if they didn't know....

Diminutive though he was (due to a genetically-inherited form of dwarfism), Dr. Selwyn McElvoy was one of the most prominent figures in the international robotics community, respected by all three acknowledged “sides” (the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency, the Coalition for Worldwide Cybernetic Unity and the House) for the simple fact that his research had, in one way or another, shaped everything they had been doing for the past two decades or so. Anyone Ted calls a “hero” has to be able to help me in the right direction, the brunette gynoid reasoned. At least, I hope so....

Dr. McElvoy cleared his throat, signalling the 30 or so students (a few of whom, Vicki was surprised to see, bore ALPA or Coalition-issued ID badges that clearly marked them as androids or gynoids---at least, to other registered androids/gynoids of either organization) to return their attention to the stage. “Before I begin, I'd just like to thank all of you for attending this lecture...I know some of you aren't...familiar with my work...”

More like, “I know none of you are familiar”, Vicki mentally corrected. Well, other than me....thanks to Ted.

A few rows away, someone raised their hand; “And we already have a question,” Dr. McElvoy mused. “Very well, feel free to ask.”

Vicki turned her attention to the student, noticing a girl about her own age---skin the color of toffee, dark brown hair done up in a braided bun of sorts, and a rather noticeable bright-yellow vinyl jacket with rolled-up sleeves worn over a pastel pink shirt and pale blue denim jeans---stand up. “No offence,” she began, “but....what's the point of this lecture? I mean---why are we here?”

If Dr. McElvoy was annoyed by the inquiry, he didn't show it. “First of all, you have my thanks for mentioning the lecture first, otherwise we'd be here all day talking about existential crises.” He adjusted his glasses, staring out over the podium. “All of you are here because of who you are, what you are, and the fact that you all know what you are.” He paused, allowing the words to sink in with the attending students; Vicki herself noticed a few glancing at each other in surprise, awe and possibly respect, with two girls in the front row conversing in the verbal shorthand perfected by the San Fernando “valley girls” decades prior (“So you're---” “Yeah, and you're---” “I know! It's, like---” “Completely random, and---” “We're both---” “Yeah!”).

“Now that we've cleared that potential hurdle,” Dr. McElvoy stated, “back to the topic at hand....”

He shuffled the papers on the podium before him. “I have no doubt in my mind that your lives---and I'm not going to go into the semantics of how an artificial being's existence constitutes 'life', so let's just call a spade a spade and say 'your lives' for the duration of this lecture...” After a short pause, he picked up where he'd left off. “I've no doubt that your lives, up to this point, have been...drastically different from anything you may have experienced as human beings. Things ordinary homo sapiens take for granted---'doctor visits', 'the talk', even learning about such arbitrary things as right and wrong, ethics...”

A tallish black-haired guy a few years older than Vicki shifted in his seat, almost as if McElvoy's words brought back memories that he'd forgotten (or suppressed, the brunette gynoid reasoned) for years. The doctor glanced in the young man's direction. “Something wrong?”

“It's...” The student stood, staring at the floor. “I started out not knowing I...wasn't real---”

“Let me stop you there for a second,” Dr. McElvoy interrupted. “I'm of the opinion that, despite their artificial nature, androids and gynoids such as yourself--- even those initially created without the liberty of knowing what they are---can be and are, in fact, 'real'.” He stared out over the crowd. “I'll get back to that in detail later on, but for now..”

The student who'd stood up nodded. “I started out not knowing I was...well...an android,” he muttered, “and I never really thought anything of it for the longest while...but then I realized something.”

McElvoy nodded. “And that realization was....”

“Every time I had to go to the doctor's office, even for a 'checkup', they always had some reason for putting me under. Mom always said something about haemophilia, not wanting me to freak out anytime the docs used medical instruments on me...and I always believed her. Until I started having the dreams.” He bit his lip, still not looking directly at the podium. “I....I started having these nightmares, about being taken apart, people taking things out of me, putting things in me.....like I was awake, during some sort of surgery or something.”

And you're not the only one, Vicki realized, seeing a few other students shuddering in their seats.

The black-haired student continued. “I told my mom about it, she said it was just bad dreams...” Something like a sob entered into his voice. “....but then, I had to go to get a 'routine checkup', and....”

“And you 'woke up' right in the middle of it.” Those words were spoken not by Dr. McElvoy, but (to Vicki's surprise) by Kim DeFalco. “Right when they were in the middle of changing something out, or reconnecting a few wires, or....something.”

Her observation prompted a tearful nod. “I freaked out. Completely lost it...I thought I was in Hell...”

“Except you weren't,” Kim continued. “Same thing happened to me, except at a dentist's office. I went in to get a tooth pulled, woke up to find myself staring at my headless body seated in a chair---with a crap-ton of wires and stuff where my neck ended. Oh, and some guy was poking around inside the back of my head with a power screwdriver.” She rolled her eyes. “Took me three weeks to get over it, with counselling...but after that, any time I thought about it, I'd just make a 'screamed my head off' joke.”

At the front of the room, McElvoy nodded. “The mere fact that most people not 'in the know' about who and what you are seem to automatically gravitate towards Roombas, Terminators or Disneyland animatronics when the word 'robot' is mentioned shows just how little they know as far as artificial intelligence is concerned. Just last week, I attended a conference focusing on the collaborative A.I.-based experimentation that started in the 1950s....and, if the report was to be believed, ended in the 1970s. The 'A.I. Winter', they called it.”

Guess we all know how that turned out, Vicki mused, fighting the urge to giggle.

“Simply put,” McElvoy stated, “the A.I. Winter is a myth, created and enforced by....certain entities.”

AKA the ALPA, the Coalition and the House. Memories of her recent history with all three groups swam briefly through the brunette gynoid's thoughts, along with a sense of awe at their capacity for conducting their actions in such secrecy for well over four decades. Almost as if he was thinking the same thing, McElvoy spoke up: “If any of you are wondering just how this myth has been enforced throughout the ages---”

Several trilling, bleeping tones went off around the auditorium, followed by a handful of students---including Vicki herself---reaching for their phones. “Vicki Lawson here, what's---”

“Where are you right now?”

It took three seconds for Vicki to recognize the voice on the other end of the line as Dominic Oswald Sandow, one of the operatives who'd accompanied her to the Salton Sea-based lair of Rykkard and his Spare Parts Society. “The Morris Dailey Auditorium,” she replied, a bit confused. “Why---”

“Is Kirsten Sanderson there?”

“Yes, she is....” The gynoid Field Agent's words trailed off as she noticed Kirsten with a somewhat perturbed look on her face; whatever the phone call she was listening to was about, it more than likely wasn't an invite to a weekend barbecue. “....and she looks kind of upset about something. Also...a lot of the other students in here got called at the same time as I did---”

“Good. The alert was just issued half an hour ago, so if they're just getting it now---”

“Wait, what alert?!”

Back onstage, Dr. McElvoy had been handed a note by one of his assistants; Vicki's enhanced hearing picked up a faint “You're sure?” from him, though it didn't take any focus at all to notice the aide nodding gravely.

