Chapter 10

Drucker sat upon the edge of his desk, thumbing through the thin Perspex ring binder containing a detailed historical record of only the highest profile cases. Internal policy dictated that those documents were not to be saved and secured on any digital medium that may be vulnerable to Internet hacks or any other such data leakages. As he flicked through, he couldn’t help but stop to skim over the Quakeson report. A legendary win for the precinct and one of their proudest moments involving the tracking down and apprehension of a ruthless murder, Walter Duebury. Upon breaking and entering into the Quakeson family home to carry out what was to be a routine burglary, he ended up slaughtering the family of four after an unanticipated alteration within the house. Walter was on the run for at least a five week stretch until his eventual capture in an old secluded barn. This case victory was held in such high esteem that it was actually used to boost morale for young police cadets when the going seemed to get a little too rough for them.

In the corner of the room perched on a cast iron bracket, the television quietly worked away in the background. Mr. Carl Randyll, chairman and spokesperson for “Strata”, was in the middle of making his speech for a highly publicized political debate. Rising public tensions between the synthetics and humans forced both parties into televising their bureaucratic squabbles for the masses as otherwise their secretive and private sessions were rarely ever broadcast. Drucker looked up as the sound of raised voices coming from the television set detracted his concentration away from the thick file.

Mr. Randyll continued. “… All I’m saying is that we have a duty of care owed to our people. Speaking as a delegated representative of the humans, we cannot just allow rogue synthetics to run amuck in our society causing devastation and injury to innocent civilians. This goes for all law-abiding synthetic citizens too. I still find it absolutely astonishing better fail-safe safety measures were not put into place in the event of what we are witnessing today. It’s downright lunacy and now we run the risk of having opened up a veritable Pandora’s box that may never be shut and sealed ever again. The Samson chip was designed and implemented to promote a trusted common ground between both races. It compliments the balance of our ideologies and provides protection against… ” A chorus of jeers and boos mixed with cheers and whoops echoed through the tinny speakers. Drucker could only shake his head in dismay at how their governmental establishment was unravelling into chaos before him.

The camera quickly panned and zoomed into a tall, slim synthetic sporting a crew cut and thin moustache. He appeared to have slightly sharper facial features than most of his robotic counterparts. Mr. Dan Reeves, leader of the party of “Freewill”, boldly interrupted the charismatic Mr. Randyll. “Excuse me, Carl, but aren’t we all living in a so-called democracy here or do you openly classify synthetics as second class citizens? If indeed there are criminal activities involving the impairment of the Samson chip, should we as a whole be punished for it? What about all the guns, knives or drugs still being sold illegally on the black market for humans? This societal weaponry was around long before the synthetics arrived. So according to your philosophy, everybody should be locked up until proven innocent. Is that the way it goes? Because I certainly will not stand for…”

A loud knock broke his gaze away from the rhetorical banter. He lazily threw the heavy file onto his desk. “Yes, come in.” he called out. Doug shambled in exhibiting heavily puffed bags under his eyes and generally looking tired and weary. “Hey Druck. Apologies for my appearance, man. Been burning the midnight oil away sifting through from one document to another.” He settled into the seat nearby following a subtle nod from Drucker. “Got anything for me, Doug? I’ve been perusing some past investigations here to give me some possible pointers as to how we should proceed from here. We haven’t had any useful leads so far and the main ones have proved to be non-starters.”

Doug clasped both hands whilst resting two index fingers stiffly upon his lips. “A little something came up but otherwise not much, my friend. Of course, the irony of this situation is the fact that every news station keeps replaying the same so-called leaked video footage on an almost hourly basis showing our perpetrator tearing up the place right there in broad daylight. That synthetic wrapped itself up good and proper in order to conceal their identity. Reporters are having a field day saying we’re just sitting on our asses and doing jack shit about it. We’re becoming a laughing stock out there.”

Drucker casually strolled over to behind his desk and relaxed back into his comfortable leather recliner. He was tense and on edge. “What’s even worse is that after living so long in a city brimming with synthetics for the last few years, I’ve made some unavoidable observations. Such as the fact that I can now recognize seven distinct facial templates that have been grafted onto their skulls. You know, like faint variations of skin contours as well as minute imperfections in their rigid, inelastic skin. You’ll only really spot it through constant daily interaction with them. General degradation over time may also add a few new nicks or marks that were not there before. Female synthetics now even paint themselves with make-up to better fit in. But otherwise, it can be very difficult indeed to distinguish between them.” Drucker sounded dejected and uptight. A far cry from the laid-back, jovial man that had once occupied that chair.

“This entire experiment is obviously one massive trial run, Druck.“ Doug reasoned. “How else would you explain the complete lack of security protocols in place? No barcodes printed on their bodies or implanted tracking devices. We just have the S.P.A who are proving to be more of a deterrent than an actual threat and a bare-bones judicial system created for them to adhere to throughout their lives. If you can even call what they experience as “life” per se. It’s a mess and an extremely dangerous one at that.”

