The Receiver

1 6 - H O N E S T

The trip to Zoa's office takes longer this time, but maybe it's because we're in a hurry.

In the reception area, the same bot from before stands behind her desk, looking up when Iris and I come in.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asks.

"You remember what happened last time, right?"

It looks like her coder has made her smart enough to heed my threat.

"She's leaving the office soon," the bot says, but remains behind her desk.

We enter Zoa's office just as she stands, slides her hand along the glass surface of her desk, and twiggles a complex shape with the tip of her index finger. The images and spreadsheets on its smooth surface go dark.

She looks up.

"You two," she sighs. "Back to terrorize my officebot?"

"Terrorize is a strong word," I say. "More like... befuddle."

"I was just leaving," she says, grabbing the jacket from the back of her chair. "I have a dinner with my father to get to."

"Unfortunately, we have something to talk to you about," Iris says.

"Packs of bots have entered the lower city," I blurt.

"And someone's granted them the ability to express aggression against humans."

"If you're insinuating it was me," Zoa says, adjusting the collar of her jacket, "I will remind you of our previous conversation. Did I not make my apathy toward your kind obvious enough?"

"Your opinions are clear," Iris says. "It's your morals that concern us."

"And if I ever want your opinion again, I'll buy it." Zoa types out something on her cuff then looks up. "Listen, bottomfeeders. If there were Upper city droids in Lower, believe me, I would know about it."

"Then someone's keeping you out of the loop," Iris says.

"We've seen them," I say.

Zoa's fingers, which are busy tapping something on her cuff again, freeze for a second, then start again.

"No, you haven't," she says, approaching us. "And do you know how I know? Because I'm the one who put the block on your air travel. You two are a liability waiting to happen. This I know."

"You mean like you knew about the bots?" Iris proposes.

Zoa comes to a stop in front of us.

"Not that this information is any of your business, but my father has been talking about cleaning up downcity for years now. I can't imagine why he would want to spend so much time and resources on a project like that, but far be it from me to question his motives. So if there really are droids down there, they were sent by him. But like I said, if there were, I would be one of the first people to know. My father and I are one hundred percent honest with each other," she insists, eyes narrowing. "About everything."

Pushing her way through us like Iris and I are a pair of saloon doors, Zoa strides past the desk bot.

"I'm done for the day, Lyla. You can put yourself on charge now."

"Have a pleasant evening, Miss Stone."

"Look, we know you don't care, but—"

Zoa whirls around, her eyes wide.

"Then why bother asking? I can't help you even if I wanted to. No code any of my techs could write could countermand an order written by one of the Engineer's techs. Only the best work for him. Now if you'll excuse me."