In almost perfect synchronicity with the actions onstage, Dom's voice sounded in her ear: “The alert issued by ALPA HQ regarding the recent reappearance of Project Epsilon. There've been sightings all week....allegedly, it took a full day for our esteemed superiors to figure out how best to handle it.”

A few seats away, Kirsten Sanderson was quietly sobbing; guess she just got the bad news, Vicki surmised. “I guess I'll be meeting Oberon later to discuss the brief,” she told Dominic. “When can I---”

“Ah...about that.” Something in Dom's tone didn't exactly sound all that positive.

“Dom.....is something wrong?”

“Oberon's....not supervising this particular op, Vicki. There was an....aggressive discussion earlier today about it, and Oberon sort of....got out of hand regarding his views on it....” There was no humour in the words, no hint of the situation having been anything but serious. “Nobody's talking about any serious disciplinary action or anything, but....just don't ask about it when you get back.”

“....okay...” Even as she spoke the word, Vicki knew things weren't okay. “Should I get back to HQ---”

On the other end of the line, the phone changed hands; brief snatches of words from others (Clive DuBraul, Cedric Harcourt, and three or four whose voices Vicki couldn't recognize) filtered through and were picked up by Vicki's enhanced hearing in seconds. Finally, another voice: “For now, stay with Kirsten.”

“Not a problem, Professor.” Just hearing Anton Malvineous' voice calmed the gynoid Agent. “If she leaves...”

“Then go with her. Unless something else comes up.”

“Something tells me that won't be a problem,” Vicki replied, watching as guards took to the auditorium doors.

---

“....and you're positive? They signed---right. Well, if she doesn't know already.....no, I won't tell her. Fine. Be seeing you.” Major Thomas Lane (known as Major Tom around ALPA HQ, since he rarely used the call-sign they'd given him), shook his head as he ended the phone call. “Unbelievable.”

He half-expected a glance or response from the figure standing beside his chair, only to remember exactly where he was---and that the House employed non-sentient androids and gynoids (like the motionless, plastic-skinned maid unit at rest near his chair) as well as those like Alicia LeHane...and however many of her backup bodies were active at that moment. “Of all the times he had to go off the rails, he picked now....when we actually need him....”

Unlike the non-sentient maid unit, Kimiko Mori actually looked worried at the news. “It's that bad?”

“Worse,” the Major quietly replied.

A door on the opposite end of the waiting room opened, revealing William Patrick Baker---the Patriarch of the House, appointed in the wake of Celeste's abrupt departure from the position. “You might as well warm your bones in here,” he informed the ex-NASA operative. “Sitting in a lobby won't do any of us any good....you as well, Kimiko.”

The Asian gynoid closed the door behind her once Major Tom had taken his seat in Baker's office. “You've heard the news, then?” he muttered.

“Heard it, tried to make sense of it and bloody given up on it,” the Patriarch sighed. “I've known Oberon for donkey's years....never thought he'd do anything like this. If I'd known beforehand what his stance on the whole matter was, I'd have called him up, invited him to come 'round and have a few pints in the caff....instead, he's 'under enforced leave of absence'.” He scoffed; “Might as well call it what it is,” he bitterly added. “House arrest.”

Kimiko let out a quiet gasp. “But....he's the Chairman---”

“Chairmen make mistakes,” the Major snapped. “It's happened before...I just never thought it would happen with Oberon.” He gripped the armrests of the chair, shaking his head in disgust. “You didn't hear what he said at HQ, Kimmy....you weren't there. Damn good thing, too...otherwise you might've hauled off on him before he got hauled off.”

“And then she'd have been in the same boat as him,” Baker reminded him.

The remark prompted a scoff from Tom. “Not likely. The most she'd have been written up for was striking a superior....I've never heard anyone, much less Oberon, say some of the crap he was saying---”

“But what did he say?!”

Kimiko's pleading inquiry was met with a raised eyebrow from Baker...and a quiet, defeated sigh from Major Tom. “I was hoping I wouldn't have to be the one to tell you this,” he replied, almost sotto voce, “but the gist of it is....Oberon was lobbying for a team to be mobilized to kill Project Epsilon.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes halfway closed. “He wasn't there, the last time Epsilon was in the Valley...he never saw what happened when Kirsten and Epsilon met....”

“Has anyone even tried to explain the situation to him?”

Major Tom gave a mirthless chuckle at the Patriarch's question. “No need to explain it, Rick....he knows. And he still wants to play it his way. Even after...shall we say, recent events....he wants Epsilon taken down with extreme prejudice.”

“Which leaves us in the unenviable position of trying to stop him,” Baker murmured. “So much for a quiet---”

“I still don't get why Oberon wants to kill Project Epsilon,” Kimiko interjected. “I mean...I thought the ALPA was supposed to....y'know, protect artificial life...forms....” Her words trailed off as Major Tom's gaze locked onto her. “What?”

“The situation with Epsilon is....complicated,” Baker explained. “At the start of the project, Epsilon was---and by some accounts, still is----Anthony Sanderson, an undercover ALPA operative working within the ranks of United Robotronics to funnel information back to his handlers. The Baron made the call for Sanderson to be conscripted into Project Epsilon, and from what we've been able to ascertain....he became Project Epsilon, in the most literal sense of the term. 'Unnecessary organic components' were removed, implants and upgrades were installed....”

His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “...they even went to work modifying his brain.”

“All of which,” Major Tom barked, startling Kimiko, “is considered verboten by the ALPA's standards. Even the lead researcher of Project Epsilon jumped ship....”

“To put it as simply as possible,” Baker concluded, “Epsilon is...outside what we consider to be the standard definition of an 'artificial lifeform'. Qualifying him as a 'cyborg' is out of the question, as well, despite the efforts of Hollywood to make the terms 'android' and 'cyborg' interchangeable....” He gave a sad, quiet sigh. “All this talk about the 'singularity', trans-humanism, and the limits between man and machine...if anyone saw Epsilon and knew what---who he is.....it'd all go into a tailspin from there. We'd be at the beck and call of politicians who cared less about the ethics of what we do and more about how much we contributed to their stupid 'PACs' come election season.....”

Kimiko let the weight of the Patriarch's words sink in, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say...

“The choice.”

Baker's statement caught her attention. “What....”

“You're wondering if Oberon's single-minded determination to kill Epsilon is the 'right' choice.” Baker wasn't smiling. “To be honest....the 'right' and 'wrong' choices here are quite a bit harder to discern...but choosing to kill Epsilon 'is not' and will never be the 'right' decision...no matter who thinks it is, even if they claim to have a good reason for it. The last time Epsilon was on the loose in Silicon Valley, Oberon was...elsewhere. Tending to business best left undiscussed, if memory serves....”

Major Tom muttered something under his breath that Kimiko didn't quite catch, but the Patriarch spoke before she could ask what he'd said: “Oberon's opinions on Project Epsilon are....well-known, as are his views on what should be done to stop the end result.”

“And....what are his views on how to stop the end result?” the Asian gynoid quietly asked.

“Decimation.”