“Well, Doug. I suppose I see things slightly differently.” said Drucker shaking his head. “The fact of the matter is synthetics had no prior instances of criminality in their short history on this planet. From petty theft all the way to full-blown murder. I mean, a synthetic wouldn’t even sneeze in your general direction, if they could actually sneeze at all. They’ve enjoyed an impeccably clean track record up until now. So getting any kind of legal precedents set up without making it look unfair for them will take time and lots of it. What do you think “Freewill” are up there doing every day? Defending their constitutional rights and promoting an equal and balanced system for the synthetics to live in, that’s what. So without any reported wrongdoings of any sort for the majority of their existence with us, that doesn’t leave much room for “Strata” to move.”

Doug pondered this train of thought for a few moments. “Fine, that’s looking at it from a legal standpoint, but as I said, no barcodes or GPS style tracking chips inserted within them for our own safety at least? What’s up with that?” Drucker couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “I just saw Mr. Randyll nearly turn blue in the face trying to emphasize that very point. Just take a look at those clowns arguing up there.” The television set flickered in the background displaying Mr. Reeves passionately addressing the house over a stylish rostrum. “The answer to your question? Well, you’re already aware of the conveniently proposed solution agreed upon by both parties to fix that. In fact, it’s a problem that’s making this case so damn hard for us. That blasted Samson chip. Reduce a synthetics capabilities down to a regular human being’s and apparently that should serve as a temporary Band-Aid allowing for peace between us until things need to be reshuffled again in the future. Remember, these are the second generation synthetics being produced. The first models didn’t have any defined boundaries and just look at the carnage they are capable of causing. Of course, we humans weren’t going to stand for that. No siree! So the powers that be introduced this cobbled together remedy. Now the synthetics have figured out a way to disable that remedy, it’s back to square one again.”

Doug shook his head is dismay “When I hear you talk about it out aloud, the future looks so damn depressing and bleak.”

“Well, it is what it is and that is out of our hands. We are nothing but pawns in the midst of a mechanical and biological battle of wits. We’ve got a job to do so I guess that counts as our proud little contribution to country and state.” Drucker sighed deeply and placed two palms flat on the desk. “Anyways, we’ve rattled off on this matter for way too long. You said you had a little something for me when you came in, right?”

Doug stood up with a weighty groan. “Yes, Druck. It’s a stab in the dark and will probably be inconsequential but I thought I’d let you know anyways. We received a call not too long ago regarding an apartment building downtown on Fifth. A synthetic couple reside in one of the flats there and have gone AWOL for the last two days. Again, the chances are remote that…”

Drucker looked at him uneasily. “Doug, what’s the matter with you, man. This could be an important lead, however insignificant it seems to you. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He headed to the small coat rail near his office door. Doug looked down sheepishly. “Sorry, Druck. We got talking and I lost all track of time.”

“Don’t worry about it. It takes two to talk. Now let’s move.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall as he donned his long, black overcoat. “Afternoon traffic and all, we should be there within the hour.”

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The heavy rain had abated somewhat as the two men hurried into the plush, ritzy building. The decision to take a taxi instead of organising an in-house squad car to drop them off had not paid off. Running late for the appointment had meant hastily paying off the cab driver and sprinting the remainder of their journey for a block or so. The wide sliding glass doors merged shut behind them as they shook themselves off before making their way to reception. “First the hospital visit and now this. Take note, next time we grab an umbrella on the way out.” said Drucker as his partner spluttered out a chesty cough into a pocket handkerchief. A lone synthetic dressed in a black tuxedo approached and greeting them with an affable smile. “Welcome gentlemen. Hope you’re having a good day. Right this way to the reception desk.” They both returned a friendly nod but oddly no directions were required as the desk was literally just a few steps away.

An expensive, sparkling chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling as a beautifully patterned mosaic decorated the rest. The area was almost empty save for the odd guest either making their way to the elevators at the far end or exiting the building. An array of small illuminated globes encompassed the walls of the lobby giving the whole place a soft, almost ethereal glow.

A middle-aged man wearing spectacles and grey formal suit spoke first from behind the desk. The neat, pasted down side parting in his greying hair gave him a rather dignified and classy look. His eloquent posh-sounding English accent only added to his persona. “One of you is Mr. Drucker, I presume?” he inquired in a well-mannered, articulate fashion. “Yes, I am.” Drucker replied taking a step forward. “This good sir to my left is my partner, Mr. Drayfort. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with us. If you’re not too busy now, may we proceed?” The slender, short man made his way round to the front and shook both their hands firmly in turn. “Pleasure to make your acquaintances. I’m Mr. Dunbar.” He gestured politely to follow him toward the elevator.

“The events of a few days ago were quite troubling, gentleman.” said Mr. Dunbar. “As much as I do hope you find the synthetic that carried out the attack, I’m also praying that it’s not the couple who I called you about. However, I felt it’s my duty to inform you just in case.” They waited patiently by the sliding doors as he continued. “Mr. and Mrs. Dullet have lived there for quite a number of years now and there could never have been a nicer synthetic couple than those two. So very friendly and gracious, they were never any trouble at all.”* Doug abruptly chimed in. “Well, Mr. Dunbar, I think it’s safe to say that goes for all synthetics. Don’t you find it’s like they’re almost trying too hard to become a part of our society. That’s the feeling I get, anyways.” The doors slid open and the men entered. “Yes, I do know what you mean. But wouldn’t you rather be surrounded by pleasant synthetics than drunken, loud-mouthed humans, Mr. Drayfort?” Doug grinned and chuckled quietly to himself, not expecting such a direct confession of where his preferences lay. “Well, sir. I gotta tell you that having more humans see them in such a fond light as you do would simply be every synthetics wet dream.” Drucker cleared his throat loudly as Doug receded to the corner of the cubicle.

