Making Contact

Chapter Three

At the knock on the door Captain Robinson sighed then said, “come in.” Argyle read the look on his face and understood it fully. The Captain didn't like having to push the two of them together, and Argyle could feel the friction that would come from working with Evrin, but a good detective should be able to set their biases aside in order to get the job done. From what Argyle knew from the system, she was good at her job, but her mood was typically sour. The Captain's door slowly opened.

“If this is about the case, the typographer is still working with the bodies,” Evrin said as she entered. “Oh, the tin-can’s here,” she grumbled.

“Have a seat,” Robinson said.

“No thanks, I'm fine standing over here, by the door, safely away from that thing.”

“That wasn't an invitation, that's an order.”

“This is bullshi-”

“Listen,” Robinson cut her off, “I remember what happened to you, I was there when that thing went wild, killed your parents, and crushed your arm,” Evrin held her right arm to her chest. “Listen, Evrin, do you think I would put you in this kind of a situation if I didn't have to? He's a new kind of AI, programmed from the ground up to act as a detective, and to do everything in its power in order to serve and protect man. And he is your new partner on the case.”

Evrin opened her mouth to say something, but Robinson cut her off with a, “hey,” and a, “stop,” and, “zip-zip-zip! I don't wanna hear it!”

Argyle sat back all the while, taking in their expressions. Captain Robinson was a man who came across as relatively lax, perhaps due to working on the force for so long. His time spent in crime prevention and hunting down criminals took a heavy toll on his features. At forty-five, his hair was nearly all gray, his face was a fit a wrinkles, with a bumpy scar marring one of his cheeks, and his haggard look was topped off with the bristles that ran down his chin and neck. Argyle had noted that the only time the Captain was seen clean-shaven was during his first three to four years on the force, something he noticed when looking into his background before being shipped off to help with the current dilemma that left a corpse pinned to a wall every twelve hours. Argyle had watched Robinson’s manner turn from that of a tired older man, to one who was tired of the resistance of his subordinates, and ready to spew out flames if that's what it took to set them in line.

Evrin’s downtrodden look as she opened the door was quickly replaced with shock and horror at seeing Argyle, then rage spurred on by deeply seeded hatred for thinking machines. Everyone around the world was awash with animosity towards intelligent machines after the incident when AI went haywire and began to turn on their masters. Evrin's past only served to leave burning coals that would kindle with the lightest breeze.

He wasn't happy with Evrin's feelings towards him, or the fact that the detective and captain spoke about him as if he wasn't there, or perhaps just a heap of scrap metal sitting around in the room, but he enjoyed studying their emotions.

“Have a seat, Detective,” Captain Robinson ordered.

“I'm fine with standing,” she grumbled back.

“Well at least get in here and close the door.”

Evrin closed the door and stood at the corner of Robinson's desk, away from Argyle, avoiding making eye contact with him.

Robinson grunted and clawed at his overgrowth of stubble before patting the folder in front of him. “Our F.B.I. thinking machine-”

“Argyle, please,” Argyle cut in. Robinson raised an eyebrow. “I'd prefer to be called by my name, not what I am. I don't think people would like it very much if I ran around calling them Human Captain, or Human Detective.”