The four syllables of that one word seemed to chill the air in the room. “Absolute, total decimation,” Major Tom droned, a blunt, unfeeling tonelessness to his voice. “He knows what Epsilon is, and who Epsilon used to be...and he refuses to change his mind. It's.....unforgivable.” Something in his tone cracked.

“To put it simply,” Baker concluded, “we need to find Oberon before he finds Epsilon.”

For a few minutes, nobody in the room spoke.

Eventually, Major Tom stirred in his seat. “I think I have an idea of what he may try to do to locate Epsilon,” he quietly admitted, “and if I'm right, we need to cut him off now.” He nodded at a folder on Baker's desk; “You were at the E-Lin launch last month?” he offered.

“Hosted it,” the Patriarch replied, “and....no. He wouldn't.”

“What's an E-Lin?” Kimiko asked, looking more confused than worried.

The Major sighed. “E-Lin---Electronic Link-up. A sub-series of gynoids designed specifically for remote access and connectivity to satellites, mobile networks and long-distance servers. Day-to-day, they can blend in as well as any gynoid...”

“...but give them a proper access code,” Baker finished, “and you can tap into whichever networks you have the clearance to access.”

Even as the question formed on her lips, Kimiko heard its answer: “Oberon,” Major Tom intoned, “despite being under house arrest by the ALPA, has the security clearance necessary to conduct day-to-day ops from his desk....which is not where he is right now, knowing him.” He steepled his fingers, his gaze turned to the floor instead of to Kimiko. “They never even got the anklet on him before he stormed out,” he murmured. “The way he was going on, I'm just glad there was no further bloodshed after Cedric took a haymaker to the nose.”

The Asian gynoid's eyes widened in shock. “He....he wouldn't!”

“If he believes in his view strongly enough,” Baker remarked, “then he would---”

“Except this time,” the Major spat, “all he did was warn everyone to stay out of his way.” His lips curled in an ugly snarl; “All the times I've stood up for him,” he growled, “all the times I stuck my neck out for him and 'doing the right thing', and he freaking does this.....”

Baker didn't even try to stop him from grabbing a paperweight off the desk and hurling it at the wall, a wordless scream ringing through the room over the shattering of the decorative faux-coral piece. Kimiko nearly fell out of her chair; in all her time working with Major Tom, she'd never seen him as angry as this before. And, of course, there was the matter of Oberon---the Chairman of the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency---now being seen as an enemy by his own colleagues.....

“This....feels wrong,” she whispered. “All of it....”

Despite the fact that Major Tom was still screaming, her whisper was, in fact, heard: she felt Baker's hand close around her own, his grip firm enough to not let her slip away, but just slack enough to not put stress on her joints.

“It's only a feeling,” he assured her. “Just a bad feeling, that's all.”

“But what do we do?”

Kimiko's plea was met with an unwavering gaze. “We'll do the right thing---the truly right thing, as opposed to what one person believes to be the right thing.....”

Richard Patrick Baker managed a smile. “....and even if the right thing isn't the easy thing...we'll do it anyway.”

What was left of Major Tom's chair hit the floor with a sickening crack as he stamped on it, the armoured sole of his boot easily splintering the wooden chair leg. Kimiko, her eyes squeezed shut, didn't turn to face him even as Baker looked up; “I take it you're done destroying my furniture?” he politely inquired.

Major Tom's glare was the only reply the Patriarch received.

“Right...I'll have the cleaners in to replace it tomorrow morning.” Baker sighed, glancing back at Kimiko. “My dear Agent Mori,” he declared, “I think it's time we get to mobilizing our people to make sure Oberon doesn't make the biggest mistake of his life....”

Part 2

“....right. I'll let you know as soon as possible.” Dr. McElvoy hung up the phone, frowning. “Looks like they'll have to wait for the audiobook,” he informed his aide. “The call just came in---they don't want anyone leaving the building.” He glanced back at the crowd of students; “I suppose someone will have to explain this to all of them,” he admitted. “A few of them might not grasp exactly why they have to stay here for a few extra minutes....”

Unbeknownst to McElvoy, one student in particular knew all too well why they were staying....namely, because she'd just been called about it, and because her internal WiFi reach had been extended to one specific gynoid in the room, allowing her to overhear the entire exchange without being noticed.

He'd probably hate me for this, Vicki mused, keeping a close eye on the picture-in-picture view that allowed her to see things from the POV of McElvoy's main aide. Then again, I have a better grasp of the situation than---

“Also,” McElvoy's voice piped in, “please inform Miss Lawson that there's no need to tailgate on your sensors, Miss Hynde...if she wants to talk to me, I have no problem discussing this in person.”

The brunette gynoid groaned. “Sorry, Dr. McElvoy...I was just---”

“No need for an explanation---you're not 'in trouble'.”

“Thanks...” Indeed, Vicki considered herself lucky that McElvoy viewed her intrusion on Miss Hynde's sensors as something less than an annoyance---ever since Lawson's Eleven had rebuilt her following a brutal defeat at Faceless' hands, the gynoid Field Agent found herself...gifted with a few new abilities---case in point, her little trick of wirelessly piggybacking on other systems in the area (even those of other androids/gynoids). She mostly used it to keep one step ahead of the Twitter Twins (their Skype obsession had been naught but a passing fancy), as well as keeping her schedule conflict-free---and, in anticipation of a talking-to from Ted and Joan, she vowed to never use her newfound talent for anything remotely connected to illegal activities.

By the time she reached the backstage area, Vicki was surprised to note that McElvoy barely paid attention to her arrival. “Very impressive trick you pulled, Miss Lawson” he mused, his eyes never leaving the screen of his iPhone. “If Miss Hynde's systems weren't linked to my phone, I never would've noticed.”

Vicki rolled her eyes. “Yeah...sorry about that.” She glanced at Miss Hynde. “No hard feelings?”

The leggy, cinnamon-haired gynoid smiled and gave a polite nod.

“She's not feeling all that chatty,” McElvoy chimed in. “Her voice-box is being repaired by my specialists; her throat lining was a bit...weakened after a night out on the town last month, and she found out the hard way that grape juice doesn't agree with her internals.” Miss Hynde shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to look disinterested. “Fortunately for both of us,” McElvoy continued, “I'm well-versed in the art of reading body language---and American Sign Language---so her communicative skills are still sharp.”

“That's...pretty cool,” Vicki mused, nodding her approval. “So, about the, ah...alert....”

Her gaze turned back to the crowd, and to a pair of students consoling Kirsten Sanderson. “This may sound a bit weird, coming from me,” she admitted, “but....how much do you know about Project Epsilon?”

At the mention of the name, Miss Hynde put a hand to her mouth and backed away.

“Epsilon,” McElvoy sighed. “A name I never thought I'd hear again...” He shook his head. “I'm somewhat surprised you know of it, Miss Lawson....” His words trailed off as Vicki opened her jacket to reveal the ALPA Field Agent badge clipped to the interior lining. “....sorry, Agent Lawson,” he corrected. “I never thought we would meet at a college lecture, to be honest.”

The brunette gynoid allowed herself a grin. “Well, I do try to keep a low profile...”