They made their way silently down the brightly-lit corridor of the 34th floor of the apartment complex. “If I may ask, how is the investigation coming along so far?“ Mr. Dunbar asked with a mild tilt of his head. “Are you any nearer to capturing the assailant?” Drucker couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed with his soft-spoken and professionally formal demeanour. They all paused at a large white door enclosed by a thin wooden frame. “Well, as you can imagine, attempting to track a synthetic requires a very different methodology than that of our human counterparts. No fingerprints, no blood, no sweat. Nothing of the traditional biological nature that we detectives are so used to. Everything is digital so we have to adapt ourselves to a new way of problem solving. This case is, as you know, the very first of its kind so sometimes admittedly it can feel like groping in the dark searching blindly for clues. So any leads we get are gold dust to us.” He shot a quick glance at Doug who stared back at him blankly. “Therefore we’re really hoping that this visit here today proves fruitful to some degree at least.” Drucker spied a small indentation in the bottom right hand corner of the door. “You know how that got there?” he asked curiously. Mr. Dunbar moved back slightly to examine the mark in more detail. “That’s strange. Can’t say I’ve ever noticed it.” he answered with seemingly genuine surprise.

“Well, you have my full co-operation, gentlemen.” he continued. “This will be the first time I have entered the apartment since I attempted to make contact with them.” He waved the card over a small square panel emitting a hypnotic blue glow. One muted click later and they all entered the premises. The open plan space before them was an unblemished brilliant white. Drucker would have been willing there and then to make a bet with Doug if he could actually locate a speck of dust. “As you can see, this apartment was modified to accommodate a synthetic’s unique lifestyle.” said Mr. Dunbar as the two detectives scanned the room. A white leather couch to the far right blended seemlessly into the background. It almost hurt their eyes as they checked for anything that might give them a clue about this elusive couple.

“Can you give me any more details about them please, Mr. Dunbar?” Drucker pressed, still scouring the immaculate apartment for clues. “I mean, even things you may consider irrelevant. Any information would be really appreciated.”

“Of course, Detective.” he replied willingly. “Well, their first names are Dee and Sy. Again, they mostly keep to themselves and enjoy a relatively private relationship together. A few friends would come over now and then, though still that’s somewhat of a rarity. The only times we ever spoke were bidding each other good day in the downstairs lobby or passing them in the corridor. I mean, they really are exemplary residents here. Never had any problems or cause for suspicion.” Drucker had no reason not to believe the kindly Mr. Dunbar. He sounded confident and self-assured with his answers. Drucker had been in the game long enough to spot a potential fraudster and he didn’t even come close to fitting the bill.

Further along into the apartment, a custom built stasis pod for two synthetics hummed softly on their right with a beautifully designed balcony straight ahead. “Jesus, Doug. These guys live better than most humans I know.” joked Drucker. Doug grunted in acknowledgement. They both moved toward the bi-folding double glazed windows and opened them to admire the stunning view from above. “Look down there, Doug.” he said, still stricken in awe by the view of the magnificent city below. “Makes you really stop and think how many different lives inhabit this vast expanse of a city, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does, Druck.” he replied wistfully. “Somewhere down there an out-of-control synthetic is on the loose with a small child. This sure is a crazy world we live in.” The sound of Mr. Dunbar’s shoes clacking noisily on the marble flooring brought them back to focusing on their current objective. “Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Dunbar but with the greatest of respect this is ending up being as useful as a dog chasing it’s tail.” he muttered with a hint of frustration. “This place may as well be abandoned. No kitchen, no bathroom. No wonder they don’t have anybody coming over. You would have thought there would be at least some backward compatibility for us humans, right?” Doug’s phone rang noisily in the background as Mr. Dunbar proceeded back toward the front door. “Well, that’s their prerogative, Mr. Drucker. We leave that decision up to them. I’m so very sorry, Detective. If I could have been of more assistance to you, I certainly would have.” Drucker made his way through the dazzlingly clean lounge one last time. Doug could be overheard speaking to someone on his mobile. “I understand that and sincerely apologise for wasting your valuable time. Mr. Dunbar. If they do come back though, please let me know…”

“Druck! Druck!” shouted Doug as he hastened clumsily back into the lounge. “What is it? What’s the problem?” Drucker asked, eyes wide with anticipation and alarm.

“It’s the synthetic and the boy!” Doug exclaimed. “I think we found them!”

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter of my novel, please look out for more on the way... (author: @ezzy)

The Symbiotic Protocol - Prologue
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 1
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 2
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 3
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 4
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 5
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 6
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 7
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 8
The Symbiotic Protocol - Chapter 9