5

“No. Security andros don’t just drop everything and help family friends. What the hell was her objective?” Bert glared out the window at the cityscape. “She seems to have a personal connection with him,” SILer informed his boss.
“Do you have a complex on her?” Bert asked impatiently. SILer nodded thoughtfully, “She can’t pick up groceries without a receipt showing up on my sensor report.”
“Good,” Bert paced, “I don’t want that thing causing any more trouble than it has.”

The Pratt-Martin building loomed over Tracy as she drove toward the lake. The massive archway was the site of countless public events, a world wonder in its own right, galvanizing the reputation of its ruthless owner. Spotlights shone up at the building and the sunset beyond framed it, pretty as a picture.
“How’s life, ma’am?” the gate guard asked and turned to scan her identification. “Troubles and intrigue,” Tracy said, staring thoughtfully ahead.
“Thank heavens for that,” The guard said with a smile as he returned her card, “Otherwise we’d be out of a job.”
Tracy looked at the guard in surprise. She hadn’t expected any real reaction from him, “Very true.”
“You have a successful, intriguing day,” The guard said when his computer beeped confirmation and he raised the gate for her.
“And yourself,” Tracy replied simply before driving into the parking garage. Humans were a puzzling lot. Just when you think you’ve figured them out, they grow a new personality.
Tracy parked her car in a quiet sublevel garage. Humans wouldn’t have noticed that the guards on the far side of the garage were watching sports on one monitor rather than cameras, they may have noticed that specks of coating from one part of the floor had a different kind of crunch to it because it was cheaper. Where the human brain would ignore most of its input, Tracy saw every glint and shadow, heard every whisper on the floors above, below and in the elevator ahead of her.

“So, what do you think?” A man in a grey wool suit asked Tracy when the elevator doors closed behind her.
“They’re hiding something alright,” Tracy answered smoothly, noting that this was Martin’s secure elevator car, no cameras and no microphones, “Calista’s synth bolted from the funeral.”
“The security fellow?” Rod Martin asked from the other side of Tracy.
“No, I spent the afternoon following him around the town looking for the sex toy,” Tracy answered, “SILer seemed very intent on killing his synthetic brother. …He told me that it was a tranquilizer but I can recognize a rail mag when I see one.”
“Good girl,” Rod smiled, glanced at the other man in the elevator and turned back to Tracy, “So, your new objective is to locate said synth, find out what he knows and why he’s running. It could be juicy.”
Tracy nodded quickly, “Yes sir,” and proceeded out of the elevator on her intended floor.
Rod Martin waited for the doors to close and patted his friend on the back, “She’s good, we’ll get him for you.”
The man removed his hat and brushed some dust off of it, “You really believe that your dinner party bouncer can break this?”
“Count on it,” Rod nodded seriously, “That’s the best system that money can buy. She protects me in my sleep.”
“-It- is a step above those little robotic guard dogs, it simply looks better in pumps.”

(What I'm listening to: "Treason" by Mushroomhead)