Before McElvoy could reply, Miss Hynde nodded towards Stage Left. “Ah, that'll be Rengold,” the roboticist mused. “I should probably....”

He stopped, noticing the look of abject horror on Vicki's face. “.....Agent Lawson?”

Even in shadow, she recognized him. 6'1”. Muscular, yet trim---befitting someone with a history of gymnastic and ballet training. No, no, no, NO----

“Selwyn....sorry I'm late. Traffic was an absolute....ah, is she okay?”

Vicki blinked. 50 times---exactly 50 times (her internal monitoring system counted). And then blinked again.

Despite the fact that the newcomer's height, weight and even bone structure matched those of her hated nemesis, the man Selwyn McElvoy had called “Rengold” looked....normal. Dirty-blonde hair, cut short; stunning blue eyes, a chiseled jaw that could've been right at home on Robert Redford a decade ago....and, of course, there was the small matter of the fact that he was wearing a grey flannel suit with a Bondi Blue shirt, a purple Art Deco tie and brown Italian leather shoes, rather than all-black.

And, of course, he wasn't wearing a mask.

“Agent Lawson, allow me to introduce you to the new CEO of Rengold Cybernetics,” McElvoy declared. “May I present William J. Rengold IV.”

William J. Rengold.....IV?!

“William J. Rengold....the Fourth,” Vicki repeated. “The Fourth.”

“As in, after third,” William replied, sighing. “As in....the twin brother of a complete psychopath.” He smiled; “I might as well get that whole thing out of the way right now,” he informed the brunette gynoid. “I'm on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from....him. He dedicated his life to hurting people---”

“And you.....help them?”

William nodded. “Exactly. It's why I stepped up to take charge of Rengold Cybernetics after Fa....after my brother was banned. The Board of Directors hated the idea, at first---for some stupid reason, they wanted him onboard for every single harebrained scheme they had....but that's all in the past.” He glanced at McElvoy; “So....did I come at a bad time?”

“Somewhat. An alert's been put out---”

“I've heard.” William's smile vanished. “They're saying it's Epsilon. Again.”

Vicki managed to not blurt out “It is”, mainly because she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was standing in the presence of Faceless' brother---his twin brother, at that. He does look like an older version of Psycho McCrazyMask---at least, he looks like how I picture Faceless looking from the last time I saw him before he....remodelled his own face....and I think there was a brother mentioned in those files I found back when WJR III was trying to take over United Robotronics in the 90s....

She saved all queries regarding William J. Rengold IV for later. “So....what brings you to Silicon Valley?”

“I was just going over that with Dr. McElvoy,” William acquiesced. “We're both in town for a college lecture tour, though mine is a bit less...posh than his.” There was a faint trace of a Trans-Atlantic accent in his voice. “The ALPA was a bit leery about having me onboard---”

“Bad blood with your brother?” Vicki quipped---instantly hating the words. “Sorry, I didn't---”

“I've heard worse,” William assured her. “A lot worse. Anyways, Rengold Cybernetics is trying to get a few big security contracts in the Valley---we've been working with Encom since around...July, I think, and the progress we've made is incredible. If we can get our latest project out of beta, it could revolutionize---”

McElvoy cleared his throat and tugged at the edges of William's coat. “Brochure later, Epsilon now.”

William cringed. “I was hoping that the sightings were just rumours, Selwyn. Last I heard, they still were.”

“Rumours don't flip a Chevy off the freeway at 5:52 A.M.,” McElvoy replied, not smiling. “Nor do they tear up Fry's Electronics looking for obsolete SCSI cards, multitools and specialized cabling.”

“Wait,” Vicki cut in. “Epsilon busted into Fry's Electronics?”

“Allegedly,” William replied. “The cover story is alternating between vandals and some sort of super-extremist radical anti-technology group...neither of which holds up under scrutiny.” He sighed. “The real question is, how in the hell are they going to contain Epsilon without causing any more damage...and why are you giving me that look, Selwyn?”

Miss Hynde stared at the floor, her expression one of wanting to be anywhere but in that particular location.

Dr. McElvoy gave William a look of disbelief. “You haven't heard about the ALPA Chairman?”

This time, it was Vicki who looked surprised. “Ah, what about---”

“They didn't,” William gasped. “I...I thought it was a sick joke---some sort of prank---”

“Last I checked, putting a man under house arrest isn't exatly a prank,” McElvoy reminded him. “I take it you heard the 'rumours' about what he said---”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Vicki stepped forward, glancing at both men. “When the HELL was Oberon---”

“This morning. When he threatened to kill Epsilon on sight.”

“.....what?” Picturing Oberon---the man who'd personally given her a Field Agent license, and who'd been the voice of reason in every incident she could think of---ordering Field Agents to kill Epsilon on sight sent a very real chill down Vicki's spine. “I.....I don't think...no, that has to be a mistake----”

“No mistake. He and DuBraul had a....somewhat physical altercation over it.” McElvoy glanced out towards the crowd of students; “If the word got out,” he added, “it might not be all that well-received. I understand that Oberon is no fan of Project Epsilon, but going this far...one can only imagine the fallout if the House or the Coalition got word.” He shook his head disdainfully. “I've heard that Oberon has...experienced quite a bit, most of it during his breaks from the ALPA...but what could he have possibly been through that would lead him to think this was an acceptable course of action?”

Vicki stared at the floor. “I don't know...and I don't want to know.”

“Whether or not we know why he's doing this is irrelevant. We need to get to him before he does something that could send us all into a downward spiral...”

A uniformed security man approached the group. “The car's out front, sir. We're ready for departure.”

McElvoy gave a nod of acknowledgement. “I'll have Miss Hynde give you Ted Lawson's number,” he replied. “If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to know if Miss Lawson could...travel with us, for the time being.”

“I don't have a problem with it,” Vicki admitted. “It's just...there's someone else here I need to bring with me.”

---

“So....your first official assignment with the ALPA. Liking it so far?”

Anton Malvineous' question didn't phase the armoured, 6-foot figure given the designation “Mr. Roboto”. “To say that I 'like' this would imply that I'm comfortable sifting through the remains of a sports-utility-vehicle,” the android replied, “whose occupants had no idea what they were facing....”' The servos in his neck whirred slightly as he turned to regard an unmoving female figure nearby. “When will she join us?”

“In a few minutes, give or take. I'm surprised you chose to take the call, honestly....thought you'd be at Leah Chambers' convers....on second thought, forget I mentioned it.” Anton returned his attention to the Chevrolet Suburban's autolog data. “Husband's a bio, wife's steel...two sons and two daughters. I don't get why 'bio' is apparently less...offensive, by the way,” he added. “Makes me think I'm talking about a book, instead of---” He groaned as the sounds of UB42's “Red Red Wine” emanated from the front pocket of the unmoving 20-something girl's jeans. “I'll have to take this one.....Anton here, what's----”

“She's still not on?!”

“No, Major, she's not. And if you're the one who gave her the UB40 ringtone---”

“I thought she got rid of that one! Anyway...found anything they didn't cover in the report?”

“They didn't mention one of the sons had prosthetics, or that one of the daughters was steel. Other than that, everything matches up. Also,” Anton added, “there's a lot that was, ah....taken out of the car---”

He nearly jumped a foot back as the Suburban's speakers blared to life, the chorus of “Mrs. Robinson” blaring from the speakers---just as the girl standing next to him shuddered out of her storage-required stasis. “GAAH! I....where's my phone?!”

“I'm borrowing it,” Anton quietly informed her. “Welcome to the case, by the way.....”

“Mary. Mary Robinson.” The girl shook Anton's free hand. “And who's the, ah...”

“Mr. Roboto,” Anton replied with a grin. “Say hi to the new girl, Roboto---if you're not too busy trying to put the Suburban back on its tires----” He winced as the SUV landed rather heavily on all four wheels, just as Mr. Roboto turned to nod at Mary. “SO,” the roboticist continued, “your first case since you got here from....Ohio, I hear?”

The blonde gynoid nodded. “I don't get why I had to go into a stasis capsule for the trip,” she complained.

“Just be glad you didn't include your middle initial on the form,” Anton dryly remarked. “The S doesn't stand for Susan, Suzanne or just Sue, does it?”

Mary gave him a Kubrick stare that the man himself would've been proud of. “It stands for Sinclair.”

“Like the computer makers? I actually had a ZX Spectrum, back in the 90s...nice bit of kit, really.” Anton's reminiscing was interrupted by a trilling beep from the iPad he was using to scroll through the autolog data. “And hello, unexpected find! Roboto, you may want to stop playing hackey-sack with the Suburban...we've got a bit of a mystery on our hands! Mary, any chance you'd want to see this for yourself?”

“Give me a minute...” Mary unbuttoned the top two buttons on her shirt, tapping the unblemished skin below her neck; seconds later, a trapezoidal panel popped out slightly, allowing her to hinge it down. “You wouldn't happen to have an Apple connector cord for an Eastman-Kodak Type 9R-8, would you?”

With a flourish, Anton produced the cord---from Mary's jacket pocket. “I think this will suit your needs, m'lady.”

“Nice...ever tried street magic?” With a wry grin, the gynoid hooked up to the iPad. “Give me a min---”

At once, she froze in place, her eyes moving rapidly as if she was speed-reading the text. “A fascinating display,” Roboto intoned. “If my fate had been in kinder hands...”

“It's in great hands now,” Anton assured him. “Despite a few...missteps from certain higher-ups---”

His intended reassurance was cut off by a gasp from the lithe blonde. “No matter how many times I feel that,” she murmured, her voice a bit huskier than intended, “I can never get used to it...” A brief shiver passed over her as she disconnected the cord. “Well, you were right about this being a bit of a mystery, Professor---except it's more than 'a bit' of one!” Her eyes scrolled again, “re-reading” the data she'd just downloaded. “Seems the occupants of the Suburban weren't just hit at random...wait a minute.” She leaned forward, as if to get a better look at something.

“Quirk of the design,” Anton explained to Roboto. “She sees the data as---”

“A clipboard filled to bursting with papers,” Mary chimed in. “The autolog drive on that Suburban was logging a lot more than just tune-up data and collision reports...”

“Which is why we need to get back to ALPA HQ ASAP,” Anton finished. “They'll want to take a look at it.”

“Perfectly understandable...but none of this explains why the car stereo kicked on right when I activated.”

Mary and Anton glanced at Roboto. “Did you notice any external security sensors on the Suburban while you were, ah, examining it?” the professor inquired.

“I...might have nudged one. Accidentally.”

“Or it might've set itself off when Mary reactivated...a brief burst of WiFi activity, the last name Robinson---it'd explain the song choice, at the very least.” Anton shrugged. “Eh, just a theory----we've got more important things to concern ourselves with.” His attention returned to the iPad. “With their security clearances, I'm a bit surprised none of our people responded sooner....”

As soon as the words left his lips, he stopped himself. “....anyway, we need to secure the scene----”

“I know that look, Professor.” Mary's lips pursed in a frown. “I've heard the chatter, too...the Chairman getting put under---”

“THAT,” Anton declared, “is confidential....it shouldn't be 'chatter'.....”

Mary didn't flinch. “But it's true, isn't it?”

Anton stared at her. “Whether or not it's true has no bearing on this case,” he replied, his voice calm---and his expression dead serious. “We need to concern ourselves with Epsilon, and how to keep it from causing too much damage...this isn't exactly something that can be contained easily, like the Somalian ebola outbreak back in the 90s. Funny how the movie glossed over just how hard it was for those Black Hawk Down guys to get out of there when almost 90% of the country was infected....but that's another story for another day.” His stern glare softened a bit. “Yes, the Chairman is technically under house arrest---”

“How can it be technical?! He's either under house arrest or---”

“They served him with the warrant, but there were...difficulties. Harcourt took a shot to the nose, got blood all over his shirt...Oberon was out the door before anyone could stop him.” Anton sighed. “It's not exactly one of the ALPA's finest moments, to be honest....” He nodded. “Well. Now that we've managed to get that little detail out of the way....”

“Back to the case,” Roboto intoned. “And the autolog.”

Again, Anton nodded. “Best idea I've heard all day. As I was saying earlier, the security clearances held by the occupants of this SUV would've been more than enough to let anyone into any ALPA-certified repair facility or laboratory....and I don't think I need to explain why that's a bad idea.”

“Epsilon gets in, he gets all the tech he needs,” Mary replied. “Probably the worst case scenario---”

“Replace 'probably' with 'it is', and you've hit the nail on the head. Back to the autolog, though...seems this Suburban was on route to meet up with the Deeleys at the airport....Nina, Sammy and---oh, joy, it doesn't list the husband's name.” Anton blew out an annoyed sigh. “We're lucky that Epsilon focused his attack on the SUV itself, instead of its occupants....and what are you doing?”

Mary had hiked up her shirt to plug in a cable leading from the autolog box. “There's more to the autolog than the data you've read....oh, my God....” Her eyes widened in shock. “Epsilon didn't attack this car....”

“Ah, have you seen the vehicle in question?!”

“You need to see what I'm seeing right now....I'm transferring the data to your iPad.” A shiver ran through the blonde gynoid's frame. “The rear-view camera recorded it right before the SUV hit the ditch....”

Anton frowned, but watched the video anyway. “I don't see what's so shocking,” he began, “but---” His words came to a crashing halt just as a white sedan---driven by an all-too-familiar, white-clad figure---slammed into the rear-end of the Suburban. Worse than the obvious identity of the driver, however, was the look on his face---a mixture of tranquility and fury... “This happened just before they served him with the arrest order,” the roboticist whispered. “He.....he was already trying to kill Epsilon before we even got to him?!”

“There's no way someone could fake this,” Mary murmured. “Whatever the hell is going on, the Chairman---”

“No. We take this straight back to HQ and tell DuBraul. Wanting to wipe Epsilon off the map....that's already bad enough. But this---trying to run an SUV off the road?! I don't even want to know what his excuse is for this...I just....”

Mary rested her hand on Anton's shoulder. “We'll put an end to this. Somehow.”

“Putting an end to it may not be enough,” Anton quietly replied. “If he's prepared to go this far---if he's really going to pull out all the stops and just barrel on like a bat out of Hell---there may not be an end to this. We've already had to pay our friends at the Hill a visit and explain a few 'strange things' so far this year....” He shook his head. “I'd say I'm getting too old for this, but that's the least of my worries.”

“Age should be the least of any of our worries,” Roboto interjected, presenting something to Anton. “This was in the ditch....”

Anton nearly dropped the object as soon as he got a good look at it. “Mary, get an evidence bag from the glove compartment of my car, please,” he mumbled. “Anti-static, preferably....” He turned away as soon as the item in question was secured in the bag. “And whatever you do, Mary, don't touch the buttons on it!”

“What is it?”

“Something I hope you never have to face in the field.” Anton's quiet reply was tinged with the faintest hint of tears. “We need to report back to DuBraul, and make sure our side doesn't overreact to this. If the wrong people find out, it'll be Newcastle all over again....” He turned away. “Roboto, Mary....get back to the car. I need to make a few calls---if our phones weren't secure, I'd be using a landline for this...” He hurriedly dialled the phone, cupping his free hand over it to block out the wind. “Crystal, tell Clive to get on the line as soon as possible....we need all hands on deck for this one.”

The image of the sedan driver's face flashed through his mind. “.....and we may need extra help, too....”

Part 3

“Has anyone ever told you, Miss Lawson, that you're incredibly graceful?”

McElvoy's comment wasn't so much startling as it was....unexpected---all I did was walk up to the stage after he caught me piggybacking on Miss Hynde's sensors, she reasoned. Still, let's see where this goes... “Nobody's really commented to that regard yet, sir.”

“It's quite an astonishing thing, really,” the diminutive roboticist continued. “Humanity has, almost by design, come to associate the term 'robot' with stiff, jerky, stop-start motions and ever-present staccato speech....yet with every client and/or patient---”

“Patient?” Vicki echoed.

“Selwyn's our equivalent to a general practitioner,” William explained. “One of the few in this day and age who's still wiling to make house calls, even.”

Vicki nodded. “That....makes sense, I guess.”

“Indeed---especially when dealing with sleepers, but that's another story for another time.” Selwyn adjusted his sunglasses. “Back to my main point....every single android and gynoid I've ever encountered has proven a rather interesting point: When observed by someone who knows what to look for, like myself, there's a certain quality of....otherness, to their movements. Very exacting, and precise...but not stiff. Indeed, as I've said about you, Miss Lawson, androids and gynoids move with a certain grace---far more than most people would notice in their day to day lives.”

The brunette gynoid arched an eyebrow. “So....I'm graceful?”

“It's inherent in your nature. Human beings have innumerable little tics, small quirks---sudden muscle spasms, the slight movements that come with inhaling and exhaling....very subtle, but still there. And so many people who pride themselves on being observant.....they never notice the absence of those things, sometimes.”

“....I never really thought about it that way,” Vicki admitted. “But how can so many people not notice?”

“Ignorance,” William replied, “is bliss. Some choose to ignore whatever they perceive to be irrelevant.”

Again, Vicki found herself nodding in agreement. “Makes a lot of sense, when you put it that way.”

“As it should,” McElvoy replied. “Of course, there are some out there who make a career out of reading body language, deciphering those little tics and quirks....the ALPA and Coalition go out of their way to consult with them or hire them as often as possible.”

“Not hard to see why....but---”

“I'm sure you've already discussed the need for the ALPA with others,” McElvoy continued, almost as if he could sense the question Vicki was about to ask. “Not everyone who knows what we know has...noble intent, to put it mildly......and we're here.” He nodded as the car slowed to a stop. “Funny how a drive seems to go by so much quicker when one is engrossed in conversation...” Outside the car, Miss Hynde opened the door and pressed a foot pedal built into the underside of the car, allowing a set of mini-steps to unfold.

“Ladies first,” William offered, allowing Vicki to move past him.

“Thanks...I just hope Kirsten doesn't get too weirded out by all of this. I don't think she's ever remembered any of her repair sessions before...” ...at least, before May, the brunette gynoid mentally added. “And I don't think she needs to hear about the Chairman's.....decision. At least, not yet.”

Selwyn nodded. “Perfectly understandable. Now, then...I believe we're expected inside.”

The Bugatti Firenze sedan (a rather elegant vehicle, blending the practicality of a four-door with sleek curves and a ludicrously-powerful engine that had become Bugatti's trademark) had glided to a stop in front of a building Vicki had only seen a few times before, completely out of any context---usually while on her way to or from somewhere else. Now, she recognized the place as an ALPA-sanctioned repair shop, complete with their holograph-stamped “Platinum Disc” seal of approval on a nearby window.

“I'm hoping Faber and Weiss are actually in, this time,” Selwyn muttered. “They didn't get my last call...”

William rolled his eyes. “You should take a listen to their answering machine some time....some idiot woman named Lertie keeps calling them, asking if it's okay for her to show up for Bible Study on Thursday.”

“Maybe she just got the wrong number?” Vicki offered, keeping in step with William and McElvoy. “Or---”

“Or nothing,” Selwyn countered. “They need to change their number and----”

Vicki gave a quiet cough, nodding in the direction of the second Firenze approaching. “That'll be Kirsten...”

Despite her tearful breakdown at the auditorium, Kirsten had composed herself rather quickly during the car ride. “So....we're here,” she mused, nodding politely towards the shop. “Wherever 'here' is....”

“It's a repair shop,” Vicki explained. “We'll be safe here---”

“This wasn't about 'safety',” Selwyn interrupted. “We came here because I have a prior appointment set up with the proprietors....but I assume that can wait,” he added, as a girl with midnight-black hair approached the group. “You're a bit early,” she informed them, “and with one extra....but if she's with Vicki, she's more than welcome here.”

The brunette gynoid nodded. “Thanks for the endorsement, Calliope. You look....well....”

“More modern?” Calliope teased. “It's a long story....we'll talk inside.” She gestured for the group to follow her.

Inside, the atmosphere looked strikingly similar to the waiting room of a normal doctor's office, albeit with less tacky Muzak and no fake plants dotted around the room. “Why do I get the feeling I've been here before?” Kirsten asked.

“You probably have been,” Calliope replied. “You just didn't see it for what it is. As for me....” She turned away, peeling off the black, tight-fitting top she'd been wearing. “The Inspektor's team really helped bring my internals into the modern age,” she admitted, reaching over her shoulder and pressing down on a small bit of skin at the base of her neck---prompting a gasp of surprise from Kirsten as a square of “flesh” folded outward to reveal four ornate dials and a smallish key on a locking hinge, currently folded into an “at-rest” position.

“She's a wind-up doll?” Kirsten quietly asked.

“More like a highly-advanced clockwork gynoid,” Calliope corrected, “formerly classed as an 'automaton'....but that's getting into semantics, and it's not why we're here.” She replaced the panel and pulled her shirt back down. “Faber and Weiss are in the back...they've been waiting for a few hours, to be honest.” She led the group towards a door at the far end of the waiting room. “Rae's already inside....she had a session booked---”

Selwyn nodded. “She called before I went on stage at the university. It's a standard session, I take it?”

“Of course....she just needed....”

Vicki trailed behind, noticing Kirsten hanging back and staring at the fake plants instead of following the rest of the group. “Something wrong?” she quietly asked. “I can give you a bit of an explanation about this place, if you don't remember---”

“It's not that. It's about....Dad.”

Guess we're talking about that now.... “So you got the alert call back at the auditorium, then,” Vicki mused.

“He....he showed up at my dorm,” Kirsten quietly informed the brunette gynoid. “He was...it was like he could only think clearly when I was around, and even then....” She turned away. “He's been losing more of himself every day, Vicki. It was like he didn't even recognize me when he was at the window....”

“You realize that the ALPA is currently trying to apprehend...your dad, right?”

Kirsten gave a mirthless chuckle. “You mean they're trying to capture Epsilon?”

“Your father is Epsilon, Kirsten,” Vicki insisted. “Even if the process that created him shut off as much of his brain as it did....he's still your father. You know that.” Too bad some of us don't recognize that, she bitterly realized. If Kirsten finds out...

“Thanks. But...this is going to sound stupid, Vicki....” The blonde gynoid bit her lip. “It was like he was forcing himself to remember who I was! Like....something was trying to---”

“Overwrite his thought processes,” Vicki finished. “Trying to erase all non-essential memories.” A quick flash of the memories of Unit R-528, now known as Mr. Roboto, surged through her thoughts. “I hate to break it to you, Kirsten, but the longer your father's out there, the less likely it is that he can be fully recovered.” If at all, she mentally added. Roboto caught more than a few lucky breaks---which begs the question of why Oberon isn't giving Epsilon one! Her attention turned back to Kirsten just in time to notice the blonde gynoid casting a forlorn glance towards a magazine cover showing an image of Anthony Sanderson from decades past. “I miss him,” she whispered. “I just...I miss my dad, Vicki.”

“I know,” the brunette gynoid quietly replied, not backing away when Kirsten moved to embrace her in a tearful hug.

The two stood in silence for a moment---one, grieving for a lost father; the other, remembering a fallen friend...

“Vicki,” Kirsten whispered, “are they going to hurt him when they find him?”

Now, the Field Agent found herself tearing up along with her friend. “They won't,” she replied, her voice a shade closer to a sob than she would've liked. “I know they won't....”

….but he will. Dammit, Oberon....

A quiet cough from the repair room entrance caught both gynoids' attention. “My apologies,” Selwyn McElvoy mused, “if I've interrupted a moment of grieving for the two of you...” Despite an arched eyebrow that gave off undertones of mild annoyance, there was a timbre of honesty in his words as he continued. “We have a spare room waiting on the upper floor, Miss Sanderson, if you need a place to stay for the night.”

“Thanks...my stuff's at my dorm room, though---”

“I'll have my people collect it for you, if you want.” Selwyn strode over to the gynoids, glancing at the magazine cover Kirsten had been staring at (and handed down to him). “Tony was a good man,” he informed her, “not just in a professional sense, but an incredibly decent human being.”

“He still is,” Kirsten whispered. “Inside that....thing....he still is.”

Selwyn nodded. “Indeed. Now, then....Miss Lawson, I assume your hardware is up to date?”

“Sure is,” the brunette gynoid replied---relieved to change the subject. “Kirsten, how about you?”

“Well, I.....” Her words trailed off as she followed Vicki into the white-walled (and floored) room. The place looked more like a factory's production floor than a “doctor's office”, with rows of tables (all but a few of them bare at the moment), distinctly non-humanoid robots darting in and out of the aisles, and several racks of tools and other machinery breaking up the otherwise-sterile walls.

“Oi, Vicki! Glad to see you could make it!” The cheerful greeting drew Vicki's attention to a caramel-skinned, chestnut-haired figure laying on a table, waving vigorously at her. “Nice to see having your entire abdominal sheath removed hasn't dampened your spirits, Rae,” she deadpanned, striding over to meet her fellow ALPA operative. “Kirsten Sanderson, meet Rae Clark.” Despite the fact that Rae did, in fact, have a literally bare midsection---the synthetic flesh having been peeled away to reveal her metallic “skeleton”, rows upon rows of servomotors, chip racks and fluid lines---she was all smiles as she shook Kirsten's hand. “You're the sleeper girl who got rescued back in May, right?”

Kirsten nodded. “Former sleeper, these days....and does that, ah, hurt?”

“What, this?” Rae rolled her eyes. “It's a lot less painful than it looks, babe...hell, it's downright---oooohhh...”

A husky sigh punctuated her sentence as a manipulator arm lowered from the ceiling to tweak something in her opened stomach cavity. “That,” she murmured, “feels good....” A blissful smile crossed her lips. “No matter how many times, it never fails to utterly delight---” Her “breath” caught in her throat as the manipulator arm made further adjustments. “It's....inde'scribable,” she giggled.

Vicki, meanwhile, rolled her eyes. “You sure your sensitivity and intimacy settings are at default, Rae?”

The chestnut-haired gynoid gave her a look. “You're saying you don't enjoy---ooh....oooohh.....” Her lips parted in a sensual moan. “They always ask why I tell them to leave me on for these....and this is why!”

“And there are plenty of reasons why you should be offline for 'these',” a male voice called out, as Vicki noticed the stocky, yet still muscular figure of Arnold J. Faber striding over. “One of these days, you're gonna pop right on the table, and I'll have to be the one to clean it up...”

“Oh, spack off,” Rae chided. “Don't knock it 'til you try it---which you can't....”

Faber---clad in an Ultimate Warrior T-shirt under a heavy canvas work coat and a pair of faded jeans, shook his head. “I've never heard of people waking up after surgery and asking the doctor if they liked it, too....”

“Well, you're not exactly given many opportunities to---ooh, oooooohhhh, that was beautiful....” Another shuddering sigh escaped Rae's lips as the maniupulator arm rotated a new chipset into place just above the link-up port that, in her day to day life, was disguised as her navel. “Right, you can seal me up in the front, Arnie...I'll turn myself over, thanks.” Another pair of arms moved out from under the table as Rae sat up (Vicki and Kirsten stepped back to ensure that the arms wouldn't grasp at them, instead of Rae), and pulled the flaps of synthetic skin over the opened cavity of the gynoid's stomach. “SO,” she beamed, “what brings you from the Motor City to Silicon Valley, Mr. Faber?”

“Business, same as always. And may I please ask why all the clothes in your locker are pink?”

Rae gave him a sultry look. “It compliments my skintone. Plus, I happen to like...exotic fabrics---”

“Vinyl isn't a fabric. And you're an ALPA operative, not a freaking—-”

“Oh, just let it go,” Rae breathed, turning over to lay on her stomach. “Everyone has their own fashion sense, Arnie...I like pink vinyl, Vicki likes red and white...” She winked at the brunette gynoid. “And I'm sure Kirsten here has her own preferences...”

Even though she'd been edging away from the table after Rae's gasps, Kirsten nodded. “Hi, Mr.....Faber?”

“Call me Arnold.” Faber shook Kirsten's hand, giving her a warm smile. “Former sleeper, right?”

“Why is it that everyone I've met knows that already?” Kirsten asked, glancing nervously at Vicki.

“ALPA records. As soon as you were brought back online following....well, you don't need to be reminded of that whole incident.” Vicki sighed. “ANYway, after...that....your ALPA status monitor was changed to 'awake', rather than sleeper---to reflect your new-found self-knowledge.” She grinned. “Nothing sinister at all.”

Faber nodded. “And since this is an ALPA-sanctioned shop....”

“You got the update as soon as it happened,” Kirsten finished, nodding. “Guess that's a lot better than....well, what I thought it'd be...” A loud hiss from the other side of the repair room startled her.

“That's just Weiss bringing out another client,” Faber laughed. “Nothing to get alarmed at, Miss....damn air brakes on the cart need some fine-tuning, I told him to get 'em fixed....” He shook his head, still chuckling slightly. “Meredith needed a full exam below the belt---leg servos were acting up on an alarmingly regular basis. Also, she got her head checked---”

Rae gave a short, sharp laugh. “Her face was doing that weird, half-sneeze thing, wasn't it?”

“She was on the verge of motor-lock, thanks to a crossed wire,” Faber replied. “She still needs to run the last test....” He nodded as the automated, upright “cart” with Meredith Basinger's unmoving form strapped to it rolled up; Meredith's facial layer was peeled down, exposing the chrome-alloy skull with its rubberised, painted Lucite eyes and ceramic/polymer amalgam teeth. “First thing's first---time to fix her face.” After a quick knuckle crack, Faber carefully lifted the facial layer back over Meredith's chromium skull, occasionally taking the time to make some minute adjustments with a few small tools.

“He may not have the best sense of humour about this, but at least he's professional,” Rae admitted.

Faber gave her an exaggerated frown as he finished returning Meredith's face to its usual position. “Right, Meredith....begin speech test.” A polished white arm, with a keyboard built into its surface, swung up and out, allowing Faber to type in a few words. “Out....over....eighty...ambulatory.....punctual.....” Meredith intoned each word without pause, her lips forming every letter and syllable perfectly.

“I think we've established that she can talk again,” Rae sighed, as the manipulator arm removed a semi-fried chipset from just above the base of her spine. “Thanks again for slotting me in at such short notice, Arnie...”

“Not a problem,” Faber replied with a grin. “And for your information, I happen to like my sense of humour.”

“Of course you do....just be glad your jokes aren't totally naff, otherwise we'd have problems.” Rae giggled as a replacement for the just-removed chipset was slotted into place. “Oh, that is just divine.....Kirsten, love, you simply need to book a day-trip here, if you ever get the time.” Her eyelids fluttered as her lips turned up in a blissful smile. “It is just....y'have to feel it for yourself, really.”

Vicki blew out an annoyed breath. “That's not why we're here, Rae. An alert call was just sent out---”

“Oh, I know about the alert call, Vicki!” Rae chided. “I'm not hiding out here just to get out of patrol duty, just so we're all clear....I needed to get a few bits changed out, and, well....” She gave a half-shrug.

Whatever Vicki's intended reply was, it was cut off by a sudden gasp from Meredith. “....never want to hear that song.....again....” She glanced down, noticing the neoprene top and shorts that she'd been dressed in. “I seem to remember wearing something a little less....fetish-club,” she mused. “What happened to my original clothes, and why am I strapped to a table?”

“Didn't want to get hit in the face due to a motor spasm,” Faber admitted. “And your clothes are in storage.”

“And an alert call's been issued,” Vicki added. “Kirsten and I just got here from SJSU....you've heard the news, right?”

Meredith's eyes widened. “An alert call? Arnold, how long was I out---”

“Hour and a half,” Rae sighed, “and the alert's about that Epsilon thing.....it came back, knocked over a car---”

“It did more than knock over a car,” V.I.C.I monotoned, her eyes briefly glowing blue.

Faber, Meredith and even Kirsten exchanged worried gances.

“.....and for the record,” the brunette gynoid added, her voice going back to normal, “there are a lot of unknown factors we need to consider about this.” Like why the freaking ALPA Chairman wants Epsilon dead, for one...

Rae rolled her eyes. “Far be it from me to downplay something this serious out of sheer stupidity, Vicki. I was only giving Meredith the Cliff Notes version of the story...we all know how serious the Epsilon issue is.” She failed to repress another gleeful sigh as the manipulator arm rotated something back into place. “...sorry, it's a bit of an impulse...”

“I get it.” Vicki helped Meredith step down from the cart; “I just....last time I saw Epsilon----”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rae cut in. “You saw that thing? As in, face to face?!”

“Epsilon's not a 'thing',” Kirsten snapped. “He was---he IS my father! Underneath all of that....” She turned away. “I don't know what they did to him,” she murmured, “but the last time I saw him....I talked to him, and it was like he understood me. Like he knew me....and now....”

Faber glanced at Vicki. “She's telling the truth,” the brunette gynoid quietly informed him. “I saw it first-hand.”

“Small wonder you two came here instead of going back to HQ,” Rae admitted, shivering as two more manipulator arms closed up her back. “Oh, and could you hand me my top, please?” she added, rolling over to sit on the table. “I'd have done this session au natural, but Faber insisted I keep the shorts on....” She grinned as Vicki handed over a pink bikini top that felt more like latex than any real fabric. “Thanks...and my thanks goes double, since you weren't going all 'oi, Rae, you seem to have forgotten to put on a bra or a shirt today, and those magnificent breasts of yours are so distracting', or anything like that....”

“I was focusing on what was important,” Vicki replied, as the chestnut-haired gynoid fastened her top. “Like Epsilon, and who's after him.”

“Which we may have to confront sooner than anticipated,” Selwyn McElvoy called out. “A dispatch just arrived from ALPA HQ for Miss Clarke and Miss Basinger....and there's a sealed orders packet with your name on it, Miss Lawson.” He motioned for Miss Hynde to hand over the documents. “Epsilon's been seen again, closer to the old stomping grounds of Damien Falken...possibly some kind of residual memory from its old life---”

“His,” Vicki muttered. “His old life.”

McElvoy continued without missing a beat: “Whatever the case, we need to intercept Epsilon before anyone else does, or before anyone or anything else is damaged---”

The sounds of shouted cursing from the waiting room cut him off; William staggered in seconds later, brushing a few plastic leaves off of himself. “There's been an attack,” he breathed. “Ten injured---three critical, seven others....not life-threatening. And someone brought some heavy firepower....and a sword?” He managed to fall into a chair without breaking it. “I just saw....aftermath,” he gasped. “Car slid past....on its roof.....”

Without a word, V.I.C.I sped off towards the exit, past Rae, Meredith and a terrified Kirsten.

Part 4

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